#it’s not even that my mum couldn’t pay the bill this time like it’s been paid they just hate me personally
Text
i have ART that i want to POST but i CANT because OPTUS is SHIT
#.txt#optus being my internet provider#i refuse to buy myself data i’m just gonna hold out for them to get their shit together#it’s not even that my mum couldn’t pay the bill this time like it’s been paid they just hate me personally#whatever this just means i’m gonna have a lot to post when the internet is working properly again. because oh boy am i gonna end up drawing#a lot#i’ve been very bored
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
My Brother's Best Friend
Author’s note: The plan was to hold on to this one until the summer, but here I am posting it. It’s a slowburn, and there will be two parts. For those of you who want to visualise the villa, it was inspired by this one. This is only for fictional purposes only, and please don’t copy my work without my permission. Enjoy 🤎
Warnings: bad language, slow burn, not smutty but suggestive, brother’s best friend!Mason Mount, age gap but nothing significant, alcohol, fluff (???), frustrating Mason Mount, sort of love triangle (let me know if I missed anything).
university student!Reader x brother’s best friend!Mason Mount
Word count: 10k words
☀️☀️☀️
July 4, 2022
You don’t fancy yourself a negative person. Painfully shy maybe, even so, you’re not negative. But as you lay face up on your bed, you dread the day ahead of you. You contemplate missing breakfast, but that would make you rude. People can accept shyness, but no one likes a rude person.
What have I gotten myself into, you think.
And with a heavy sigh, you blindly reach for your phone, and find it tucked beneath the pillow beside you.
The time reads nine o’clock, on the dot, but you’ve been awake almost an hour now. Timewise, you’re cutting it fine, but maybe if you pretend that you forgot you had to meet your group for breakfast, maybe feign illness…
You scoff at the thought. You’re not negative, you’re painfully shy, and you’re a bad liar.
One look at you and your brother will catch you in your lie. But maybe if you explain the situation to him, he might understand. Or maybe he won’t understand, after all, he didn’t pay to fly you to Majorca only for you to spend the day locked up in your room.
It’s his fault anyway, you think as you toss your phone back onto the bed.
If only you had turned down the offer. More dread, this time mixed with regret. And now the question stands: if you’re so miserable at the thought of going upstairs to breakfast, why did you agree to come in the first place?
Well, that’s easy—Eleanor, your brother’s girlfriend. She had brought up the trip at lunch nearly a month ago, and pitched it so well, you couldn’t turn her down.
☀️☀️☀️
Sometime in June, 2022
“Do you have plans for the summer?”
The simple answer to her question was ‘no.’ There were plans, but none definite.
“I’m not sure, why?”
“B/N and I are heading to Majorca next month, and we thought it’d be fun if you joined us.”
Majorca, you had never been but had seen pictures. It was a beautiful island on your bucket list of places to visit.
“When do you leave?”
“July third.”
That wasn’t enough time to get your finances in order. And you could’ve asked your mum and dad for money, but you felt bad as they were already paying so much for your tuition.
“I can’t come.”
“Why not?”
“I’m broke.”
“Who said you’re paying?”
Your brow slowly raised, signalling for her to elaborate.
“You won’t have to worry about covering the bill, B/N’s got you.”
Back in February, your older brother had started working for a new company, and from what you had heard from your parents, he was earning quite well.
“Does he know that he’s covering my bill?”
Eleanor laughed, and assured you that he did. “It was his idea to invite you. So, should we book you a ticket?”
You contemplated the offer.
“Come on, think of the beaches… the warm sun… the men!”
She had you till the last bit. “I think I’ll pass on the men.”
She beamed.
“But the beaches and sun sound tempting, I can’t lie.”
“And you get to spend the summer with me and your favourite brother. All expenses paid.”
“And you're sure B/N agreed to this?”
She nodded and repeated what she had said earlier, that it was his idea. “And did I mention that you are his favourite sister?”
“Eleanor, I’m his only sister.”
She chuckled. “So what do you say?”
☀️☀️☀️
From that point forward, any other plans you had were indefinitely placed on hold. You would spend the summer with your brother and his girlfriend, and that was final.
A week from the trip, your mother was generous enough to take you shopping for a new summer wardrobe. ‘Just a treat,’ she had expressed over the phone. And your father? Well, he sent money. ‘Just a treat.’
And then you were sitting in the back of a black Mercedes Sprinter, being driven to a villa with your brother and his girlfriend. It was late, and you were tired, but you were excited to be in Majorca. And that made you chatty, which was apparently uncharacteristic of you.
“I can’t remember the last time I heard you talk this much,” your brother teased.
You lightly shoved his shoulder. “Stop.”
He laughed, “I didn’t say that was a bad thing.”
Eleanor slung her arm over your shoulder and pulled you in for a side embrace, “I’m just glad you came. We’ll have so much fun together.”
“Just a warning, little sis,” B/N chimed in, “Eleanor went a little crazy with the itinerary.”
“That’s not true.”
He held his hands up defensively, knowing better than to try to start an argument with his girlfriend. He was sure to lose. Instead, he dug his phone out of his pocket and began texting someone.
Eleanor was rattling on about the items on the itinerary when your brother announced, “It seems our party has arrived at the villa.”
Party? What party? You whipped your head towards your brother, “‘Our party?’ What does that mean?”
“Our friends.”
Friends? Up until that point, no mentions of friends had been made, so you were confused. You turned to Eleanor, “Which friends?”
“Oh, James, Edward, Maya, and her friend Jordan. She’s American.”
“And Mason.”
You whipped back to your brother—man, you were going to get whiplash. “College Mason?”
“No. Mason Mount, he’s a good friend.”
You had never met Mason Mount before, but you had heard your brother mention him a couple of times in passing. He was a footballer your brother had befriended at a party in Ibiza after he had saved him from a group of rowdy football fans who wanted a picture with him.
“Oh.”
“Don’t sound so disappointed now,” he chuckled.
Not disappointed, confused. Why hadn’t anyone mentioned that part to you?
As if she could sense your panic, Eleanor lightly squeezed your shoulder and assured you that it would be fine. “They’re good people, don’t worry. It’ll be fun.”
☀️☀️☀️
Eleanor was right, they were good people and it was fun, just not your kind of fun. You walked into the villa and were greeted by James, your brother’s best friend from uni, and Edward, his boyfriend. The two of them were standing in the middle of the darkly hued modern kitchen, preparing vodka tonics for everyone, and they were quite pleased to see you.
“And you brought Y/N! Hello, love!”
You smiled. James was tipsy, you knew that because his face was flushed, his voice just a bit too loud. “Hello, James.”
He pulled you in for a hug. “It’s so lovely to see you again. Vodka tonic?”
You hugged him back, “Yes, please.”
“Already on it!” called Edward from his spot at the large kitchen island.
“You’ve grown since the last time I saw you,” James said as he released you from the tight embrace. “How’s the first year of uni? Or would you rather not talk about it?”
“Uni’s been good.” And because you thought the answer was too curt, you added, “Challenging, but good. I like it there.”
Edward appeared, bright smile and vodka tonic in hand. He handed it to you, and told you, “Let me know what you think.”
You thanked him, and raised the tumbler to your lips to take a small sip, but it was too tiny to taste anything. So you lied, “It’s good.”
And he seemed pleased.
James was telling you about their flight over to the island when he was cut off by the commotion behind you, a group of people coming up the stairs.
You turned around to see Maya and her friend Jordan, the American, and a guy you assumed was Mason Mount, come into the kitchen. More greetings, more volume, and more happy people. Maya was first to greet you, and then Jordan, and then Mason.
The other two walked over to the island to grab their drinks, but Mason stayed behind to make conversation.
“I’m Mason.”
“Y/N.” You felt your cheeks heat up under his cheeky gaze. What your brother had forgotten to mention in the car was just how cute Mason was. “Pleased to meet you, Mason.”
His smile widened, “Likewise. What are you drinking?”
“Uh…” your mind froze for just a split second. Of all the times your brain chose to act up, it had to be in front of the cute older guy. “A vodka tonic. Made by Edward.”
“Is it any good?”
You took a second, more generous swig from the tumbler, and grimaced at the taste. It wasn’t that it tasted bad, but there was far too much alcohol in your drink. “A little heavy handed on the vodka.”
He laughed. “Then I think I’ll like it.”
And then he walked away and you released a quiet wistful sigh. You had a crush, oh God. How would you survive the summer?
Edward took you to your room, and gave a mini tour of your floor. Your room was sandwiched between Maya and Jordan’s rooms. Inside, the walls were white, and mostly bare, with just a single picture hung up above your bed’s headboard.
There was a wardrobe to store your clothes; a sleek and elegant bathroom with a shower, a toilet, and a sink; a tiny desk tucked into the corner of the room; and a wide glass sliding door that led out onto a balcony that overlooked the rest of the neighbourhood. Also, the balcony was shared between the three rooms.
You placed your bag on the bench that sat at the foot of the bed, connected your phone to the WiFi, and made your way back to the main area, where a welcome party had commenced.
You spent the hour that followed observing your fellow villa mates. Some were drunk, most were tipsy, and you were way past the point of exhaustion, but you held on, not wanting to earn the label of ‘party pooper,’ and it was a struggle.
The group was divided in two. Your brother was out on the covered patio, animatedly telling a story to James and Edward, his arm possessively hooked around Eleanor’s waist. She wore a smile on her face, invested in whatever it was he was saying—you weren’t exactly paying attention—so smitten with her boyfriend. That’s the group you chose to hang around.
Inside, just a few feet away, Jordan and Mason were sitting next to each other on the sectional, and they looked rather cosy which made you speculate on the nature of their relationship.
They seemed comfortable in each other’s presence, Mason leaning into her as she showed him something on her phone, his hand resting on her knee, and it looked to be inching higher with each passing minute.
If only I was brave enough, you thought as you took in the scene before you.
But you felt you didn’t stand a chance. Not only was Mason friends with your older brother, which was bound to be an issue, a violation of some bro code, but guys like Mason didn’t go for girls like you.
It’s the simple fact of life, but it didn’t stop it from hurting any less.
You polished off the remainder of your vodka tonic, the once icy drink now at room temperature, and placed the glass on the table in front of you.
Moments later, you felt your phone vibrate in your hand. Claire. A text:
Claire 🐻: Yayyy!
Claire 🐻: I cant believe youre in majorca and i’m stuck at my grannys cottage :/
Claire 🐻: I’m jealous
She was responding to the text you’d sent her earlier. You were letting her know that you had arrived at your destination.
You: Kinda wish I’d joined you instead
Heading to the countryside with Claire was one of the ‘not definite’ summer plans.
Claire 🐻: Its not too late to change your mind…
You chuckled at her response.
Claire 🐻: Up for a late night call?
As far as you were concerned, there was no use in hanging around, but you didn’t want to make a fuss by announcing your departure. Instead, you excused yourself under the guise of someone who would return, and made a slick escape to your room.
You locked the door and launched yourself onto the bed with an audible huff.
☀️☀️☀️
You passed out after two o’clock, which meant you had a little under six hours of sleep, but you don’t feel tired. And now it’s morning, and it’s breakfast, and you can’t cook up an excuse to remain locked in your room.
There’s ten minutes till breakfast, and you don’t like being late, so you drag your feet to the bathroom and do your best to freshen up, but there’s just not enough time, and you still have to change into something breakfast appropriate.
Suffice to say, you’re the last one to arrive, and all eyes are on you as you walk into the kitchen/dining area. There’s a spread of food laid out on the table, and a bunch of hungover grown ups convened around it.
“You made it. I almost came down to get you.”
That’s Eleanor, and you’re grateful she didn’t come down. You tell a little white lie, that you had missed the alarm, and take your place at the table next to Maya, who looks like hell, the result of too many vodka tonics last night.
Across the table from you is Mason, who looks worse than Maya does. He looks to be in actual physical pain.
“Are you alright?” you question.
He shakes his head and looks like he might throw up right there on the table. It’s only then that you realise that Jordan is not here.
You turn to Maya, who’s devouring a cheese croissant, “Is Jordan not joining us for breakfast?”
She shakes her head, then swallows, “No, she’s too worn out. Someone kept her up all night.”
It takes you a moment to realise what she means by that. And then your cheeks heat up, and you wish you hadn’t asked.
“Got it.”
With a soft chuckle, she apologises for the TMI. As you plate your own food, you tune into the different conversations taking place around the table.
Eleanor is telling Edward and Maya about her plan to spend the day at the beach, and B/N is listening to James tell him about an old pal who recently contacted him about a project he wanted the two of them to work on.
Neither interest you, so you focus on eating your breakfast. And after some time, Eleanor proclaims, “So it’s settled then, we’re spending the day at the beach!”
And her tone is final—bossy.
“I think I’ll sit this one out.”
The table turns to Mason, who really looks to be suffering.
With an apologetic smile and slight shrug of his shoulder, he states, “I feel like shit.”
The corner of your brother’s lips curve into a knowing smirk, “Are you sure that’s the only reason you want to stay behind?”
Mason rolls his eyes at what B/N’s insinuating.
“Where is Jordan anyway?” he continues.
“Mate, shut the fuck up,” and despite feeling ill, Mason smiles, and blushes.
The table erupts into laughter, and you force a laugh, but you’re green with envy.
Mason doesn’t make it to the end of breakfast, and when you leave for the beach around 11, you don’t see him.
☀️☀️☀️
The sound of the waves lightly crashing into each other serves as the perfect soundtrack to your morning. There are other people on the beach with you, children running across the sand and into the shallow waters, and you’re happy—content.
“I also should’ve brought a book with me.”
You turn to Maya, who is splayed stomach side down on her brightly hued large beach towel, directly under the sun.
“When was the last time you reapplied your sunscreen?”
She can’t remember. “Oops. Do you mind?”
You place your book to one side, “Where is it?”
She sits up and extends her arm to Eleanor’s bag, that’s mere inches from where she’s sitting, for the lotion. She doesn’t have to dig far since it’s at the top of the bag.
“Thanks. I keep forgetting to reapply it, which is really bad for my skin. And not to sound vapid, but I’m not trying to age.”
She takes her place in front of your beach chair, and quickly unfastens the knots of her bikini top, but keeps her hands over her chest area. As you rub the lotion onto her back, she tells you about her boyfriend and how he was supposed to come onto the trip with her.
“He bailed at the last minute.”
Your lotion slick hands glide down to the middle of her back, where you continue to rub, “Did he say why?”
“He’s just an asshole.”
You both laugh at that.
“But it’s fine. I’ll have a better time with Jordan anyway, even though she’s currently ditching me for Mason’s dick.”
You flinch at her choice of words, the visuals of the two of them fornicating flooding your mind, and you’d rather not think about it.
“How do you know Jordan anyway?”
“We work for the same PR company. We have similar interests so we instantly hit it off.”
“Oh.” You lean back on your chair to assess your work, “Well, it looks like I’m done.”
She thanks you, calls you ‘a star,’ then moves back to her previous spot and starts lathering the rest of her body. You reach for your phone—which you have wrapped in a towel and placed under your beach chair to keep from overheating—to check the time.
You’ve been at the beach nearly three hours now, and you’re kind of over it. Plus you’re hoping to take a quick nap, the lack of sleep finally catching up with you.
“Hey, Maya. I think I’m going to head back to the villa.”
“You’re not joining us for lunch?”
The plan is to lunch at a restaurant a walking distance from the beach, but you’re more tired than hungry.
“I think I’ll pass. And tell Eleanor not to panic, I’m fine.”
Maya chuckles at that.
You pack your belongings into your cotton canvas tote, and raise off the beach chair. “I’ll see you back at the house.”
Eleanor has gone with your brother to search for a cove to take pictures for her Instagram, and James and Edward are splashing in the water nearby. You wave at them as you walk away, and are grateful when they don’t question your departure.
“Hey, Y/N?”
You whip back to Maya, “Yeah?”
“If you happen to see Mason and Jordan, tell them to come down to the beach. I’ll send them a text, but I doubt they’ll see it.”
You nod, but deep down, you don’t wish to see them.
