#about to go to bed but flinging myself out the window in the morning i guess

[villa-kulla]

Patrick Fabian is aware of your fanfic. 😭

............................

OKAY BUT WHAT WAS HE DOING AT THE DEVIL'S SACRAMENT ETC

#no but please say sike lmao asdfgh WHAT #YOU CAN'T LEAVE IT THERE LMAO RECEIPTS #asdfgh i'm too tipsy for this right now tell him to leave kudos???? #about to go to bed but flinging myself out the window in the morning i guess #(i mean we know he's aware of laloward lol but this is 2 much which one of you slid into his DMs) #anon........explain lol #anon

[phfenomena]

❝you are the only exception.❞ || tom blyth x f!reader

request- Hi! Can I request a tom blyth x f!reader based on The Only Exception by Paramore? maybe something where that becomes their song? Thank you 🥹

A/N- this song is so depressing but i tried my hardest to romanticize it LMAO

and that was the day that i promised i would not sing for love, if it didn’t exist.

your bed is empty and cold as you roll over and stare out the window. it’s impossible to yearn for something so dearly that you don’t even want, for something you can’t have. love is the last experience you should be wanting to taste, you have your own life.

maybe i know deep in my soul that love never lasts.

you’ve had your share of flings, sure, but their touch never ignited a burning desire to be with them forever within you. they took up ten percent of your effort and time and you couldn’t care less about it.

and i’ve always lived like this, keeping a comfortable distance. and up until now i’ve sworn to myself that i’m content with loneliness, because none of it was worth the risk. but you are the only exception.

till you met tom, and he moved in and dropped his bags in his mind. you met him while working on a movie and you did the makeup of his co-star, but he always found himself in your trailer. chatting and laughing away the time in between shoots that he shouldn’t have shared with you. you found yourself thinking of him when you should’ve been asleep hours ago, the way his crinkled when he laughed, and the way he always stopped and listened whenever you had something to share.

you wake up every morning excited to work, excited to see tom. you’ve began bringing two coffees in the morning- and memorizing toms order in the process. it’s almost as if your life had been in black and white until he came along and lit everything up. he ignited you and left your hands shaking and itching to reach out and touch him, not just to fix his hair but to feel him. feel how he’s real, how he’s alive, and know that your mind didn’t conjure him up to entertain yourself.

you find yourself spending time with tom outside of set, a quick coffee run, a late night conversation over dinner, or a quick phone call to ask his opinion on a dress you found at the mall.

i’ve got a tight grip on reality, but i can’t let go of what’s in front of me here. i know you’re leaving in the morning when you wake up, leave me with some kind of proof it’s not a dream.

he finds home within you, slowly creeping into your life until your brain runs on him. slowly weaseling himself into your bed. the scenarios you once used to lull yourself to sleep were in front of you for you to touch, but he never stays. you never wake up in his arms, sometimes you wonder how he estimates when he needs to go before you wake up. before you wake up and really see him, really get to know what you guys are, or what you guys aren’t.

love is a chore, you know that. it’s tiring, draining, and it even eats you up from the inside out. someone else can ruin you in a blink of an eye, no, they will ruin you in the blink of an eye. but he’s the only exception.

your sat on your floor. the air is filled with giggles and red cheeks, it smells like wine and desperation. your guitar is sitting on your lap, having played tom any song he wanted. you’ve gone through taylor swift already and you could barley get the lovely lyrics out with laughing.

the melody of paramore begins to fill the air until the walls start closing in, until you’re in a box with tom. you’ve been careful, but when he inches forward and you meet him in the middle. it was all worth the risk. because he is the only exception.

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #billy the kid x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth fluff #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #tom blyth x you #william bonney smut #william bonney fluff #william bonney x reader #william bonney #billy the kid fluff #billy bonney x reader #billy the kid

[cybercl0ne]

Mine. // Stalker Shigaraki x f!Reader // Part: Sequel

Summary: Shigaraki has been stalking you for a while now, getting confident enough to get close to you.

Tw: 18+,stalking, non-con somnophilia

You never questioned anything weird that happened in your life. Anytime something bad happened you decided it was something bound to happen and there’s nothing you can do about it. So when you found a weird and unexplainable stain on your underwear you shrugged it off and went to bed, deciding it was probably something you had dropped on it and forgot to clean it. Tonight would be no different, you were the same you always had been. Dangerously Unaware.

As you laid your head down and fell into a sleep that Shigaraki was sure you weren’t gonna wake up from he pounced into your room, his lusting eyes sizing you up and down as the adrenaline rushed through his body. “My sweet, sweet love we’re finally going to be together.” His eyes laid on your heaving form, watching as you squirmed to face him unintentionally. The thought that you “consciously” faced him made his heart flutter. He knew he needed to satiate himself and stroking his cock over you sounded tempting.

he debated with himself, deciding that it’d be quick. He pulled his already hard cock out of his pants, his cock leaping for joy at the sight of you, unaware of his presence. “Your so fucking beautiful love~ I just want to wrap myself in your body and make you mine~” he whispered to you as his thrusts and pumps became faster and sloppier. As he felt himself drawing near his release he made sure to not drop cum on you, stifling his moans into his black hoodie as he came into his tissue.

After a few moments of him calming himself down he noticed how his cock stayed hard. He felt it throb with anticipation, wanting no. Needing to feel inside you.

As his cock twitched over you, his mind grew hazy as he gently lifted the blanket off of your sleeping form. He knew at this point that this was a new low even for him and debated holding it off until he could consciously have you in his arms but his cock was leaking and begging for you. “You don’t mind, do you sweetheart? I know you’re a virgin but you’d want me to pop your cherry wouldn’t you?” He asks, not really expecting an answer, as he groped your chest. You wriggle in your sleep, fighting back waking up as he flinched, deciding that he’d have you when you were completely awake, wanting the moment to be as special for you as it is for him. With that he kissed your forehead, taking his leave and fading into the night.

————————————

The next morning you wake up groggy and tired, trying to adjust the way your bra was somehow over your breast. As you shrugged it off you got out of your dingy pajamas clothes to change into dingy work clothes. You groaned and heaved as you flung yourself to the city transport train, counting down the minutes the train would be late this time. “I really need to get a new way to work.” You groaned to yourself, tiredly flinging yourself onto the train. As you took your seat you noticed the same people you usually did. The angsty metal head teen that always sat by the mysterious window with their headphones blasting a tad too loud, as you could sometimes depict what song they were listening today. And the coffee man, the guy who always came onto the train with his steamy hot coffee from somewhere local get it does no effect as you always catch him nodding off anyway.

You beamed at the motivation to make today worth living as you sat settled in your seat, ignoring the out of place character that was Shigaraki. how would you notice him, a hoodie that screams “killer stalker”, a constant need to hide his face, calling for attention, and his weird choice of seating weirdly next to you as there were many other places to sit. Every red flag about that man went obliviously unnoticed as you happily offered the seat next to you, with a smile on your face.

“Thanks.” The one worded man said as he found himself being unable to speak, Shigaraki’s first big move after sneaking into your house. He knew he had seen you around, followed you, and some… but he had never actually gained the courage to talk to you, let alone get so close to you while you were awake.

The rest of the ride was in silence as you checked glances at the questionable neighbor that you caught eyeing you more than a couple of times, you subtly checked to make sure you weren’t getting the wrong idea and had a spot of food on your face or something but found nothing.

As the train rolled to a screeching stop all the flooding passengers fled to where they needed to be, including you. You departed from the train, making your long walk to work.

————————————

You sighed a breath of relief as the shift being over dawned closer and closer. You wiped down the last table before closing and gathering your stuff to leave.

Normally when walking home you knew you felt a sense of unease, but you always played it as paranoia, or a natural sense of human overthinking. As you ignored your settling gut on the instinct you find yourself walking down the dimly lit street to the train station, finding a sort of relief when it was in view. Just as you were about to reach the bright and populated station a hand tapped your shoulder.

Spooked you flashed around, your senses on alert. “Sorry didn’t mean to sneak up on you, I just recognized you from the train station earlier.” The tall, lanky, suspicious man said. You didn’t have to try hard to remember who he was, counting you had let him sit right next to you.

“oh yes, you walking to the station to?” You asked, trying to calm your nerves enough to keep conversation. For some reason you found yourself uncomfortable and confused. “Nobody lives down this street… let alone come down here. The nearest store/ restaurant was back almost a half mile away and we were closed….”

you tried to think rational, fighting with your mind as you didn’t want to make and jump to conclusions so easily.

“Where are you coming from on such an uneventful night?” You ask, keeping up a smile. The man shivered as he collected his thoughts. “Just thought a nice walk before heading home.” He said, looking back at the train station. You nodded as you looked back to the train that you counted was bound to pull up in a few minutes.

“Should we walk to the station together then?” You suggested, mentally slapping your face as you made a mistake, you only wanted to leave the awkward and weird conversation, not invite it on a long and possibly more weird conversation.

The man happily nodded, both of you moving in a pace too slow to catch a train. Shigaraki knew this, asking you questions for you to slow and think about as he stalled for more time. He tried desperately to hide his hard dick as it shifted at the sight of you, your natural smell of sweets and the way you were so cutely unaware. As you reached the train station you had concluded it to be too late. You sighed in agitation before glancing to find people. No one. Shigaraki would jump up and down for joy if he weren’t trying to blow his cover right now but he holds it, taking in your precious thinking state. “You know I could drive you home if you wanted.” He suggested. He looked at your face and waited for a response as you contemplated.

You knew the pros and cons of traveling with a complete stranger, let alone one as weird and strange as him but you saw that the next train wasn’t until dawn and if this man was willing to help then you’d be inclined to take it, flipping a mental coin in your head, you landed on tails, nodding and following him to his car as he led you.

The drive was quiet, you observed your surroundings at all times, making sure to make sure he takes the right turns and swirls down streets to the train station, as you gripped your phone tight. You didn’t trust anyone enough to do this but desperate as you were, you made due. As you rounded a streetlight you blanked thinking. “Why would he take the train if he has a car?…” you glanced over at the man mortified , as he was now smiling.

“you caught me darling~” he chuckled. Before you could protest he stuck you with a quick needle, making you dizzy as you fell unconscious.

I guess you should’ve went with heads.

#yandere #yanderecore #bnha #fanfic #cybercl0ne #boku no hero x reader #mha fanfiction #shimura tenko #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #shiggy #boku no hero academia shigaraki #shigaraki tenko #mha shigaraki #bnha shigaraki #tenko shimura #shigaraki #mha #my hero academia #mha tomura #mha fanart #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #boku no hero acedamia #my hero acedamia

[aleksa-sims]

RL Simself Story ( 18+)

I was at N.'s. He told me what was going on with that girl Stephanie, his (ex-) fiancée. However, I was alone that morning. Nico had a match. I was still in bed until the doorbell rang. I wondered who that was? I didn’t open the door. This is not my place. I just went to the window and saw a pretty, young woman looking in my direction. I knew it was her!😓💔 She looked up at the windows to me a second time, before she got in her car and left. Maybe she saw me?

N.’s dog came up to me in the bedroom after it rang. I think he thought I was scared? I told him, I'm fine, just a bit sad. He always knew when I wasn’t well. Atm I was sure that Nico’s dog remembered me.🧡 I hugged him & said, "Let’s go for a walk together like we used to.".. I went to a pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test. I didn’t want to wait anymore and I have to tell Nico!

A few hours later, N. came home. I heard he wasn’t alone, so I went downstairs to see what was going on?

Carefully I hid behind the curtains, to watch who those 2 guys were, who came with him.

Nico: Yo, cut the shit! I've got someone here, you get me? Why did you two morons even come up with me?

Martin: Well, I gotta piss, man.

Nico: Then go and get outta here!... And you, dude? What you doing there?

Damian: Just check myself out 😏. ..What's the hurry? Like... you wanna get rid of us.

Okay, Damian & Martin, 2 of his team mates. I really didn’t feel like awkward small talk. That one Christmas party 2 years ago was enough for me! Just saying Damian's stupid twin sister. 😡 Anyway. That guy Martin came back from the bathroom. He wanted to know who I was, while Damian was still busy admiring himself in the mirror. 🤦‍♀️😒

Martin: Well, I'm done! ... But-... c'mon, who's your new... mistress?

Nico: Mistress? I’m not having a fling, and I didn’t cheat.

Martin: You kept texting that girl in Italy. You didn’t give a shit about Stephanie. That’s cheating too, dude.

Nico: The fuck-...

Damian (to M.): Can't you keep your fucking trap shut?... Sorry, N.! I told him.

Martin: That wasn’t an insult or anything. I just think it's a bit..... blatantly & rash to dump your girl just for a fuck.

Nico: What makes you think it’s just a fuck for me?

Martin: It's that kind of vibe I got. The way you talked about her earlier, you know?

Damian: He’s right! Why all that secrecy? Just say who she is!

Nico: I wouldn’t have let you into my place, if I hid her!! But yea, I admit... I didn’t expect this to happen. I don't wanna hurt my gir-... Stephanie!  I really struggled to end it with her. I thought it would be easier but seeing her so.... fucked up & sad also got me down. It hurt me too, okay! I love her.

Damian: Then.... get her back, man.

Nico: Yea.... I-.. I can't!.. I simply can't! She.... can’t give me what I want. 😕

Martin: Stop thinking with your dick and get your girl back!

Damian: That chick must be damn hot. Tell us who she is, dude.

Nico: You know her anyway! 🤷‍♀️So cut the shit and fuck off.

Damian: Yo, don't tell me you’re screwing my sister. 🤣

Nico: Your sister?... I'm not that desperate. 😄

Damian: Shit, I think she overheard us.

Martin (to D.): Let's head out, man.

Damian: You, started that ball rolling and now you wanna fuck off?

Nico (to me): Babe? Come to us, you don’t have to hide.

Damian: Damn, that's your..... ex....

Damian: Heyyy! Sorry Aleksa, I didn’t know it was you. You want a hug? 😬

Me: Like our last encounter? 🤨

Damian: But you’re not gonna start crying again, huh?

Me: That's kind of your thing, right? Make girls cry and hug them.

Damian: You know, I hate making girls cry.

Me: You look so much like... someone.... I know. 😔 Almost creepy. I didn’t notice it before because ...yea, I didn’t meet and know him yet then.

I was speechless when Damian stood in front of me. He and Daniel look totally alike. Now that I missed Daniel’s face so much, I noticed it. However, atm I had other worries in my head. Nico and his Stephanie! Yesterday Nico told me about her issues. And he....asked me for forgiveness. He couldn’t let her down. Her family was away for a few days and she threatened Nico that she would hurt herself. Which she allegedly did and tried in the past. So he allowed her to stay with him until her parents came back. He was afraid to leave her alone. I was totally disappointed and mad. I told him, that if she comes back here to him, I’m gonna end this with us!!! She will probably sleep with him or try it and I didn’t trust him. Even though N. promised me he wouldn’t sleep with her. He just didn’t want to leave her alone the next three days, but between him and her it’s over, he said. STILL! I had no confidence in promises made to me by men, who supposedly loved me. So I wanted to go home, but N. stopped me. He suggested that we both, Stephanie & I stay with him for the next 3 days, until her family comes home. Thats CRAZY, I told him! However, he gave in and meant, he’d come up with something else for her, but he doesn’t want to lose me. And well, I stayed with him. But as I just heard what he thought about her and me, I wanted to leave again! 😞 Agh yea, I’ll tell next time how it went on. It's just too much for one post. And also Stephanie will be back and I'm gonna see Dennis. 🤦‍♀️Sandra will talk me into something totally stupid. I mean, she was just trying to encourage me. It was my stupid idea, to drag Dennis into that.....mess. But he also wanted it!!! 🤷‍♀️

Previous/ Next

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #myrlgameplay #rl story #simself #18+ content #cw cheating

[semperama]

Sorry about your anxiety, I hope you feel better soon ❤️

Fluffy prompt: Maxiel, "You look good in the morning sun"

Daniel never stays the entire night. If he sneaks out in the wee hours, that means it isn’t real, isn’t serious. So when he rolls ever and sees the sun streaming through the curtains, a golden slice of it falling across Max’s chest, he panics.

His pants are somewhere on the floor, and his phone is probably in them. He has no idea what time it is, but he bets he’s already missed texts from Michael. Yesterday’s race still weighs on him, and he feels like he’s still covered in sweat and road grit even though he’s had multiple showers since then, but this job doesn’t come with many breaks. Just one more reason he should have been back in his own hotel room by now. Michael side-eyes him when he spends too much time with Max as it is. Says it distracts him. Sometimes Daniel just wants to—

He sighs, runs his hands over his face, then flips the sheets away and sits up. He meant to be quiet, but beside him, Max stirs some, rolling his head to the side and flinging one arm up over his head. Daniel looks over his shoulder at him and thinks about pressing his thumb to the crease between Max’s brows, smoothing it away. Instead, he gets to his feet and starts picking up his clothes.

He has an armful and is about to head for the bathroom to clean up when an arm wraps around his waist from behind and fingers wrap around his wrist, squeezing until Daniel drops most of his clothes reflexively. “Stop,” Max says in his ear. He presses against Daniel, bare skin to bare skin, his soft cock nestled against the back of Daniel’s thigh. “Don’t go yet.”

Daniel swallows hard against the painful lump in his throat. This is why he doesn’t stay. It’s easier to slip out right after they fuck. It's easier to kiss Max, rough and perfunctory, scrub down in the shower, and then wave at him from the doorway, tell him he’ll see him at home or at the track. It’s easier when he can barely see Max’s face in the dark.

“I have to,” Daniel says. He flexes his wrist against Max’s grip, and Max gentles but doesn’t let go.

“Why? What do you have to do?”

Max doesn’t take hints. He barely responds even to bluntness. Daniel imagines what would happen if he told Max, “I have to go, because seeing you in the morning makes me want to keep you all to myself, forever,” and he knows Max would only frown at him, confused, and say something stupid like, “So keep me then,” not knowing exactly what he was agreeing to, just willing to say anything to get Daniel to do what he wants, give him what he wants.

“You think I have my schedule memorized?” Daniel says, making his voice light, a joke. “I have people for that. But I do know there’s always something.”

A tug at his wrist, and Daniel finally turns around, though he takes his time letting his gaze work his way up from the ground, lingering on the smear of dried come on Max’s hip and the pink marks Daniel sucked on his pecs last night, because all of that is safer than meeting his eyes. Max isn’t saying anything, though, and eventually Daniel has no choice but to look at his face. His hair is a mess, sticking up in the back like some kind of fluffy baby bird. The sunlight coming through the window highlights the dust of golden stubble on his jaw.

“Max,” Daniel says. “Let go.”

Instead, Max kisses him. He winds his arms around Daniel’s neck and opens his mouth against his, so Daniel has no choice but to slide his tongue past Max’s teeth, taste his stale morning breath, cup his hands to Max’s jaw and hold him there. He doesn’t notice Max dragging him back toward the bed until he’s being dragged down onto it, the breath leaving his lungs in a huff.

Max is still loose and wet from last night. Daniel spits in his hand, slicks himself up hoping it’s enough, and pushes inside Max in one quick stroke that makes Max let out a sound like he’s dying. He kisses Max hard, his eyes squeezed shut so tight it makes his head ache, and keeps kissing him until Max tears his mouth away to says, “Don’t stop,” as if Daniel had considered ever, ever stopping.

He fucks Max hard enough to make them both slip up the bed, until Max has to toss the pillows out of the way with one hand while digging bruises into Daniel’s bicep with the other. The sounds Max makes—soft and pained and so fucking hot—are almost enough for Daniel to lift his head and look at him, but no, he can’t, he won’t. If he just fucks Max good enough one more time, he can get up and go, and maybe this time will be the last, maybe he’ll have the willpower to—

Max grabs him by the hair and lifts his head up, and Daniel opens his eyes before he has time to remind himself not to. And Max is looking back at him, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, his mouth bitten bright red. The sun through the window slices across his face now, making him glow, and for a moment Daniel is sure his heart is going to explode from his chest.

“Please,” Max says, and Daniel has no idea what he wants, but he’d give it to him, anything, everything.

“Shh,” he says instead, and kisses Max again. Max comes like that, hot and wet against Daniel’s stomach, sucking on Daniel’s tongue. “Good,” Daniel says, open-mouthed against Max’s cheek. “Max,” he says, and grinds his hips into Max’s so he can spill as deep inside him as possible, like maybe he could make sure a part of him would stay in there forever, where Max could always feel it, where no one else could get at it.

“Stay,” Max says, breathless. He still has a death grip on Daniel’s arm, and he brings the other to wrap around the back of his neck. “Stay here. It’s early. Let’s sleep.”

Now that Daniel has started looking, he can’t stop. He brushes his thumb across Max’s mouth, then kisses him with his eyes wide open. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks. He reaches down to ease himself out of the clutch of Max’s body, then immediately regrets the loss.

Max’s eyelids flutter, then close. The sunlight gilds his eyelashes, and Daniel gives in to the urge to run his thumb across them. “You could never,” Max says.

Daniels wishes that worked both ways. He lays his head on Max’s chest, listens to his heartbeat, and pretends.

#maxiel #f1 #my writing #ficlet #this prompt is from a while ago but i felt inspired! #it ended up a little more melancholy than expected though oops

[starchilddante]

For my first request, dear artist...

Prince to Princess.

Basically, she starts off a cis male who feels body dysphoria and wonders why, thinking that as a Prince he is perfect and there's nothing wrong with him... then one of her servants teaches her about LGBTQ+ and Trans people, and she realizes... oh my Irene, I'm not a Prince. I'm a Princess.