The temperature has gradually risen since you first arrived at the beach, but under the protection of your beach umbrella, you didn’t realise the intensity of the sun. It beats down on your exposed shoulders and back, and makes you wish you had worn a cover-up.
The streets are empty, everyone in this particular area seemingly gathered at the beach, and you’re so lost in your thoughts, you don’t notice the stranger that’s now walking beside you.
“Hi.”
You stop dead in your tracks, startled by his sudden appearance.
“My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
You instantly recognise his accent to be English, and he looks to be around your age.
“Hi…”
He smiles wide, his teeth exposed. “I’m Alexander, Alex.”
Your eyes drop to his extended hand, and you reluctantly extend your own to shake it. You feel it’s too formal though.
“I’m Y/N.”
Alex’s taller than you are; his pale skin dark from being out in the sun too long; his hair sandy blonde, sticking up in different directions; and his eyes a light brown. A cute face, and he’s smiling at you, making conversation.
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
You shake your head, “Are you?”
He tells you that he’s here on vacation with his family, and that they come here every summer, so he’s quite familiar with the place.
“How about you?”
You tell him something similar: that you’re here with your brother and his friends, but unlike Alex, this isn’t an annual tradition.
“Nice. Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”
And then he asks where you are headed and without giving it much thought, you tell him, only to realise that you have made a blunder.
What if he’s a creepy stalker?
“You’re not some creepy stalker, are you?”
He laughs at your question. “No, I’m not.”
“That’s what a creepy stalker would say.”
He doesn’t give creepy stalker vibes, at least you don’t get that energy from him, and you honestly don’t want to overthink it. Alex seems nice, knows how to hold a conversation, and it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend.
He then offers to walk you back to the villa and you allow it, and on the way there, the two of you make conversation about the island and places to visit. And you think he might be flirting with you, but you’re not sure.
“Well, this is me,” you announce as you slow your pace in front of your temporary home.
“And what does your brother do for a living, exactly?”
You’re not sure what he means by that, so you choose not to answer him. Instead, you reply, “Thank you for walking with me.”
He tells you not to sweat it, says goodbye and tells you that he hopes to see you again soon. And then carries on his way.
Inside the air conditioner cooled house, Mason is perched on the large sectional in the sitting room, on a Facetime call with a friend. He sounds livelier than he was this morning, his earlier sourness replaced by a jovial mood.
Upon hearing you enter the living room, he turns in your direction, the smile on his face widening at the sight of you, and suddenly, you feel self-conscious. The sudden drop in temperature inside the house has caused you to perspire, and you’re a bit out of breath, and you’re sure you look a mess.
“Hey, Deckers,” he cuts his friend off mid-statement, “I’ve got to go, mate. Chat later.” And then he hangs up the call, and fully turns to regard you. “You’re back!”
You shift your weight from one foot to the other, “I’m back. Are you feeling better?”
He shrugs, “Eh. How was the beach?”
“Warm, sunny. I liked it.”
“Then why are you back here?”
“To nap. I slept late last night,” you confess.
And when he beckons you over, you make your way to the sectional, and take your seat next to him—with space between you.
He scoots closer and assures you that he doesn’t bite. “So, what did you do at the beach?”
“Maya told me to tell you and Jordan to join them at the beach,” you blurt out suddenly.
Why, why, why have you done that? Your mind implores. And how does one recover from such? For a moment, you sit stunned, and wish the ground would open up and swallow you.
“For lunch. Maya told me to tell you to join them at the beach because it’s almost lunch.”
“Am I sitting too close?”
Yes. “No, it’s fine,” you lie, but it’s not convincing.
He smiles. “Then why do I get the sense that you are nervous?”
“It’s all in your head,” and you barely recognise your own voice. Who is this girl? And how is she so calm?
“It’s all in my head, huh?”
You place your hands over your face to conceal your smile and let your head fall back, “What do you want me to say?”
With a soft chuckle and a hand over your bent knee, he tells you, “I want you to be honest.”
The sound of a door closing downstairs disturbs the moment and you are reminded of Jordan’s presence. A few moments pass, then she appears at the entrance of the sitting room, in a bikini with a towel around her waist.
You don’t blame Mason for fixating on her, she really is so stunning.
“Are you guys back?”
It’s Mason who answers. “No, only Y/N. Where are you going?”
“Maya texted. They’re waiting for us at the restaurant, you coming?”
Mason moves away from you, and you feel your stomach drop—ouch.
“Yeah,” he raises off the couch, “Let me go change quickly.”
Your eyes drop to your fingers that are knotted on your lap. Your face is heating up for a different reason now, and you wish you had stayed at the beach with the rest of the group. Moments pass and you hear a slap sound, followed by Jordan’s giggle.
You sink further into the couch. It’s going to be a long vacation.
☀️☀️☀️
You successfully avoid Mason for the remainder of the day, but your luck runs out at dinner. In what you deem an unfortunate turn of events, you’re sat next to him at the restaurant, its tight configuration meaning that you were practically on Mason’s lap as you had your meal.
Arms and shoulders touching, knees bumping, and at one point, he has his arm draped over the back of your chair, the fabric of his shirt grazing the back of your neck. You try to ignore it, but he’s so close and smells so good, and it pains you to know that your feelings aren’t reciprocated.
And so you drink to numb your unrequited desires.
The sound of plates clattering and cheerful chatter fills the table. As previously mentioned, the restaurant isn’t large, with only five tables laid across the establishment, and they are all taken up by patrons who are here to enjoy the local cuisine.
It sits directly on the beach, a body of water a short distance from its front entrance, and its lack of walls makes it so you can see the ocean in the distance, waves rolling onto the shore, the sun setting in the horizon.
This is good, this is paradise, you think.
“It looks like Y/N’s got an admirer.”
You arch a questioning brow at your brother’s girlfriend, who sits directly across the table from you, her half-eaten plate of food now abandoned as she sips her alcoholic beverage. “I do? Who?”
“Okay, don’t turn now, but he’s sitting two tables away from us,” she seems ecstatic, “and he’s cute too.”
You like the sound of the last bit. Maybe a summer romance is in the cards for you after all.
“Okay, he’s turned away. You can look now.”
And you do so, only to discover that your admirer is none other than Alex.
“Oh, that’s Alex.”
“You know him?”
You swallow the last forkful of your meal then push your plate away from you, “Yeah, we met earlier. He’s here on vacation with his family. He’s nice.”
Enter Maya. “Just nice? Is that the best you can do?”
You get the sense that you have said something wrong—offensive even. “Yes, he’s nice.”
“Girl,” she continues, “you’ve got to do better than that. He’s clearly crushing on you, go talk to him.”
With wide eyes, you respond, “What? No!”
“Uh, why not?” they, Eleanor and Maya, ask in unison.
“Because that’s forward, and if he doesn’t actually like me, it would be extremely embarrassing for me.”
Maya turns to Eleanor, “Does she have a boyfriend back home?”
“Not as far as I know.”
“Do you not want a summer fling? Or do you not swing that way?”
You laugh. You like Maya, she’s funny. “I can assure you his mind’s not on a summer fling.”
She throws her hands up in defeat. “I give up.”
“Maybe she’s not into guys like Alex. He looks like he’s a bit of a dweeb.”
Mason’s interjection catches you off guard, and you’re offended on the behalf of Alex.
“He’s not a dweeb,” you defend.
“The only word you could come up with to describe him was ‘nice.’ I think he’s a dweeb, friendzone material.”
And I think you should mind your own business, you want to retort, but you swallow your words, not wanting to make things awkward.
“Y/N’s into the bad boys, I reckon.”
That couldn’t be further from the truth, but you didn’t see the point in arguing with him.
“All I’m saying is that he keeps looking this way, and dweeb or not, he’s really into Y/N.”
Mason shrugs, and in a casual movement, his arm returns to the back of your chair. This time, his warm hand rests on the corner of your shoulder. “I don’t think you should waste your time, Y/N.”
You don’t respond, because you don’t trust your voice to not betray you.
☀️☀️☀️
It’s past three in the morning, and you’re tipsy from the liquor you consumed at dinner, and you can’t fall asleep, kept awake by thoughts of Mason. He currently occupies a too large portion of your thoughts, and it pains you because you know it will only lead to heartache.
Of all the people on this island, why did your heart choose to fixate on him? So stupid, so masochistic your heart is.
You grab your phone from its spot beneath your pillow and open the WhatsApp app to send a text to Claire:
You: Can’t sleep :/ wish you were here with me
She would know what to do in this situation. And if not, she’d find the perfect way to distract you from your moronic emotions.
You wait ten minutes to see if she’ll respond and when she doesn’t, you figure that she’s asleep, and decide to head out onto the balcony instead. Your mother’s words come to mind, ‘Fresh air clears a clouded mind.’
You pad across the cool tiled floor, and take caution not to cause a ruckus as you slide the door open. A light breeze greets you the moment that you step outside, and you inhale deeply through your nose.
And then you hear them, the distant moans coming from Jordan’s room next door. And your heart sinks at the realisation of what is happening. You weren’t aware she was with Mason again tonight.
Fuck, fuck, fuuuck!
More than anything, you’re frustrated at the fact that you care so much. He doesn’t like you, you’re his friend’s little sister, and he will never see you as anything more than that. And despite that knowledge, you’re bothered and you’re jealous and you think that life isn’t fair!
The icing on the cake—the most ridiculous part of this whole ordeal—is that you barely know the guy. But I guess emotions don’t work like that. The heart wants what it wants, or whatever, and you just have to accept that.
Fuck.
The moaning gradually intensifies and it suddenly feels wrong, dirty, to be standing out here. So you retreat back into your room, afraid that someone might catch you and get the wrong idea.
You’re not negative, you’re painfully shy, you’re a bad liar, and you’re not a pervert.
You dig your AirPods out of your tote, and listen to music to drown out the obnoxious sounds.
☀️☀️☀️
July 5, 2022
Breakfast the next morning is interesting. It seems you’re not the only one who heard Jordan and Mason’s impassioned moans. Everyone keeps teasing them about it, inappropriate jokes cracking from all sections of the table, making you wish you hadn’t come up for breakfast.
But eventually, the taunting ends, and the discussion turns to the day’s activities. B/N, Eleanor, James and Maya want to visit Castell de Bellver; and the other half, yourself included, would rather stay at the villa.
And so it’s decided that today, you will split up.
After breakfast, you accompany Maya to the beach because she wants shots of herself in front of the ocean, to ‘show my asshole boyfriend what he’s missing.’ And you’re not the best photographer, but the pictures come out decent.
You spend the rest of the morning texting Claire. The Castell de Bellver group leaves the villa around midday, and in their absence, a sort of party kicks off. You have come to discover that where there is Edward, there is booze. And music, obnoxiously loud music.
“You sure I can’t make you anything, love? I make a mean margarita.”
And because you can never say ‘no’ to Edward, you inquire, “A margarita?”
His face lights up, pleased at the prospect of you day drinking with him, “I promise to go easy on the booze.”
Jordan’s in the kitchen with him, but Mason’s nowhere to be seen. You have the first margarita, and when you finish it, they convince you to have a second. And you give in.
The volume at which they speak rises with every sip, and you witness them go from tipsy to borderline drunk in a matter of an hour. And in his borderline drunk state, Edward arrives at the conclusion that he wants to be near the ocean.
Why?
“Because I’m in mother fucking Majorca, bitches!”
And Jordan agrees.
Your flags go up, but you can’t properly articulate your concerns, the booze muddling your mind. You don’t think it’s a good idea for either of them to be near a large body of water in their state, but they’re out of the house before you can string together a coherent sentence.
Curse being a lightweight.
You think to follow after them, but then you realise that a tranquillity has descended upon the villa at their departure. And maybe it’s a selfish thought, but in their absence, you can finally read your novel.
You run down to your room to grab it, head out onto the terrace, and make yourself comfortable on one of the pool chairs.
This, you think, is what I imagined my summer to be.
And you’re basking in the solitude, lost in the words on the page, when-
“Where did everyone go?”
Right. Mason’s still home.
Without tearing your eyes from the page, you tell him, “The beach. They left about 10 minutes ago. I’m not sure if they took their phones.”
“And you stayed behind?”
“I don’t feel like sitting out in the sun.”
You hope that he might be repelled by your stoic tone, but he’s apparently not easy to deter. He makes his way over to where you’re sitting, and takes his seat at the foot of your chair.
“What are you reading?”
“A book.”
He’s amused. “I know that, but what’s it called?”
When you don’t respond, he reads the title on the cover.
“What’s it about?”
You give a brief summary of the plot.
“And do you like it?”
Oh god. “Don’t you want to join Jordan and Edward at the beach?”
“No.”
You drop the book to your lap, your finger placed between the pages to not lose your spot. Mason is in nothing but his board shorts, his face nap-swollen, sleep lines marking the one side of his face.
“You were napping?”
“Mm-hmm. Scoot over.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to lie next to you. So you can read to me.”
What? “It’s a boring book.”
“I don’t mind. Unless that’s you kind way of telling me to fuck off.”
And he smiles, which makes you smile.
“No, it’s not.”
“It’s not?”
You shake your head, “No. But I don’t think there’s enough space for the both of us.”
That’s not entirely true. It’s narrow, but the pool chair’s built just wide enough to seat two people.
“We’ll make it work. Scoot.”
And despite your better judgement, you do as he instructs. It’s a tight fit, but he fits—his body pressed right against your own.
“You comfortable?”
“Yeah, you?”
“Mm-hmm,” then you turn to your book, clear your throat, and start reading from where you left off.
You do your best to focus on the words on the page, but you’re very aware of Mason’s gaze fixed on your face as you read. And you feign indifference, but he’s so close, and it makes you nervous, and it makes you stumble on your words.
Why are you so affected by him?
He laughs at the funny bits, but for the most part, he’s silent. Listening. You expect him to get over it at some point, bored of the premise or the sound of your voice, but he stays put.
And at the end of the chapter, you close the book. “I haven’t bored you yet?”
“Mm-mm. Why d’you stop? Are you tired of reading?”
“A bit,” you shift in the chair, careful to avoid his sensitive area. “Are you sure you don’t want to join Edward and Jordan at the beach?”
“Why do I get the sense that you’re trying to get rid of me?”
“I’m not. I just figured you might want to–”
Your breath hitches at the feel of Mason’s fingers gliding up and down the skin of your exposed thigh.
“You figured I might want to what?”
He’s so casual as he asks the question, meanwhile, the words are lost to you, your brain malfunctioning.
“I figured…” you blank.
Suddenly, you don’t know how to speak.
A fuzzy feeling burgeons from the deepest pit of your stomach, and you know you have to get away, but you stay put because a part of you likes the fact that he’s touching you, but the other part—the reasonable one—sees the danger in his actions.
He’s leading you on. You’re nothing but an ego boost for him.
“Y/N?”
Say something, your mind screams at you, but your tongue’s heavy in your mouth—just a lump of lead.
“Earth to Y/N…”
“Hmm?”
“Are you still with me?”
Barely. Barely.
You lie perfectly still, afraid that if you move, it might ruin the moment. Under his touch, your body relaxes; your breath slows in tempo, shallow; and you catch yourself giving into him—and you don’t see the use in fighting it.
Thud.
Your novel hits the floor and the sound snaps you back to reality. You place a hand over his to stop its suggestive motion.
This is wrong and this can’t happen. What would your brother say if he walked in to find this sight? And Jordan? He was with her just last night.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
In quick movements, you peel away from him, raise off of the pool chair and without as much as a goodbye, scurry back into the house. You run to your room, shut the door behind you and lock it.
Stupid, stupid girl! Why would you act like such a buffoon?
“Holy crap…” you breathe out.
You’re aroused, your breathing erratic, and you feel like the biggest loser.
Why did you stop him? Your mind beseeches. Is that not what you wanted?
And now you can never face him, and he’ll never look your way ever again—not after this.
“Fuck.”
You might as well pack your bags and fly back to England. Or worse, come to terms with the fact that you’ve just ruined any shot of a summer fling with Mason.
☀️☀️☀️
An hour has passed since yours and Mason’s pool encounter, and you’ve managed to calm down but the embarrassment hasn’t been as forgiving.
You tried to call Claire, but she was out biking in the fields with her cousin and couldn’t talk. Reading was out of the question after you had abandoned your book on the terrace, and starting a new one seemed silly.
And so you sat and stewed in the feeling. And when that got too overwhelming, you listened to music to help drown your torturous thoughts. Would you ever get over it? Time would tell.
Around three o’clock, the Castell de Bellver group returned with the bad news that they didn’t get to see the castle. Apparently, in their excitement, they had forgotten to book their tickets online, and when they got there, the lines were too long.
“I take full blame, I’m generally an unlucky person,” Eleanor quips.
She calls it the ‘sightseeing curse,’ and launches into explaining the phenomenon, but you don’t catch a single word she says, your eyes fixed on Mason standing at the terrace with your brother.
The two of them are engaged in conversation, a smile on Mason’s face as he takes in your brother’s words.
“… But I did get you a gift!” Eleanor concludes.
“You did?”
“Yeah.” She digs into her Louis tote and pulls out a bright pink braided leather bracelet. “I didn’t know which colour to get.”
“Aw, Eleanor. Thanks.”
It’s such a sweet and unexpected gesture. She puts it around your wrist and it’s the perfect fit.
And then James comes from his room, looking for his boyfriend.
“At the beach with Jordan. I was actually about to head there, so I’ll let them know you’re back.”
And that’s how you escape Eleanor and her many stories. You love her, think she’s good for your brother, but man, once she gets started, there’s no stopping her. You grab your tote and phone from your room, then leave the villa.
There’s no definite plan for when you’re out the house, but it beats being in the same vicinity as Mason.
☀️☀️☀️
Edward and Jordan are still at the beach and they have befriended an elderly couple. Odd, but they’re still tipsy and they’re very happy to see you. After you tell them that the Castell de Bellver group has returned, they bid their company farewell and head back to the villa.
“You’re not coming back with us?”
“No. I think I’ll hang here for a bit. But I’ll see you soon.”
Jordan throws her arms around you and pulls you into a tight embrace. It amuses you how people are always the most affectionate in their drunk state. They blow a thousand kisses as they back away and then they are gone.
You take pictures of the ocean to post onto your story. On vacation mode, you haven’t been very active on your socials, which means that you’ve been behind on your friend’s summer activities.
You’re lost in your explore page when you hear a familiar voice call for you. It’s Alex, and he’s with his twin sister, Charlotte—Lottie.
Like you, they wanted to escape the house and the beach is the perfect spot to chill. And they invite you to join them,
“If you’re not busy, of course,” he clarifies and you appreciate his manners.
The rest of your afternoon is spent at the beach with the siblings, doing nothing in particular, but it’s a lot of fun.
Eleanor: Dinner’s at 8
Eleanor: You don’t have any allergies, right?
The second message was sent nearly an hour ago.
You: Sorry, didn’t see these. I’ll be home before then.
You send your response to her allergies question, and then you get an idea.
You: Can I invite a friend over for dinner?
You don’t expect an immediate response from her, but–
Eleanor: Only if it’s Alex ;)
You snort at her response.
You: It’s Alex
You: And his sister, Lottie
It’s been good spending time with your age mates.
Eleanor: Yes! The more the merrier.
Eleanor: Are they allergic to anything?
You invite Alex and Lottie over for dinner at yours, and when they accept, you ask if they’re allergic to anything.
You: No allergies, but Lottie doesn’t like peas.
☀️☀️☀️
It’s just past six when you and the twins part. At the villa, James and Eleanor are at the kitchen island, unpacking the groceries they’ve just come home with.
Your brother is out by the pool with Maya and Edward, and Mason is back to flirting with Jordan. The whole thing trips you up, and you conclude that it’s best not to dwell on it. Why lose sleep over something so trivial?
Because it isn’t trivial.
“What’s this I’m hearing about a potential love interest joining us for dinner tonight?”
James’s question catches you off guard.
“You told him?”
With an apologetic smile, Eleanor says, “He asked who Alex was and I didn’t know what to tell him.”
Oh goodness. “Alex is a friend.”
But James isn’t buying it. “A friend, huh?”
You laugh, “Yes. He is.”
“Then why are you giggling like that?”
“Nervous habit,” you take your seat on one of the stools at the island. “And I’m not sure if this will change your mind or not, but he’s bringing his twin sister.”
He dramatically stops mid-movement. “You’ve already met his family?”
“Who’s met who’s family?”
You really wish Mason would stop butting in your conversations like this. Your eyes follow him as he makes his way over to the fridge, where he grabs himself a bottle of water.
“Y/N. Her friend,” James winks knowingly at you, “is coming over for dinner tonight, and she was just telling me how she’s already met his family.”
“Not family, just his sister,” you clarify.
“Right, his sister.”
“Which friend? The dweeb?”
It annoys you that Mason keeps referring to Alex as that.
“Alex. His name is Alex, not dweeb.”
“Watch yourself,” James jokingly warns Mason.
But Mason doesn’t seem all that phased by your clear irritation. “So he’s coming over tonight?”
And you think your mind might be playing tricks on you, but Mason seems jealous.
“With his sister, yes.”
But you’re not interested in having this conversation with Mason in the kitchen, so you excuse yourself.
For the first time since the moment you landed on this island, you have something to look forward to and you don’t need Mason, or anyone for that matter, ruining it for you.
☀️☀️☀️
At your request, Eleanor and Maya came to your room to help you put together a look for tonight. Eleanor was the stylist, Maya the make-up artist and hairstylist. The transformation is like something out of a coming of age film, and you’re not mad about it.
“Who are you? And what have you done with my sister?”
If B/N was standing close to you, you’d shove him.
“What’s the occasion?” he inquires.
James can’t wait to tell him about Alex, which starts discourse on the nature of your relationship with your guest. They’re all like the annoying older sibling, teasing and prying, but you’d be lying if you said you aren’t entertained.
It’s Edward who comes to your rescue, extracting you from the chaos to pull you to the kitchen, where he makes you a drink.
“For courage,” he says as he hands it to you.
All eyes are on Alex and Charlotte when they arrive, and you’re tense. Jaws clenched level tense, nervous to see how your villa mates would interact with your guests. It’s your brother who makes the first move.
After introductions are made, Edward offers your guests drinks, and the rest is history. For the most part, Alex and Charlotte, stick with you, but every now and again, someone will walk over to make conversation.
When it’s time to eat, everyone makes their way over to the dining area. Alex takes his place on the seat to your right, and Mason insists on taking the left chair.
“So, Alex,” Maya starts and you already regret it. What is she going to say? “Where are you from?”
Phew.
Maya’s question launches an interrogation. Suddenly, everyone at the table—minus Mason—is a detective with questions. Where he was born. Where he’s studying. What he is studying. Future plans. All of it, they want to know, and they’re relentless in their pursuit to the answer.
Eventually, you have to interject and remind Alex that he doesn’t have to answer their intrusive questions, but he assures you that it’s fine.
“University College London, hey? That’s not far from where you’re studying, Y/N,” Eleanor notes.
Despite spending nearly three hours with the twins this afternoon, the topic of your studies never came up.
“Is it?”
“Oh, she didn’t tell you? She’s at the Chelsea College of Art and Design.”
Alex turns to you, “What are you studying?”
“Interior design.”
“Ah! An architect and interior designer, a match made in heaven,” Jordan observes.
You pretend to not hear Mason scoff beside you.
What crawled up his ass and died?
Despite Mason’s clear sour mood, it’s a good night. You weren’t sure how the night would go, but it went smoother than you had anticipated. Even your brother, whose reaction you dreaded the most, was pleased.
And as the night wraps up, you’re glad that you invited the twins over.
When you walk them out, you notice that Charlotte walks ahead of her brother, and you make nothing of it until…
“Do you have any plans for tomorrow? Because if not, I’d like to take you out.” Alex’s nervous as he asks the question.
The two of you are standing in the middle of the driveway. The backtrack to your moment are the cicadas and the distant music coming from the villa. It seems there will be another party tonight.
Your face heats up from the nerves. It’s not your first time being asked out by someone, but it still gets to you. You tell him that you are in fact available to hang out, and the two of you exchanged numbers.
And then he asks to kiss you. So in the middle of that driveway, the two of you share a chaste kiss.
What you don’t realise is that Eleanor and Maya are watching the whole thing unfold from the window, and so when you come into the house, they greet you with a million and one questions.
“When are you seeing him again?”
“How was the kiss?”
“Was he a good kisser?”
“Are you in love?”
Uh… “You saw that?!”
Neither is apologetic, despite the clear horror in your tone. There’s only one question on their minds: is the summer fling on?
You laugh. “I don’t know.”
“Well, when are you guys hanging out again?”
“Tomorrow.”
Your answer pleases them. They both squeal from excitement, and you almost can’t believe that the two women in front of you are approaching 30.
☀️☀️☀️
After the night you’ve had, you can’t sleep but you know better than to sit out on the balcony because Mason and Jordan were flirting again tonight, and you think you saw them kiss by the pool, but that could’ve been the lighting.
Either way, you weren’t going to risk it.
In your sleepless state, you did what anyone in your position would do—get on a late night call with your best friend.
“Wait… when did you meet a guy?”
You hadn’t told Claire about Alex because up until tonight, you didn’t see the point in telling her about him. He was neither a friend or potential romance/fling. You explain that to her, but she’s dissatisfied.
“Well, is he hot?”
You wouldn’t use the word ‘hot’ to describe Alex. You find him cute, but you don’t want a repeat of the ‘nice’ incident, so you search your mind for a more suitable adjective.
“He’s charming.”
Claire laughs, really loudly. So loud, you have to pull your AirPod from your ear. “Charming? What, is he ugly?”
“Claire, no!” you join her in her laughter, careful not to be too loud as you don’t want to wake the house. “No, he’s actually really cute.”
“I don’t trust you anymore. Does he have an Instagram?”
He probably does, doesn’t everyone have it at this age? But you unfortunately don’t know his last name.
“Okay. Where’s he from?”
You don’t know the answer to that either. Do you know anything about this guy? “He’s studying in London, though.”
“Okay, that’s something.” And Claire likes the sound of that. “If everything goes well between you, you could have yourself a boyfriend when you get back.”
Uh, she’s definitely jumping the gun, but you don’t tell that to her. You let her bask in her fantasy.
“At least one of us has got something exciting going on in their life. From now on, I’m living vicariously through you.” She goes on to tell you that she hates it at her grandmother’s cottage. “There’s virtually nothing to do. The other day, I started–”
“Claire, could you hold for one moment?”
You think you heard a knock sound from your door.
“Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, I just thought I h–”
It sounds again, but it’s clearer this time.
“Someone’s at my door.”
“At this late hour?”
You climb off of your bed and pad across the room to your door. You figure it’s Maya or Eleanor back to interrogate you some more.
“It could be Eleanor.”
There are so many possibilities for who might be standing on the other side, what you don’t expect is for it to be Mason.
He’s still dressed in what he was wearing at dinner, and he seems distressed over something. And you’re ashamed to admit that you’re concerned, and that your immediate response is to want to help make it better.
“Can I come in?”
His simple question catches you off guard. “Hey, can I call you back in a bit?”
You don’t wait for Claire’s response before you hang up.
The right thing to do would be to turn him away. That’s what a normal, sane person would do, but your curiosity has always outweighed your normality and sanity.
“If you’re here to insult Alex, I swear I’ll–”
“I’m not here to insult your friend,” his voice strains ever so slightly at the word ‘friend.’
Seriously, what’s his beef with the guy?
“Then why are you here?”
Mason looks over his shoulder then back to you. “Please let me in.”
Your mind cautions against it, but you’re deaf to its warning. You don’t listen to it much, your mind, at least not when it comes to boys.
“Only if you promise to behave.”
“You have my word.”
And that’s good enough for you. You move out the way to let him pass, and once he’s inside, you close the door and lock it. The last thing either of you need is your brother, or anyone, walking in and getting the wrong idea.
You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that this is wrong.
But that thing about your curiosity and the fact that despite everything you have internally said about Mason, you’re fascinated by him, drawn to him in a way that makes no sense to you. Infatuation is weird that way.
“You journal?”
Mason’s standing at your desk in the corner, examining the objects littering the surface. There’s a journal, a pen, half drunk bottle of water, and a few of your beauty products.
“Sometimes. I haven’t done it in a while though, so I’m trying to get into it again.”
You brought out the journal for two reasons tonight: first, to document your first kiss with Alex, and secondly, to vent about Mason.
“So, what brings you to my room, Mason?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
You think the answer vague and leaves you with more questions like, “Can’t you read a book? Listen to a podcast? Music? Watch a video on YouTube…”
Have sex with Jordan. You don’t say that option because you realise that it’s petty—there’s no reason to bring Jordan into this.
“Yeah, but then I thought I’d come see if maybe you were also up.”
There’s something about the way he says that.
“What, did Jordan kick you out of her room, then?”
And you instantly hate yourself for asking that, and hate what it insinuates. If you wanted to show him that you had no feelings for him, that’s no way to show it.
With a smug smile, he responds, “No, she didn’t kick me out.”
“Well, I am. So please leave.”
“But I only just got here.”
“Yeah, well you disturbed my call.”
At some point, earlier in your conversation, you noted that he sounded tipsy. If you didn’t know better, you’d probably miss it. You attribute his strange mood to that, and in another scenario, you’d be fearful, but you trust Mason.
“I’ll be silent, I promise.”
Your face twists in disapproval.
“What, you don’t trust me?”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” There’s a brief pause, and then, “Oh, you were on the phone with Alex just now.”
“No, my friend Claire.”
“Were you telling her about me?”
You scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was telling her about Alex, actually.”
“What about him?”
God, how old is this man? And why on earth are you flattered by this stupid behaviour? Seriously, what’s wrong with you?
“That’s none of your business, actually.”
“So what’s the deal with you and Alex anyway?”
You really hate this question, not because it’s Mason who asks it, but because you genuinely don’t know what to tell people. Just a few hours ago, Alex was nothing but a friend, and sure, you shared a kiss, but surely that doesn’t change anything.
Or are you the bitch?
“Who wants to know?”
“Me.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m curious. Want to know if I still stand a chance.”
A chance? A CHANCE? “Mason, I’m really tired and I’m not in the mood for mind games.”
You watch as he moves from his spot at the desk to your bed, where he takes his seat at the end of it. Usually, a bench sits where his feet are, but Maya moved it earlier.
“Don’t get too comfortable.”
“Why? Are you kicking me out already?”
“Maybe.”
“But I didn’t say anything to offend your friend.”
“Yeah, but Claire… she’s expecting me to call her back.” And because you don’t care anymore, you add, “And I’m really not sure why you’re here.”
“I told you, I couldn’t sleep.”
“And I gave you options to help with that.”
“And I appreciate the recommendations, but–”
“But nothing. Mason, if someone walks in here, all hell will break loose.”
“Why? It’s not like we’re doing anything?” and cheekily, he adds, “Unless you want to.”
That prompts memories of your pool encounter. The feel of the tip of his fingers floating across your skin; the scent of him, one you can only describe as Mason; and the way he made you feel.
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”
“How old are you?”
His brows knit together, and he seems perplexed.
“My brother’s 29, Eleanor’s 27. How old are you?”
“23.”
That makes him four years your senior. Age is nothing but a number, and whatever, but that’s a significant gap to you. But then again, you’re also jumping the gun here. Should this happen, if it happens, it would be nothing more than a summer fling.
Who are you kidding? A summer fling? Girl, this is the same man who was hooking up with Jordan just days ago.
“Well, I turned 19 this year.”
And surely, he must know that. I mean, you know that your brother doesn’t go around telling people your age, but surely he could see it.
All he can say is, “Fuck.”
And you agree. Fuck.
“Well, are you just going to stand there?”
“As opposed to doing what?”
“Sit with me,” he says. And when you make no movements, he adds a polite, “Please.”