(also please please please make the parents supportive, I suffer from a self-proclaimed but really not supportive dad but incredibly supportive Mum and Step-dad)

“Good morning, your Highness. It’s time to get up.” I open my eyes blearily to the face of my attendant, smiling softly at me before heading over to fling open the window curtains. The light of the morning was already streaming through the windows. This is the third time I've overslept this week. Whoops. 

I rolled over to the edge of my bed, stifling a groan. Now I would have to dodge Irene’s string of concerned questions all day and sit through another worried lecture from Mom. 

It’s not that I didn’t appreciate their worries. I just… didn’t have any answers to my own questions, let alone theirs. It was easier to just pretend everything was fine. Even if I’d rather be sleeping lately. 

“Come on, up and at ‘em.” Irene was never one to let me mope. “Just because you’ve got nothing going on this morning doesn’t mean you can lounge around, Prince Alexander.” 

Irene had already laid out my outfit for the day, and I could hear the water running from the bathroom. A bath didn’t sound terrible. 

I pushed myself from the bed, staggering over to the bathroom. Irene rewarded me with a slight smile, laying my undergarments next to the tub. 

“I’ll help you get dressed once you’ve finished.” 

After Irene closed the door behind her, I began to undress, doing my best not to look down. As I sank into the hot water, I caught a glance of my chest, where chest hair had become dark enough to be visible. An uncomfortable feeling settled underneath my skin. I’d been growing more and more body hair lately, a fact that caused me to feel more and more self-conscious. I did my best to ignore it. Body hair is normal for someone my age. My mother had said it plenty of times. I just needed to get used to it. 

Once I was finished, I shoved on my undergarments and opened the bathroom door to Irene making my bed. Normally, a royal’s attendant would help them bathe and dress them in the bathroom, but I would feel weird asking Irene to do that for me. It was odd enough that I had specifically requested a female attendant. I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. 

Not that she would anymore. We’d gotten pretty close over the last year. She told me about her wife and two kids and I told her that I exclusively liked men. She told me about how she had been married to a man for four years and I told her that I didn’t come out to my parents as gay until I had to court a princess for the first time and I bawled my eyes out. 

I didn’t tell her everything, though. There were some things you couldn’t tell anybody, not even your extra cool lesbian attendant. My stomach roiled with anxiety at the thought of it. 

“Your parents want to see you for breakfast,” Irene said, pulling me out of my thoughts. “They waited for you. And then you have a meeting with your Father this afternoon to plan the ball for next month-” 

Irene paused, staring at me as she combed my hair. “Prince Alexander? Where are you today?” I winced at the use of my name. Sometimes people used it when I wasn’t prepared and it felt like a bomb was being dropped. I don’t know why. 

“I’m right here, Irene,” I replied. “We’re in my room, in case you didn’t know. In the castle.” Irene snorted at me, resuming the process of managing the thick brown bush on my head that I called hair. 

“Wiseass,” she retorted. “You know what I meant. You’re stuck in your head again.” Her expression softened, and I knew what was coming.

“Everything okay in there?” she asked. “You’ve seemed… different these days. And you’ve been oversleeping a lot more recently.” 

I brushed away her questions with a chuckle. “Come on, Irene. You know me. I’m just a grumpy old man in a 17 year-old’s body. Old men need their sleep. And it’s probably a good thing I’m thinking so much. It’d be a problem if the heir to the throne didn’t use their brain.” 

Irene turned her head to look at me sternly, but I knew her well enough to see the smile hiding at the corners of her lips. I always knew how to lower Irene’s guard. It was my speciality.

“Still, you know you can talk to me about anything,” she finally said. “That’s what I’m here for, Alex.” 

My heart fluttered a little. I much preferred Alex to Alexander, but Irene would only call me that every once in a great while, when we were alone. 

“I didn’t know you were here to be my therapist. I thought you were my attendant.” Irene offered me a playful smack on the shoulder. 

“Go to breakfast, your Highness.”

A short part one to let you know I did not forget this idea, I'm just a old and tired college student :p

Or if you'd rather read on Wattpad, I will continue uploading parts here and there:

Hope you enjoy the story!

#lgbtq #writing #short story #transgender stories

[yourlocalmultifandom]

Part 1

VILLES POV

"Yeah" I nod into the phone, looking out of the window of the tour bus. I'd been all over America, but there was just one place I wanted to be, and in less than a whole day, I'd be there again. "I'll be there in the morning"

"Cool, I'll have everything ready when you get here" Bam agrees.

"Great, great. Okay, I'll talk to you then"

"Later" he says before the phone clicks.

I look up, watching Mige sit on the opposite side of the table and smile at me. The cheesy grin was enough, but when he happily intertwined his fingers on the tabletop, I narrow my eyes, knowing he's definitely up to something.

"What?" I stare.

"I'm going to hate not being able to speak to you the entire time we're there" he dramatically sighs.

"Why can't you?"

"Because you'll be a drooling puppy dog all over again, don't act like I can't see the way you cream your pants every time she's around"

"Surely you're not talking about me"

"I am. You and little miss Margera"

"Aprils a lovely woman, but she's married"

"Don't play dumb, Ville. You know I'm talking about Danni"

The very name struck a special string in my heart. I look at my hand, trying my best to hide any emotion that hits me. Bams twin sister, the vixen that ran away with my heart.

"She's off at college" I nearly whisper.

"No she isn't. Bam said she dropped out to do that CKY thing" a coy smirk dancing on his face.

"No she didn't" I stare, my heart skipping a beat.

"Oh yeah she did. Bam picked her up like three days ago, so she'll be all nice and ready to rock when you arrive"

"She's a friend"

"That you lose all dignity over" he smirks.

He's not wrong, I started thinking about her long dark hair, pale skin, those icy blue eyes...that damn smile. I find myself writing about her a lot, and I'll be the first to admit that Danni is a very beautiful girl, but I highly doubt I'd ever be her type. Even if I did have a chance, she's got this on and off thing with one of the guys from CKY, the band her brother, Jess, is in. Her little fling still doesn't stop me from devoting everything I have to her every chance I get, though. I was really hoping she wouldn't be there this time, I'm worried Bam will notice my admiration for her someday. He's bound to find out if I'm around her long. Those two are thick as thieves, being twins wasn't just in their looks either, I swear they could finish each other's very thoughts. I'd never have guessed anyone could match his energy the way she does.. The very first time I ever met her, Bam had brought her along to one of my shows, and I was instantly mesmerized. She was the first person to ever convince me to get on a skateboard, and the only girl I know that can drink as much as me. My mind starts trailing off, thinking about all of the time we've spent together during our friendship.

"Hello? Ville" Mige says, ripping me from my thoughts.

"Huh?" I stare.

"Exactly what I thought" he smiles. "Get some rest, you'll be struggling to breathe normal in a few hours"

"Right" I nod, realizing there was only about four hours before I see her.

I stand up, making my way to my bed and trying to mentally prepare myself for dealing with that beloved family of lunatics, I laugh at how I used to think Bam was crazy...then I met his sister. I lay in bed and think about all the memories I had with my favorite twins, remembering all the crazy shit they do on a regular basis. I sigh, trying to shut my brain off and get some rest, unfortunately, my brain is now infiltrated by one Danni Margera. I sigh, tossing and turning, haunted by her smile, her laugh, her touch. The three years I've spent being her friend has driven me insane, and now I'll be faced with her again, just praying that I don't accidentally let my love for her show. Maybe I'm recalling things through rose-tinted glasses, perhaps I'll get there and have entirely different emotions.

#Spotify

[slashersmuts]

Silent love

By Slashers Smuts

Summary:

In the eyes of others, my heart's love was a monster. Some call him the evil body, but he shows me love.

Warning Fluff and Smut,

Characters: Jason Voorhees, Reader

I just wanted to write some Jason x reader lemon because I don't think there are enough of them out there.

First person from my OC.

Work Text:

I loved this place for reasons that others would never understand. The lake was always crystal clear, and the forests were always deserted due to the fear of being killed. But I have a secret; what if I told you that I never have to worry about my safety here? I find comfort in the same force that others fear.

Jason is the man I draw comfort from, the man I love the man I see every so often.

Many had fallen to the hands of this man my heart had done the same. He must feel the same as me or he would not have cleaned his cabin, stole clothes, let me hug him, took off his mask once and let me kiss him, and even showed me his mother.

My elbow fling up to catch myself on the cheap fabric of the seat in front of me. Hollowing my chest, causing me to have to take a deep breath of thirty people’s morning breath. God I hate taking the metal death trap, but it is the only way to get to him.

Space became less available as my stop came closer and closer.

Transportation does not run through camp Crystal Lake nor does it even come close to the entrance. Just out of sheer fear of Jason. So walking was my only option, the last time I drove he shot an arrow into the window. Narrowly missing me, after that he just avoided me as he was a bull and I was glass.

The bus slowed once more this time it was my turn to leave. I did all too gingerly, my lips curled into a smile my feet moving with my heart. Spontaneously.

I could not wait to see my Jason.

Out of memory I navigate the forest. A bent tree means a right, a dying bush means your close. A trail of blood means a certain person was hear not too long ago

Following the crimson streaks leads me to his cabin yes, but otherwise he would not be near where the trails stops. He doesn’t like to approach his mother bloody.

He goes down to his bunker most of the time, resets his traps and sharpens his blade. No one else know that there is a secret door leading underground. He is most likely going to be there. But I don’t get to be there for very often. It’s like a man in his work station.

Though like I said he did clean his cabin for me to stay in. He is probably not expecting me. I usually come in the spring and fall. But winter was going to be lonely, I had refused one to many men for Jason and my family was fed up. Apparently my mom and dad are too sick to visit or have visitors. But Aunt Carmen said the rest of the family is going.

Fine I don’t need them, I will just cook for Jason then… Does he even eat?

The back-pack on my back felt heavier as my conscious is now scratching at me, it would be rude to eat in front of him. I hope he doesn’t mind.

I stopped at the cabin, his cabin. I was now almost a full joy, even though the wind started to pick up I still felt warm. Perhaps snow would start to fall, I never been in a snowy forest before. I wonder if Janson likes the snow, then again he does not like water.

The door creaks open, I wonder inside stumbling to Jason’s room. The bed was blanket was slight pushed aside, he was just here.

The same creak of the door opened, the front door. Lead seemed to cover my feet, I wasn’t Jason who opened the door. He does it quietly. But someone else did.

“Hey girl, what are you doing here. Do you know the freak lives here.“ The bloodied man shrieked.

I whipped around to run away from the man. I run five steps before hearing a gurgling behind me.

I turn around to see the man’s throat slit and flooded with blood.

The silent man standing next to him. His chest rising and falling with quite strength.

“Hi Jason. Didn’t expect me?” I squeak, still fazed from his very resent kill.

He walked slowly towards me, his breathing getting heavier.

My body got lifted of the ground, over Jason’s shoulder.

He put me back down in is bunkers bed. It seemed as if he didn’t know what else to do. He just stared at me, like he wanted to say something.

“I have food to cook, do you want some. I also came here because I missed you and was alone for the holidays."I explained.

He tilted his head. Reminding me of the gift in my bag. I shrug the bag of my shoulders, retrieving the gift.

Handing him a package rapped in a dull wrapping paper not to discourage him from opening it.

Still when he got it he just examined it heavily.

I took the package back and peeled the paper back just a little. Handing back to him.

He seemed to get it this time, he started to carefully peel the paper off the gift. Revealing wool fabric, hand - made gloves.

The gloves now snugging his hands tightly. He flexed his hands testing out the fingerless gloves.

"Do you like them?” I question.

He stares at me, I could feel that was his yes.

“ I am going start cooking now.” I try to move.“ I say. I roll off to the side, trying to move past him. His arms catch me, pulling me back to where I started.

"Yes, Jason?” I whisper his name. He always jumps at his name. But this time he jumped towards me.

His fingers found my sleeves, tugging at them. He wanted me to go with him,his way of asking.

“Yes Jason” I say.“What ever it is I trust you.”

He lugs me over his shoulder once more taking me though unfamiliar territory.

Stopping in front of a crude looking cabin. As I step inside I notice very small details.

The place was furnished, probably stolen from somewhere. It was also rather large.

He cupped my waist, lowering me to the ground. Doing something he has never done before,he held my hand.

Slightly tugging it, he wants me to follow him. He ducked in a room.

Tears of joy filled my eyes,a cradle was pushed into the corner.

He then lowered himself onto his knees, pressing my hand to his mask. And his mask into my belly.

“Do you want a child?” I asked him.

He responded by grabbing my inner thighs lifting me up.

My weight getting carried from the room to the room next over.

Dropping me onto the fairly sized bed. Lifting up my shirt slightly, asking for my permission. I nod at him.

My long-sleeves and pants got ripped off in his wake of his hunger.

My body now exposed to the cold raised.

His body pressed against mine. Hips pressed against mine,as well as his clothed erection against my bare bottom.

I lift my hips rubbing his pants of to his knees. Also seeing that he wears no underwear.

My wetness waiting to be entered, he push into me as soft as he could. Pulling me into his death grip. His hips slapping against mine.

He pushing hit my buddle of nerves almost each time. By pure accident probably yes but regardless he was.

For a probably virgin he had lasted at least three hours. He seemed resistance to pleasure. Him being dead silent compared to me. With my moaning, whining, and whimpering.

Each time my back arched in climax, he pulled out from me giving me time to recover.

When I pulled his hips towards mine he pushes back into me.

The only noise he makes is when he finished inside me. His seed spilling into.

He rolls on to the side next to me. Staring into my eyes,I stare into the holes of his mask.

I run my hands over his masks, pulling on it. He didn’t move back from my touch so I pushed his mask up.

Seeing his face made my heart melt, a little grin tugged a my lips. I wasn’t because the way he looks. Because he trusts me to see his face.

I place a kiss on his lips.

“I love you Jason.”

My belly was full and my body was engulfed in his arms, so my dream had to be shared with him.

#SoundCloud

[milanitalia44]

The last time I saw Toby

part one

Dear diary,

I never thought I'd find myself back here, pen in hand, scribbling away in these pages. Liz insists it's therapeutic. Daddy, on the other hand, would probably confiscate this if he knew about it. He's always been more concerned with security than emotions.

Despite Daddy's disapproval, in our session this morning, Liz urged me to write again. It seems she believes in its therapeutic power enough to risk her position. So, here I am, writing again as what seems like a last resort. 

The house feels hollow these days, a cold shell of what it used to be. Often, I find myself lying on my bed, gazing out of the west window at the garden. The gazebo in the midst of the white rose beds feels like a gravestone. I like to imagine the the warmth of last summer, 

When my face was kissed by the sun rather than sickly white.

When my heart overflowed with love, untouched by the sharp edges that now cut it into fine pieces.

Mum avoids me, drowning herself in white wine, tennis, and redecorating the front hall. And Daddy, well, who knows what he's up to? I'd rather not know.

He's a man of strong black coffee.

A man of pressed navy suits with long skinny ties. 

A man who likes dark gray Porsche 911’s, lying, talking loudly on the phone, and women who aren’t my mother. 

Liz suggested I write about last summer, to put my memories into words “as a way to set it off into the past and heal”… bullshit in my opinion, but I guess I'll give it a shot. 

I’ve always been bad at memorizing for tests, daddy had to hire three different tutors just to get me through my biology class last fall, all of them quit within 3 weeks. My memories of last summer on the other hand effortlessly cut through the haze of my usual forgetfulness. It was a sweet smelling day. The cherry blossoms along the front gardens had reached full bloom, they smelt faintly of Mummy’s summer perfume. My birthday had just passed so Lucky was a fairly new treasure. I’d begged and begged for a new riding horse for ages, so finally on my 18th birthday, there came striding in a perfect chestnut English Thoroughbred with a red bow tied neatly around his neck. I remember the tears, the tight embrace with Daddy and the proud look on Mummys face. That afternoon I quietly set out and rode Lucky down the dirt road just south of our land, something I used to do with my old horse Bucky before he passed. About 20 minutes into my ride, a thud echoed behind me, startling Lucky. I swung around to an odd tableau: a blue bicycle and a cascade of newspapers scattered across the road. A few feet from his fallen bicycle, lay a brunette boy, rubbing his knee. I hopped off Lucky and helped him recollect his papers into his woven bicycle basket. Surprised by my act of kindness, he squinted at me and mentioned something about a familiar face. Instead of answering, I asked him what on earth all of the newspapers were for. It turned out, he was the paperboy—I felt stupid. 

“How about I help you out then, I barely ever get to go into town” I said

He agreed. We decided it would be faster if we made the deliveries together with Lucky, so there we rode, it must've been such a peculiar sight. A paperboy and a princess riding an English Thoroughbred down the streets, flinging newspapers into yards and laughing foolishly. It was one of the best days of my life.

My dear Lucky.

Our white gazebo.

The newspaper article I've kept from that very first day.

[jenomark]

➔Pairing: Jeno x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Smut (with a plot!) ➔Warnings: Sexual tension & Penetration. ➔Word count: 2,470

➔Summary: You haven't called your ex-boyfriend in two years, but he's the first person you call when you're in a bit of trouble. He comes when you call, thus sparking a night neither of you will be able to move on from.

Anon request #1: can I request an ex to lovers scenario with jeno where his ex and him decided to stay as friends and since always they had a huge tension and after 2 years they got really flirty or smth, thanks💖

Anon request #2: hi, I want to request a drabble about sex with jeno, thank you!!

Jeno looked at his buzzing cell phone and blinked lazily. He hadn't seen your number come up since you broke up with him, which had to have been two years ago. He had managed to stay friends with you over those two years, but you were never friendly enough to call each other at three in the morning. Still, Jeno picked up the call to hear static at the other end of the line, wondering if he would still feel the same when he heard the sound of your voice.

"Hello?"

There was more static. When he thought you might have pocket dialed him, and he was getting ready to hang up, he heard your voice. Time seemed to slow down in those moments.

"Jeno?" you said. "I don't have good service out here. I'm scared, Jeno."

Feeling his heart race, Jeno asked, "Where are you? What is going on?"

"Off the highway. My car broke down." you said. "Can you come get me?"

Jeno sprang out of bed immediately, tearing the covers from his naked body. He got dressed while keeping you on the phone with him, so that you weren't scared. He drove to where you were, pulling over to the side of the road. When you saw him, you got out of your car and stood awkwardly, wringing your hands together.

"I know I shouldn't have called you first," you started to say. "But i-"

"-It's okay." he said, meaning it.

Jeno was bone tired, but being in front of you made him more alert. Though you broke his heart, he was still so careful with yours. Jeno came over to your car to look at it, pulling up the hood like he had any idea what he was truly doing. You watched his muscles as he fiddled around with stuff, your eyes slightly glazing over.

"I don't know much about cars." he said, shutting the hood. "I'll call someone to come pick this up. Until then, I will drive you back home. It's too late for us to be waiting out here."

You nodded and followed him back to his car. He made the call quickly before setting his cell phone down in the cup holder. There was so much gratitude for him in the silence, but you couldn't seem to get any of your thoughts out. You were still thinking about his muscles, about how handsome he looked at nearly four in the morning.

"It's done," he said. "They'll pick your car up soon. You can figure out what to do about it tomorrow."

"Thank you." you said.

It had started to rain. A few droplets hit the front of his windshield before a whole sheet of rain came down, hitting the top of his roof as hard as rocks. He could barely see out of the windshield, so he decided to wait for the storm to pass. It was awkward inside of the car, and too quiet.

You cleared your throat. "Are you seeing anyone?"

Jeno looked over at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Seeing his expression, you realized what an invasive question it was. You tried backtracking, but you were sputtering your words enough to make Jeno laugh.

"Relax," he said. "I'm not seeing anyone."

You didn't know what you were thinking. Maybe you were too tired to think straight. Maybe it was the sound of the rain. Maybe it was the way he looked at you in the darkness of the car. You reached over and touched the hand that rested on the steering wheel until he looked you in your eyes.

"You got Lasik eye surgery." you said. "You used to look so cute in your glasses."

For Jeno, it was easy. There has always been sexual tension between you. Touching the top of your hand felt natural. He leaned over, grabbed your chin and kissed you. You made out, completely unaware that the rain had stopped. When everything slowed down, you were straddling Jeno in his seat, and his hands were on your ass. You parted, your eyes staying on his lips until he spoke.

"I should get you home." he said.

"You should come home with me." you said, surprising yourself more than him.

Jeno laughed and eased your body off of his. "I want that more than you know, but I don't think it's a good idea. I could never control myself around you. "

Jeno drove you home, the only sound in the car coming from the windshield wipers noisily wiping away droplets of rain. You followed the blades swiping left to right, your brain in a funk.

Breaking up with Jeno was one of your top ten mistakes. You weren't as wise as you are now. You didn't know what you had when you let it go. You had carried his hurt with you everywhere you went for two years. Though you remained as friends, there was always weird tension whenever you met up with each other. His group of friends didn't trust you, and your group of friends always took your side, even though each of them was in love with Jeno. Your shared friends didn't get into the middle of it, and you and Jeno spent 24 months skating around unspoken apologies.

"We never had a chance to talk alone." you said, finally getting the bravery to speak out. “There are a lot of things left unsaid.”

Jeno pulled up in front of your house. You weren't surprised he knew where you had moved to, because you had been dropping hints for months. You had always hoped Jeno would roll up one day and give you another chance you didn't quite think you deserved.

"We don't have to talk about it now. "It's early in the morning and we both could use some sleep," he said.

You hummed in agreement, looking out of the rain soaked window at your lonely, dark house. You looked up at the sky and wanted the sun to come up, to cast a pretty glow over you and soften the experience of sitting with your ex in his car.

"You're like my knight in shining armor." you said. "I owe you a lot."

You had your hand on the door handle. You wanted to lean over and kiss him the way he kissed you, but your bravery only went so far. Jeno seemed to be thinking a similar thing. His eyes fell to your lips. Before either of you could act, he unlocked his doors.

"Get some sleep." he said, rubbing his arms as if he were cold. "I'll check in tomorrow to see how you're doing. I don't want them overcharging you for their services. If you want, I can go with you to make sure they don't."

"Okay." was all you could say. You got out of the car, tapped on his window as a way to say thank you and walked up the pathway to your house. You touched your fingers to your lips and remembered the way he tasted.

Jeno stayed there idling while you put your lock into the door and turned the handle. Once you were safely inside, you didn't wait to see if he had driven away.

You walked into your home, not caring enough to flick lights on. You weren’t as tired as before. Making out with Jeno had felt like an IV of caffeine had slipped into your bloodstream. Your body felt swollen in places, your heart most of all. You walked through the rooms, taking off your bra underneath your t-shirt and flinging it across the back of your couch. Your foot was on the first step of your stairs when you heard a soft rapping sound on your front door. Backtracking, you walked back to the door and flung it open, crossing one of your arms against your chest to hide yourself.

“Hi,” Jeno said.

He stood rooted to the spot, his eyes darting frantically around your face. You had no time to greet him back before he stepped over the threshold and took your lips against his. You moved your arm and let him smash his hard chest against your free breasts. Your nipples were aroused and you knew he could feel them against the thin material of his t-shirt. You threw your arms around his neck and clung to him, savoring the taste and feel of him.

“I know I said no but....” he said, between kisses. “It was very hard to watch you walk away from me just now.”

You kissed him and bit down on his lip, pulling it lightly with your teeth before letting go. “Take me to bed.” you said. “Or the floor...the couch..i don’t care, Jeno, just take me.”

Jeno picked you up into his arms. He shut your front door and locked it behind him without ever taking himself away from your lips. He was strong enough to carry you upstairs without struggling, which made you even more aroused than you already felt.

“To the left.” you whispered against his mouth.

It was strange having him in your new bedroom, yet, there was something familiar about seeing him amongst your possessions. He felt like he belonged. Jeno set you down on your bed and let out a groan of approval when you wouldn’t let go of his neck. You tried to trap him with your thighs, but he had pinned your arms above your head, which made you release him. Your body relaxed, half hanging off of your bed. Your stomach was bare where your shirt had ridden up, so Jeno leaned down to kiss it. He pushed it all the way up to expose your bare breasts and take them in your mouth one at a time. He was really going at it, feeling them and teasing them, when you put a stop to things and slipped out from underneath him.

“Can you give me a moment?” you asked, your face growing hot. “ I just need a second.”

Jeno sighed but agreed. He sat on the edge of your bed and watched you slink into your bathroom. You tried your best to freshen up, to get the 5 a.m stink off of you. Your mind was frantic and thinking of a million things that could go wrong. You realized that you were extremely nervous. The door to the bathroom slowly opened to reveal Jeno standing there with his hands in his pockets, and all of those thoughts faded like ghosts into the foreground.

“What are you doing?” he asked, crooking his finger. “Get over here.”

It was much easier than you thought it would be. It was like two friends getting together after a long time, friends that knew each other’s bodies inside and out. You tore off your shirt, not caring whether your armpits were sweating anymore. He met your breasts and moaned in appreciation as his mouth got back to business. On the bed, he rolled on top of you, laying kisses all down your body. You lifted your head up and let him nip at your neck. You took your hands and placed them underneath his t-shirt to touch his abs.

“Well,” you breathed. “This has changed.”

Jeno could only laugh. He took off his shirt and let you admire his body, which had definitely changed since the last time you took him to bed. You touched the hardness of his chest, down to the smoothness of tummy leading down to his cock, which you remembered in every detail. You sidled underneath him and let your tongue taste the salt on his skin. You bit down on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes.

Your body had changed, too. You were softer in a lot of places, which Jeno loved. He wanted to touch and savor all of you. There was an overeagerness to him that stifled any remaining awkwardness there could have been. He bit down on your shoulder in response, scraping his teeth against your skin before he met your mouth. His tongue wound its way around yours for a few seconds, just relishing the feeling of them together.

Once all the clothes were removed, a desperation started to change the atmosphere. Things were no longer silly. He didn’t laugh. You didn’t go anywhere but in his arms. The rain on the window was quiet but present. The sun was seeping into your skin where you lay underneath him. There was a moment where he grabbed your face between his hands and held you there, his thumb brushing across your cheek. He kissed you sweetly, his lips full.

When Jeno entered you, it was like all the memories of your sex life came flooding back. You would always miss him inside of you when he wasn’t there, miss the full feeling that came when he penetrated you for the very first time. You had missed the sounds his throat made whenever he concentrated on pleasuring you. You hadn’t forgotten how skilled his fingers were at fondling you, or how each stroke never failed to make you lose all thought. He fucked your body like it meant something in the morning glow. He didn’t slow down for anything, not even when he felt your fingernails digging into his back.

He had let you take control. You moved on top of him and sank down onto his cock, holding onto his arms as you did. With your hands pressed against his chest, you moved. You rode Jeno wildly, bucking against his pelvis with abandon. He tugged on your hair when you tilted your chin towards the ceiling. He gripped your waist. He smacked your ass. He did everything in his power to bring you back to him every time you slipped away. Your eyes eventually found him again. You moved lower and rode him, your sweaty body gliding against his. He held you, his thick arm around your neck as he felt your walls contract, as you came around his cock.

You wanted to cry out, wanted to bring the room down around you. You kept fucking him, wanting to coax the cum from his cock, to feel the warmth moving downwards with gravity. You wanted to keep it going forever, but it wasn’t meant to be. It had been a long time since you two had made love, and your bodies were too excited to hold back.

You knew there would be a talk somewhere in the future, when he was ready. As Jeno screwed up his face in orgasm, as you felt the warmth of his cum, you were a little too happy to prolong that conversation. You wanted him in your life for a long time but, for now, you would take him any way you could get him.

#jeno #lee jeno #nct jeno #jeno smut #nct smut #lee jeno smut #jeno fanfic #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct dream smut #lee jeno fanfic #hope you don't mind me combining these #i liked where the first one was going #and i was not originally going to add sex but I know some people out there would love it #so it felt right to answer both

[bellarkeselection]

Rodeo Phonecall

Request from EbonyHogan on Wattpad. The reader gets drunk at a rodeo and calls Rip her best friend. The next morning he takes care of her and reveals how he feels about what she said during their phone call last night.

Pressing the phone to my ear I hear it ring for a minute until my best friend Rip's voice came across. "Hey Y/n, long time hearing from you." I slur my words stumbling into the bleachers after having too many drinks. "Rippp, I'm having the time of me life. Seeing sta - stars." He chuckles through the phone at me, figuring out I'm not my sober self. "Are you drunk, babydoll?" I wave my freehand around in the air watching people leave the area. "Nah you've got confused - 10 beers wouldn't. I've got a secret - don't tell Rip though..." The person on the phone replied with me hearing a door closed and a truck door being opened. "I'm - damn straight - in love with him....come get a ride." A truck engine starts up hearing the other guy responds. "I'm on my way, hang tight baby."

Someone shakes me awake as I'm asleep on the cold so I blinked my eyes open seeing a blury Rip Wheeler above me. "Rippp" I cheer holding my arms up swinging my legs over to stand up. Apparently my body says otherwise because I collapse against his chest feeling him picking me up bridal style. "Just rest now. I'm taking you to the ranch for the night." My eyes fall close playing with the zipper of his black jacket after that I don't remember anything. The next time I open my eyes again I immediately shut them seeing sunlight through a bedroom window. "Shit my head - where am I?" I groaned feeling my head pounding harshly.

"I brought you to the ranch since it was a closer drive. Here drink this it should help with the hangover." Rip explains handing me a cup of some sort of medicine that smells gross. He moves around the bedroom closing the certain so I'm not squinting to see his face. "I shouldn't have went to that show by myself. Because I clearly didn't care how much alcohol I drank." Running a hand through my hair I down the drink trying not to gag at the bitter taste. Truth is I don't understand why I'd drink this much. Usually I'll only have one or two but last night was something else. "Rip, dare I ask what did I do last night?" I hope to God nothings posted on the internet about me.

Rip sits on the bed taking my right hand in his gently tipping his hat up a little. "The only thing that you did was call me wasted drunk on the phone. And said something I was hoping you'd say to me for years now..." I'm not sure if it's real or not because of the hangover and lost memory but I swear I see his face turn red in a deep blush. "Rip, I'm at a loss here. What did I say?" I questioned my best friend of 5 years wanting to know if I'd messed something up between us. "Y/n, you said you're in love with me....did you mean it?" My entire body freezes and I want to just bury my entire body under the covers. It all comes back to me, the reason I drank so much last night. Was so that I'd stop worrying whether or not to tell my best friend I fucking love him.

"Ye - yes I love you..." I stuttered out feeling a burning of my cheeks avoiding his gaze. His freehand tilts my chin so I'm looking up at him to see he's smiling, a smile on his face is so rare and precious because he rarely smiles. "I love you too, Y/n L/n. Always have and always will until the day I die." Without thinking I fling my arms around his neck kissing him suddenly. He gasped at first then slowly kisses me back, his arms going around my waist pulling me into deepen it. Unfortunately we have to break for air but it a panting mess I grinned at this man. "I'll love until I die to. I always have and always will, Rip Wheeler." He smiled leaning up snd capturing my lips with his once more, pushing me onto my back making his hat fall on the floor. This is the best drunk phone call that actually worked out for me.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#rip wheeler #rip wheeler x reader #rip wheeler x friend reader #cole hauser #yellowstone #wattpad request #requests open #send asks #send me questions #comments appreciated #ask box is open for anything

[hareharrison]

hold me

pairing: george harrison x reader

summary: george is in the process of finishing abbey road, and has been repeatedly coming home frustrated. instead of talking to you about it, he distances himself completely, and only speaks to you in annoyance or anger, and lashes out on you. he doesn’t know how much it affects you and one day comes home to the effects firsthand.

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, angy geo, neurodivergent reader, invasive thoughts, mental breakdown/panic attack, but it works out in the end

a/n: hayyyy ok so i wrote this as a comfort fic for myself, and i decided to post it cause why not. i struggle with intense fear of abandonment cause of bpd haha fun 😐and wanted to make it from the POV of a neurodivergent reader?? so this is like a comfort fic for ND readers?? idk if i need to put any other potential trigger warnings for this but if i do please lmk and i will fix it

year: 1969

the flat was quiet without him. to be honest, it was quiet with or without him, lately. as much as you didn’t want to admit it, george had been distant. he was always a quiet person, but he has never dismissed you this much. you knew that his job could be tiring and you tried not to overthink it, but you couldn’t help but feel bad. a voice in your head was planting horrible ideas, saying things like, “you fucked up, he doesn’t like you anymore, you’re annoying.” but still, you pushed on and tried your best to ignore the noise in your brain.

you sigh heavily and slide back into the couch. you had the next two days off of work, and nothing to do. george of course had to work on your days off, which left you alone at home. with your thoughts. it was hard getting through today, your intrusive thoughts were particularly loud... but he would be home any minute now, which brought on a bit of hope; seeing him should rid you of your own jailhoused mind.

the tv played some sitcom in front of you, which you had no interest in. all you could think about was if you ruined things. what if he was thinking of leaving you? it would be your fault... and yet you couldn’t think of a single thing you’ve ever done that might have hurt him.

the door opened gently and let in a cool draft that brushed against your warm skin. you look toward the entrance, seeing your george sigh heavily with exhaustion as he took his shoes and coat off. he looked up to you, his boldly furrowed brows softening.

“hi, love,” he says, walking toward you. you stand and approach him to greet him with a quick kiss. he holds you for a little longer than usual, and you take the opportunity to melt into his arms and breathe in his smell, something you’d been deprived of recently. he rests his chin on top of your head, which laid comfortably on his rising chest. it was moments like this that made all your worries slip away, moments like this that you wished you could cling onto forever and ever.

“how was your day?” you ask, finally leaning back to look up at him. he lets go of you and runs a hand through his long hair.

“not good,” he says, a frown on his perfectly sculpted face. you return his expression at the sight of him being sad. quickly, you remember your dinner ideas. maybe that would cheer him up.

“hey, maybe we can go get something to eat? maybe get your mind off of things?” you suggest, looking up at his brown eyes. he looks down at you, eyes full of regret.

“i’m sorry love, but i’d rather just head to bed already,” he says remorsefully. you smile softly and reassure him that it’s okay and he should get some rest. but part of you breaks inside, knowing he doesn’t want to spend time with you.

he headed upstairs and you followed, the painful ideas returning at full speed.

“you’re so annoying, of course he doesn’t want to spend any time with you. you’re so annoying and clingy,” your brain says and you flinch at the harsh thoughts. through your entire bedtime routine, thoughts flooded your mind and filled your entire being up, and you felt like you were being drowned from the inside out. george stood next to you as you both brushed your teeth, not speaking a single word to you or giving you a single glance. you changed into one of george’s t-shirts and watched as he slid out of his clothes and into his pajamas in seconds. he muttered a monotone, “good night,” before turning on his side, his back facting you.

as much as you didn’t want to, you believed the mean voices and hung your head as you got into bed next to george.

you slept back to back that night.

————————————————————

the sun seeped into your room through your windows, and invaded your bed, waking you rather unpleasantly. you groan lightly as you reached over your bed for george, but only found empty space. his side of the bed was cold, indicating that he’d been up for a while now.

you sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes as the aromas of freshly brewed coffee and morning dew hit your senses. you hear the song of the early birds chirping as your feet hit the cool floor. as you head downstairs, you can hear george on the phone, and you soon see him muttering softly before taking a long drag from his cigarette. you don’t bother him, seeing that there was paperwork on the table and his call must be business related. naturally, you decide to head for the coffee, the smell luring you in like a fish.

you poured the hot, dark liquid into your favorite mug and add in your preferred amounts of cream and sugar. looking out the window, you see water drip gently from the leaves of a tree that george and you had planted a year ago. you sip your coffee and reminisce about the times you used to actually spend time with george. how nice it was, seeing him smile so often.

you suddenly hear george raise his voice at the phone, something unlike him entirely. you jump at the unpleasant sound before peeking through the hallway to see what on earth was happening.

“no, i don’t care! i want the bloody bastard fired, in fact, tell him not to bother showing up today,” he shouts into the phone before slamming it down, placing his head between his knees and groaning in frustration. seeing george this upset and acting out on it was truly a rare sighting, and you thought carefully about what to next.

after careful consideration, you tiptoe into the room and gently rest a hand on his shoulder, the sudden contact making him flinch.

“christ, (y/n) are you trying to give me a bloody heart attack?” he grumbles before lighting another cigarette.

“sorry,” you say softly, “would you like some tea?” you figure it could calm his anger and soothe some of his abnormal irritability.

“what? tea? there’s already coffee made,” he says rudely. you take a step back, saying nothing. you know that you didn’t do anything and that this behavior would pass. george was never like this. your eyes find the time and see that george should have left ten minutes ago.

“george, you’re gonna be late to work,” you say, thinking you could at least do something helpful. his head snaps back at you and his once soft face turned hard with anger.

“what are you implying? you want me gone?” he stands up and angrily grabs all of the papers scattered on the table, shoving them into a folder and the folder into his bag, “fine, i’ll leave. im out the door.”

you look at him in confusion, you’d barely woken up and were just trying to help, “what’s the matter with you?”

“what’s the matter with me,” he repeats, looking away and scoffing. he runs his hand through his hair in frustration, “im sick of this, (y/n)! im sick of life. i come home exhausted and you have half a mind to ask me if i want to talk about it!”

“you always want to go straight to bed,” you defend yourself, hurt that he would even suggest that you don’t care about him. his dark eyes glare into your own for a moment that feels like hours, trying to think of somethig clever to say in response, but he just wasn’t ever much of a fighter. he finally chooses to put his cigarette out on the table’s ashtray and grab his coat. if you wanted him out of the house, he was more than happy to comply.

“george-“ you start.

“no,” he cuts you off, “don’t say anything right now, i can’t even look at you.” and he doesn’t, he ignores your presence entirely as he picks up his bag and walks out the door.

you’re left in the cold house, alone, hurt, and dumbfounded. you couldn’t believe what had just happened. you couldn’t believe that george, your george, had taken his anger out on you, simply for trying to help his morning be less shitty. worse than that, he thought you wanted him gone, when all you wanted was to be with him. is this how it was going to be now? a bitter, loveless relationship? your eyes sting with fresh tears at the thought, and a huge lump in your throat grows painfully. you take a deep breath before heading upstairs. you wanted anything but to cry this early in the morning, and the only reason you got up somewhat early was to see george before he left to work. now that your morning was ruined, you figured heading back to bed was the next best thing.

you climb back into your shared bed, suppressing your emotions with the warmth of your fluffy blankets and soft pillows. the comfort of a bed felt almost like a hug, and you sighed, letting the pain drift away as you fell asleep.

————————————————————

when you opened your eyes, the realization hit you. you’d slept until the sun began to set, completely ignoring your emotions, stuffing them down inside of you like an overflowing trash can. being awake made them fling right back at you; sleeping didn’t change a thing, and was only a temporary pause in your pain.

all of your feelings came back to you at once, and it once again felt like you were drowning internally. only this time, the thoughts weren’t the invasive factor. your emotions were overwhelmingly intense on top of your brain practically screaming horrible things to you. your breathing quickens as you feel tears slide down your face. this time you werent able to swallow the thick lump in your throat, and you began to weep softly.

this was it, george was leaving you. he hates you, he wants nothing to do with you. there was nothing you could do but hug your knees and cry. you choked on a sob and started rocking back and forth in attempts to try to soothe yourself. but you couldn’t stop, it felt like your entire world was falling apart. you soon began to have shortness of breath and struggled with your breathing, feeling your heart beat at an intense rate that you couldn’t control.

your bedroom door opens, revealing george’s early arrival. he immediately rushes to your side, afraid to touch you but wanting so bad to comfort you.

“(y/n)? (y/n), breathe. breathe, baby,” he takes your hand and you look at him. you aren’t sure if him being here is making the situation better or worse. seeing him try to help you stirred all kinds of feelings in your mind. you felt like you weren’t good enough for him, like you didn’t deserve his help.

george begins breathing in through his nose and out of his mouth, gently guiding you and hoping you will try to do the same. he sits in front of you on the bed and holds your face in his gentle hands. you look up into his eyes, the chocolate features of his face soothing you as your breath began to steady.

“that’s it,” he encourages.

“do you hate me?” you cry softly.

“what? no, (y/n), i’d give my life for yours, do you know that? you’re so, very special to me,” he slides over to sit beside you on the bed and wraps his long arms around you.

“why are you so distant?” you look up at him, and tears continue to roll down your flushed cheeks, “you acted so mean to me this morning, i feel like you want nothing to do with me.”

george is hurt by your words. he truly didn’t mean to be distant, and he never wanted to hurt you.

“i’m sorry,” he says, “ive been so overwhelmed i haven’t stopped to think of how you must feel. im really sorry my love i never meant to hurt you like this.” he embraces you tightly and you give into his comforting touch, wrapping your arms around his torso and digging your face into his chest. 

you take a deep breath, “i understand,” you say before looking up to him to whisper, “i miss you. i miss us.”

“i miss you too darling,” he pauses for a moment, “how about i take tomorrow off? we can do whatever you’d like.”

you sniffle, “what about the album? the deadline?” 

“i can fake sick. nothing is more important to me than you,” he says, “i want nothing more than to be with you. i love you so much.”

you smile when he presses a soft kiss to your aching head, “now how about we go have something to eat? i’m starved.”

#george harrison #george harrison x reader #the beatles #the beatles x reader #beatles x reader #classic rock #beatlemania #abbey road #revolver #rubber soul #please please me #60s #70s #classic rock fandom #classic rock fanfic #the beatles fanfic #john lennon #john lennon x reader #paul mccartney #paul mccartney x reader #ringo starr #ringo starr x reader #richard starkey #richard starkey x reader

[falcqns]

Hey, can you write that she faked her orgasm because she has trouble cum.  Henry finds out and is angry because she hasn’t said anything and doubts his abilities?  then he brings her to a orgasm

First Time

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Warnings:

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! Hope you enjoy!

Henry pulled out of you with a grunt, and fell against the bed beside you. You immediately felt a wave of guilt wash over you at your failed orgasm, and rolled over to face away from him, willing the tears to stay away. You felt the bed jostle as Henry stood up and walked into the conjoining bathroom, and heard the tap being turned on before you heard him coming back.

You flinched slightly as the wet washcloth was pressed against your core, but Henry shushed you quietly and you calmed down. No words were said, they never were. Henry knew you always grew emotional after sex, and were never up to talking, so he stayed quiet, and always allowed you to speak first. 

He tossed the used washcloth into the laundry hamper in the corner of your bedroom, and laid back down on the bed. He laid his hand on your back, and that’s when the dam broke. You started sobbing, and Henry immediately pulled you into his arms. He was concerned. You may have teared up before, but have never outright sobbed after sex like you were before.

Your face was pressed against his bare chest, his fingers moving up and down your back to soothe you. “What’s wrong?” He asked, and waiting for you to calm down to answer. “I-I didn’t finish,” You said remorsefully, and Henry gave you a sad smile. 

“Sometimes it won’t happen. It doesn’t mean anythings wrong with you, or that I’ll love you any less,” He said, and you pulled out of his arms as another wave of guilt washed over you again. You scooted to the end of the bed, and looked out the window to your right. 

“I’ve never finished,” You admitted, and Henry exclaimed. 

“What?!” He said. You didn’t answer, and instead kept looking out the window at the snow coming down in droves. He grunted in annoyance, and stood up. He gathered his clothes and started to get dressed. You didn’t turn around until you heard his belt clicking.