Bad idea. You don’t trust yourself around him. Frankly, you think he should leave the room before you do something you’ll both regret, but the truth is that you like having him here, sitting at the end of your bed like that.
He’s so handsome, and there’s a certain glint in his eyes, probably from the alcohol in his system, and his hair’s so inviting. You just want to run your fingers through his locks.
“What are we going to do?”
It’s a rhetorical question because there’s nothing to do. For one, your brother would have a coronary. Not to mention the age gap, you know Claire wouldn’t approve of it. And his thing with Jordan, and your thing with Alex, and everything.
But his smile, the sound of his laughter…
Your legs begin to move to Mason of their own volition. You stop before him, and for some time, the two of you just stay like this, your hands in his hair, his hands at your hips.
#mason mount#mason mount x reader#mason mount one shot#mason mount fanfic#mason mount fanfiction#mason mount fluff#mason mount imagine
158 notes
·
View notes
Note
idk if that prompt post is 4 requests so disregard if so buuuut how bout a 12 for layton? i'll let u pick characters, u know what i like hehe 😎
Thank you for the prompt! I went with a Wren and Socket fic, with some details inspired by your long fic, because I love how the Ravens are portrayed in your fic.
Spoilers: For PL4, relating to the Black Raven
Set: Before the events of PL4
Warnings: Reference to a restraining order for Wren and Socket’s dad?
Summary: There’s a blackout. Wren and Socket deal with it
Wren was perched on the edge of her bed, pouring through some business plans Crow had given her, when the lightbulb above her suddenly flicked out.
Everything went dark. Wren sighed. There was a yelp from the kitchen just opposite their bedroom:
“Wren?”
“In our room, Socket!”
She heard the door creak open and Socket wading through the sea of clutter that was their bedroom floor.
“Ow!” Socket whined as he tripped over something. (Wren had told him to clean up in here!) “Wren, where are you?”
“On the moon?” Wren quipped, still sitting on her bed.
“Oh! There you are.”
“Where else would I be?” Wren stood up— slowly so the wooden slats in her bed wouldn’t break even more.
“I dunno….” She imagined Socket was shrugging. Then she heard a smirk in his voice. “Sitting in a tree with Crow—?”
“Shut your trap!” Wren snapped. Her gaze whipped to their tiny window— as if the rest of the Ravens might all be listening— but it was too dark out there to tell.
In general, the market was a dingy place, with how tightly all the buildings were packed together, but there were still some streetlights. They were a necessity in Misthallery— especially from autumn onwards!
…But would anyone bother repairing the streetlights while the spectre was rampaging around? Wren definitely wouldn’t want that job!
“The streetlights are all out,” Wren said. She scowled at Socket. “Did you short circuit something again?”
“I didn’t do nuttin’— not this time!”
(Last time, he had overloaded the kitchen sockets with too many appliances…)
“Okay, I believe you…” Wren huffed. She rubbed her arms as the cold started to creep in. Of course, the heating must have gone off too…
“Let’s go check the fuse box,” Wren said, picking her way across the room.
“We can use my torch!”
A small, bright light shone in Wren’s face. Wren shielded her eyes. “Socket— have you had that this whole time?”
“Yeah!” Socket beamed. “Why?”
Rolling her eyes, Wren gestured for him to follow her.
Their fuse box was located right next to the front door.
After checking the door was safely locked, Wren tried flicking some of the switches in the fuse box. Socket held the torch up for her to see.
They waited for a few minutes, shivering in the dark, but it didn’t make any difference.
Teeth chattering, Socket wondered, “What now?”
“I don’t know…” Wren turned to the door. Would any of their friends be out at this time? Crow might still be at the black market… but did Wren really want to walk over there right now? With Socket?
What if they crossed paths with the spectre?
Socket moved the torchlight to the door. “Look…”
At the base of the door, there was an unopened white letter— a bill, most likely.
“Did we forget the pay something?” Socket gasped.
The envelope was ‘private and confidential’, addressed to their mum, but Wren gently tore it open. She squinted at the letter and shook her head.
“Nope… Nuttin’ to worry about!”
Nothing for Socket to worry about, anyway. He didn’t need to know that, once again, their mum had been denied a restraining order from their dad.
Some part of Wren wondered if their dad was to blame for the blackout— like a lot of problems in their lives— but she couldn’t pin this on him.
This was just one of the many joys of living in the ‘lower end’ of Misthallery.
Wren puffed, expecting to see her breath turn white in the air. “I-is Mum back from work?”
“Maybe?” Socket mumbled.
The two of them crept into the living room, where they heard soft snoring from the sofa. Socket swung the torchlight towards the sofa, but before he could wake their mum, Wren swatted his arm and hissed, “Give me that for a sec…”
Stealing the torch and leaving Socket standing in the living room, Wren dashed off. She returned with the blue blanket from Mum’s bed and carefully tucked it around her sleeping from.
Wren kissed her mum’s wrinkled forehead. Wren froze as Mum shifted and yawned. “What time’s it…?”
“Sorry!” Wren gasped. “Didn’t mean to wake you— it’s fine if you want to go back to sleep—“
“There’s a blackout,” Socket blurted out. Wren pouted at him. So much for keeping quiet…
Mum sat up on the sofa, the blanket still draped around the shoulders.
She blearily looked around— from Wren, to Socket with the torch, to the rest of the dim room— before she sighed. “We’ll sort it out tomorrow…”
Smiling wearily at Wren and Socket, she opened the blanket on her shoulders like a pair of bat wings.
Socket dove on to one side of her. Wren nestled in to her other side. Mum wrapped the blanket around all three of them.
Socket switched off the torch. Mum gave him a kiss and then she did the same for Wren, murmuring into her hair, “Thank you for looking after me.”
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bonjour et bienvenue. It is 25c and feels a lot cooler than it has of late , thank goodness. I haven’t been out watering my plants today, as rain is forecast for this evening and through the night. I am praying that it arrives but if there is no sign of it after 8pm I will be outside with my watering can.
I had messaged Anie to see if she would take me to Troyes for my eye test (she has done this for me over the last three years), as I had not had a reply I rang her, she didn’t think she had received the message but checked her diary and it’s ok for us to go together. I am rather an independent person and I hate asking people to do things like this for me BUT, I know that if I couldn’t get parked in front of the opticians I would be totally lost as to where to park. Anyway, it’s all sorted now so that is another job ticked off the list for this year.
Just had a ring on the doorbell and there was my neighbour bearing a plate of crepes! I had given her some of my homegrown tomatoes earlier in the week and she delivered these to say “thank you”. As they were still warm I have had a couple with my cup of coffee 😁. Now where was I? oh yes!
I keep checking my letterbox hoping for my water bill. Since the town changed companies back in January 2020, I had the first bill in a June last year, this covered the period Jan -June 2020 then in October last year I received another bill for the period June 2020 - June 2021, having just checked those now I wonder if the bill will be annual in October 🤔. Who knows? My neighbour was saying about paying monthly but I think I would prefer keeping my money earning 2% (or more) 😉.
I opened the box yesterday and was pleased to see the bill from the gardener for cutting down my hedges. At least that is something that can be paid off soon.
I am still waiting to hear from DWP about my upcoming pension payment. I had anticipated a letter saying you will receive £X per week with effect from my birth date, giving me an idea of when it will be paid, but yes you have guessed it, I have heard diddly squat from them since I applied earlier in the year! Did I really give all the information to a trained employee of DWP or was it just the cleaner I spoke to (no offence to cleaners).
“The Daddy” and “The Mummy” have been upgrading furnishings in their home. My gorgeous granddaughter has her school uniform ready for September, wow how amazing is that! My gorgeous grandson is managing to walk unaided for a time now, brilliant! Plus he was described as a “mountain goat” by his father, as he had climbed on top of an abacus so that he could see over the top of the play pen! He is just over a year old , intelligent children 😉.
It has been a really fantastic week for “The Paralegal” , we all just need to keep our feet on the ground, and I will reveal more in a few months time.
There have been a few lovely moments to my week this week. I was doing my weekly shop and was in the supermarket car park, in my own little world, when someone approached me. It was a lady from the old Wednesday knitting group, I don’t think I have seen her since it was cancelled due to Covid in 2020! It was lovely to see her and to hear her news, she really was amazed at my comprehension and she said she was so happy to have seen me. Then it was the knitting workshop and a mother and daughter from the other refugee house in town, were walking through town and I guessed they must be heading to my group. It is a very long walk and in 33c, the poor Mum was so warm she had windows open to try and cool down. When we were leaving, I offered them a lift as far as the town, I think they were pleased with the offer. I parked up by the river and walked to the bar. I normally have a white coffee but being so warm I decided to have a lager. I read the paper, got pestered by a guy, who previously I would have said was drunk, but who I think was maybe “not well “. He was mumbling to himself, then starting speaking in lots of different languages and when he said “How are you?” I realised he had been trying to raise a response from me, fortunately, he didn’t pursue it. After he left, I collected my glass and newspaper and took them back inside. Christophe, the owner, grabbed my glass and said would I like another lager, it was his birthday and he wanted to buy me a drink, did I refuse?……. Not at all and I toasted his birthday. how very kind! I know I am treated like one of the regulars in that bar and to be honest nothing has changed in the five years I have been here, but the welcome I receive is enough to keep me going back.
I heard from Pauline, she is finishing her job on 21st August and is coming back to town to live until she goes to Uni in Tours in September. We are hoping to catch up, which will be great.
I enjoy going to the market on a Saturday now, it’s great to have a wander around the town and as usual I went to the bar for my coffee. Patricia, the cleaner/waitress/barmaid, was there, I was so pleased as I hadn’t seen her for such a long time, she hadn’t forgotten my “usual” either.
I have spoken to and messaged a number of friends in the UK and I am hoping we will be able to meet up when I am over. I know that I wouldn’t be able to see them all individually so am hoping that work colleagues can all meet one lunchtime. I am also going to try and fit three people in individually through one day….. wish me luck on that one!
I have found this quote by John W Gardner which I think is quite appropriate…..
“If you have some respect for people as they are, you can be more effective in helping them to become better than they are.”
Oh and finally, I was walking back to my car yesterday and felt what I thought was a scratch on my inner arm just above the elbow. I felt it again, looked down and there was a wasp hanging by his stinger on my arm. I brushed him off but knew I had been stung. I set off to drive home with this pulsating sensation in my arm. By the time I walked in the door (less than five minutes) I had a red pinprick mark, an area that was swelling and no idea what to do! I went and put rubbing alcohol on it, then applied an out of date gel for insect bites. A quick google told me I needed to wash the area with soap and water and take an antihistamine. Well I washed it, and applied more out of date gel as I didn’t have any antihistamine in the house. I now have just a pale prick mark but the itchy feeling is driving me nuts. I think that is the first time I have ever been stung and to be honest I don’t want to be stung again!
See you next time!
1 note
·
View note
Text
320 of 2023
Which member of Metallica is your favorite? (Current or past)
I don’t really care about Metallica, I like only two or three songs of them anyway.
Grateful Dead: awesome or dumb?
I don’t even know what it is.
Any forums you enjoy?
Yes, there’s one forum I’ve been on in years, and it’s the only forum I really exist on.
Tweet much?
No, I hate Twitter.
Got any overdue library books at the moment?
I prefer to buy books instead of borrowing them.
Did you read Goosebumps as a kid?
I don’t think so.
Are you psyched for WoW: Cataclysm?
I don’t play video games.
What’s the best Zelda game to start with?
I couldn’t care less.
Final Fantasy games or Kingdom Hearts games? Or both? Or neither?
Neither, omg. What’s with these gaming questions?
If you had a Death Note, would you use it?
No.
Have you ever cosplayed? If so, who?
No, I haven’t.
Is “emo” necessarily a negative thing?
It’s not, but it’s not my cup of tea either.
Do you prefer to be called a nerd or a geek? Or neither? Or you don’t care?
I don’t care, I’m a bit of both anyway.
Do you have to pay rent/bills?
We split bills and my husband is the one to pay the rent and car expenses, I pay the media and food.
Do you usually pay for stuff with cash, check or card?
Card. I rarely use cash, only if necessary, and I don’t think I’ve ever written a check in my life.
Don’t ATM fees piss you off?
We don’t pay fees in Belgium. This country fucks us for money much enough already.
Is riding horses something we shouldn’t do anymore?
Ask people in Oostduinkerke, they even go fishing on horses.
Do you know anyone who never learned to ride a bike?
Yeah, my mum. She has some kind of balance disorder.
Have you ever been in a helicopter?
No, I haven’t.
What do you think about giant pandas?
They exist, it’s cool.
Do you want a cat or a dog more?
I wouldn’t mind having a German or Belgian shepherd dog, but I’m much more of a cat person and I even have two cats.
Are you afraid of bugs?
No, they annoy me.
Ever seen a kinkajou in real life?
I habven’t heard this name before.
Do you know anybody with dentures? Who?
Yeah, again my mum. Also my husband and Melanie, but she has lost her teeth in an accident.
Do you have any idea how to build an igloo?
I have absolutely no idea how to build it.
Have you ever read a National Geographic magazine?
No, but I know they existed.
What is the most popular tourist attraction where you live?
Historium, and the whole city centre. UNESCO list, you know.
Could you (willingly) go ten days without touching a computer?
Yeah, I’ve done that before.
Are you someone who puts a decent amount of emojis in their texts?
Yeah, I always put them.
Have you ever been crowned king or queen at a school dance?
School dance?? wtf.
What was the last music you listened to?
Djent, I guess.
When was the last time you had a sore throat?
I do now, it’s been a month already.
Do you know anyone whose gender is non-binary?
Yes, quite a few people, but mostly online.
If your ex suddenly kissed you right now, what would you do?
Honestly, I don’t know. He’s still one of my best friend and I still consider hhim attractive, so.
What are your parents views on your relationships?
They had a hard time accepting that their son likes other guys, but eventually they got over it.
If you ran into your current boyfriend/crush in 10 years, would you marry them?
I’m married lol.
Is your best friend dating anyone?
Which one? I have more than one. Most of my friends is married anyway.
Would you rather have sex with your boyfriend or break up?
Have sex, although it’d be only for his benefit.
Do you delete pictures of you and your exes off of Facebook?
I don’t even have Facebook.
Ever called someone a slut?
No. I don’t care what others do with their lives.
Have any embarrassing pictures on Facebook?
I don’t have Facebook, it’s lame.
Would you ever wear flare jeans?
Nope. Neither skinny jeans, by the way.
Do you text in class?
I don’t.
Do you edit your profile pictures before posting them?
I use my photoediting skills for my photography account on Instagram.
What is one thing someone could say to you right now that would make you cry?
Nothing. I don’t cry.
How kinky are you?
Not at all. I’m a boring dude.
Can you change oil in a car?
Yes, I can.
Do you wear a bath robe?
I don’t.
Black olives or green olives?
No olives, ew.
Are rollercoasters scary or thrilling to you?
Scary.
Can you do a cart wheel?
Not anymore. My left arm is weaker.
Do you ever find things annoying if too many people like it?
No, I don’t care who likes what.
Which do you like better: cacti, palm trees, or maple trees?
Maple trees.
What type of tree do you see most of where you live?
Linden trees, chestnut trees, maple trees.
Have you ever seen fireflies?
I can’t recall.
Have you ever picked out a song to listen to on a juke box?
No, are they even still a thing?
When’s the last time you were genuinely freaked out?
Today. I lost my wedding ring somewhere and I can’t find it.
Have you ever thought that you were honestly going to die?
Yes, and I almost died for real. I suffered a brain haemorrhage that day.
Animal you like to watch but sort of creeps you out?
...what?
Whose name might you have tattooed on your body?
No one’s. Maybe my sister’s, if I had to choose, but I don’t like the idea of tattooing names.
Who might you send a selfie to?
My husband or my sister, or Nielsje, because they know what I look like. Not like I enjoy taking selfies lol.
Ever had a friend online for a long time without seeing a photo of them?
Yes, I’ve had one like that. It was when I was younger, and now I’m wary of online friendship.
Do you check the weather forecast regularly?
Yeah, but still I don’t dress properly.
Did you go to AM or PM kindergarten?
Mornnongs to afternoons, like everyone here.
Have you ever given birth?
I’m a dude, I don’t think it’s biologically possible.
Is your mom mentally stable?
Nope, far from it.
Did you start listening to more Michael Jackson after his death?
No. I always liked a couple of his songs, but I didn’t immediately become his fan after he died.
What song reminds you of your best friend?
Juno by Tesseract.
What was the last kind of snake you saw?
I don’t remember seeing a snake in person, but I’ve seen many slowworms in my life, and they don’t count as they’re lizards, not snakes.
Do you think you’d make a good parent?
Nah, I’d rather make a cool uncle.
What’s something most people don’t know about you?
That I have epilepsy. They don’t know because I take medication to prevent seizures, but my family and direct workmates have to know so they can help me if needed.
Could you seriously have sex using a colored condom?
Yep. Who cares about such things anyway.
What’s your least favorite flavor of candy?
Strawberry and cherry, which is weird because I love fresh strawberries and cherries.
How has your health been lately?
Better. I had to stay in the hospital for two days in February, because they messed up with my meds, but since readjustment, I’m doing okay. I just have to remember that my disorder is incurable and I can only block the symptoms with medication.
Your significant other or crush, do they align with any label?
What kind of label? My husband is likely aromantic bisexual, for example. I have a friend who is FtM trans man. I’m a homo-oriented quoiromantic ace myself. So it depends what this question is really about.
What shaped you most in your life as a person?
I think that brain incident and being diagnosed with some chronic, incurable disorders. I just felt like I have to reevaluate my life.
Have you made any life-altering decisions lately?
No, earlier on.
Do you think the last person you texted is a virgin? (You don’t have to tell us who the person is, just say yes or no.)
My husband and no, he had someone before me.
Do you miss anyone? If so, tell me about this person you miss.
I miss my parents, my sister, Nielsje and these two guys I know. I miss my friend who used to call me “his little brother”. Each in different way.
The last time you washed your hair, did you use conditioner?
I don’t use conditioners at all. I guess I’m not the metrosexual type of a guy.
When was the last time you visited the doctor?
February, if you count the ER in the hospital.
When did you last see or speak to someone you dislike? Why do you dislike this person?
I saw that most disliked coworker of ours last Thursday, and I dislike him because he apparently does everything to be far from likeable.
Can you remember the last time you felt emotional? What was the reason?
Last Thursday I heard one of our coworkers passed away suddenly.
Do you call your partner “baby?"
Nope, we both dislike such names.
Does your washer make a lot of noise?
What washer? I don’t have a dishwasher.
Does the last person you spoke to have any siblings?
Yeah, my dad has a brother and sister.
Does your best friend ever wear fake nails?
No, my best friends are guys.
What’s the last thing you searched on google?
One famous local actor, more specifically his age.
Have you ever seen the last person you hugged naked?
Yes, he’s my husband after all.
Do you have any limits on who you drink/eat after?
Wut?
Have you ever jumped on a trampoline in the ice?
No, why would I?
0 notes
Text
Life Update:
Hello again,
I’m not even going to pretend that things have gotten drastically better because what would be the point in not being honest? I talked to my mum and she cut me off like always when I try and explain things but it’s fine I could tell that she wanted to understand but couldn’t grasp anything other than her own grief which is understandable when your child tells you they had to message a crisis hotline while you slept. I don’t know what I thought would happen by telling her but she told me she didn’t want me on medication and that nothing really came from the conversation. I went and did exams every day for the week and have exams everyday this week as well, ones that I don’t know the content for but can’t bring myself to carer very much, it’s like I know they’re a big deal but I just can’t? I don’t know I’m all over the place at the moment. I haven’t done anything so that’s a good thing. i realised something as well, I don’t think I’m meant to be here for a long time. It’s not that I will kill myself but I just can’t see myself getting old or having a future or career and honestly I’m not upset about it it’s just that it doesn’t feel like it’s made for me. We had another disaster, my dog had to go to the vet again because he was bleeding, he’s fine and I’m glad but it’s a £300 bill that feels like it’s eating me alive. People keep talking about how well off my dad is now and it’s frustrating me because no matter how many times I tell them to stop they just forget and do it again another day, we also asked him to pay another £100 a month but he refused to and so that’s the end of that argument. On Friday night I was messaging someone who had added me on snapchat and then he told me that I looked like an R slur which hurt more than I expected it to because why should I let that get to me you know? It’s like pain is just a constant numbing emotion but sometimes it gets stronger and I can’t stop it. It’s my friends birthday at the weekend, she want’s us all to go out for a meal but I can’t bring myself to eat in restaurants because I hate eating in front of people, I hate how loud and unpredictable they can be and it’s always so expensive, oh and i can’t get there anyway because it’s at 8pm which means my mum will be over the limit anyway and I can’t get a bus because of shit that happened on them when I was younger. I want to go for her sake but I don’t know if I can afford it? I think I have a £20 somewhere hidden in my room on my bookshelf so I might be able to use that. I just, there’s still a lot going on and I kinda thought this would be a normal episode of emotion where one night I want to die and the next I’m okay again but it’s lasting a little longer and I don’t know how to feel. I am so so sorry that I put this on you all the time, you don’t need this on your plate and I am really sorry that all I do is post about how low everything is. I’m really sorry, I don’t want you to think that you need to keep supporting me, please don’t feel obligated to do it. I feel bad for thinking that as well because whenever I think that it makes me think that I am saying you’re a bad person and that you are doing it out of pity but I promise I am not saying that at all, you are wonderful and kind and make things easier I just don’t want you to think that you have to. Sorry this is long and hard to read in terms of grammar and everything I just can’t bring myself to do much of anything. this probably made no sense sorry. also I’ve been getting really bad chest pains for the past week and numbness in my arm, completely forgot about that but it’s probably just me worrying about stuff
0 notes
Text
So, life update!
I haven’t been around, besides my queue rolling, cuz frankly life has taken an aggravating left turn into Bullshitville
Took the kiddo to Michigan to spend some time with his Grandma (and enjoy the lack of two inch long mooseflies gnawing on him). Got back home, day later, power’s gone! Figure it is cuz they’re replacing the poles, grumble about bad luck, continue on with our lives.
Power does not come back on. Call power company. Bill is three days passed due, so being the cunts they are, they disconnect (yes I know they have to send a disconnect notice first, CMP is a nasty piece of shit company and is more than happy to bury someone in lawyers). Cue grumbling and bitching, but hey, payday is only two days away, we can deal, no biggie.
Payday rolls around. No paycheck. Husband goes up to HR. Supervisor apparently “forgot” to put in his PTO that he got approved LITERALLY THREE MONTHS AGO. (This is the same supervisor that refused to give him the holiday pay because he had to leave work for an hour to come get me and the kiddo when our car broke down and the tow truck literally could not take us. And because of policy, that meant Husband lost not one but BOTH days of holiday pay).
So no paycheck that week. Which meant no power. So we hunker down, put our immediate perishables in a cooler and bring up the storm water from the basement. But we lost everything in our freezer that we couldn’t grill within the next two days, and we’re getting low on clean clothes, because we literally just got back from two weeks of traveling.
But we deal. Payday comes around again! Hallelujah.
Bill is paid. Power should come back on, right? Wrong. They say it could take until Monday evening (paid on a Thursday, mind you). Another weekend no lights, no running water. Temps got up to 95* with 100% humidity.
Monday rolls around. Waiting with bated breath for power! No power. Company is closed down for the night.
Call the next morning. They say they’ll send a tech! Only one tech in our area, and he’s on a ten hour job. They promise he’ll swing by tomorrow, first thing!
He does. Says our meter is bad. Comes back sometime in the afternoon and replaces meter. Meanwhile, I’m running around applying for different jobs, because Husband’s old combat injury is getting worse and he can’t keep doing the job he’s doing. I haven’t had a shower since we were in Michigan, so I scrub my hair in the sink and try to find the least smelly clothes I have.
Go to interview. Get job! Things are looking up. Come home, still no power. Have to wait for an overnight reset, they say. Morning rolls around, guess what? Still no fucking power.
At this point we are at the end of our rope. Company claims everything looks good on their end, we should have power. So that means it’s something in the house.
(Keep in mind the power was working just fine before they shut it off.)
Husband calls electrician friend of his. Electrician friend suggests a few small things to try. Nothing works. Meanwhile Husband has left Shit Job and started working full time at the garage, which is good, we both like it much better, but he doesn’t get paid until a project is finished and the customer pays the garage owner. Which is why I am picking up the job at the factory, so we have a steady paycheck.
Electrician friend says it might be the electrical box, which is almost a grand just for the box itself. Says that it might have been shorted out by the bad meter when CMP tried to turn the power back on. Electrician friend offers to come up and look at it Saturday (this was this morning, Friday). We thank electrician friends profusely.
We were supposed to dogsit for my mum and go to the Renn Faire. Had to bin the Renn Faire and I came down solo to my mum’s (which is how I’m posting this) to hang with the dog, do a metric fuck ton of laundry, and take my first shower in three weeks. Tomorrow we will find out whether we have to beggar ourselves to try’n fix the electricity, or if there is a simpler (and cheaper) fix.
So if y’all have any good vibes to spare, I could definitely use them, cuz this has been some ridiculous bullshit.
Good news is I start work full time on Monday!
#ruby liveblogs life#i am exhausted and probably in the process of developing a stress ulcer#i hate capitalism with every fiber of my being
0 notes
Text
Crackin’ the Code
prompt: Harry and YN tie the knot in a beautiful castle off the coat of Italy. Harry reflects back on his life before his love. YN has past insecurities creep on on her before the wedding.
note: this is the necklace that YN receives as (one) her wedding gifts from H and she wears it during the ceremony.
word count: 9k
warnings: smut
***<-- click for visuals throughout (super important for this one shot!)
if you enjoy this fic (which i worked REALLY hard on) please reblog, like, comment, and come talk to me!
please please considering donating to my kofi since all my work is FREE to you guys!
---
The world expected an extravagant wedding with week-long festivities, celebrations in destinations only the richest could afford, and all the big names of the business world who ran in his circle.
The media outlets were just waiting, quite impatiently, for the day that the richest man in Europe settled down with a significant other. They would have news stories for decades when it came to the couple.
Of course, Harry Styles was going to marry a household name - the public thought.
Whether it be an heiress, a model, maybe even an actress? The choices for the most eligible bachelor were limitless.
Any time he was at an event, usually a charity gala or black-tie dinner, paparazzi would take candid pictures of him with any female and then the following day publish an article about how they were a couple.
However, what the world didn’t know was that he’s been in a relationship for a year and a half, has already been engaged after the eight month mark, and moved into pretty soon after but that was hushed.
Nearly no one except a few key employees and family members knew about the couple. Everyone in his office building in the heart of London had to sign NDA’s at the beginning of their job - though almost all of them didn’t know she existed.
Harry did not put any limits on YN for the wedding planning.
No price, no expectations, nothing. If she wanted ten-thousand people or zero people in attendance that was her call. If she wanted to drop ten million dollars on a wedding or a hundred that was fine too.
The CEO never fantasized about a wedding.
Well he had but no in the terms most do. He didn’t sit and imagine the venue, the food menu, or the decorations.
No, he didn’t care about any of that, he daydreamed about the fact that he and someone would commit themselves to each other for the rest of their lives.
Harry wanted to marry his fiance after their first date.
He was usually a very patient man, couldn’t have gotten where he was if he wasn’t. When it came to this, each day he wasn’t married to the love of his life felt like torture.
Since he proposed to her in his briefs in their bedroom, he had imagined her looking immaculate in whatever she chose to wear, exchanging vows of devotion, and then being tied together for life.
He never thought he would get here. He’d never felt a connection with someone like he had with the feisty waitress who bumped into him. Begin to believe that he was broken or lacking emotion because no matter how sweet the girl was he couldn’t see himself with the person.
Don’t get him wrong.
He took many women out on dates that were downright awful. Asking him about money, suggesting he take them on expensive vacations or buy them a designer item, being too forward and palming his crotch in the middle of dinner.
One of the last dates he went on before he gave up was the one that made him stop looking all together, about six months before he ran in YN.
---
It was an expensive restaurant in the heart of London. It had a waitlist for months but one call and they could magically make an available booth for the billionaire within the hour.
The girl he was sitting across from was a so-to-speak blind date.
A set up by one of his business partners who stated that they would be a good match. Harry had rolled his eyes at that but couldn’t come up with an excuse fast enough to say ‘no.’
Her name was Aria, she had a respectable job at a local law firm as an assistant to a very well-known lawyer in the area.
She was beautiful in the way of looking just like an instagram model with long dark extensions, false eyelashes that made it hard to determine what color her eyes were, and an outfit that made Harry a bit embarrassed to be seen with her - short and low cut at a five-star restaurant.
“Yeah, I just got back from Mallorca with a group of friends,” She tells him, flipping through the photo album on her phone to show him pictures.
When she ‘accidentally’ swipes (and slowly swipes) again so that Harry definitely gets a glimpse of a nude selfie.
Harry internally groans, couldn’t be less turned on by that, and doesn’t acknowledge it - much to Aria's disappointment.
She was fishing for a compliment, maybe a request for him to take the phone and look closer at the picture like most men would.
Instead he sits back, takes a sip of his wine, and nods curtly, “It looks like you had a good time.”
She stumbles for a second, confused by his sudden standoffishness, and clicks her phone locked before putting it next to her on the table, “Did I offend you?”
He was already done with the date, with the dating scene, with fucking everything honestly.
What a goddamn waste of a night.
Harry barks out a cruel laugh, “It takes a lot more to offend me than a picture of y’tits but it’s a bit offensive that y’think so little of yourself that you think that’s how y’going to impress me. Those tits didn’t impress me much, darling.”
Aria’s eyes narrow in blatant disbelief at how much of an asshole he was being.
Granted, she did feel a bit of embarrassment creeping up in her stomach about thinking showing him that picture was a good idea but still, he didn’t need to react like that.
“It really makes sense why you don’t have a girlfriend, it’s because of what an asshole you are,” The girl sneers with venom as she tucks her phone into her clutch, swigging down the last drops of the expensive wine.
He shrugs like he’s unbothered, a nasty feeling quilling in the pit of his stomach as he keeps an outward expression of nonchalance and ease, it make the raven-haired woman even more furious as he replies cooly, “I’m not being an asshole, honesty hurts sometimes. Maybe if you think the way you attract someone is by nude pictures, you should try Tinder or Bumble.”
“I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have,” Aria tells him before pushing out her chair and leaving before the main course even arrives.
Harry sits there for a moment, swallowing and pleading with himself to not let the nasty words set in because they felt too real and too personal - she had actually struck some type of chord within and it had his stomach churning.
When he pays the bill, apologizing profusely for leaving dinner before the entree arrives but with an excuse of a company emergency - it’s eerily quiet in his car as he drives home to his massive home with no one in it.
It doesn’t happen often.
He should call his mum, Gemma, Dorothy even to talk it out but he feels so fucking alone because he can’t get it right. He can’t connect with anyone and it is starting to feel hopeless.
He is angry, so angry at himself, that he can’t shake the feeling of it and he feels like he’s losing control because he never fucking talks about his emotions.
A beautiful set of dishware was sitting out his dining room table, the housekeeper had carefully unwrapped them earlier in the day.
They were imported from Beijing, decorated with real gold, and handcrafted. It had cost him nearly forty-thousand dollars for a set of fucking plates and bowls.
I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.
It is repeatedly on a loop in his head, glares at the items on the dinner table like they’re mocking him, and he has no wits about himself before he’s taking one of the beautiful bowls and throwing it against the wall as hard as possible.
I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.
By the time he’s done, his chest is heaving, and his face is red.
When reality starts to set back in, every single item from the set is destroyed on the floor, the wall’s paint chipped from where he’d hurled them.
He was so fucked up.
-
Harry couldn’t help but relieve the feelings of that nasty flashback. He couldn’t believe that he had been at that point in his life - not when he had the most all-consuming, amazing in every single way woman laying next to him in his bed.