“I-I’m sorry.” You whispered, and he scoffed. 

“No you aren’t. If you were, you would have been honest from the start. He said. “If you had told me from the beginning that you weren’t attracted to me, I would have been perfectly happy being friends with you. I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who is only dating me because they feel sorry for me.” He said. he sat down on the mattress, and pulled his socks on. “You should have told me that you didn’t want it. If you did, I wouldn’t have done anything. I don’t want you turning this around on me because it could ruin my career.” He said.

“Hen, I-” You began, but Henry cut you off. 

“No. Next time, just spare me the heartbreak, and tell em you don’t feel the same way. Sure I’d have been upset, but I wouldn’t be mad. I thought you were different.” He said, and you listened as he stormed out of the apartment. 

You broke down crying as you heard his car driving away.

Later that night, before you drifted off to sleep, you sent him a text.

“I didn’t not finish because I’m not attracted to you. I am insanely attracted to you. I didn’t finish because I never have. I’ve never even been able to make myself cum. You know for a fact that I would NEVER accuse you of something like that, and I am offended that that thought was even in your head. I am different, and you know that. It’s not your fault, but it’s not mine either, so don’t you DARE blame me for this.” You sent the message before flinging your phone across the room and rolling over to sleep. 

Moments later, you heard your phone vibrating against the hardwood floor of your bedroom, but you chose to ignore it, closing you eyes instead and drifting off to sleep.

The next morning, you were awoken by pounding on your front door. You groaned in annoyance, but pulled yourself out of bed to answer it. When you opened the door, you were faced with Henry.

You were about to close the door, but he pushed into your apartment and picked you up bridal style, kicking the door shut behind him. He carried you to your bedroom and dropped you on your bed. He yanked your sleep shirt up, and pulled your panties down, before he settled himself in between your legs and attached his mouth to your clit.  You moaned in pleasure, but opened your mouth to speak. “I don’t know why you’re even trying,” You said. “You’re just going to be disappointed,” But he gave you a glare and you promptly shut your mouth and let him get on with it.

You felt your high approaching, but you logically knew that it wouldn’t happen. Henry pulled his mouth off of you moments later, and stripped himself out of his clothes. You moaned when you saw his hard rock bounce up against his stomach, before he reached in a bag sitting beside him that you hadn’t seen before. You gasped when he pulled out a small vibrator, no bigger than 5 inches. It was gray, with unicorns and star all over it. He dropped it beside your head, and grabbed his hard cock and line it up with your entrance. He made eye contact with you for a brief second before pushing inside you. 

He set a quick pace, and reached over for the vibrator. He pressed the on button and you heard the mechanics inside whir to life. Seconds later, you felt intense pleasure as he pressed the vibrator against your clit, causing your whole body to shake. You cursed as you felt unfamiliar pressure begin to build in your abdomen.

Your hands slid up Henry’s shoulders to try and get him to slow down, but he just grabbed your wrists and pinned them down with his free hand. When he pressed your wrist into the mattress, you got a good look at his face and realized why he wasn't talking to you.

He was mad. 

You had seen him angry before, but never to this extent. The two of you had small little fights, but nothing this extreme. Usually, he’d be mad for a few hours, and eventually come up to you and talk to you. Or, if you were mad at him, he’d let you come to him when you were ready. But this time, his face was bright red, and his jaw was clenched. You opened your mouth to say something, but he growled, and you immediately closed your mouth. He had never ‘punished’ you, but you wouldn't put it past him if he got angry enough.

The pressure in your abdomen became almost too much, until you fell over the edge into pure euphoria. Waves of white hot pleasure crashed down onto you like a tsunami, and you screamed out, limbs shaking. Henry grunted as you clenched down on him, but still not speaking. 

Henry removed the vibrator from your clit moments later. He hit the off button and tossed it across the bed. He pulled out of you, and laid next to you. His arms came around your waist and pulled you against his chest. His fingers ran up and down your back to help you calm down.

“I’m still upset that you didn't tell me,” He said, and you nodded. “I’m sorry.” You mumbled. He hugged you closer. 

“Its okay angel. Just tell me next time when you need help, okay?” “Okay.” 

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #Henry Cavill x Reader #Henry Cavill angst #Henry Cavill imagine #Smut #fluff #august walker #august walker smut #august walker fluff #captain syverson #captain syverson smut #henry cavill angst #submission

[maximons]

Without You

Summary: Everything seems to be going alright for Wanda Maximoff, but a mission gone horribly awry makes everything crash and burn.

Word Count: 3,101

Genre: Angst

Requested?: Yes

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, mentions of blood, burns, scarring

A/N: Alright kids, you ready for angst time? My first full out angst fic, oh boy. This ones got no happy ending guys, so do with that what you will. This takes place during Civil War, so spoilers...? I guess? I’d say Happy Reading, but I don’t think you guys will be that happy by the end of this sooo good luck!

Lagos.

That’s the place where everything in Wanda’s life fell apart. Or at least fell apart even further than it had before.

Some of the team were out on a mission. You guys finally managed to track down Rumlow and his gang after about a year of searching. Everything was going fairly well, yes there was some collateral damage, and things didn’t exactly go according to plan, but overall, it looked like you guys would come out of this with a win.

And then, it happened.

Wanda and you had begun to jog up to Steve’s location, where you saw him stare Rumlow down. Something in you just told you that this wasn’t going to go well. You looked at the scene in front of you, and then your gaze fell onto the building behind it. It was too close for comfort.

“Babe, I’m gonna go check that building.” You turned to your girlfriend. “Looks like there could be a lot of people in there, I’m gonna try to get them out.” She looked at you, and then to the building briefly. Part of her wanted to question why when the fight was happening out here, but she knew in your line of work things can be unpredictable.

She nodded. “Okay, be safe.” You nodded back with a small smile, and pecked her on the cheek.

“Always am.” With that, you ran off.

It was only about two or three minutes after you ran in when things went to hell.

Rumlow pulled a pin on his vest, and Wanda reacted as quickly as she could, capturing him mid explosion in her magic. She lifted him up, trying to get him as far away from the people below as possible, but she couldn’t hold it anymore. The explosion went off.

Blowing a huge hole into that building.

Wanda stood there, shocked for a moment over what just happened. Her hand came and slowly covered her mouth, mind going over all the damage she just caused. She vaguely heard Steve calling for fire and rescue, and then it hit her.

You were in there.

“Y/n...” She whispered, still in a state of shock, but she quickly snapped out of it and sprang into action. “Y/n!” She heard Steve yell for her to wait, but she didn’t care. She took off, flying up and landed in one of the building’s destroyed floors.

She did her best to ignore the carnage around her, carnage she caused. She pushed down the bile that was rising in her throat, and continued her search for you. 

And then she found you.

You were a super soldier, so luckily you didn’t die from the blast, she could still feel your pulse. But you didn’t look good.

You were lying on the charred floor, unconscious. Half of your suit was burned off, leaving nasty burns all on your arm and torso, some even creeping up your neck and face. Blood also dripped down from an open wound on your temple.

Wanda couldn’t bring herself to care about your appearance, though. You were still alive, and that’s the main thing she cared about right now.

“Don’t worry.” She sobbed out, hand gently caressing your unburned cheek. “You’re okay...you’re gonna be okay...” She tore her gaze away from you for a minute, and looked around. Tears falling at the sight of multiple bodies, people who weren’t as lucky as you.

People who were dead because of her.

“...I’m so sorry...”

The next week was chaos.

You were brought to the compound’s medical facility immediately, doctors working fast to try and save your life. They managed to stabilize you, now it was just a waiting game as to when you would wake up. Wanda would visit you everyday, barely being able to leave your side. Steve managed to convince her that she needed to rest, saying that you wouldn’t want to see her neglecting her needs. She hesitantly complied, and finally went to her room to sleep for the night.

The next morning, the news started reporting the incident.

And of course they blamed her.

Logically, Wanda knew this wasn’t entirely her fault. Rumlow was the one who turned himself into a bomb. She was just trying to save the lives below. That thought brought her little comfort though.

She was still responsible for the lives lost in that building. She was still responsible for you, the love of her life, being severely injured and in a coma.

Maybe they were right.

Steve didn’t let her wallow in that thought for too long though, because he shut the TV off. He sat down and gave her one of his hope speeches, and she appreciated the effort, but she didn’t want to hear it.

“It’s my fault.” She whispered. “All of those people, dead because of me...and Y/n...” She trailed off, tears forming in her eyes. Steve placed a hand on her leg, trying to comfort her.

“You know...she doesn’t blame you, I know she doesn’t.”

“Maybe she should...they all should.”

Steve couldn’t get anything else out, as Vision phased in the room and told them of the arrival of Secretary Ross.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, he had told them about the Sokovia Accords. Wanda hated the idea, forcing heroes to register with the government, essentially making them puppets for them. She knew you would hate it too, you never were one to trust the government.

“Look, we understand where you’re coming from, but if it weren’t for us, there’d be a lot more blood spilled.” Sam argued.

“Tell that to the innocent civilians in that Lagos hospital building.” Ross argued back. “Oh wait, you can’t.”

“If it weren’t for Wanda, hundreds of people in the streets below would have been killed.” Steve cut in. “If it weren’t for Y/n, hundreds of more people would have been in that building.”

“And look where that landed her.”

Wanda had enough. She shot up from her chair, and stormed out of the room.

She went straight to your hospital room, your still unconscious body covered in bandages. She pulled up a chair beside your bed, hand going to grip yours. She tried to speak, but couldn’t bring herself to form the words. So she just rested her head on your joined hands and cried.

The next few weeks saw the Avengers falling apart, divided over the accords. Wanda was especially disappointed in Natasha’s decision, given that you two were best friends. 

Wanda hasn’t left the compound. Most of her time was spent visiting you and sleeping as best she could. Your burns had begun healing, but barely. They still left pretty nasty scars. Your breathing had improved, which satisfied the doctors. They had said you could wake up any moment now, Wanda just hoped it was soon.

The next day, Wanda walked into the kitchen to find Vision cooking. She found that odd, since she knew he didn’t eat, but he explained that he was making it for her. You used to cook for her a lot, and after a few disasters, you finally got the recipe down. Vision’s was no where near as good as yours, but she appreciates the effort.

After a conversation about their powers and their fear of them, Wanda volunteered to go to the store to pick up some paprika that would greatly help the dish. Vision stopped her.

“Vision...are you not letting me leave?”

“It’s a matter of safety.”

“I can handle myself.”

Vision stopped her again. “Not yours. Mr. Stark would like to avoid the possibility of another public incident.”

Wanda looked at the synthezoid in disbelief. “I’m not an out of control time bomb. It was an accident.”

“I know. I do, but...you powers are very unpredictable. You are also...vulnerable. My scanners have indicated you are, how you say, ‘on edge’. You have been ever since Miss L/n was admitted in the medical wing.”

Wanda’s gaze turned into a harsh glare. “I know that human emotion is a foreign concept to you Vision, but trust me, if your girlfriend was ever put in a coma because of you...being ‘on edge’ is the least you would be.”

Without waiting for a response, Wanda turned around and stormed off. She headed to the one place that her feet often dragged her to the last weeks. Your bedside. 

She sat and took a hold of your hand. She stared at you for a moment before she spoke. “Hey, baby. Things have been...hard without you to say the least. Not that this wouldn’t be hard anyway, but everything is falling apart. These stupid accords are ruining everything. Tony has become a government pet, Nat joining him, Steve is off doing who knows what, and now...I’m locked in.” She paused. “You know, as much as I wish more than anything that you were awake and by my side right now...part of me is glad that you wouldn’t have to see your family fall apart like this. It’d break your heart...” She stayed for a few more moments, staring at your face and taking in your features once again. She then leaned down to kiss your hand. “I love you.” With that, she left.

Later that night, Wanda was back in the main room of the compound. You still haven’t woken up, she just learned she was essentially on house arrest, so she was trying to find ways to find ways to distract herself. She was reading a book, when she heard a loud explosion go off outside. She walked over to the window to take a look, Vision joining her a few moments later.

“What is it?”

“Stay here please.”

Wanda was left alone for a moment, before she felt a presence behind her. She quickly grabbed hold of the knife on the table, and flinging it towards the new presence. She halted it when she saw who it was.

Clint.

The next few minutes passed by like a blur. Clint was convincing her to come help Steve, Vision came back in but was trapped, Wanda hesitated and Clint gave her one of those hope speeches. She was about to decline, before he said one last thing.

“You know, if Y/n was awake...I know she’d side with Steve, and she’d only hope you’d do the same.”

Was it manipulative? Possibly, but he was also right. You would have sided with Steve, no question. Doing what you could to help. She thought on it for a few more moments, before she nodded. They were about to leave before Vision broke free. The two men fought, and before she knew it, she was sending the synthezoid several floors down and into the ground. 

She went to her room, quickly packing her suit and anything else she thought she would need. She went back out to meet Clint, about to leave, but she stopped.

“Wait! I gotta see Y/n first.” 

Clint sighed, but knew he couldn’t deny her of this. “Alright, make it quick.”

She booked it to your hospital room. You were lying there, same as you have been for a while. She quickly surged forward grabbed your hand, not bothering to sit. She knew they didn’t have time.

“Alright, baby. I’m gonna go out for a bit, okay? I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but...I’m going to do what’s right. I’m going to fight. I finally ‘got off my ass’ as you would say.” She chuckled, but it held no real joy behind it. “I just hope you’d be proud of me...and I just hope that I can come back to see you-”

Wanda cut herself off when she felt you begin to move. All of a sudden your face shifted, and you began to turn your head. 

“Y/n?...”

You began to open your eyes slowly, head slowly lifting off your pillow. Your eyes looked around, trying to adjust to the brightness of the room. Before you could even look at Wanda though, you began coughing. 

Wanda rushed to poor you a glass of water, knowing your mouth would be dry from not using it for a while. She handed it to you, quickly, and you slowly raised your hand to take it. As you began to drink, Wanda couldn’t help but smile. You were finally awake. She was beyond relieved. She was put in a rough spot now, she knew she had to meet Clint so they could go, but...you were finally awake. She couldn’t leave you.

“Wanda, we gotta go!” She heard Clint yell, and without tearing her eyes away from you, she yelled back.

“In a minute! Y/n just woke up!”

She didn’t hear a response from the man, but she heard footsteps quickly making its way towards your room. 

You finished drinking your water and placed the cup on the bedside table. You began to try to sit up, but Wanda rushed to your side to help.

“Here you go, easy.”

When you fully sat up, you took in the appearance of the woman next to you. You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” She breathed out. You looked her in the eyes, smile still on both your faces. But, Wanda’s smile dropped instantly at the next words that came out of your mouth.

“Sorry, hi, I’m Y/n. You probably already knew that though.” You chuckled nervously. “Are you one of the nurses?”

Wanda froze. No. This couldn’t be happening. The doctors told her that Amnesia was a possibility since you hit your head on impact from the blast, but it never seemed like a real threat. She stared at you, jaw slacked for a few more moments.

“Um, hello?...Oh! Are you my doctor? Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume.”

Wanda snapped out of it when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned her head to see it was Clint. You spoke up again before she could say anything though.

“Oh, hey, are you a nurse? Or doctor?”

Realization filled Clint’s face, but he held it together. He simply shook his head.

“Oh...so, is someone supposed to help me or...?” You trailed off. 

Clint looked to Wanda, who was still in shock, tears beginning to form in her eyes. He knew he had to take over, get them out as soon as possible. “Sorry, Y/n. We’ll get your nurse to come and check on you. Glad to see you’re awake.” Before you could respond, he quickly rushed out of the room, pulling Wanda with him.

Wanda finally let herself break down, and cried in the van. She barely had time to process everything before they picked up a man name Scott and flew to the airport to meet Steve.

Steve broke down the plan and the team went separate ways to suit up and get in position. Except Wanda. Steve was about to go get himself ready, but paused when he saw the witch frozen in place.

“Wanda? You okay?” Wanda simply shook her head and looked up at him, he could see the tears in her eyes. “What happened?”

“Y/n woke up.”

Steve raised his eyebrows in shock. “She did? That’s great-” He was cut off when Wanda let out a sob. He then put two and two together, something was wrong. “...What was it?”

“She...doesn’t remember anything...doesn’t remember me...”

Steve sighed. He was saddened by the news as well, you and him were very close, both being super soldiers and all. He couldn’t even imagine what Wanda was going through in this moment though, so he put on a brave face. He went over to the witch and wrapped an arm around her. “Y/n is strong...when this is over, we’ll go see her and start-” Steve was cut off again when Wanda shook her head.

“Steve...you and I both know this isn’t gonna end with us just being able to go back...” She looked up at him. He was about to speak up again, when he heard Sam in his ear.

“Cap, Tony and Rhodey are flying in now. You good to go?” 

Steve looked to Wanda, knowing she heard him too since they all had coms. She nodded. “On my way.” He turned to leave, before giving Wanda one last look. “Whatever happens, it’ll be okay.”

It wasn’t.

The fight at the airport was beyond tiresome, and they lost. Steve and Bucky got away to handle the other Winter Soldiers, but the rest of the team was captured.

So now here she was, sitting in a cell in a high security prison in the middle of the ocean...with a straight jacket and shock collar on. Wanda couldn’t even be upset about it. She was numb. She’s already lost everything she possibly could. Her parents, her brother, her country, and now...you. She couldn’t bring herself to care whether or not she wasted away in this cell. Maybe she deserved to.

But of course, she couldn’t even have that for long, as Steve broke them out a few days later.

Up on the quinjet with Steve and the rest of the team, she sat alone, staring out the window watching the dark clouds pass by. After a few moments, she felt a presence next to her. She looked over to see who it was. Natasha.

“What are you doing here?” Wanda asked, looking back out the window. 

“It’s a long story.” She answered. “Steve told me what happened, I...I’m not even sure what to say. I am so sorry Wanda.” Wanda merely nodded, not trusting her voice right now. Natasha took a deep breath and continued. “Y’know...I can pull some strings, the ones I have left anyway. Get Y/n relocated to be with us. I know she doesn’t remember anything right now, but-”

“No.” Wanda cut her off, surprising the redhead.

“Wha...what do you mean ‘no’?”

Wanda had thought about it, she’s thought about it the entire time she was in the Raft. She would love nothing more than to see you again, to hold you and help you on your recovery, but...she couldn’t. She was a wanted fugitive now, and you were only in this predicament because of her...she had to be selfless here. She couldn’t bring you into this life, not when you were missing chunks of your own.

“I mean no.” She said, looking up into Natasha’s eyes, tears pooling in her own. “She’s better off.”

And with that, Wanda got up, walking towards the back of the jet to be alone. She took a deep breath, and prepared herself. Preparing herself for a new life as a fugitive on the run. And most importantly...

Preparing for a life without you.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you

[karahalloway]

Thanksgiving - Part 2

Fandom: TRR - (Un)Common Attraction universe

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series: Thanksgiving

Synopsis: Harper and Drake fly to Bozeman, MT to spend their first Thanksgiving together with Harper's family.

Word count: 5,300

Warnings: M (swearing, angst, fluff)

A/N: So... This was supposed to be a one-shot, that turned into a two-parter that will now end up being a three-part mini series 🙈 I tried to squeeze the rest of the story into this follow-up post, but it there is just too much left to cover, so I will be writing an unplanned third part to wrap this fic up. As before, many of the situations referenced in this fic are based on real life. You can find a more general Author’s Notes in Part 1 and some more specific notes at the end of this instalment.

Something’s off.

What, I can’t quite determine, caught as I am halfway between waking and dreaming... But as I slowly float towards consciousness, I become increasingly certain that something is... if not exactly wrong, but not quite right either.

Then it comes to me.

I’m cold.

Which can mean only one thing...

Opening my eyes, I find the other side of the bed conspicuously empty.

I frown.

Where is Drake?

A rustle of clothing from behind me catches my attention. Pushing myself up, I see that my wayward human radiator is in the process of pulling on a pair of tracksuit bottoms.

"What time is it?" I mumble, rubbing my eyes as I reach for the switch of the My Little Pony bedside light.

"Early," he informs me. "Go back to sleep."

"Where... are you going?" I ask around a yawn.

"For a run," he replies, pulling some socks from his suitcase.

I open a disbelieving eye mid-stretch. "On Thanksgiving morning?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"Because if last night was any indication of what today has in store for us, then I need to get some cardio in. Otherwise—"

"You're worried you'll get fat?"

"No," he scoffs, reaching into his suitcase for a hoodie. "But I want to work down yesterday's calories before piling on round two. Plus we spent the whole of yesterday sitting, so—"

"You're worried you'll get fat," I surmise with a smirk.

"Hey. This..." he declares, indicating his ridged abs, "...doesn't just happen by itself. It takes dedication and discipline."

"Which is very much appreciated," I assure him as he yanks the hoodie down. "But, surely you can take one day off?"

"Yeah, probably," he acknowledges. "But, I've been up for about an hour already because of the jetlag. So, may as well make use of the extra time. I should be back before y'all get up."

"Okay," I concede, pulling the blanket up my chest to ward off the morning chill, given that I’m still naked after last night's impromptu lovemaking. "Just watch out for moose."

"Moose?"

"Yeah. They sometimes wander into the neighbourhood, especially around dawn and dusk. And when it's dark, you basically don't see them until you're right on top of one."

He flashes me a sceptical look as he roots around his backpack. "Aren't they just like... big deer?"

"Yeah. But with one major difference."

He quirks a wry brow as he locates his headphones. "They have bigger antlers?"

"They will charge you if they think you're a threat. Especially if you happen upon a mother with a calf."

He mulls this over for a second before nodding. "Right. Stay clear of the big ass, murderous elk. Anything else?"

"You probably want to take my keys."

"I was planning on climbing out your window, actually..."

I throw the pillow at him.

He snatches it out of the air and flings it back at me in one smooth motion.

"You are way too awake for whatever time it is..." I grumble, catching the pillow just before it hit my face.

"Told ya," he smirks, grabbing a pair of trainers from his bag. "I've been up for an hour already. Where are your keys?"

"In my bag..." After a moment's contemplation, I add, "Which is still on the bench by the front door."

"Yeah, I remember," he nods, stepping over to drop a kiss in my hair. "I'll be back in a bit."

I grab his hand to give it a squeeze. "Just be careful. Not all the roads have sidewalks."

"I will," he assures me, tightening his fingers around mine. "Love you."

"Love you, too."

He leans in to press a soft kiss against my lips before flicking the bedside light off and making his way quietly out of the room.

I flop back onto my pillow.

But, as groggy as I am feeling after jetting across eight time zones, falling asleep again without Drake's warm and comforting presence next to me is proving to be difficult.

So, after the third failed attempt of trying to roll over to get comfy, I throw the blankets back and step onto the cold hardwood floor.

Since I never made it to the bathroom yesterday, I decide to take advantage of the fact that my brothers are still snoring soundly and there would be no line up for the shower. Flicking on the bedside lamp again, I pad over to my suitcase to grab my toiletry bag before filching the shirt that Drake had worn yesterday to wear as a makeshift dressing gown on the off chance that I end up bumping into someone in the hallway.

I make a quick pit stop at the linen closet to grab a towel for myself and Drake — as he'll no doubt want a shower when he gets back from his run — before stepping into the bathroom and locking the door.

Tapping the light-switch on (as well as the underfloor heating), I pull a face when I catch sight of myself in the mirror. I must've drooled into my hair or something, because one side is sticking up at all sorts of odd angles, while the other side looks like it had been run over by a steam iron, falling down my shoulder in flat, lifeless strands.

Dropping my toiletry bag onto the vanity — that is littered with an entire Walgreen's-worth of men's grooming products courtesy of my brothers, who still live at home — I turn the shower on and begin pulling out the items I need while I wait for the water to warm up.

After waiting a minute or two, I test the water before stepping into the shower and pulling the door closed. I sigh contentedly as the hot spray hits my body, feeling it start to warm my bones. I'd forgotten how cold the house got before the furnace kicked on in the mornings.

Opening my eyes, I glance at the shower door, half-expecting Drake to be standing there, in the process of pulling it back, but all I see is the increasingly hazy outline of the bathroom as the steam from the shower fogs the glass over.

He really had been serious about going for a run then...

I shake my head wryly.

I’m never going to be one of those people who would willingly to forego sleep on a cold morning in order to subject themselves to a workout before the sun was even up... unless that workout happened to be a bout of lazy, morning sex, followed by breakfast in bed.

But, that's why Drake has a body to rival that of Chris Evans' Captain America, while I — even though able to pull off a bikini and low-cut dresses — am never going to be able to squeeze myself into a skin-tight bodysuit à la Black Widow.

I finish off my ablutions and step out onto the now warm bathmat, happy that my parents had opted for this luxurious upgrade when they'd reno'd all the bathrooms a few years back. Wrapping one of the towels around myself, I step over to the vanity and begin pulling out the toiletries I'd need. I apply some moisturiser and some basic make-up before giving my hair a vigorous towel dry and styling it into loose waves.

Satisfied with my appearance, I head back to my room to get dressed. Since we'll be spending most of the morning prepping for dinner, I opt for a loose-fitting plaid shirt and yoga pants, some thick socks and my fuzzy Ugg boots. I also pull on a snuggly, knitted cardigan for good measure.

Stepping out onto the hallway again, I hear the sound of clattering dishes rise up the landing.

Nana’s up early too, by the sounds of it...

My grandmother always makes us a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, sausages and her famous pancakes on Thanksgiving morning, so we can get through all the cooking without needing to stop for lunch.

I feel my mouth start to water at the mere thought of it all.

"Morning, Nana," I greet as I step into the kitchen.

The cracked egg she's holding goes flying, sending the sticky whites and yolk everywhere. "Good Lord, Harper!" she exclaims, clutching her chest. "You gave me a right fright!"

"Sorry..." I apologise. "Didn't mean to sneak up on you."

"What are you doing up so early? It's barely gone 5am..."

"Jetlag," I inform her, opening up one of the cupboards. If I’m going to make it through dinner and the game today, I’m going to need some caffeine, so I don’t end up crashing out at 6pm.

Nana nods in understanding as she salvages what egg innards she can from the counter to scoop into her mixing bowl. "Your beau still sleeping, though?"

I shake my head as I extract the jar containing the coffee. "No. He's been up even longer."

"Where is he, then? Did he not want to join us?"

"He will," I assure her, measuring some ground beans out into the bottom of the stovetop coffee maker that my parents still insisted on using over a coffee pod machine, or even a drip coffee maker. "Once he gets back from his run."

"He went for a run?" gasps Nana, as if the very concept was offensive. "On Thanksgiving morning?"

"That's what I said," I reply ruefully, filling the coffee maker up with water and setting it on the gas stovetop. "But he wanted to go, so..."

Nana beats the eggs into the rest of pancake batter thoughtfully. "Must really like running, then."

"Yeah," I agree, leaning against the counter. "He's weird like that. Do you need help with anything? Seeing as I'm up and all?"

"You start warming up the gridle. Batter's almost done."

Working in tandem, Nana and I make quick work of throwing together the usual Thanksgiving breakfast for eight people, catching up on each other’s lives as we bustle around the kitchen.

"You're up early, Harp," greets Brody, strolling into the kitchen and making a beeline for the coffee. "Bed's not as comfy as in that fancy Palace of yours?"

"We don't live at the Palace," I remind him, noting the manila folder under his arm. "Are you heading out?"

"Yeah..." he mutters, pouring himself a large mug of coffee and dumping a couple of packets of sweetener and some creamer into it. "Need to drop some paperwork off for one of the detectives I work with."

"On Thanksgiving morning?" I ask sceptically.

Brody shrugs. "He pulled the short straw when they were dolling out the shit shifts... Sorry, Nana."

She waves a hand dismissively. "You're a grown man, Brody. You can talk how you want. Don't you want a bite to eat before you go?"

He shakes his head. "I'll eat when I get back."

Nana tuts disapprovingly. "At least take one pancake."

Brody drains his coffee. "Alright. Thanks, Nana." He holds up the pancake in salute as he makes towards the door.

"Thank your sister," she corrects him. "She's the one who cooked them!"

"Thnkth, sthith!" he calls around a mouthful as he pulls on his boots.

"You made the batter, though," I remind her, taking a sip of my own coffee.

"That's the easy part," winks Nana, giving me a pat.

"Whatcha doin' up before the sun, sis?" asks Tyler, sauntering into the kitchen. "That like... never happens!"

"Helping Nana make breakfast," I inform him over the rim of my cup. "You're welcome..."

"Appreciated. But, don't think that this..." he jerks a thumb at the food decking the dining table, "is gonna get you outta potato peeling du— Ow!"

"You may want to rethink that statement, buster," Nana informs him archly, hefting her wooden spatula meaningfully. "Seeing as you didn't crawl your lazy butt outta of bed until after you could smell the bacon!"

Tyler rubs the back of his head bashfully. "Fine... I'll do the potatoes... Again..."

"Hey, Nana!" greets Justin, appearing as well. "Harp. T. Where's everyone else?"

"Brody had a work errand, and Drake's gone for a run," I inform him. "No idea about Mom and Dad."

"What's he runnin'?" asks Nana. "A marathon? Shouldn't he've been back by now?"

"Probably..." I admit, glancing at the clock on oven.

6:28 am.

I feel the blood drain from my face.

He's been gone over ninety minutes – almost twice as long as he usually goes for – and I hadn't even noticed! What if he got lost...? Or tripped over something in the dark? Or run over? Ohmygod! What if he'd tried to call me for help?

I smash my coffee mug down onto the counter, probably cracking it in the process, before shoving my brothers out of the way to get to my phone that was still in my bag on the bench. Ripping the zip open, I shove my hand into the bag, desperately searching for my phone.

I lay hands on the cool plastic, just as the door yawns open.

"Oh, thank God!" I gasp, dropping my phone.

"Whoa...!" Drake exclaims, staggering back as I throw myself at him. "Easy there, girl."

"Are you okay?" I demand, pulling back to look him up and down.

"Yeah, I'm f—"

"Where the hell where you?!"

He quirks a brow at me. "Out for a run?"

"For an hour and a half?"

His brows furrow. "I wasn't gone that long... Was I?"

"It's six thirty!" I almost shout. "Where did you go? To Billings and back?"

He's still frowning at me in confusion. "That can't be right..."

"Well, it sure as hell is!" I declare, falling against him again as I feel hot tears of relief stream down my face. "When Nana told me the time, I nearly lost it, thinking you'd gotten lost... or hurt... or..."

He wraps his arms around me. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to be out for so long. But, I had to take a detour on the way back..."

"Detour?" I ask, snapping my gaze up to his. "Why? What happened?"

"Ran into a goddamn moose."

My eyes widen. "You what?!"

"You didn't tell me that they smelled bad enough to gag a maggot."

"Yeah, they do stin—" I suddenly feel the blood ice over in my veins. "Wait. How close did you get!"

He does some quick mental math. "Three... maybe four feet?"

I stare at him in disbelief before I feel the palm of my hand connect with his chest. "Did. You. Not. Listen... To anything I said?!"

"Hey! Hey!" he protests, trying to fend off the blow that accompanied each word. "Cool it, girl! I'm fine."

"How?" I demand. "How are you fine? You should be knocked out! Or dead!"

"It was a bit surprised to see me, I'll admit, but after I talked to it for a bit, it seemed t—"

My eyes nearly pop out of my head. "You did what?!"

"I talked to it," he repeats, as if it was perfectly normal to engage a thousand-pound wild animal in conversation. "Until it calmed down."

My jaw moves up and down soundlessly before I manage to spit out, "It's not a horse!"

"So?" he shrugs nonchalantly. "It worked. It went back to stuffing its face and I backed up ‘round the corner."

Words fail me as I stare at him open-mouthed. The nerve of this guy...

"Is... everything okay?"

The sound of Mom's voice from behind me rouses me from my stunned stupor.

Glancing behind me, I see my entire family (minus Brody, of course) staring at Drake and me with various expressions ranging from nosy curiosity through to troubled concern.

"There was an awful lot of shouting..." she adds, flicking her eyes between the two of us.

"Sorry..." I mutter, tucking my hair behind my ear. "Drake just freaked me out a bit."

"A bit?" asks Justin sceptically. "Try a lot!"

"Okay," I concede with a huff. "He freaked me out a helluva lot."

"How did I freak you out?" Drake protests.

"You ran into a moose!"

There is a collective intake of breath from behind me.

"I didn't plan on it!" Drake points out. "Like you said, they're impossible to see in the dark."

"But, where did you go?" deplores Mom.

"He went for a run," Tyler informs her.

"On Thanksgiving morning?" she gasps.

Drake groans. "Sweet Jesus... She sounds exactly like you."

Laughter bubbles up from my family.

"We havin' a porch party I don't know about?" asks Brody, appearing behind Drake.

"Very much an unplanned one," I tell him as I step out of the doorway.

"Come on, son," declares Dad. "Let's get you in the house. After a wild encounter like that, you probably want some coffee."

"Wild encounter?" queries Brody, shutting the door behind him. "What the heck happened?"

"And breakfast!" adds Nana. "Need to feed the poor boy up after all that time he spent running around in the cold."

"I'll fill you in later..." I tell him with a roll my eyes.

"Actually," says Drake, pulling his sneakers off. "It's surprisingly mild... and humid out there. I thought it was supposed to be like Hoff up here in the winter."

"That's what all you southerners think," scoffs Justin. "But that only applies to the Midwest."

"We've had three dumps of snow already," adds Tyler. "But the Chinook's melted it all."

"Chinook?" asks Drake.

"It's a warm wind that comes in off the Pacific," I tell him. "Means we're not stuck in a deep freeze all winter."

"Sit, sit!" commands Nana. "Or it'll all go cold."

"Y'all start," advises Drake. "I'm just gonna run upstairs and get changed."

"Oh, don't worry about that, honey!" declares Mom, shoving him into a seat. "We raised three boys who used to stink the house out after hockey and football practice!"

"Gee, thanks, Mom," grumbles Justin.

"Not to mention after spending the day down at the Harrolds' place during the summer!" I add, pulling a chair out. "You always came back smelling like a stable!"

"It's what happens when you spend the day shovelling shit..." point out Tyler.

"And rolling around in it," grins Brody, punching his younger brother in the arm.

Tyler's eyes narrow. "You friggin' pushed me into it!"

"Hey," retorts Brody, holding his hands up innocently. "Not my fault you tripped over your own shovel."

"Okay, that's enough," chides Dad, seeing that an argument was about to erupt between my brothers. "We have a lot to get through today, so let's start eating."

We all dig into the feast of bacon, eggs, sausages and Nana's chocolate chip and cinnamon pancakes.

"So, I'm guessing these are the pancakes that you're willing to die for?" notes Drake as he spears two with his fork from the pile.

"Yup!" I confirm with a grin, drizzling my own bacon-topped tower with maple syrup. "And so will you, once you've tried them!"

He spoons some eggs into his plate with a chuckle. "You sound damn sure of yourself."

I slant him a glance as I cut into the stack. "You doubting my honest review, or my Nana's recipe?"

"Neither. But I can count on one hand all the food I've ever had that I'd be willing to lay down my life for. So, it's quite the high benchmark to hit." He takes a bite and chews thoughtfully for a moment. "That said... You’re right. These are pretty special."

"Told ya," I smirk, lifting my own slice of pancake to my mouth. "Nana's pancakes are the best."

"Even after all the fancy food you got to eat at the Palace?" queries Mom.

"Especially after all the fancy food we were forced to eat at the Palace," I correct.

Dad frowns. "Don't you normally have to pay an arm and a leg for that kind of grub?"

"Yeah," nods Drake. "But you can only eat so much caviar and amuse bouche before you start craving real food."

"Nothing beats homemade food cooked with love," declares Nana sagely.

"So, if Palace grub's a pass, what other food's made it into your top five?" asks Justin.

"Dad's secret recipe BBQ sauce, for one," replies Drake. "I'd give anything to have that again."

I look up at him sympathetically. "He never showed you how to make it?"

He shakes his head sadly. "Didn't get around to it. And he didn't think to write it down anywhere, so..."

I feel my heart constrict as I reach out to lay a comforting hand in his knee. "I'm sorry..."

"It's fine," he mutters stoically, flashing me a wan half-smile. "I'll get it right one day."

"Have you tried adding whiskey?" asks Justin around a mouthful. "All the best BBQ sauces have booze in them..."

"Yeah, I've—"

"And you're definitely using apple cider vinegar, instead of plain white vinegar?" pipes up Tyler.

"Yup."

I raise a brow at my brother. "Since when do you know the difference between the two?"

"Since that time I dated a trainee chef and she showed me how—"

"Nobody wants to know what the two of you did in the kitchen!" declares Brody loudly. "And anyway... Barbecue sauces are all about the spices. You tried cumin?"

"Yeah."

"Celery?"

Drake nods.

"Cilantro?"

I stare at Brody in disbelief. Since when did he know so much about the nuances of BBQ sauce?!

"What about cinnamon?" chimes in Nana.

Drake's brows furrow. "Cinnamon?"

"Of course!" she affirms. "I put cinnamon in everything! It's got a bit of sweet... it's got a bit of spice... It's my go-to secret ingredient."

Drake takes a moment to digest this. "No. I haven't..."

"Might be what you're missing, then," she winks, tapping the side of her nose conspiratorially.

"Yeah... Maybe," he muses thoughtfully. "Thank you, ma'am. Will definitely give it a try."

"Oh, there's no need to be so formal," she declares with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You're basically family already."

"Even so," smiles Drake. "My parents always told me that a little bit of respect can get you a long way."

"Try telling that to these three..." grumbles Dad.

"Hey! We got manners!" objects Justin.

"Yeah..." mutters Dad. "When it suits you... or you want something."

Laughter echoes around the table as we polish up breakfast.

"Right," declares Dad, popping his glasses onto his nose once we've cleared the table and sat back down again. "Task assignments."

"I want Harper for the apple pie," announces Nana.

Dad nods as he jots this down on his notepad. "Leigh and I will manage the turkey, the stuffing and the gravy. That leaves chopping firewood..."

"I'll do that," declares Brody.

"...vegetables..."

"Dibs!" cries Tyler.

"Hey!" objects Justin. "I was on potato duty last year!"

"And I had it two years in a row before that!" retorts Tyler.

"I can do it," offers Drake.

Everyone's eyes swivel disbelievingly onto him.

"You...want to do the potatoes?" asks Tyler.

"Sure. Why not?" shrugs Drake. "I mean... it's just peeling and chopping, right? Or am I missing something?"

"The sheer volume you have to get through!" exclaims Justin.

Drake raises a quizzical brow at me.

"There's eight of us," I tell him. "And we eat a lot of mash."

"That ain't a problem."

"Are you sure, honey?" asks Mom. "You can help with something else if you'd—"

"No!" cry Tyler and Justin simultaneously.

"I mean..." adds Tyler sheepishly. "He offered..."

"And confirmed his choice!" adds Justin.

Dad glances at Drake questioningly. "You sure, son?"

"Yessir."

"Okay, Drake's down for potatoes," declares Dad, before turning to face Justin and Tyler. "But once the two of you are done with the vegetables, you're gonna help him, y'hear?"

"Dammit..." mutters Tyler under his breath as he slumps back into his chair to the accompaniment of Justin's groan of disappointment.

"Oh, man up, you two!" huffs Nana. "It's just a sack of potatoes! And with three of you working, you'll have it done in no time!"

"Might even have time to go out and play some ball before dinner if you're quick," says Mom.

"Right," announces Dad, clapping his hands together by way of emphasis. "Let's hustle!"

As everyone shuffles off to start on their designated tasks, Drake pulls me off to the side. "I'm just gonna run upstairs and get changed."

"Okay," I reply, dropping a kiss on his cheek. "There's a towel on the bed for you."

"Thanks, Gale."

"Hey!" shouts Tyler. "Where d'you think you're going, Mr I-Want-To-Do-The-Potatoes?"

"Don't worry," chuckles Drake. "I'll be back in five."

"You better be!" warns Justin, appearing with the sack of potatoes from the garage. "Potatoes don't peel themselves, y'know!"

"Who used the oven last?" queries Mom as Drake disappears upstairs.

"You?" replies Dad, pulling the turkey from the freezer. "Why?"

"It's flashing me."

I try and fail to suppress a snort as I step towards the pantry to grab the apples for the pie. "I'm pretty sure it's not..."

"Then how do you explain this?" she deplores, waving her hand at the display.

"Lemme see..." sighs Dad, pulling his glasses from the breast pocket of his shirt again before proceeding to press random buttons on the control panel and opening and shutting the door. "Hmm... It's not turning on, is it?"

"What's wrong with it?" asks Justin, glancing over Dad's shoulder.

"No idea..." he grumbles.

"It was working fine yesterday," says Mom, peering at the controls accusingly.

"Yeah, but it's not working now, is it?" huffs Dad. "I think we'll need to call someone."

"On Thanksgiving morning?" scoffs Nana, elbows-deep in pie crust. "Hah! Good luck being able to reach anyone who can fix an oven!"

"There won't be a Thanksgiving if the oven's not fixed!" Dad reminds her, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he strides off to make some calls.

"Could always do a barbecue..." muses Tyler.

"Yeah..." I snort. "Have fun roasting a full turkey on the grill!"

"You'd obviously chop it up first..."

"It's still frozen!"

"Is... everything okay?" asks Drake, reappearing dressed in faded Wranglers and a new forest green plaid shirt that I wanted to instantly tear off him.

"Mom broke the oven," Justin advises.

"It wasn't me!" she protests.

"You used it last," Tyler reminds her.

"So?"

"So... it means you broke it," Justin declares.

"Oh, leave your poor mother alone!" orders Nana. "These things happen."

"Not on Thanksgiving!" cries Mom. "When Drake and Harper are here!"

"Do you know what's wrong?" Drake asks in a whisper as my family continue throwing stressy barbs at each other.

"It won't turn on," I tell him.

"Is it showing some kind of error code?"

"Mom said it was flashing at her... So, maybe?"

"Mind if I take a look?" asks Drake, loud enough for Mom and my brothers to hear.

"Can you fix it?" asks Mom hopefully.

"What are you?" scoffs Tyler. "An oven whisperer? Ow!"

"He's trying to help!" Nana chastises him, dipping her mixing spoon back into the bowl. "Unlike you..."

"It's no good..." huffs Dad, stepping back into the kitchen. "All the calls are going straight to voicemail..."

"Told you," preens Nana, buttering a pie dish with vindicatory smugness.

"What are we going to do!" cries Mom, grabbing Dad by the front panels of his shirt.

Dad sighs. "Guess we'll just have t—"

"Fixed it."

Stunned silence falls onto the kitchen as everyone's gaze snaps onto Drake.

"Just needed a self-clean," he declares, straightening himself up. "Should be ready to go in a—"

"You angel!" cries Mom, throwing herself at him like he was the Messiah.

Drake staggers back in shocked surprise, but manages to keep his footing as Mom envelopes him in a relived hug.

"You saved Thanksgiving!" she gushes, pulling back to cup Drake's face reverently in her hands.

"Yeah..." smiles Dad. "Guess we do owe you one, son."