YN had shown Harry that he had never been broken, he had just been waiting.
She was his soulmate and he had been waiting for her since forever. He truly believed that as he looked at the girl next to him with enough emotion his heart might burst.
She was just...everything.
YN was so fucking funny - the funniest person Harry had ever met. She was loving in a way that made you feel like you belonged. Compassionate in a way that makes you want to be more selfless yourself. Intelligent enough that it was breathtaking and unreal - and that was just the tip of the iceberg.
She was uncaring of who Harry was - in the most perfect way.
Money wasn’t a personality trait that she defined him with. She loved him for who he was at the bare basics, stripped away from his public life.
She was confident in a way that girls rarely were.
Bared face and more beautiful than the highest-paid models.
Her body was her own, embracing every curve and inch of it without any shame. Let herself be authentic in front of Harry which made him feel like he had won a secret lottery.
Right now, she was fast asleep next to him in bed after stuffing herself full of oreos that she was dunking in milk. She ignored Harry’s looks of disgust at the soggy cookies and munched away happily which made him happy in turn.
She still had a dark crumb on the corner of her puffy lips, her mouth parted just the slightest amount, and her face smushed halfway into the pillow.
The shirt she had on was so oversized she was swimming in it and a pair of soft pink cheeky underwear.
Currently, she was the farthest thing from graceful and Harry loved that so fucking much.
As they lay mere days away from their wedding, remembering that nasty flashback, he can’t help but remember their first date and how he had known from them that he had finally found a spark, a connection to another human being.
--
Harry cannot remember the last time he had been nervous.
Maybe back in his teenage years? If that.
It was an unsettling feeling that was currently pooling in the pit of his stomach as he changed his outfit for the third time before finally being somewhat satisfied with the suit he had picked out - tighter black jeans, black button-up, black blazer - couldn’t go wrong there. ***
YN had texted him asking what she should wear for their first date when Harry told her he was going to keep it simple and take her to a restaurant.
He had to dress nice, it was an expensive restaurant that he had not taken any other dates to before, it was right outside of London - going towards the countryside with a beautiful view of a meadow and stream.
When he had arrived in front of her apartment, well he had never been on this side of town, and it quite frankly looked like the roof of her building was about to collapse at any minute. It was rough to say the least.
Harry had picked out a car he thought would impress her. He remembered her saying the doors of his Lamborghini were stupid so he picked a car with normal doors this time. It was his new Audi Quattro that had cost him upwards of 170,000 pounds. ***
YN had popped out of the front door, her face didn’t read impressed when she saw the car like he had hoped. It was interesting before YN, he did not care whether or not his dates were impressed by him - now he craved it.
She looked extraordinary in a form fitting silky black dress that hugged every single curve of her body perfectly while accentuating them at the same time. Minimal makeup, loose waves, and simple high heels - it was like a dream that he was taking this girl out on a date. ***
When she slips into the passenger seat, the smell of her floral yet cinnamon perfume makes the car smell heavenly, she looks over at him and says, “You didn’t even come open the door for me. We’re off to a bad start, Harry.”
His heart sinks, fuck - he had been blindsided by her beauty that he wasn’t even being a proper gentleman, “M’so sorry, I wa-”
She chirps out a tender laugh, patting his arm, “You’re face, oh my god. I was just fucking with you.”
Harry’s frown turns into a pout, “S’not nice, pet.”
YN shrugs before a bit self-consciously adjusting the fabric around her midsection, “Erm, I hope this outfit is nice enough? It’s really the only semi-decent thing I own.”
He shakes his head in disbelief, “Y’look absolutely stunning. I can’t even believe y’real to be honest, so fuckin’ pretty.”
YN gives him a shy, unsure smile but he can tell she’s preening at the compliment internally (which she totally is).
The restaurant is one of the nicest in England, let alone London.
There wasn’t even a menu, they just served eight courses over a few hours time by servers in suits with bowties on.
YN had never felt more out of place.
As they sat down, Harry was proud that he was able to show off his abilities for a good date, YN was looking around nervously before looking up at the server and saying, “We didn’t get menus yet.”
The man gives her a humorous expression before telling her, “We don’t do menus here, miss. Your date is a regular, I am sure he can fill you in. However, we are starting off with a Cabernet from 2001 imported from Napa, California.”
As he pours the wine into their sparkling glasses, she asks unknowingly, “I don’t really like wine. Is there any way I could get a Coke?”
Harry frowns when the server laughs meanly at her, “Ma’am this isn’t McDonald’s. We do not carry soda. I can provide you with water, if you so wish.”
Harry can’t help but snap at the waiter, “Oi, she’s never been here before. Lay off with the attitude alright?”
“My apologies, Mr. Styles,” He murmurs obediently before finishing the pouring off the whine and retreating from the table.
YN is trying to hide how uncomfortable she is but it is still obvious with how she fidgets in her seat, doesn’t quite know what to do with her hands as she doesn’t even bother to reach towards the wine glass.
“This isn’t really your scene, is it?” Harry murmurs, embarrassment with his failure to impress her with an expensive car and dinner.
It was falling flat and it was the only thing he knew how to do - flaunt his wealth, everyone else had always been impressed.
“No, it isn’t,” She agrees quietly, fingers folding the edges of the cloth napkin to keep her anxiousness directed somewhere, “I appreciate this, er, dinner. I thought we were going to go somewhere like Mary’s.”
Mary’s was a restaurant that was considered ‘nice’ to the commoners in the city. It was a bit more expensive than a pub and the attire was a bit fancier than if you were going out to a bar.
For someone like Harry, that was not considered a fancy restaurant.
However, YN was not him and this was not something that she had ever been accustomed to. He now definitely felt like an idiot.
It’s made even worse when a massive plate is put in front of each of them.
The plate is huge but the dish is merely one scallop with a lemon sauce and sprinkle of parsley on top. YN can’t even try to hide her confusion at the food.
“I’ve mucked this date up,” Harry sighs, nearly thirty minutes into the actual date.
YN had taken a small bite of the scallop before setting down her fork and not touching it again - it tasted like dirty feet. Did rich people like that taste?
She decides not to answer directly, “I already know you have money. It doesn’t ‘wow’ me. I was hoping for a fun date, this is….nice but quite truthfully, not for me. I prefer a pub or bowling - this feels more like a business meeting.”
Harry usually doesn’t have dates that are this honest with him.
He feels embarrassed but he really did appreciate her honesty. He should have known to do something different than this but he was comfortable with his normal pattern.
“Can we get out of here?” YN asks, placing the napkin back on the table and gathering up her small purse to swing over her shoulder.
He feels defeated as he nods, paying for the meal in full as he accepts that he’s fucked up the date beyond repair by being an arrogant, ignorant asshole who doesn’t truly know how to talk to a girl he likes.
It’s quiet as he starts the car and pulls back onto the road, he startles a bit when YN points to a glowing sign of a golden arch and demands, “Go there.”
With a bit of confusion, Harry pulls into the McDonald’s parking lot and then to the drive-thru as she motions for him to do so.
God, he hasn’t been to a fast food joint in years now if he was being honest.
When they pull up to the screen, YN leans across and shoots out their food order with ease before sitting back with a smug smile, “We’re going to have a date my way.”
Harry sighs with relief when he realizes the date isn’t over - but really just beginning. They sit and chat in the parking lot. He is thoroughly impressed when YN manages a box of nuggets, a fry, and a milkshake without shame.
Not like she should be shameful - just usually on dates women were hesitant to actually eat and instead picked carefully at their food instead. Their conversation in the car is bright, at some points deep and meaningful, but refreshing. It made him feel young again.
After they finished eating, she’s ordering him to drive a bit further out into the country where he can’t help but make the joke, “Are y’taking me somewhere to kill me?”
YN smiles happily with a wide grin, “You’ll just have to wait to see.”
It ends up being a lake. A beautiful body of water that was surrounded by trees that were being reflected into the ripples with the light of the moon. The only sounds were of crickets chirping and the light lapping of the water against the small shore. ***
“I used to come here a lot in the summer in high school,” YN murmurs as Harry takes in the scenery of everything. It had been so long since he had appreciated nature - not the bright clear waters in the tropics but something like this.
“S’beautiful,” Harry replies, can’t help but observe this girl he’s infatuated beauty in the moonlight.
Her skin looks like it’s glowing, the moon sparkling off the twinkle of her iries, and she just looked...ethereal. Like she belonged in the beauty of the wilderness.
He couldn’t believe his eyes - had to blink harshly a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it when she pulls the thin straps of her dress down her shoulders and shimmy the garment down her body until she’s left in a delicate lace bra and cheeky pair of underwear.
Harry, always the gentleman, keeps his eyes (with effort) on her face. Unsure of what is going on in her mind before she turns around with a little run and dives headfirst into the deep waters before popping back up and giggling, “Jump in!”
She’s just so...carefree, adventurous. Harry hadn’t felt free in fucking years.
It has him shucking out of all of his clothing, just down to his tight black briefs before he’s diving in, right next to her, and feeling around. He wraps his hand around her ankle to teasingly tug her under with him before they both surface.
As they wad in the water, YN swims over to him, and wraps her legs around his waist, arms around his neck. Her soaking wet hair was dripping and he was breathing heavy, feeling his ribcage expand against her soft tummy.
She murmurs quietly over the light lapping over the water, “You haven’t even looked at me once.”
Harry swallows, feeling like a schoolboy again, “I...I didn’t want to without permission.”
“I want you to look at me,” YN replies, letting her nose nudge his and her eyes searching into his nervous ones.
He nods, closing his eyes when he feels her lips brush his, letting his large palms grip at her sides and pull her closer to his chest. Their lips not breaking when his hands begin to explore the intricate, plush curves of her body.
They don’t do anything else, don’t go any further but he groaning when she traces her fingertips down his muscular, defined abs and thumb rubbing over the trail of light hair leading into his briefs.
After a swim, filled with splashing and dunking, they retired to lay in the grass. Both of their backs, looking up at the clear night sky, moon full and stars glittering against the stark darkness that surrounds it.
YN wriggle until she’s tucked into his side, hand running up and down his chest, as she says, “I’m sorry your date didn’t go as planned. I ruined it.”
“Y’didn’t ruin anything. I...I haven’t felt like this in a long time,” Harry admits as he gives off an embarrassed laugh, “I..I’m a little bit scared, to be honest.”
“Scared? Of what?” YN asks, lips pressing against a tattoo on his bare shoulder.
“Because I already am falling for you,” Harry utters, heart racing and his eyes glued upwards and pointedly not wanting to see her interaction.
“That’s a relief.”
His eyebrows shoot up, “A relief?”
“Yeah, I would say. I’m falling too,” YN whispers before leaning up to connect their lips once more as the moon rises further in the sky and the crickets sing a little louder. They lay like that for a very long time.
Harry went home that night for the first time not feeling the empty weight of his loneliness, instead he feel asleep imagining the beautiful, spontaneous girl next to him in his bed.
--
It wasn’t going to be the wedding everyone expected for The Harry Styles. **
There was not many invites set out for this event. It wasn’t the wedding of the century or the most expensive wedding of the decade.
Harry would have let his wife-to-be have this day however she wanted without complaint but could say he was very happy that it was going to a be a low-key event. It was going to be some of YN’s family, though she didn’t have much, and Harry’s extended family. No one from work or business. Just family.
They had just gotten finished with the rehearsal dinner, the couple being ordered to separate rooms for the final night before they were married. It was tradition.
Harry had walked YN to her hotel room, they were staying at the venue, and pressed her up against the door. His hand coming to weave into her meticulously curled hair and cupping the back of her head, bring her mouth to his.
He wastes no time in letting his tongue find hers, hips coming to press her further back against the aged wood, and his teeth nipping roughly at her plump bottom lip, “Baby, y’gonna be m’wife tomorrow.”
YN’s eyes twinkle up at him like they did during their first date, “I can’t wait. I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”
His fiance laughs kindly as he gets a bit watery eyed, her thumb coming to swipe under his eye, she jokes, “Are you regretting proposing now?”
“Just never knew I could be this happy,” He murmurs against her lips, can’t help but reach around to grip a generous amount of her backside and pulling her flush against him where he’s hardening quickly.
“Mm, down boy. You don’t get the goods until tomorrow,” YN scolds, hand wrapping around his wrist and squeaking when he squeezes harder to get the point across - how much he wants her, all the fucking time.
“Want it now, pet,” Harry whines lowly, grinding his hips forward into her, “Give it t’me, y’mouth, y’cun-”
“Alright lovebirds! Separate now!” Gemma barks to interrupt with the laughter of their childhood friend Chloe.
They pull Harry by the back of the shirt and push him forward towards his room, Gemma smiles back at YN, “Make him put a ring on it before you give it to him!”
“Gem!” Harry scolds with a whine, giving his fiance puppy dog eyes and a pouted bottom lip, “Baby, don’t let them take me!”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you!” YN shouts back, waving and smiling to herself as she opens up the door to her room and then locking it after she steps in. It feels weird being in a hotel room without him but she was a bit sweaty and her nerves were wiry so she decided a nice bath would be a good idea.
-
It’s past two in the morning and she was no less ready to find sleep. The worries of whether everything will be set up properly, if she’ll stutter during her vows, there were just so many things that could go wrong.
Life didn’t even seem real at this moment.
She was marrying her husband at an amazing castle on the coast of italy with family to surround them in love. She had the perfect dress, the perfect flowers, the perfect partner. ***
She had never had it easy. Never thought she would deserve something like this. Harry had made her feel worthy of all this, they deserved to have a happy ever after.
When it hits three in the morning, she can’t stand the quiet of the italian countryside anymore, and is swinging her legs over the bed. She pockets the keycard Harry gave her earlier in the day in her cotton shorts before sneaking out of her room.
After she taps the card to the sensor, the large oak doorknob clicks, she slips in and closes the door as silently as possible. YN steps in to the room, Harry's asleep in his bed on his stomach, face smushed into the pillow.
Harry’s facial expression and body language while he was awake was so severe, serious, intimidating. In sleep, his face was lax and his limbs loose. He looked more boyish when he was dreaming.
YN’s heart aches at how much she loves him, pulling the covers up, and crawling under them until she’s jostling him unintentionally, waking him from his light sleep with a mumble, “Baby, y’okay? Wha’s wrong? Y’alright?”
She giggles at his dazy panic, “I just missed you.”
“Mmm,” Harry agrees, pulling her all the way down and rolling on top of her, “Missed y’more.”
“You’re like a toaster!” YN squeals as he’s encompasses her, laying on her with his weight. His lips finding her pulse point and gently sucking. He was barely awake and he still couldn’t stop himself from her finding comfort in her body.
“I’m warmin’ y’up,” Harry growls against her neck before giving her a lick which has her giggling even more and pushing him off until he falls on his back and she’s swing her legs over his waist, straddling him.
“Y’breakin’ the tradition, m’heart.”
YN shrugs, humming while he palms at her belly, and she (much to his disappointment) ignores where he’s hard and waiting for her.
“I want t’sleep with you,” She pleas sheepishly, leaning all the way over to connect their lips in a quickie peck before she’s moving off of him and into his side.
“Never say no to you, y’know that, dovie,” Harry replies as if it’s obvious (it is).
“We’re getting married tomorrow,” YN whispers into the dark, like it’s a secret just between the two.
Harry nuzzles his nose against her temple, “Never wanted anythin’ more than I want you.”
YN can’t help but sniffle softly, overwhelmed with emotion and love, “You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.”
“You saved me. You saved me from myself, from where I was going. You gave me hope, feeling again. Y’are m’heart, it fuckin’ beats for you.”
It may not be tradition but YN wouldn’t of had it any other way, sleeping in a magnificent castle on the ethereal coast of Italy in a classic hotel room, and the excitement of their wedding rumbling in both of their stomachs.
--
“You sneaky bastards!” Bethany screeches, door flinging open with Gemma in tow as they intrude into Harry’s room - finding the couple curled up under the covers with Harry spooning YN with his face tucked into her hair.