A rare flush rises up Drake's neck. "Honestly... it's—"

"Don't think this gets you out of potato duty!" warns Tyler, jabbing a half-peeled carrot at him.

"Jesus Christ, T!" I snap, throwing a handful of apple skins at him. "Chillax about the damn potatoes already!"

"Yeah, seriously, dude," mutters Justin, elbowing him in the ribs. "Anyone would think you've got some kind of weird potato paranoia..."

"It's not a paranoia!"

"Just a really bizarre obsession..." declares Brody, stepping into the kitchen to flick his brother in the back of the head with his finger.

Tyler whirls around in aggravation. “Can everyone stop hitting me!"

"You done with the logs already?" queries Dad, unwrapping the turkey from the packaging, studiously ignoring Tyler.

"About halfway," Brody replies, grabbing a glass from the cabinets and filling it up with water. "It's damn hot out there..."

"And it will only get hotter," declares Nana, rolling her pastry out onto the countertop. "Supposed to get up to 60 degrees by the afternoon."

"So much for all the snow you warned me about," mutters Drake with an accusatory glance in my direction. "Might as well be in Texas right now."

"Oh, it's coming!" Brody assures him, depositing his empty glass in the sink. "We'll be snowed in come nightfall."

Drake raises a sceptical brow as he resumes peeling. “If you say so…”

“We know so,” confirms Nana with a wink.

The rest of the morning passes quickly as we all hunker down on the chores. And by lunchtime, the turkey's roasting happily away, the potatoes and vegetables are soaking in bowls of water, and Nana and I have assembled three apple pies ready to shove into oven as soon as the turkey comes out.

"You kids go take a break," advises Mom. "Dad and I will keep an eye on the turkey."

"Just be back in about an hour to square everything away," adds Dad. "So we can finish eating before the game kicks off."

"You want to go outside and throw the football around for a bit?" I ask Drake as I wash my hands in the sink.

"Will you be on the sidelines cheering?" he drawls, snaking his hands around my waist.

I quirk a brow at him as I reach for the dishcloth to dry my hands. "Do I look like a stuck-up cheerleader to you?"

"Admittedly not in this getup..." His fingers slide around the waistband of my leggings. "You don't have a short skirt upstairs, do you?"

I smack his hand. "Dream on, cowboy. I'm not dressing up as a cheerleader to play football."

His hands still. "You're playing as well?"

I look up at him with a smirk. "Damn right, I am!"

"Thought you weren't into football."

"Just because I don't watch it obsessively-compulsively like you and Brody, doesn't mean I don't like playing it. I've got a mean throw, I'll have you know..."

I feel his stubble brush against the shell of my ear as he whispers, "You never fail to surprise, girl."

"One of the many things you love about me, I'm sure," I smile, turning around to loop my arms around his neck.

"It does keep things interesting..." he admits, mocha eyes boring into mine as he slides his hands surreptitiously underneath the bottom of my shirt.

"Quit distracting him, Harp!" calls Justin, striding past with the football. "It's game time!"

"We don't know which team he's on yet!" quips Tyler. "Maybe she should keep distracting him."

"Or motivating him," I add with a knowing grin. "Works both ways, y'know."

"Don't I know it..." murmurs Drake, dropping his hands reluctantly.

"You know I like to keep you on your toes, cowboy," I purr, dropping a kiss on his cheek. "Just gonna grab some sneakers and I'll be out in a minute."

"Sure I can't convince you to grab that skirt as well?" he asks in a low voice. "Seeing as it's basically tropical outside..."

"You two coming or what?" hollers Brody, poking his head around the corner.

"Guess you'll just have to wait and see," I tell Drake with a wink as I move towards the stairs.

Thanksgiving continues in Part 3!

A/N: So, to answer your inevitable questions/comments...😅

(i) The moose. Yes, moose can sometimes be sighted in Bozeman and they are friggin’ dangerous (and smelly). I think I read something somewhere that moose actually kill more people per year than bears. More specifically, Drake’s moose encounter is based on something that happened to my husband a few weeks ago, pretty much exactly as I described it (Yes, my husband’s brain works in slightly strange ways...) The length of time that Drake was gone for references the fact that my husband came home saying that he had no idea how long he actually stood staring at the moose for.

(ii) Weather. It’s all true. You do get randomly warm weather brought in by the Chinook wind that can warm the temperature up significantly throughout the autumn/winter. Also, the massive temperature swing that I describe happened to us when we went to Minnesota for Thanksgiving - the temperature went up to about 15 degrees C (about 60 degrees F) - we were literally outside playing basketball in shorts and t-shirts, but by the evening, there was several inches of snow on the ground.

(iii) The oven. This literally happened the first time my husband and I (we were just dating back then) went to the US for Thanksgiving. We all wake up on Thanksgiving morning and the oven’s busted. In that real life scenario, a technician did come around to look at the oven, and he found that (like in the fic) it just needed a self-clean. So, disaster narrowly averted. But this was priceless for me, so I had to include a slightly modified version in this fic 🤣

(iv) Potatoes. This is based on any meal with my side of the family where we have potatoes. Someone inevitably ends up peeling a shed load of them!

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#harper gale #drake walker #drake x mc #uncommon attraction #less than noble intentions #the royal romance #trr fanfic #choices fic writers creations #thanksgiving

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Happiness, I’m sorry you’ve been on hold.

Request: Could you do a one shot of Fred Weasley after the war, where he doesn’t die and actually falls in love with a muggle. And he tells her about wizards and meets his family? Thank you!

A/N: So this is now the longest thing I have ever written. My aim for this was to make it equal parts angst and equal parts fluff because I think Fred deserves all the fluff. Thank you so much for requesting this! I hope I have done it justice! Please read the warnings before reading this fic should anything trigger - you come first, not fic reading. Also, if anyone can name the TV shows I mention in this, you get a gold star! Title from Volbeat - For Evigt. I hope you all enjoy, I know it’s long!!

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of war, depression, insomnia, PTSD, swearing, food, but THERE IS SO MUCH FLUFF - SO MUCH (as well as a bit of steaminess).

Word count: 13.3k

The voices have blurred into a senseless mess; Fred can only just make out the deep timbre of adult males and the high pitched shouts of students. He doesn’t need to hear the words to know that spells are being thrown left, right, and centre.

He does his fair share of fighting; hurling jinx after jinx at any Death Eater he comes upon.

The corridor he runs down is moaning and groaning as if ready to collapse, but Fred continues, his breath coming in pants. His eyes run over the bodies of students and teachers; his heart beginning the painful mourning process then and there.

Someone shouts; he doesn’t know who.

Something creaks; he doesn’t know what.

A brilliant flash of light bounces in front of his eyes, and he feels himself blown away just as the wall beside him starts to collapse.

Whether from shock or from injury, his vision fades to black.

Fred wakes with a start; heart racing, mouth gaping wide in a silent scream, hands gripping the bedsheets in a vice-tight hold.

With his eyes closed, he takes a deep breath before he begins to go through his exercise. An exercise he repeats nightly.

Aloud he says their names like a mantra: “Mum, Dad, Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, Ron, Ginny.”

He does this over and over again until his heart rate calms, and his hands can release the bedsheets.

Fred checks the clock; 3am. He nods, sighing. Three hours sleep.

Fred supposes he should be thankful. After all, it’s three hours more than he got the night before.

He leaves his bed, dragging his feet to the kitchen where with a flick of his wand, the kettle begins to boil, and teabag drops itself into his favourite mug – his only mug.

The Second Wizard War had been over for almost a year now, and for the most part, life had returned to normal. Routines were picked back up and time had simply started to move on.

But Fred felt stuck.

He couldn’t shake the nightmares; keeping the house up with his screams. He couldn’t face opening the shop up despite George’s best attempts at pleading.

He didn’t have it in him to laugh.

He felt broken; as if something vital within him snapped in two the day he avoided the winged clutches of death.

Settling on the couch with his now steeping mug of tea, Fred resigns himself to the fact that he won’t be getting anymore sleep tonight.

The TV plays lowly in the background, a rerun of an old British sitcom set in a prison playing. Fred pays it little to no attention; instead, looking around the small flat he’s called home for the last eight months of his life. The walls are sparsely decorated; a few photos hung up but nothing that screams his personality. His cupboards remain filled just enough for one person, as does his fridge. It’s a flat fit for a hermit; Fred thinks that’s what he’s become.

He decided to leave home two months after the end of the war. When he started to notice the dark circles underneath his mother’s eyes and realised that he was the cause of them – his nightmares and his screams.

Molly cried when he left; worried sick over how he would look after himself and cope. Fred reassured her and made a promise to send letters twice a week – a promise he has yet to break.

George was understandably angry with his twin’s decision, but he knew that deep down that Fred needed to go to heal so he can laugh in the shop once again.

With a tight hug from his parents and siblings alike, Fred began his new life in muggle society.

A frantic knock at his door has Fred spilling his tea and falling out of his reminiscing. Jumping up from the couch, his hand grabs his wand, ready to defend himself should he need to.

His breath comes in quick pants as a result of the adrenaline and panic coursing through his system. The only people who know where he lives are his family with the added bonus of Harry, Hermione and Lee Jordan; no-one else had his address.

The frantic knocking continues; becoming quicker if it was at all possible. Fred swallows past the lump in his throat as he unlocks his door, wrenching it open in a swift movement, ready to confront whatever was on the other side.

Fred wasn’t prepared for it to be you.

You stand in front of his flat with a wild look on your face; equal parts terror and panic. Your hand is still raised in a fist, ready to rain down on the faded red of his door. You only just stop yourself from pounding your fist into his chest.

“Can I help you?” Fred greets.

“I’m so sorry, I know how late it is, but I need your help.”

Fred raises an eyebrow, “What with?”

You toe his welcome mat sheepishly, pointing towards your flat next door to his. “There’s a massive spider in my bathroom and I’m too scared to kill it myself.”

“You’re knocking down my door at this time in the morning for a spider?” Fred asks incredulously.

You glare at him, “This isn’t just any spider, okay? It’s massive; I can practically see its kneecaps!” You huff, placing your hands on your hips, “Will you please help me?”

Fred leans against the doorframe, a smirk gracing his lips, “What’s in it for me?”

You purse your lips; eyes glancing between the red-headed man vexing you and the door to your flat where you know the spider is waiting to make a mockery of you. You sigh, deciding the former is the lesser evil than the latter, “I’ll buy you breakfast.”

“You’ll buy me breakfast for killing a spider?”

You nod rapidly, “Yes, I’ll buy you breakfast, and I’ll even fork out extra for hash browns, just please kill the spider.”

Fred pauses; pretending to think it over in order to annoy you that little bit more. It had been a while since he had taken the time to vex someone; he had to admit he was rather enjoying getting on your nerves.

“Well?” You press, tapping your foot on his welcome mat, “Will you help me or not?”

Fred pushes himself off the doorframe, keeping his wand concealed in his shirt sleeve. He bows at the waist with a cocky smile on his lips, “Lead the way, my lady.”

You roll your eyes at the man; not remembering a time when a man had gotten on your nerves to this extent. You lead him into your flat; his eyes wandering over the heavily decorated walls and the over-filled bookshelves. You pause outside the door to your bathroom, biting your lip as you face the red-haired man, “I last saw it in the sink. It could have moved now.”

Fred nods, “Don’t worry, I’ll find it. Do you have a boot or something I could use?”

You turn away from him, heading back to the entryway where he saw piles upon piles of shoes. “I don’t have a boot,” you start, “but I do have a pair of trainers.”

“They’ll work,” Fred reassures, taking them from your hands.

You throw him a thumbs-up before retreating a few paces into your living room. You haul yourself onto the couch, much to Fred’s amusement, as if the spider is going to come running out of the bathroom to exact its revenge on you for throwing your pot of face cream at it before you sprinted out of your flat.

“Good luck,” You state as Fred opens the door to your bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Fred runs his eyes around your bathroom, looking for the eight-legged arachnid that’s caused this much trouble at this time in the morning. He finds it in no time; still stuck in your sink, unable to make its way up the smooth porcelain sides.

It doesn’t take Fred long to dispose of the spider; trapping it with a spell and flinging it out of the window. For extra measure, and to not alert you to his magic, he slams the trainer down on the tiled floor of your bathroom. Fred even goes so far as to scrunch up some tissue in his hand to make it look as if he had gotten the spider.

If he can avoid it, Fred won’t kill another living creature. In the short span of his life, Fred had seen too much death, and he knows he doesn’t want to be witness to anymore.

Upon opening the door, Fred finds you stood in the exact same place but with a rolled up magazine in your hand. He wants to laugh at the sight, but he can’t dredge up the will to do so. Instead, he holds up the scrunched up tissue and your trainer, declaring, “It’s gone. I got rid of it.”

You jump down from the couch, pottering over to him. The rolled up magazine still in your hand, “It’s in there?”

Fred nods, a little white lie won’t hurt you and he doubts the spider would return. “Do you have somewhere I can put this?” he asks, waving the tissue around.

“Of course, the kitchen is over here.” You lead him to the small kitchenette where he disposes of the empty tissue. You take your trainer off him and Fred claps his hands together as if he’s completed a job well done.

“Right,” He starts, “If you don’t need me for anything else…”

Your eyes widen as if suddenly aware what time it is and how long you’ve kept him, “Of course!” you cry, “I didn’t realise the time, you’ll want to be getting back to sleep. Thank you for all your help…” you trail off, realising you don’t know his name.

“Fred. My name is Fred.”

“Fred,” You smile, “I’m (Y/N).”

“I’m glad I could help, (Y/N),” Fred says, making his way to your door, “I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast.”

You frown, “Breakfast?”

“You owe me? For killing the spider, remember?”

You hold your hand to your forehead, “Yes! I remember. How does meeting at half past nine sound? I want to get some sleep before I meet you again.”

“Half nine it is. I’ll see you then.” Fred says as goodbye, shutting your front door behind him and making his way back to the couch that had been calling his name since he left it.

The TV has moved on now; showing another rerun of an old sitcom – this one about two brothers hustling their way through life in a borough of London. Fred rather likes this show, having gotten hooked his first month in muggle life. He turns the volume up, taking a sip of his now cold tea.

Fred tries to pay attention to scene currently playing; the brother’s elderly uncle unscrewing the fastenings to a very expensive chandelier they’ve been hired to clean. Little do they know they’ve got their wires crossed and disaster is about to strike.

Fred pays little attention to this, but rather than return to the wallowing he found himself in earlier, he lets himself think of breakfast tomorrow.

His eyes begin to flutter shut; the lack of sleep finally catching up to him. He slumps down onto the couch, reaching for the blanket he keeps draped across the back of it for this very reason, and he throws it across himself. He takes one last look at the television to see that the brothers had been underneath the wrong chandelier their elderly uncle was loosening, and he falls asleep with the thought of breakfast running through his mind.

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

Fred is ready too early; he knows he is.

He also thinks he’s overdressed but he doesn’t let himself think too much into that issue.

Another nightmare had awoken him an hour after he fell back asleep in front of the TV. Fred wasn’t too resigned though; four hours sleep in one night was the most he had gotten in a while. He was going to count this as a win.

For a while, he remained on the couch, flicking through the channels hoping to find something other than telly shopping. He skipped over the news channels, not needing to hear anything about muggle society that could potentially send him further into his spiral. He ran a hand over his face as he turned off the TV; he had moved away from home to start getting better; to start the healing process yet he felt as if he was only making things worse.

Before he could let himself dwell further on that subject, he hauled himself into the shower. Taking extra time to scrub at his hair and body; making himself look presentable for breakfast with you.

Fred took extra care in picking out his clothes. Once dressed, he did feel overdressed for the occasion, but as he sits on the couch, watching the hands on his analogue clock tick by slowly, he’s more bothered by the fact that he’s ready over an hour early.

He sighs as he watches the second hand make another circuit around the clock; one less minute to go, he thinks wryly to himself.

If his mother could see him now, Molly Weasley would proceed to smack him with a tea-towel before offering her advice on the matter. Thoughts of his mother has Fred overwhelmed with a strong sense of missing her. He misses his mother more than he misses anyone; how she would always have food on the table and tea ready to drink, how she would push back his hair from his forehead so she could kiss him there. She would do that a lot when the nightmares were very bad; she would sit with him on the couch where he had exiled himself after waking George up too many times – she would run her hands through his hair in a comforting manner, kissing his forehead as his eyes would start to droop. Molly would only let herself rest once her beloved son was sleeping somewhat peacefully.

Fred thinks of this memory as he digs around his flat for some spare parchment and a self-inking quill. He had already sent his two letters for the week, but Molly would be delighted to receive a third unexpectedly.

Quill scratches on parchment for some time. Fred inquires after the wellness of his siblings – did Charlie pull his finger out and ask out Evie? How was Ron and Hermione? How was Dad? Would he like any more of the muggle sweets he’s become so fond of?

Fred asks the inane questions before asking about George. Fred knows that George loves him; they’re twins, they’re closer than any other sibling would hope to be. George knew Fred’s moods like the back of his hand and he only wants the best for his brother. Which is why Fred struggles with the guilt at leaving George to cope with the joke shop alone. George has reassured him that it’s okay, that he needs to take time and the shop will always be here when he’s ready to come back.

But it still doesn’t lessen the guilt that sits in his stomach like a lead balloon.

Black ink covers his hand by the he’s finished his letter; finishing his letter with the news of breakfast with someone he could see being a good friend. That would be enough to quash his mother’s worries that he doesn’t leave his flat enough. He seals the envelope with wax, making a mental note to go to a wizarding post office after breakfast so he can send it off in express time to his mother.

Cracking his knuckles – a nasty habit he picked up at Hogwarts – Fred checks the time to see that it’s almost half past nine. He slips on his denim jacket, tucking his letter into an inside pocket, patting it to reassure himself it’s there.

As he’s locking up the door, he sees you exiting your flat. Fred realises that when you aren’t dressed in mismatched pyjamas with a terrified look on your face, you’re rather beautiful.

You hurry over to him; your bag bouncing against your hip as you come to a stop in front of him. “Good Morning,” you greet.

“Good Morning. How did you sleep? Any more spiders?”

You direct your gaze to the floor, feeling somewhat sheepish in the light of day, “I know I said it last night, but thank you again. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep if you hadn’t have got it.”

Fred smiles softly, “I didn’t mind. Besides, I get breakfast out of it.”

You perk up, “That you do! Off we go then.”

You lead him out of the building, continuing on the main road before turning left and then a right. Fred follows you all the way; making small attempts at idle conversation which you gladly take up, chatting to him about anything and everything as you lead him down a side street to where a small café sits.

The bell above the door chimes happily as you enter the building, holding the door open for Fred to duck in first.

You lead him to a table by the window that’s big enough for two. He pulls out your chair for you, letting you sit first before shrugging off his jacket and hanging it over the back of his chair. Fred may have been a little shit through his childhood and adolescence, but he had listened to his mother when she explained the etiquette for dining with a lady whether it be breakfast, lunch or dinner.

Menus are handed to the both of you by a waitress who looks to be wanting to be anywhere but here right now. Fred sympathises with her a little; remembering the early starts for the shop. They order their food in no time; you ordering a latte and Fred ordering a Yorkshire Tea to go with your Full English’s with extra hash browns.

You grin at him from across the table, “Thanks for agreeing to this.”

“Thanks for offering.”

“Did you get back to sleep okay after I woke you up?” You asks, face lined with worry.

Fred nods, clearing his throat, “I nodded back off, yeah.”

You sigh with relief, “That’s good, I’m glad.”

“Did you sleep okay?”

“I slept very well in my spider-free flat, yes.”

You fall silent as your drinks are placed in front of you with a promise that your food would be with you shortly. Fred smiles at the waitress in thanks as she leaves.

He turns his attention back to you, “How long have you lived in the building? I’m sure I would have seen you before.”

You wave a hand nonchalantly, “Not very long, I moved in a couple of months ago. How long have you lived there?”

Fred sips at his tea, adding a dash of sugar and milk before answering, “Around eight months now.”

You nod at his answer, taking a drink of your latte. The caffeine was needed; the adrenaline from the spider incident had taken a while to leave your body, leaving you tossing and turning in your bed and providing you more opportunity to think about the red-headed neighbour you had just met.

“I’m going to propose an idea.”

“Oh?”

“I say we play twenty-one questions and get to know each other.”

“Get to know each other?”

You blink at him, “Yes. We’re neighbours and we’re having breakfast. What else should we talk about? The weather?”

Fred glances out the window at your words, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Well the weather is particularly lovely for London.”

You hush him, “That’s not very neighbourly of you.”

“Perhaps I’m not very neighbourly,” Fred taunts.

You gasp dramatically, “I refuse to believe that. If you weren’t neighbourly, you would have shut the door in my face last night.”

Fred raises an eyebrow, “Would you have started to knock again if I did?”

You purse your lips, repressing a smile, “Maybe.”

“Then I simply helped to lessen the noise.”

You scoff, “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“You don’t have to.”

You glare at him, “Fred, stop being an arsehole and let me get to know you.”

Fred barks out a laugh, covering his mouth at the volume of the noise, “Well, when you put it like that. What do you want to know?”

You beam at him, and Fred can’t help but smile back. “How old are you?” you ask.

“I’m 22.”

“Are you at university?”

Fred shakes his head, “I thought I was supposed to ask the next question.”

You level him with a look, “Answer this one and then you can ask the next one.”

“Alright, but you can’t go jumping in with another question before I’ve asked mine. No, I’m not at university,” You open your mouth to interrupt but close it when you remember Fred’s words. He smiles at you, “How old are you?”

“You can’t repeat questions!”

“Why not?” Fred asks, affronted, “It’s only fair I know your age too!”

“Fine,” you mutter, “I’m 22 as well. 23 in a month.”