“Fuck off,” Harry groans, pulling his fiance closer into his chest as she wriggles awake and whimpers lowly, “Mornin’ lovie.”
“Out out!” Gemma shoos, pulling the covers off of them and the sisters showing no mercy while they yank YN out of the bed and titter about how she needs to start getting ready, no time for cuddles, breaking traditions.
“Bring her back!” He whines childishly, hurling a pillow at his sister’s retreating back as they guide YN back to her own room.
“You’ll see her in a few hours!” Gemma shouts back before slamming the hotel room door and leaving Harry to doze off for just a few more minutes.
-
Hair and makeup went fast.
It was getting closer and closer to actually walking down the aisle towards her soon-to-be life partner and she’s never felt more nervous.
Rosemary and Bethany were all rushing around - attempting to get ready in the midst of getting the bride ready.
YN didn’t want to look like a doll or have any intense makeup. It was a soft champagne smokey eye with dewy skin and a glowing highlight. A nice lip with a bit of glittering gloss.
Her hair was in big, loose curls that cascaded down her back with the front pulled off of her face. A real white flower holding it back.
Then it was the dress. She was anxious about whether Harry would like it or not. She wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to wear - a massive ball gown, a form-fitting mermaid, or something less over-the-top?
It was a show-stopper that had her memorized when she had first seen it - could automatically imagined herself getting married in Italy with this on her body.
It was also one of the only times she didn’t even care about the price tag - she knew this was it. Yes, it was absurd to spend fifty thousand pounds on a dress but it was the one time she took advantage of Harry’s wealth.
It was flowy, reminding her of the soft waves that lapped at the coast of the italian beaches. It was sophisticated, classy with a sharp starch white that billowed into a dreamlike beauty.
What had made her fall in love was the sheer, detailed sleeves that gave the dress more of a vintage, glamour appearance than the modern tight-fit, overly sexy gowns that most brides wore nowawadays. ***
The train was long and sleek. It would trail beautifully down the aisle before being bustled for the reception. It made her feel confident in a way that an item of clothing next had made her feel before.
“Your tits look amazing,” Bethany compliments before giggling when their grandmum pinches her arm for her crude language.
YN couldn’t find it in her to laugh. She felt like her voice was stuck in her throat and it wasn’t moving.
It started to feel real.
The fact that Harry had proposed, had planned a wedding with her, that he was agreeing to marrying her today.
It was starting to scare her - no, not cold feet but anxiety that he would realize that he could do better than the lowly waitress.
Now, on a normal day, she wouldn’t be having these irrational thoughts. Today was different and it felt too good to be true.
Rosemary and Bethany sense the tension in the room, rub her shoulders, and respect her wishes when she asked for a moment alone.
YN debates picking up her phone, knowing he was busy with his bigger side of the family in the groom’s suite.
She finds herself picking up her mobile, dialing his number, and waiting with bated breath for his syrupy, warm voice to pour through the speaker.
“Everythin’ okay?” He answers, she can hear Anne and Gemma tittering about in the background, yelling at him to get a move on.
“I’m scared,” YN whispers, she holds back her tears because the last thing she wanted to do was ruin her meticulous makeup.
“Leavin’ me at the altar?” Harry jokes lowly, stepping away from prying ears.
YN giggles at his teasing tone, “Never. I…I feel like this is all too good to be true. Like it’s a dream and I’m going to wake up.”
Harry huffs, “Sweetheart. Y’my soulmate, if y’wake up - I’m right there with you, okay? God, if anyone is dreamin’ it’s me. I get t’marry the most beautiful, intelligent -“
Gemma’s voice interrupts him, “You already seduced her into marrying you! We don’t have time for this sweet talk!”
The line goes dead but YN feels much better now.
—
Rosemary was going to be the one walking her down the aisle to her new husband. It didn’t feel right to have anyone else do it as she was the one who raised her into the strong, independent woman she was today.
YN knew she wanted to have an outside wedding.
What would be more perfect than a cool evening in Italy? It was what she had dreamed about since she was little without the idea that it would ever happen.
The weather was absolutely perfect. There was a slight warm breeze that would keep the guests from being overheated, the sun was peeking in and out of vibrant white clouds that complimented the blue sky.
She knew exactly where Harry would be standing.
Underneath a beautiful, dated archway with intricate designs about.
The old material had lovingly grown luscious ivy that kissed the walls in a swirling, natural design.
YN would never forget how beautiful that ivy had looked on her wedding day, encompassing the magnificent that was her soon-to-be husband.***
The venue was open, airy but still gave off an intimacy. There weren't many rows of chairs because not many were invited to share in such an ethereal experience where soulmates have found each other and were announcing their commitment to the world.
“Are you ready, my daughter?” Her grandmother had asked quietly as they lined up behind the expansive, old brick wall that hides them from the rest of the ceremony and crowd. She could hear the whispering as people took their seats.
YN nods, her vocal cords refusing to cooperate as she imagines Harry just as nervous on the opposite side with his family.
When the twinkling, traditional music begins from the small orchestra off to the side - the realization hits her - it is actually happening, right now.
Bethany puts her bouquet in front of her, giving one last meaningful smile at her sister before she takes her cue to turn the corner and begins her walk down the aisle.
It meant Harry was up there, watching as she was about to appear.
Then the orchestra’s melody became louder, more grand in the signaling for the guests to stand and turned toward the back of the room - awaiting the bride’s entrance to the ceremony.
Rosemary takes the initiative to hook their arms and guide her past the wall.
YN clutches onto her own flowers as if it’s her lifeline. ***
Every fear, insecurity, moment of self-doubt dissipates when her eyes connect to Harry’s. There is no longer a doubt in her mind that she wasn’t enough. It was a deep, unbreakable stare as Harry’s mouth parts in a gasp of awe.
He was in a suit that was undeniably him. It displayed how fucking regal he was, how it looked like he was handcrafted into the italian design, how it fit him just perfectly.
It wasn’t a normal tuxedo. It was a perfectly tailored, custom (of course) Gucci suit that excentuate his broad shoulders and the nip of his narrow hips *** ***.
YN can’t even hear the noise of the guests - whispering about how beautiful she looks.
All she can see is her future husband, who swallows harshly as an unexpected sob wracks through his chest at the sight of his bride.
The guests can’t help but look with wide eyes as the man they know - who they’ve barely ever seen smile, let alone cry, cannot control his emotions.
Gemma, who was his ‘best man’ which they deemed ‘best woman’, rubs his back soothingly with a watery smile herself at seeing her brother so estastatic as he looks at the woman of his dreams.
Harry rubs his eyes before meeting hers again.
YN is holding back her own tears as she reaches the end of the aisle.
In tradition as old as time, Harry steps forward and Rosemary passes her hand over to him in a signal that she trusts him to take care of the girl she’s spent meticulous time raising and cultivating into the person she is today.
“I trust you to take care of my girl, she is now yours,” Rosemary tells Harry, her tone is calm and full of emotion as she allows Harry to lean over to kiss her cheek softly.
Harry nods, his usually stable voice shaky as he replies, “I promise, I’ll take care of her until the day I die.”
Rosemary nods before patting his cheek and finding her seat in the audience.
When they are finally standing face-to-face, YN reaches over to thumb off a stray tear that was sliding down his cheek before he turns his head to kiss her thumb then kissing her palm.
Harry didn’t even acknowledge that there was anyone else watching - it was just him and her.
“Y’look breathtaking, can’t believe y’mine,” Harry murmurs trembling, his chest moving faster than usual and it felt like it was nearly impossible for him to catch his breath as he looked at the woman in front of him.
When it comes to the vows, Bethany hands over her small piece of paper that she had scribbled onto and scratched out multiple times - never quite able to get the wording just right and she says just that.
“I couldn’t find the right words to explain my love for you,” She starts, voice raspy as she looks up to see Harry watching her raptly, eyes intense and only focused on her.
“And maybe there aren’t even words to explain it because nothing felt like enough. It is how I feel a lot of the time with you. I’ll never have enough of you because you’re all-consuming to me. I have never felt happiness like I have with you.”
YN is trying to stifle her tears as she continues, Harry reaches out to rub her arm in reassurance then he lightly brushes over the new necklace he had gifted her, “You’re by far the most complex, closed-off person I have ever met. I feel like you’ve allowed me to crack the code and once I did, I wasn’t disappointed. I’ve cracked my own code, you see.”
“The code to explaining my feelings for you will come with my dedication, love, loyalty to be your wife for the rest of our lives.”
Harry can’t help what he does next despite it not falling in line at the ceremony.
His hands come up to cup her jaw and he sears his lips to hers, kissing her with all the passion and emotion he cannot seem to keep in any longer. It’s too much, has to show her in that moment how much he loves her.
A few of his uncles whistle from the crowd as their wives smack their chests in warning.
YN giggles, returning the kiss before pushing him off.
The look in his eyes is one she knows extremely well - it sends shivers down her spine and makes her hair stand on end -, the stare down of lust and want.
“Mr. Styles,” The officiant redirects, nodding towards the piece of paper he has in his hand.
“Yeah, sorry,” Harry mumbles, unraveling the wrinkled notecard he had tucked in his inner suit pocket.
“I knew I was in love with you the moment you spilled that drink on me and undressed me in that dodgy employee bathroom,” Harry says with full sincerity, smirking at YN’s blush when he brings up the way they met.
“I tried to talk myself out of it. It was impossible to fall in love in mere minutes of meeting someone but it was the truth. I knew after our first date that I wanted y’to be m’wife. I knew after the second that I wanted y’to be the mother of my babies one day. And by the third date, I was planning on buying you a ring.”
“It sounds insane because it is. I’ve never been an impulsive, spur-of-the-moment, hopeful person before you. You made me throw all that out of the window, you make me feel alive, and when I tell you that you saved me. You saved me, m’love.”
“There is a lot of uncertainty in this world but I can tell you one thing that is absolutely fuckin’ certain -”
“Harry,” YN hisses with an eye-roll at his crude language.
“The one thing that is absolutely certain in this world is that I will always love you, always take care of you, and always do everythin’ in m’power to make you happy.”
The guests in the chairs are quite speechless.
They’d never heard such passionate, meaningful vows from a couple.
This was not what they were expecting of Harry who had never once put his heart on his sleeve and right now he’d laid it all out on the table.
--
“YN LN, do you agree to take Harry Edward Styles as your husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant asks, voice ringing against the walls of the castle.
YN has to take a big breath before she replies in a strong, firm voice as her eyes bore into Harry’s, “I do.”
“Harry Edward Styles, do you agree to take YN MN LN as your wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant repeats.
Harry, in ever typical fashion, in his loud, booming voice replies, “Of course I fuckin’ do.”
The guests in the audience laugh lightly as the officiant states, “I now announce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Styles. You may now kiss your bride.”
It doesn’t take more than a second for Harry to step forward, grip her face and pull her in for a kiss, it doesn’t matter that their family is there to him as he licks into her mouth which is bordering on obscene before YN brings it back to a softer, more appropriate one.
He whispers against his lips, barely audible, “Can’t believe y’my fucking wife, m’fucking heart.”
--
As people are moving towards the reception area, Harry manages to find a secluded area of the outside gardens where there is no one in sight.
“Baby, baby, y’married me,” Harry is nearly chanting, like he’s in disbelief, at the same time he’s cornering his new bride up against the brick wall with his mouth trailing sloppy wet kisses down her shoulder.
“Mmm, it was everything I ever imagined, it was so beautiful. Everything I had imagined for our day,” YN replies blissfully, hands running carefully through his meticulously styled hair.
When he bends down and lifts up the bottom of her dress, she giggles when he ducks his head underneath all the tulle and fabric, finding a very skimpy pair of white lace panties that are supposed to be saved for later.
“Harry,” YN scolds half-heartedly, it would only take one person to find them in this undeniable inappropriate situation but she willingly let him push her further against the brick and take one of her legs over his shoulder.
“Baby, these fuckin’ panties,” He groans, muffled by the barrier of the heavy fabric, and she hisses when pulls them down to the thick of her thighs and his mouths finds her center within moments.
“Fu-fuck,” She hisses, trying to keep her moans down as he wastes no time in pushing in two thick fingers to curve towards her front as his tongue laps quickly and sloppily on her clit until it feels like she’s about to explode.
“S’right, fuckin’ m’cunt. I have it f’the rest of my life, found the best one,” Harry mutters against her wet skin, almost to himself like he can’t even believe the words, before he’s back to speeding up his fingers to match the rhythm of his mouth until she’s quivering for a whole other reason now.
It takes a few minutes for Harry to calm himself down enough to be able to go into the reception, he tells YN that he can’t even look at her right now because if he does he’ll be perpetually hard throughout the whole thing.
--
The reception is more of a dinner than a party.
Fairy lights strung above the two long tables where decadent, mouth-watering food was served with the orchestra playing light, melodic music in the background. ***
It was perfect.
Their family drank, laughed, ate, and were merry.
Everyone was basking in each other’s company, congratulating the new couple, and enjoying all the beauty that was surrounding them at the castle.
There is not much more to say than that.
--
The honeymoon suite was located on one of the highest floors of the castle, away from all of the other wedding guests and staff.
YN was sure it was beautiful but from the moment she was carried over the threshold, she didn’t see anything but her new husband - he was blinding in his beauty. His skin was glowing, a slight sheen of sweat from the reception, and the still warm bite in the breeze. ***
“Sweetheart, baby. Please let m’undress you, y’my wife,” Harry pleas softly, his hands are everywhere - her face, her shoulders, hips - continuously wandering as if it’s impossible to find one place to settle.
“Please, c’mon. I need you, H,” She agrees, letting him take down the zipper on the side of her gown.
The expensive garment discarded on the floor in a pool of fabric as he fully takes in her lingerie set. ***
“Fuck me, darlin’,” Harry chuckles in amazement, fingertips tracing over the delicate lace that was stitched by Alessandro Michele himself for the bride, "Y’body is a god damn dream, look at you. - fuck.”
“Please,” His wife whimpers, voice desperate as his light and careful touches are no longer enough.
She needs him close, she needs her husband.
“Okay, okay,” He simpers, moving her back until he can have her right where he wants her, on her back in the middle of the massive, blanket-ridden bed - her white lingerie standing out against the dark duvet.
Harry had always imagined this night.
To have someone laid out underneath him.
No rush, no urgency but to truly, physically show that person through touch that you love them.
He starts near her collarbone, feathery heated kisses that warm her skin as she welcomes him with heavy weight on top of her so eager he wasn’t even undressed yet.
When his mouth finds her nipples through the sheer fabric, she pushes her chest up in encouragement as he bites at the nubs with sharp but careful teeth that wet the fabric.
“It feels so good, baby,” YN mewls, letting him nip and suck for a moment before pushing him up until he’s rid of every inch of fabric that had been covering his body.
“M’always gonna make y’feel good. I’ll fuck you wherever, wehenver cause you’re m’wife,” Harry grunts, impatiently reaching behind to unclasp the corset until her breasts spill free and jiggle in a way that makes his mouth water.
“Wait, wait,” YN puts a hand to his cheek when he already has his mouth darting out to lap at her hardened nipple.
“Don’t make me wait, m’heart,” Harry grumbles with a furrowed brow, his hand still unable to stop from reaching up to palm at her full breasts, thumbs rolling the nipples as he stares fiercely up at her.
“You know how you got me a present?” YN murmurs, biting back a whimper when a zip of electricity shoots from her nipple down to where she’s already dripping for him, “I got you something too.”
Harry’s face relaxes, it’s like he finds his grounding again, “Baby, didn’t need t’get me anythin’. Y’the best fuckin’ gift I could have gotten. Does look beautiful sittin’ between y’tits though.”
His new wife giggles, “Well I really hope you like mine….it’s non-refundable.”
He looks at her with confusion even more so when she wriggles down her panties and flips on her belly with her arms resting under chin.
Of course, Harry finds it immediately and she can tell by the deep, pleased growl he emits from the back of his throat, “You fuckin’ didn’t.”
“I did.”
It was his name, small and cursive right on her bum cheek.
After they got engaged, he went out and got her name tattooed on his pec - much to her dismay.