Fred nods, waiting patiently for your next question. You open your mouth, the words ready on the tip of your tongue but the waitress returns with your breakfast. The very smell of it has Fred’s stomach rumbling; he hadn’t a cooked breakfast like this since he left the Burrow. He digs in with renewed vigour; repressing a moan at the taste of the fried bread.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

Fred nods, unable to reply due to the mouthful of food he’s chewing.

You nod in understanding, swallowing your mouthful before saying, “I found this place in my final year of university; I needed somewhere that reminded me of my mum’s breakfasts. Her breakfasts will always be number one, but this comes pretty close.”

Fred pauses with a forkful of scrambled egg halfway to his mouth, “That’s what I miss most about home – my mum and her cooking.”

“Are you not from London originally?” You asks around a mouthful of bacon.

Fred shakes his head, “Devon originally. A tiny village in the county; it’s more of a hamlet really.”

Your eyes widen; eyebrows flying into your hairline, “Devon? That’s a while away. How often do you get to see your family?”

“Not as often as I’d like.” Fred says, drinking his tea.

For a moment, it’s silent between the two of you. The scraping of cutlery on plates being the only sound. Fred thinks of his family as he eats his breakfast; wondering what their plans are for the day – whether they’d be gnome hunting or playing quidditch or simply helping Molly with her vegetable garden. His heart hurts as he thinks of them; overcome with the absence of them from his life. It makes him shiver as he reaches for another drink of tea.

Fred breaks the comfortable silence, “What about you? Where are you from originally?”

“Lancashire originally but I moved to the south when I was young – it’s why my accent is so odd.”

Fred frown; he hadn’t noticed anything odd about your accent, thinking the way that you pronounced your vowels was similar to the way young Neville Longbottom does his, but yours are cut shorter.

“Tell me,” He starts, “Do you see your family as often as you’d like?”

“You’re going to repeat my every question, aren’t you?”

Fred grins, “Maybe… Maybe not. You’ll have to stick around to find out. Now, do you see your family as often as you’d like?”

You shake your head, “Not really. My parents like to travel a lot; a cruise here, a two week holiday there, a road trip across America through the summer. I don’t blame them though; they worked hard for the time they have now. I just wish they’d drop in more.”

“Are you rich?” Fred asks before he can stop himself. He cringes as the words leave his mouth.

You chuckle at the awkward expression on his face, “I’m not. My parents are. I’m a humble student working towards their master’s degree. My father created his company in printing greeting cards; he sold it off a few years back for a lot of money and they’ve been enjoying themselves since.”

“You’re a master’s student?” Fred asks; his knowledge on muggle degrees somewhat limited to what Hermione had told him.

You nod, scraping up the last forkful of food on your plate. “Yeah, I’m getting my master’s in Library Science.”

“What do you hope to do after that?”

“Work in a library or well, continue to work in a library, I already work at my university one. I’d love to work in an archives one day though, cataloguing pieces of history.”

Fred nods, enraptured by your words. He didn’t realise how much choice there was for muggles and their education. The wizarding world was somewhat limited to how witches and wizards could harness their talents; Fred and George were practically pariahs for choosing to dedicate their lives to pranks and happiness. He had always assumed the muggle world worked in the same way, but here you were, proving him wrong.

Knives and forks are crossed on plates when you ask, “You aren’t a university student, so you must have a job. What do you do for a living, Fred?”

Fred decides a kernel of truth wouldn’t do too much harm, “I own a joke shop with my twin brother.”

You laugh, clapping your hands together, “That’s incredible! Is the shop here in London?”

Fred nods, “It is. My twin brother is running it for the time being.”

“Can we go see it?”

Fred freezes; he hadn’t anticipated this. He glances down at the watch wrapped around his wrist then back up at you, not missing the glint of mischief in your eyes. “Perhaps another time?” he suggest, “I have some errands I need to run today that I can’t avoid.”

You lean back in your chair, feeling somewhat sad but you shake it off. “Of course, but I’ll hold you to that Fred. I won’t rest until I see your shop.”

Fred grins, “I have a feeling you’ll stick to your word.”

You move to reply but are interrupted by the waitress coming by to collect your plates and ask if you want anything else. She leaves the bill behind when her question is declined. Fred reaches for his wallet, but you stop him by snatching the bill.

“I made you a promise last night. Breakfast for your excellent services.”

Fred rubs a hand across the back of his neck, “I feel bad letting you pay.”

“Aren’t you a gentleman?” You tease, “No, I said I would buy you breakfast so I’m buying you breakfast. You can buy it next time.”

“So there’s going to be a next time?”

You shrug, biting your lip. “Sure – you might need my services for something. A blocked pipe or a blow fuse.”

Fred stands, pulling on his denim jacket, patting his inside pocket to find that his letter is still there.

You walk back to the main road together; waving goodbye to him as you head towards your university and he to a side street where he can apparate to the nearest wizarding post office. Fred hands his letter over to the clerk, paying a few extra knuts for express delivery.

Fred takes his time walking back to his flat; enjoying the spring day that was blooming around him. He felt lighter as he walked; as if he didn’t need to put as much effort into putting one foot in front of the other. He put it down to you and your presence; there was something about you that evoked all sorts of emotions from him. There was something about you that made him want to see you again.

However, he knew by tonight, the familiar fog will have settled over him – dulling the light of everything around him. He knew that he would still struggle to sleep; being lucky enough to get even an hour in before being pulled to consciousness kicking and screaming his way out of the same nightmare.

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

His time over the next month is split three ways. He spends a third of it on his couch; watching old reruns of sitcoms – his new favourite being set in second muggle war and follows the Home Guard; Fred finds himself whistling the theme song more often than he’d like to admit. He uses his time on the couch to write his letters to Molly who was thrilled at the aspect of Fred making a friend; she wrote question after question about wanting to know their star sign to their hair colour. Fred smiles fondly; a smile reserved only for his mother – one that got even bigger when a second owl arrived with a small note with another question. Through all of her excited questioning, Molly forgot one crucial detail – what was their name?

He spends the second third of his time running. Fred had always been sporty; had always had an athletic build that helped him gain his spot on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a Beater with George on the team too. However, there are few places in muggle London where he can play the sport freely, so he gets it into his head to pretend to train for a match. Fred begins to run; every morning and every evening. Two runs a day, seven days a week. The runs on an evening tire out his body so he has more of a chance of falling into bed with the hopeless prayer of a dreamless sleep uttered from his lips. However, the runs on a morning are more frantic as he runs off the excess adrenaline and panic running through his system as a result of the night terror his mind unleashed upon him, dragging him from sleep less than two hours after his eyes closed.

Then Fred spends the final third of his time with you. In your flat or walking around Hyde Park or visiting your university.

Fred finds himself spending more and more time with you; he starts to crave your company. And he feels ridiculous for feeling that way because he’s only known you for over a month and he should be using this time to start the healing process.

But he’s already told his mother about you; and who isn’t to say that he can’t work on healing from the trauma of the war with you by his side being a warm, comforting presence?

Fred sits on his couch at nearing two in the morning; questioning his entire existence and reasoning for moving to muggle society when he realises that whilst it’s only been just over a month, if he wants to start healing with you by his side, he needs to be entirely honest with you.

He needs to confess.

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

Fred inhales a deep breath before knocking on your door. He shuffles from side to side, nerves rioting in his stomach. In less than a minute, you’ve wrenched open your door, smiling widely as you take in Fred standing before you.

“Freddie! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

He holds his hands behind his back as he rocks back onto his heels, “Do you want to go on a walk?”

Your eyes run over his face; taking in the dark circles underneath his eyes. He had told you about his insomnia soon after the friendship began; it worried you, but Fred had reassured you that he had it controlled. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

Fred nods, “That, and I really need to talk to you.”

“No problem. Let me just get my shoes on.”

Fred smiles as he watches you toe on the slip on trainers he had come to know as Vans. You told him just last week about your obsession with them; unable to resist buying a new pair each time you passed the shop.

You grab your jacket from the hook, pulling it on as you lock the door behind you, bumping into Fred as you step out into the hallway.

Fred leads you out of the building, turning the usual left that heads in the direction of the park. You struggle to keep up with his long strides; calling out for him to slow down a little so you can at least walk side by side. He smiles at you as you catch up to him; apologising for his speed, he is just anxious.

The walk to the park is walked in silence. Fred’s mind occupied with how he’s going to tell you the most important thing about himself and how you’re going to react when you find out that a lot of your friendship was built on a lie.

The park settles on the horizon too soon and his heart is in his mouth. Fred used to be a confident guy; happily getting involved in scheme after scheme that would bring chaos and laughter to the corridors of Hogwarts, but he had lost that part of him in the battle. He wondered if he would ever be that guy again.

You bump his shoulder, “We’re at the park, what did you want to talk about?”

Fred settles on a nearby bench; fiddling with his fingers, “I need to tell you something  but I’m not sure how to say it.”

“That’s fine. Why don’t you tell me why we’re in the park?”

Fred sighs, “It’s so you have the freedom and the choice to leave after I tell you what I’ve been keeping from you.”

Your heart starts to pound in your chest; panic rising slowly in your gut. “What have you been keeping from me that’s so bad that I would need to walk away from you?”

Fred turns in his spot, staring into your eyes, “Do you promise to hear me out and not interrupt?”

“Fred, you’re worrying me. What’s the matter?”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise! Now what’s wrong?”

“I’ve been lying to you… about so much.”

The air is knocked out of you, “I’m going to need more than that, Fred,” you whisper breathlessly.

“Do you remember when we first had breakfast? And I told you about the joke shop I own with my twin?”

“Yes… so what did you lie about? The joke shop or the twin?”

“Neither. I just lied about why you couldn’t see it.”

“Why?” You ask; your tone incredulous.

“Because I’m a wizard, and the joke shop I own with my twin – who is also a wizard – is a magical joke shops selling pranks and potions to witches and wizards attending Hogwarts.”

You stand from the bench, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself, wondering when the TV cameras are going to show up, “That isn’t funny, Fred.”

“I’m not joking, (Y/N). I’m not lying to you now.”

“How do I know? What’s Hogwarts? Who is your twin? What’s the name of your shop? Why aren’t you there?”

Fred had prepared himself for the barrage of questions he knew would inevitably fall from your mouth; curiosity being your besetting sin. He hadn’t prepared himself for the look of betrayal and hurt that crosses over face as you continue to stare at him. Fred feels his already broken heart break some more at the sight of it.

He runs a hand over his face, “(Y/N), love, please sit down. I’ll tell you everything.”

“Everything?” You question, “I want to know it all.”

Fred crosses over his heart, “I promise. Now please sit down.”

You sit next to him; a few inches away as if the small distance will help to protect the heart that you had already started to give to the broken red-headed man.

You remain silent as Fred sorts out his words; you can see the cogs in his mind working as he figures out how to explain an entire society that you hadn’t known existed until less than a minute ago.

Finally he releases a breath and begins.

“Witches and wizards have always been around, but after famous witch hunts such as Salem, Pendle, and Samlesbury, we had to go into hiding to protect our numbers. From the age of eleven, we go to Hogwarts. Hogwarts is a school in the highlands of Scotland dedicated to teaching young witches and wizards the art of magic as well as how to control it. My twin is called George; we’re identical and sometimes, our own mother struggles to tell us apart,” Fred breaks off with a short laugh, thinking of Molly with fondness.

“He’s my rock, he’s my best friend. We bought the joke shop when we were eighteen – it’s called Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and it’s found in Diagon Alley. For your sake, it’s found near Charing Cross Road.”

Fred pauses once again, readying himself to explain his absence from the shop and his presence in your life. “I’m not there because I moved away. In our society, there was a dark wizard who started a war for purposes beyond me. I just know that when I was 21 I was running through the corridors of the school I used to attend fighting for my life and watching people I knew die. I almost died myself when a wall was blown apart; luckily, someone spelled me out of the way. I’ll be forever grateful to them for that.

“After the war, I couldn’t cope. I was doing more harm than good by being with my family – my insomnia stems from nightmares of the war so I left. I left them and moved here where I’ve started to heal from my experiences and where I met you after you started to bang on my door. I wanted to tell you sooner; my mother told me to in her letters, but I was enjoying my time with you, and I didn’t want to ruin what we have. It means a lot to me.”

Fred falls silent with a smile aimed at you. Your mouth hangs open from his words; unsure on whether to take them for the truth they sounded like or to question him to find the holes in his story.

But he looks so vulnerable; the smile is watery, and his eyes are lined with tears. You realise that it’s taken a lot for him to confess this to you, but that it had been weighing on his mind for some time.

You don’t say anything immediately. Instead, you draw his head to your shoulder, and he lets out the sob he’s been holding in since he started to talk about his past. You wrap your arms around him tightly; holding him together as he lets himself fall to pieces in your arms. You’re in public, and this is a scene but the both of you don’t care. You hold him to you until his sobs begin to quieten into sniffles.

“I’m sorry,” Fred murmurs, pulling away from you as he wipes his eyes.

“Never apologise for crying.”

He sniffles, “Do you believe me?”

You nod, “I do. I don’t think anyone could have made up what you just said. I don’t think there’s enough imagination in the world for it. But there’s one thing I want to know.”

Fred watches you warily, “What is it?”

You grip his hand tightly, “Are you healing, Fred? Are you coping?”

Fred’s shoulders slump as the tension leaves his body; he had tensed at your words, worried at what you might say. He stares into your eyes as he answers, “I am. I was struggling at first, but I think I’m starting to heal.”

“Can I help? How can I help?”

Fred pats your hand, “Continue doing what you’re doing, it’s enough.”

And it is. Fred finds it easier to breathe in your presence as if the weight of the world is no longer on his shoulders like he were Atlas. Instead, he finds it easier to focus on other things such as plans for the day or listening to you talk about your latest assignment. He doesn’t feel his mind drift off as much when he’s around you; which is a good thing, he thinks.

You smile at him, still holding onto his hand, “I can do that.”

You both fall into quiet; eyes now focused on the expanse of the park. Fred watches a young mother push her young son the swings, hearing his delighted laughter, whilst your eyes land on the teenage couple making out underneath a tree; you move your eyes away quickly, focusing instead, on the ducks swimming in the pond.

You break the silence, “Fred?”

He hums in answer.

“Would you cast a spell for me?” You ask tentatively, “If that’s okay!”

Fred smiles softly; letting go of your hand to reach for the dogwood wand he keeps hidden up his sleeve. With flare he hasn’t shown since opening the store, he pulls the wand out. He rolls the wand over his fingers, “Wizards can practice magic outside of school from the age of seventeen; I can show you a spell.”

“Really?” You ask, bouncing in your place.

“Are you ready?”

“Hold on, let me think for a minute… YES.” You shout, stamping your feet in the grass.

Fred grins; his eyes crinkling in the corners from the size of his smile. He checks for witnesses before holding his wand up whispering the incantation ‘Lumos’. The tip of his wand begins to glow with a pale light which in the falling darkness of the day only helps him see the beauty in your features.

You gasp at the sight of the light emanating from Fred’s wand, resisting the urge to reach out and touch it. “I can’t believe it,” you sigh, “All this time I asked you to change lightbulbs and you could create light with a single word.”

“You’re not scared or freaked out?” He asks, unable to stop himself. The small voice in the back of his head needed to know whether you were going to leave him.

You shake your head, still watching the pale white light. With a single whisper of ‘Nox’, Fred turns out the light and slides his wand back into his sleeve. You turn your attention back to Fred, “I’m not scared or freaked out. I’m just in awe of you and this entire society that’s survived in secret. I feel like I’m privy to a secret organisation.”

“You’re in awe of me?” Fred asks; those being the only words he focused on in your entire sentence after confirming you weren’t scared of him.

“Absolutely. You can conjure magic, Fred! Actual magic! It’s incredible,” Your hands frame his face, keeping his eyes on you as you lean close and whisper, “You are incredible.”

He covers your hands with his; wondering when he’d become so soft. “Thank you,” he replies.

You pull away too soon; Fred’s hands dropping to his side, feeling suddenly cold at the loss of contact.

Standing from the bench, you hold your hand out for Fred to take. “Come on, magic man. It’s time we went home.”

“Magic man?” He asks, amused. He takes your offered hand, pulling himself up from the park bench.

“It’s my new nickname for you, do you like?”

“Magic man… magic man,” Fred repeats, testing the name out on his tongue, “I suppose I do.”

“Good, because I don’t think I’ll call you anything else.”

The walk back to the flat is quicker than the walk to the park. Fred’s steps lighter now than they were earlier. Chased by the turning on of street lights, you reach your building and lead him into your flat, offering him a warm drink as he takes a seat on your cream coloured couch.

Fred takes the hot mug of tea from you as you sit down next to him. He takes a shy sip, careful not to burn his tongue. It’s perfect, as it always is. You always know the right amount of sugar and milk to add.

“Thank you for telling me that today, I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

“It wasn’t, but it got easier when you didn’t walk away. I was so worried that you were going to.”

“I don’t think I’d have forgiven myself if I had.”

Teas are drank after that, and Fred whispers goodnight to you before kissing your cheek in a rare moment of tenderness. He lets himself out of your flat, making the short walk back to his where he throws himself on the couch and lets himself wonder when exactly he had started to fall in love with you.

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

Two more months follow, and Fred knows that he’s now arse over tea kettle in love you. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes, that you like to shove under legs when laid on the couch together, so he yelps at their temperature.

Two more months follow, and Fred feels like he’s maybe able to start living his life again, but in small doses. He writes to his mother more who’s delighted by the tales he tells of you and your growing relationship; he could never keep anything from Molly – her face too trusting and her manner too warm. All Molly is concerned about in her letters is whether Fred is happy, and for the first time in over a year, Fred can reply saying he thinks he could be.

Molly won’t ever tell Fred this, but she cried at that letter, feeling her heart burst with happiness for the son she had always worried about.

Time passes, and Fred spends more and more time with you. Breakfast dates, lunch dates, movie marathons on the couch – he does it all with you. You even go so far as to make him decorate his flat more; pictures of his family now line the walls as well as the picture of him and George on the opening day of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

That’s when he knows he needs to go back to Diagon Alley, and he’s taking you with him.

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

At nine am on the dot, Fred knocks on your door until you open it. You glare at the red-headed man, demanding to know his presence at your door when he only left at four am after binging the entire Godfather trilogy without realising how long the films are.

Fred beams at your state, “Go get dressed, I’ll make you some coffee.”

“Why?” You ask, puzzled.

“I’m taking you to Diagon Alley and my joke shop.”

You stagger back a couple of steps, “Really? Are you sure? Are you ready?”

Fred’s grin moulds into something softer at your concern. “I am, and I want you to come with me.”

A slow smile breaks across your face, “Give me ten minutes and we can go!”

You rush into your room; pulling open the doors to your wardrobe and raking through to find any sort of clothes you’d wear to visit a magical shop, and possibly meet the twin brother of the man you’d fallen in love with.

Minutes later, you exit your room, pulling a brush through your hair to make yourself look more presentable. Gratefully, you take the cup of coffee from Fred’s hand before rushing into your bathroom to brush your teeth and spritz yourself in your favourite perfume – jasmine, lavender and citrus.

You drain the dregs of your coffee as you leave the bathroom. Dropping the pale pink mug in the sink, you turn to find Fred leaning against your kitchen counter with an amused and entertained look on his face.

“Someone’s excited, I see.” He teases.

You pout, “It’s not every day I get to go see magical London, magic man.”

Fred claps his hands, laughing quietly. “Come on then, let’s get you to Diagon Alley.”

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

Diagon Alley is nestled behind Charing Cross Road; it’s the largest area of wizarding London and is completely hidden from the muggle world.

Fred has been visiting Diagon Alley for as long as he can remember; flooing there with his mother and Bill, Charlie and Percy to collect their things for the latest school year. As a child, he loved visiting Florean Fortescue’s when the budget permitted it; getting a single scoop cone with rainbow sprinkles.

As he enters the Leaky Cauldron, leading you in by the hand, Fred is a mix of fear and excitement making him act jittery as he approaches the familiar face of Tom, the barman.

“Fred Weasley? Is that you?” Tom asks, a large smile on his face, “I haven’t seen you in over a year! How have you been?”

“I’ve been well, Tom. How have you been?”

“Never better – you know me.”

Fred smiles, nodding. “I’m heading out back, is that okay?”

“Anything for a Weasley. Does this have something to do with the muggle hiding behind your back?”

You reveal yourself from where you’ve hidden yourself behind Fred. Keeping a tight hold on his hand, you smile shyly at the barman, “I’m (Y/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Tom smiles politely, “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” Tom turns his attention back to Fred, “You know what to do.”

Fred parts ways with barman he had grown up knowing, pulling you to the back door which opens into a small courtyard.

“Fred, love, it’s a dead end.”

“Are you sure?” Fred asks with a smirk, reaching for his wand. “Want to see some proper magic?”

“Always, magic man.”

He grins at the use of your nickname for him before tapping his wand on the bricks blocking your way. You cry out as the bricks begin to move; shifting to the side to reveal an entryway to a cobbled street lined with shop after shop all varying in colours.

Letting go of Fred’s hand, you take your first step into the wizarding world; already in love with every aspect of it, just as you’re in love with every aspect of the man making his way to your side.

“What do you think?” He asks, breathless at the sight of the place he hasn’t seen in a year.

“This is unlike any other place I’ve seen.” You hold your hand out for Fred to grab, “Show me around?”

“With pleasure,” Fred replies, wrapping your hand in his, tangling your fingers.

Fred takes you on a tour of the Alley; stopping outside Ollivander’s and getting out his wand to explain the importance of the place, turning his wand around to show you what he means. He tells you the story of Harry Potter; of what his wand meant, being the twin of the wand that had killed his parents. Your heart breaks for the boy you had never met; had never even heard of until today – you ask after him, how is he now? Fred reassures you; after all, he’s fine, Harry’s dating his younger sister much to Fred’s chagrin.

He takes you into Florean Fortescue’s, buying you ice cream for breakfast as any adult should have. Your eyes widen at the taste of the Butterbeer ice cream; butterscotch and buttercream icing bursting on your tongue. Fred smiles at your expression, licking his way through his own ice cream – strawberries and cream for nostalgia’s sake.

Sitting down at a small table, you tap your ice creams to each other in a toast. “Where are we going next?” You ask, catching a drip of the melting ice cream with your tongue – not missing the way Fred’s eyes track the movement.

“I thought we could visit my shop.”

“Your shop?” You ask in disbelief, “Are you sure?”

Fred nods, catching a drip on his own ice cream. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes also track the movement of his mouth. “Yes, I’m sure.” He looks away, ashamed, “I’ve left George alone too long.”

You reach for his hand across the table, “I’m sure he understands, Fred.”

“I know he does, but it doesn’t stop the guilt.”

You rub your thumb across the back of his hand in a comforting motion, “Are you sure you’re okay to go? We can always come back another day.”

“You’d come back with me?”

You grin, “Of course, this is the best ice cream I’ve ever had. I’m here for you, magic man – who else is going to kill the spiders in my bathroom?”

Fred relaxes, “You’re the best, you know that right?”

You take another lick of your ice cream, “I do know that. Do you want to stay and see your brother, or do you want to go? I’m happy with either, but you’re going to have to give me time to get more ice cream.”

Fred laughs at your words, “It is good ice cream,” he takes a lick of his, “No, let’s go. I need to see him; I need to apologise.”

“Alright then. We’ll finish here and then we’ll go to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes… at last.”

He nods, remaining silent. The ice creams are finished in silence; questioning looks sent to each other across the table. Your feelings for Fred often overwhelmed you with their strength; never imagining that knocking on his door in the early hours of the morning could ever lead to something like this. In the short time you had known the man, you had fallen head over heels for him and also had your entire worldview altered by finding out about the existence of magic.

He’d quite literally turned your world upside down, and the only thing that ran through your mind through it all was: I hope he feels the same.

Soon though, faces are wiped on napkins and hands are back to hold each other’s as Fred leads you from the ice cream parlour to where the orange top hat stands out against the darkly coloured shops.

In a last minute attempt to delay the inevitable, Fred pulls you over to the pet shop. You coo over the animals; pointing to the Puffskein with questions burning on your tongue. Fred answers them all happily, delighted to delay walking into the shop and brother he’s neglected for so long.

After a few more minutes, you step away from the shop window citing the temptation being too great and you may end up smuggling the Puffskeins to the muggle world.

“That was a fantastic distraction, magic man.”

“Wasn’t it?” He admits, blushing at having been caught out but not wanting to lie to you, “It worked like a treat.”

You chuckle, “It really did. They remind me of clouds do the Puffskeins; neon, furry clouds.”

Fred snorts, “An excellent description.”

The joke shop now looms in front of the two of you; the bright orange and purple of the paintwork almost luminous in the morning light. Fred stops in the middle of the pavement; feet stuck to the floor, unable to carry him forward. He’s avoided this for so long, but he finally feels ready to insert himself back into the life of pranks, jokes, and happiness.

Your grip on his hand tightens, “I’m here, magic man. I’m not going anywhere.”

His nod is the only sign you get to know that he’s heard your words.

Taking a deep breath, Fred begins to put one foot in front of the other; a hand outstretched for the door handle to the shop, giving it a light push. The bell above the door rings, signalling his entrance into the shop but also his entrance into his old life.

The shop is quiet; it being still too early in the day to get masses and masses of shoppers. Their busy season is the three weeks in August before terms starts where students come to buy their school books but to also stock up on items of mischief.

A near identical man to Fred stands up straighter from his position behind the counter. He starts to open his mouth, to welcome the new customers to the shop but when he looks up, the words never leave his mouth.

He simply freezes in place.

His eyes flicker between the two of you quickly, before running over the man stood next to you. Looking for what, you don’t know.

In between one blink of an eye and the next, he’s thrown himself across the counter, sprinting to where Fred stands in the entryway.

No words are spoken; he just holds Fred’s face in his hands before pulling him in for a hug that’s been long overdue.

You step away from their reunion, letting your eyes roam over the shop. They need this moment alone; you don’t need to invade by watching them. You wander a little; fingers running over displays. You frown when you see you an area lit up in pink titled ‘Love Potion’.

You pick up one of the little bottles shaped like a heart; the bright pink liquid inside jostling as you examine it.

“Careful,” A voice sounds behind you, “It’s a powerful potion.”

Turning you find Fred’s twin, George watching you with inquisitive eyes. “What does it do?” You ask, fiddling with the stopper.

“It mimics the effects of love and obsession. If you smell it, you smell the person you love.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Truly?”

George nods, “Truly. We sell crates full of the stuff nearing Valentine’s Day.”

Releasing the stopper from the neck of the bottle, you take a delicate sniff. Peonies, rain, and Yorkshire tea come filtering through. The very smells you’ve become to associate with the man who had never really been your neighbour but has always been something more.

Replacing the stopper, you drop the potion into George’s waiting hand. He pockets it before turning back to face his twin.

“What did you smell?” Fred asks as you settle back next to him.

You shrug, “Nothing I didn’t already know.”

George grins at the two of you, “Is this the famous (Y/N) from your letters to mum?”

You nudge Fred with your elbow, beaming, “You write to your mum about me, magic man?”

“Hold on – magic man?” George asks, eyes glancing at both Fred and you.

You nod, “It’s my nickname for him.”

George chuckles, “It’s brilliant. I may have to use it myself.”

Fred blushes at his brother’s use of your nickname for him. He doesn’t say it, but it doesn’t sound right coming from anyone else’s mouth but yours.

“Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, (Y/N). Mum already loves you. I’m George.” George introduces, holding a hand out to you.

You shake his hand twice before dropping it, “It’s very nice to meet you too, George. Fred has told me so much.”

“He has?”

You nod, “He’s told me all about the pranks you played at Hogwarts and why you set up this shop – which I think is wonderful by the way – I feel like I already know you.”

George shifts his gaze to his twin, “I don’t know why but I didn’t think you’d talk about me.”

Fred gapes, “Of course I talk about you. You’re my twin brother, you’re practically half of me.”

George shrugs, “You only send letters to mum… I just assumed.”

Fred steps forward, placing his hands on George’s shoulders, “Mum made me promise to write, I couldn’t break that. I wanted to write to you so much, George, but the guilt I felt as just leaving you and the shop was too much and then more time passed. I’ve been an awful brother; can you forgive me?”

George laughs, tears falling freely down his face. “There’s nothing to forgive now that I know why.”

Fred hauls George into a hug; neither afraid to show their emotions through this reunion. Fred had been so worried before this; thinking his brother might turn him away at the door, but now holding him in his arms, he’s just happy to have his twin by his side once more.

They pull away with a sob; George clapping Fred on the back. “Will you be returning to work, Freddie?”

Fred’s eyes land on you; where you’ve stood silently through the whole exchange, just happy to see the two brothers reunite. His eyes search your face for something, and he finds it in your smile. “Yeah, George. I think I might do.”

George glances between you and Fred as if seeing the connection there. He keeps his mouth shut but smiles at the fact that his twin has found someone to share his life with.

You spend a couple more hours in the shop; pottering freely as Fred and George discuss the state of the business and when Fred would like to start work again. Pride runs through your veins as you listen to them from the upper floor; Fred has achieved so much in such a short space of time and you couldn’t be more prouder of him.

You also couldn’t be more in love with him. He handles himself with such grace; standing taller, smiling more. The more time you spent with him, the more you could feel yourself falling for him. Nights alone in your flat had you thinking of what it would be like to be laid in bed next to him – would he cuddle? Would he let you lay your head on his chest? Or would he prefer to spoon? You had spent so many nights thinking of these questions, trying to think of answers.

“(Y/N)?” Fred calls from the lower floor, “Are you ready to go?”

“Already?” You ask, descending the staircase.

Fred nods, “I’ll come back tomorrow and talk more to George about what I need to do. It’s time we got some lunch, however.”

Your stomach grumbles at his words, “You’ve got great timing it seems, magic man.”

He shakes his head, laughing softly, “No. I just know you too well.”

You smile at him before turning to George to say goodbye. George smiles at you, saying, “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other very soon,” with a wink at Fred.

The tips of Fred’s ears burn red as he claps his twin on the shoulder, promising he’ll call in tomorrow. “Tell mum you’ve seen me, will you? I know she worries,” Fred calls on his way out.

“Already on it!” are George’s final words before the door closes.

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

Sitting at a corner table in The Leaky Cauldron, Fred continues to ride on the high from seeing his twin brother after a year apart. He’s positively ravenous; the nerves before having dampened his appetite. He takes it upon himself to order for the both you; checking that you don’t mind. You wave him away, stating that you wouldn’t even know where to begin with ordering.

Tom hands Fred your drinks after ordering, letting him know it’d be around ten minutes before food was with you. Fred thanks the barman, picking up the drinks to return you.

“I’m really proud of you, Fred.” You state, taking a sip of the sweet Butterbeer.

“You are?” He asks bashfully.

“I am. It took a lot of bravery to do what you did today.”

Fred blushes, but doesn’t drop his eyes from yours. “I think I’m going to be brave one last time.”

“You are?”

“Yes,” He states, reaching for your hand, “I’ve only known you for less than six months but in that time you’ve helped me find who I was before the war. You’ve helped me find the laughter that was missing. What I’m trying to say is, is that I’ve fallen in love with you, (Y/N).”

“Oh, Fred,” You sniffle, “I love you too.”

“You do?”

You nod, “I really do. I love every last bit of you.

Fred sags in his chair; holding onto your hand tighter, “I was so worried you wouldn’t love me back.”

“No chance of that, magic man.”

The smile that breaks across his face is simply breathtaking, and you thank your lucky stars that the man you’ve fallen in love with, loves you back, just as much.

Tom fetches your food over then, settling two plates onto table. It smells divine and without letting go of Fred’s hand, you pick up your fork and dig in.

The meal is eaten in silence; happy looks and secret smiles exchanged over the steaming plates of food. Fred’s thumb rubs over the back of your hand; the motion now having another meaning alongside ‘I’m here’. Elation bubbles within you, flooding your veins. The love you feel for this man is entirely encompassing, filling your very pores, combining with your genetic makeup.

For as delicious as the meal is, the both of you barely taste it. Plates are empty in no time, and Fred leaves Tom a tip on the table. He pulls you up with him, dragging you to the door and back to muggle London.

It feels like a fever dream; stepping back into the reality you’ve known all your life until you met the red-headed man stood next to you.

Fred tugs you into him; his arm wrapping around your waist. He drops your hand in favour of caressing your cheek. His brown eyes sparkle with love and joy as he dips his head, pausing just before he touches his lips to yours, waiting for permission. You grant him in the form of pushing your mouth to his.

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in close, feeling all of him pressed against all you. He tastes of the butterscotch from the dregs of his Butterbeer and you hum against his mouth – it’s intoxicating. He’s intoxicating; you could lose yourself entirely in him and you wouldn’t mind a bit. Your hand runs through his hair, tugging lightly. Your toes curl at the sound of the low moan from the back of his throat.

From the outside, this looks like a simple passionate embrace between a young couple. They don’t know how long this kiss has been in the making; how many time you’ve wondered exactly what Fred would taste like, and now you have that knowledge, it’s not something you’ll be parting with soon.

Eventually, you pull away from him, coming back to the surface for breath but Fred doesn’t let you go. He holds onto you tightly, pressing kiss after kiss to your face making you giggle at his affectionate side.

He lets you go for a single instant to pull you into the side street beside The Leaky Cauldron. He wraps you tightly into his side, savouring the feel of you lined next to him.

“This is going to make you dizzy,” is his only warning before he apparates back to your flat.

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

Though confessions have been uttered, Fred takes his time to learn your body.

Kissing you slowly; peeling your clothes off your body with the air of someone who has all the time in the world – and he does. He takes his time to memorise every inch of your body; every dip, every curve, every freckle. He commits it all to memory though the both of you know that you’ll be doing this for a very long time. He whispers words of worship into your skin; your body was a cathedral and he was going to worship at your feet.

You take your time with him; running your hand through the hair on his chest before trailing it lower, watching how the muscles in his toned stomach jump at your touch. A simple touch, and it drives him wild.

He draws you in for a kiss; flipping the both of you so you’re underneath him. He braces himself above and you spend the rest of the night, and most of the morning, learning the noises that can be evoked from a kiss in the right place.

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

It surprised Fred that it takes his mother almost a month to send him a letter demanding that she finally get to meet the person who had stolen her son’s heart.

Fred reads the letter beside you at the breakfast table; chuckling at his mother’s words over his morning cup of tea. He hands you the letter once he’s finished reading, watching your face for every emotion as well as letting his gaze drop to the small purple bruises at the base of your neck, laid there by his mouth.

You hold a hand up to your mouth, repressing the smile. “Your mother wants to meet me?”

Fred nods, “She has for a while, but I didn’t want to scare you away.”

“There’s no chance of that now, magic man, especially after last night.”

Fred blushes but beams, satisfied. “Would you like to meet them?”

You pause, tilting your head to one side as you think of how to phrase your next few sentences, “I don’t want to presume anything, but I’d like to think I’m going to be in your life for a long while. I think the earlier I meet your family, the better.”

Fred takes your hand in his, dropping a kiss to the top of it. “You aren’t presuming anything; I want you in my life for an eternity and more. But are you sure you want to meet them? I’m from a very large family, and if I know them, it’ll be partners as well.”

You lean over to press a kiss to his cheek then to peck his lips quickly, “I love the worry, but it’s okay. I want to meet them, and I want to see pictures of my magic man as a baby.”

Fred groans; he’s forgotten about the baby pictures but from the look on your face, he know he’s fighting a losing battle. He kisses you quick, “I’ll send an owl to my mum now, letting her know we’ll come tomorrow, how does that sound?”

You hum happily, “That sounds like just enough time for me to find an outfit good enough.”

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

Molly Weasley opened Fred’s letter with a shriek; rushing to reply before getting started on calling the family together. She sends her Patronus to Charlie in Romania; threatening death should he not return home for this occasion. Charlie replies within two hours by showing up on the doorstep with his girlfriend, Evie in tow.

The whole family under one roof again would be something of an event; and one Molly would not waste by having petty squabbles and nasty reminders. She lines her family up in the living room; boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands and wives and proceeds to lecture about what this means. She’s grateful it being a Friday evening so she can lecture the whole family without absentees claiming work as the excuse.

Halfway through her lecture to her family, Arthur places a soft hand on her shoulder, “Molly, dear, we’re going to be on our best behaviour.”

She whimpers, “I haven’t seen my son is so long, Arthur.”

He wraps an arm around his wife’s shoulder, knowing the toll Fred’s absence took on her. He had been the unexpected twin; but they didn’t love him any less for it. On the contrary, Molly loved him more for the fear of his siblings making him feel unwanted.

“I know, dear. But we all promise to be on our bestest behaviour, don’t we gang?”

Confirmation rings out across all six of their children and their partners. Molly levels them all with a look, “Fred is bringing his muggle girlfriend with him, and George has told me it’s serious. We aren’t going to have a problem with that are we?”

“Definitely not,” George calls out to the agreement of his siblings and siblings-in-law, “(Y/N) is a sweetheart; you’ll see the moment they both arrive.”

Molly dismisses her family; dispersing them to different rooms with different jobs to make the house presentable for Fred and (Y/N)’s visit tomorrow.

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

Tomorrow arrives quickly, and before you know it, the sun is shining through your window and the birds have begun their morning song. Fred’s arm hangs over your waist in a dead weight; you shift him gently as you make your way out of your bed and into the bathroom to begin your day.

By the time Fred wakes, you’re dressed and are brushing through your hair. With a lazy grin, he watches you get ready for the day. He’s in utter awe of how he met someone like you, but then you meet his eyes in the mirror and that awe transforms into something warmer.

He drags himself out of the warm bed desperate to feel you under his hands. He places his hands on your shoulder, dropping a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Good Morning,” He whispers, his voice still raspy with sleep, “You look beautiful.”

You hum, “Good Morning sleepy head. The kettle boiled a few minutes ago and there’s a teabag waiting in your favourite pot.”

“You’re a dream,” Fred calls out, pottering into the kitchen.

“And you’re a flatterer, magic man,” You call back; grinning when you hear his laughter.

Time flies by in a rush of breakfast, clothes, and kisses and before you know it, it’s time to apparate all the way to Devon.

“Are you ready?” Fred asks; your hand tight in his. You don’t miss the double meaning to his words.

“Take me to Devon, magic man,” is all you reply before your flat turns into a whirlpool of blended colours and you’re spat back out on the outskirts of green, green farmland.

Not letting go of your hand, Fred leads you in the direction of his childhood home. Air he hasn’t smelt in over a year wash over him, bringing with it a tidal wave of memories. Nostalgia settles within him as he glances down at you to gauge your reaction to his home.

The Burrow stands proudly in the valley between two hills. You gasp at the sheer height of it, “This is where you grew up?”

Fred nods, eyes on you, “It is. I lived here until I moved to London.”

“It’s incredible,” You whisper, taking a step forward, and then another, and then another until you break through the long grass into a clearing. A garage is situated to the left of the large house, and you can just make out the canes for a vegetable garden. You nod as if understanding every motive for the placement of everything; if you were to live somewhere like here, you’d too grow your own food.

Fred draws your attention back to him by speaking, “Through there is where we practice Quidditch; the game I told you about from Hogwarts?” He continues when he sees you nod, “Then behind there is a pond that a family of frogs live in. To the right of us is mum’s garden, it’s her pride and hoy – she excels at household charms, but she’s a wonder in the garden too.”

“Fred, this place is incredible. I already love it and I haven’t even met your family.”

Fred smiles, “You won’t need to wait very long; here’s George.”

You turn from the sight of the growing vegetables to see George making his way over to you. “Fred! (Y/N)! How are you?” he calls out.

Fred waves at his twin, leading you to him. “We’re good, Georgie. How is everyone?”

George beams at his twin and then you, “They’re beside themselves with excitement. Mum screeched when she got your letter; gave us a lecture on decorum and everything.”

Fred laughs; his heart swelling with love and fondness for the woman who had raised him with such love and care.

“What do you say, (Y/N)?” George starts, “Ready to meet the Weasley clan?”

You grin at George and then at Fred; utterly besotted by this man, “Lead the way.”

George claps his hands before turning his back on you, heading towards the open door. You follow him at a faster pace than the one you had done when walking up to the house. Eagerness settling in your stomach as you keep your eyes on the open door.

Fred keeps pace with you easily; both nerves and excitement coursing through his veins.

He hears his mother before he sees her, “Fred! My darling,” she cries, tackling him into a hug so tight Fred thinks his ribs might break. You pause next to him; Fred’s arm angled awkwardly as he hugs his mum with one arm – you move to let go of his hand so he can hug his mother properly, but his hold on you tightens.

“Hi Mum, I’ve missed you,” Fred says at the sound of her cries, “I’m home mum, and I’m starving so let’s get something to eat, shall we? I’ve missed your cooking too much.”

Molly wipes her eyes, running them over her son, “I think you have. You’re looking far too thin, darling,” Her eyes land on you; they widen for a second before she’s tackling you in a hug. She whispers, “Thank you” in your ear before saying much louder, “I’m so glad I finally get to meet you, dear. I’ve read so much about you I feel I know you already but it’s never the same thing.”

You return her hug with just as much vigour, “Thank you for having me, I love your home.”

Molly pulls away, “You’re lovely; you’re perfect for Fred, I know it. Come on in, it’s time we ate, and you can meet the rest of the family.”

Your stomach ties itself in knots as you follow Fred into his childhood home. Voices starts to shout upon the sight of Fred entering the home; he grins at them all, greeting them by name, passing out kiss after kiss on the cheek as well as hugs to his brothers.

Then it’s all silent as the crowd turns to you. Fred’s hand drops your and his arm wraps around your waist, “Everyone this is (Y/N). Please be nice, I’m rather fond as you’ve probably heard from mum and George.”

Everyone greets you as if you’ve been part of the family for years; kisses on cheeks and tight hugs as everyone introduces themselves. A dream of your since you were child was to have  a large family, and now with Fred, it seems as if that dream would finally be possible.

His arm rests on the back of your chair as the family take their seats at the table. The food is served with loudness and love; Molly taking extra care with her cooking to make sure it’s perfect for you. From your first bite, you understand what Fred was on about all those months ago. After eating Molly’s food, you would be ruined for anyone else’s.

It’s wonderful; they take you in with open arms, ignoring the fact that you’re a muggle because to them, it doesn’t matter. They aren’t bothered whether you have magic or not, just that you love Fred and make him happy.

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

After the meal, Fred watches you interact with his family; explaining to his father the purpose of your degrees and your plans for the future as Arthur sits there entirely enraptured. He watches you asking Charlie question after question about Dragons with Charlie only being too happy to answer – his girlfriend Evie chiming in every now and then with her own knowledge on the subject matter.

He watches you talk animatedly; eyed wide and hands gesturing wildly, fitting in with his family better than he could have dreamed of.

Sighing happily, Fred realises three things:

One – his family would always be there for him, no matter the issue. They’re there to help, to never hinder.

Two – he’s still healing. It will be a long time before he’s recovered from the war, and he’s accepted that.

And three – he’s moving forward with all that in tow because he’s found the love of his life and he’s finally ready to start living it.

*********

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