She had never talked about returning the favor and had kept it the ultimate surprise.
“I think I almost just came from this,” Harry rasps, his fingers tracing the small ink over and over in awe, “Baby, y’put m’name on your bum. It makes y’look like my property, sweetheart.”
“I am yours,” YN giggles, yelping when she feels his teeth graze the sensitive skin before he’s suckling and licking at his name - can’t take his eyes off the beauty of her.
“Yeah, you fuckin’ are,” He agrees whole-heartedly, his hands calming to cup and palm at her cheeks as he fawns over his wedding present, “This is the best present I’d ever fuckin’ received, fuck - never goin’ to get over this.”
He doesn’t want to look away from the tattoo but knows how he wants to fuck his wife for the first time so he flips her onto her back once again, lips finding hers.
She whispers, hand wrapping around his cock, “Still have to pay you back for earlier.”
“No blowies tonight, pet. We’re goin’ to do it the right way, m’gonna make love to you,” Harry murmurs, his lips finding hers as he bats her hand away to grasp at his thick base. He teases the sensitive head over her clit and entrance a few times before slowly sinking in.
“Ohh, been ready for you all day. You looked like a fucking wet dream standing at the alter, waiting for me,” YN sighs happily, wriggling her hips to adjust a bit before she spreads her legs and lets Harry rest in between them, “Ever since I saw you in the suit, I’ve been waiting.”
“Yeah, baby? I can tell, y’so wet, warm f’me,” Harry praises, his movements are slow and unrushed, their hips meeting gently as he pushes in each time with care, “Can’t believe y’gonna let me have this for the rest of m’life.”
“I love you so so much,” She utters breathlessly as he continues to make her feel so fucking full - emotionally and physically, “Best husband ever, can’t believe it.”
Harry chuckles tenderly, “Baby, I need y’to come soon. I’m so close, never come this quick. The thought of y’being my wife is making it impossible to last then with the tatto-”
YN soothes his hair in understanding, pushing up to meet their lips and allow their tongues to dance as he lifts her thigh against his hip to thrust in with a bit more force. His thumb comes to her clit to spur her along which doesn’t take much with how aroused she’s been all day.
Harry follows right after, much to his embarrassment of his lack of stamina but can you blame him? He has the hottest fucking wife on the planet.
“Round two?” YN smirks as he leans down to pepper kisses all over her cheeks. She knows the night has just begun.
“Mmm,” He agrees instantly, “Now that we made love, m’gonna fuck y’from behind so I can watch my name jiggle on your arse.”
And that’s what he does. It takes nearly no rebound time, flips her on her belly again to gaze and worship his name as he fills out in no time again. His fingers occasionally dip back between her thighs to tease at her entrance before he swipes her own wetness on the tattoo to lick it off.
She’s tired, exhausted from the events of the day but wants to reach that last orgasm before sleep overtakes them.
On her hands and knees, Harry doesn’t pound into her like he normally would.
Instead, he eases back in with eyes darting between his wedding present and where they’re connecting, his thumb diligently rubbing hard and steady circle on her nerves.
“C’mon wifey, need y’to not be stubborn,” Harry goads, feeling his release coming again - he pinches her clit with just enough pressure that has her whining before Harry has to hold her up by the waist as she quivers.
It has him finishing right after with a gentle smack to her bumcheek, the skin already tender and sore from all of his attention on the spot as it was.
“I loved your vows,” YN murmurs against his chest. He had wrapped her up in one of the plush blankets and he had pulled on a tight pair of briefs and they were laying on a lounge chair on the blacony under the italian stars.
“I loved yours just as much, y’did crack the code m’love ‘cause now I’m yours forever,” Harry rumbles, his voice raspy with drowsiness.
Little did they know that in a few short years, they would be back under these italian stars with knowledge that they were growing a little product of their love in her belly.
A litte baby named Ivy, just like the beautiful, lucious nature that had decorated the place in magneificent as they spoke vows - dedicating their lives to each other.
if you’ve ask to be on my taglist and you’re not here - please check your settings because i’ve tried to add you and it didn’t work.
taglist babies (thank you): @dioc4ne @hazgoldenstyles @harrysdimple05 @wonwooen @ficnarry @leeroysdancer @harrysloveheart @harryscherrysugar @pradastardust @rish-haz @wildcstdrexms @evanstylestan @wisetoadbonkbiscuit @meredithhuntt @tpwkvictoria @lovely-him @haymix @eiffelmezarry @pilgrim-harry @soullessbabee @afterglowstyles @tulsasjesus @elenagilbert01 @meh–mood @pretty-pop-princess-hs @msolbesg @localfalsegodstan @evanjh @i-just-like-fanfics @harrys-hs-gf @lightsupdoyouknowwhoyouare @afterglcwswift @harrystyles-tpwk @amyvandijk @godilovetheenglishx @harrys-cherrry @theprofessionalfanby @your–sweetest–downfall @la-cey @bdbtchdir @killerqueencapstan @elizabeth23567 @camflowervol6 @its-a-finee-line @rish-haz @solonelytobe @nav1234 @harrynamjoon @hopefullimaginer123 @westallenhes @awesomebooklover17 @will-be-a-fineline @vasilikir5 @your–sweetest–downfall @pretty-pop-princess-hs @harrynamjoon @harrypinks @ivyirenehoax @harryspink @sunsetcurve-h @goldenstylesh @mouthfulloftoothpastehs @hello-34583 @prettylovley @nicolecarsley @lamariettes @imavirginhoe @unknown7549 @mellamolayla @kiwitsayedsugar @hopefullimaginer123 @harrysmatcha @weaslettesstuff @saintsmotels @hi-yekaterina @aubreyfineline @harrysgoldenbum @ebstylesx @goldeng1rl8 @tnqueen @percysaidnever @bebecalpal
#harry styles#ceo!harry#harry styles writing#update#harry styles masterlist#harry styles fic rec#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles fluff#Harry styles smut#husband!harry#harry styles x y/n#harry styles husband#harry styles requests#ceorry#ceo harry masterlist#ceo!harry blurb#ceo!harry blurbs#ceoverse#ceo au#Harry styles au#harry styles oneshot#harry styles fic recommendatioin#harry styles fanfiction#Harry styles fan fic#Harry styles tour#hslot
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Young Gods ❈ KNJ, JJK
❈ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader x Jungkook
❈ Genre: smut, f2l kinda, but also s2l, fantasy!au, fluff if you squint, gods!au, wizard/witch!au
➛ Part of the Namkook Moonrise Masquerade hosted by @jamaisjoons
❈ Rating: 18+
❈ Wordcount: 4.2k
❈ Warnings: it is jungkook centric, it does have a somewhat heavy plot, double penetrative sex, magical sex, teasing, slightest corruption kink.
❈ Summary: Legend has it that if you were to walk all the way up to Hallasan, and if the land is welcoming enough, you should be able to see the most beautiful lake where it is rumoured to home the most powerful being the world has ever had the pleasure to meet, so when young warlock Jungkook starts having trouble with his magic, who could blame him for travelling all the way there in hopes of finding answers only to be met with the hottest man he’s ever seen. and really, who could blame him for fostering the biggest crush on him without saying a word for ages? that is, until y/n, a long lost friend of Namjoon shows up. so really, who is he to blame if he lets the two greatest beings in existence use him for their pleasure?
❈A/N: SHE'S HERE. GOD THIS TOOK A WHILE. Please enjoy! ALSO, banner by @jamaisjoons, I do believe the only thing that keep me writing this was the banner lol. Do tell your thoughts on this bad baby, I was heading towards a larger fic but I didn't have time yet magical au is most definitely there for future fics.
The first time Jungkook realised just how powerful he was, he was fifteen years old, although his mother can recall him being around four and being able to master a potion that most common-born non-royal witches could only hope to get mediocre at once trained at their young twenties. Of course, his magic had soon become taboo around the village, having to hide himself behind years of his father’s training, his lineage a bit closer to royalty, not quite, but just enough for his son’s magic to pass as his own. If his customers notice how better his spell jars or potions get once Jungkook turns eighteen, they sure don’t comment on it. Not that they would be able to tell that the family was hiding a master of the magical arts that could rival the country’s most powerful witch in the blink of an eye. Those were just rumours going around, as far as the Jeon’s were concerned.
“Son, I believe it is about time you get some proper practice on your magic” his father mentioned bypassing one Sunday night as they both locked up the store. He turned to hi, somewhat confused.
“Look if this is about Seojun noona’s elixir being more powerful than it usually is I swear it was a rightful mixture, my trial was right beside her actual one and she entered the shop sooner and-”
His dad shakes a hand dismissively at him, rounding the counter into the small storage room, coming back in sight with a leather-bound book in between his hands, calloused fingers roaming the antique-looking pages “I am not quite sure how much truth an old man like your grandfather could hold, but it wouldn’t hurt to try” he turned the yellowing book towards him, fast and almost undescribable scribbles decorating the paper as he squinted down at it, his father handling the energy in it to make the content quite literally come to life, a storytelling spell all too familiar to him from his young age.
“Dad, you know I absolutely love bedtime stories, but I’d say I’m quite a bit too old now for-” before he can even think about finishing the sentence, a mountain comes into view, alive straight from the book’s pages, standing tall and proud dressed in green, almost touching the sky, a magical aura surrounding it, one that he could even feel just by looking at it “What’s that?”
“The old man used to tell me stories about an ancient being, the most powerful of them all, living on top of Hallasan” the pages turn by themselves, the image changing to a faceless man, standing almost as tall and proud as the mountain itself, performing all types of magic, some of them Jungkook himself hadn’t even heard of “Legend says he was outcasted by royalty in fear of revolution, wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for he is a child of Earth herself”
“I-I don’t think I’m following”
His father sighs loudly before his magic shuts the book closed, all magic gone on a whim “Jungkook, whatever this man was, if my father was right and he really did exist, you might be like him”
“But-but I was born of both you and mum” he couldn’t quite yet fathom the extension of his own magic, much less think about the probability of being more powerful than any other being that had walked the Earth in millennia. Even if the man was real, would he even be alive still? If he was as powerful as he was presumed to be, would he even take Jungkook under his wing? What if he wasn’t as lucky as the man from the book and word got out and his life was endangered?
“Jungkook just think about it, you might be a child of the Earth”
“What if I don’t want to be” he couldn’t quite face his father, feeling his own heartbreak as the older man deflated. Jungkook knew that perhaps his dad had entertained the idea of his only son being a creature out of a legendary book, could feel how proud it would make him, for Jungkook to be a hero, make history with the power he presumably held within, yet he couldn’t help but feel like a small child again, afraid at the uncertainty that the future could hold. “I- I’m good with just running the shop and helping you and mother out with stuff”
His father sighed before placing a gentle hand on his shoulders, a small act that made him feel even more like a child, one getting subtly scolded by his parents as they prepare him for his inevitable future. “Jungkook-ah, your mother and I- all we really want for you is to live your own life”
His ears perk up, gaze facing forward as he catches his mother standing with her arms crossed over her body, the softest motherly look on her face “And if that means for my baby to go find himself at some faraway place, then so be it” she comes to join his father by his side, both of them bracing each other as the thought of their child growing up simmers down on them. “We just want you to grow up to your full potential Kookie”
.-.-
It had taken quite some convincing for him to completely make up his mind, the negging looks from his father as he helped around the shop, the longing yet scolding gaze his mother held over dinner until he found himself preparing a small bag for the long trip– almost burning inside his mind the map contained in his grandfather’s grimoire from the many times he had read over what he once thought to be a legend out of a children’s storybook.
The trip itself wasn’t as difficult as it was troublesome, having to hike up the highest mountain in the land, the difficult part–if the Jeon’s memories were anything to go by– was having the Hallassan land spirit to like you enough to show itself, even a step further to have the legendary witch to show his home.
For quite some time Jungkook entertained the idea of the immense possibilities on how the wizard could look, every possible image popping up in his head some variation of a wrinkly old man hunched over himself, staff in hand and he couldn’t help but laugh soundly at it, picturing himself getting nagged at by such a figure, perhaps he would end up looking like one of those old scholars that came to his village from time to time. But how wrong was he.
It took him three days, two cold sleepless nights in the woods and running in circles for at least two hours in the nothingness that was the top of the mountain for the valley to show up right where he had started to venture– he could almost hear the forest spirits snickering at him. He really tried to be angry at it, almost went back down just out of spite, yet the clearing before him had him doing a double-take, the space was bright and clear, none of the trees from before on sight, the small dipping in the middle of it leading to a sort of entrance– this was what he came for.
Jungkook had been raised better than what he found himself doing– walking into a stranger’s house uninvited. Was it really uninvited if after knocking for a few minutes the door opened on its own?
He walks inside, small steps, unsure of himself, his past resolve crumbling down completely as he walks further in where he listens to a hushed voice coming from his left, a mop of silvery hair turned away from him, green warm clothes cradling the figure, Jungkook entertains the idea of an old man still, yet not so much hunched over himself if the deep hushed voice and the hair colour was anything to go by. “...Now where did I last see-”
"Hello-"
"Oh! great timing! the pay is where it always is" broad shoulders are still facing him as the man moved around, a couple of won bills on the counter where he had waved his hand dismissively, not even bothering to turn around, for a legendary creature perhaps leaving his home door open was a recurrent thing, what with the whole clearing hidden from the public eye and all.
"Oh I'm not-" he had tried to make himself knows as definitely not the person he was expecting yet the man kept mumbling to himself, apparently in deep thought at whatever it was
""—So then if we are able to move this around we should -" he had started moving around the room, still not facing Jungkook directly, just pointing to places around the spacious room as his free hand busied itself with picking books from the humongous shelf against the wall
"I'm- uh" his hands couldn’t be still, grasping at the bag over his shoulder, knuckles almost white as he clears his throat "I'm not-"
"Did you forget where-" the man turns around and Jungkook feels whatever little poise he had gained leave him in the spot, right in front of him is the most legendary creature in existence, recorded alive for millennia, a god in more ways than one, no old man in sight but the prettiest human he had laid eyes on, fierce sight set on him awkwardly hanging at the entrance as the man keeps blinking at him "uh"
He bows down almost instinctively, 90 degrees, hair falling onto his eyes as he does so "Mister sir- uh keeper of Hallasan"
"You aren't Soobin"
"Uh.. no I'm not"
The man doesn’t even flinch at the information of a stranger setting a foot inside his house, deep voice calm as ever as he asks "How did you even get in?"
"Uh the door was open" he points to the door in a futile attempt for it to not make it seem like he was the weirdo picking locks or something at a magical creature’s home
"No it wasn't" he moves to the door in the most graciously way he has ever seen someone do it, almost gliding across the floor, eyes never leave him except for the brief second where his hand tries the doorknob "huh it was. Weird"
It took the man less than a minute after his initial shock to turn to Jungkook and invite him in, a pair of teacups resting against the table as they seated parallel to each other, him crossing his legs in a nonchalant manner as Jungkook couldn’t stop fidgeting in his seat– he certainly never thought he could come this far.
“So what can I do for you, Jeon Jungkook?” if he absolutely preened at the way that his name sounded in the stranger’s mouth, that was certainly something only for him to know.
The words died right on his tongue. There were certainly a lot of things the beautiful man seating across from him could do, none of them necessarily involving what he had initially come for, yet as the words take meaning inside his mind, he seems to short circuit yet again “I uh- you know- you know my name?”
He smiles a big smile, eyes crinkling into crescents, dimples showing and a heat simmering inside Jungkook’s belly “I know a lot of things, Jungkook” he stares off into space “Social skills are rusty, but they come back after getting a good look at you” Jungkook’s eyes must widen at the implication of his words. Could he read minds? Could he take a look into souls? “Just general stuff about you, don’t worry about it”
The man could definitely read minds.
Blink if you’re hearing this. The man blinks and Jungkook feels like fleeing. Wait. Everyone blinks, stupid. Perhaps some other time.
He somehow finds his voice, remembering the lingering question, the sole reason for him to be there “Mister Hallasan keeper, sir”
“Namjoon is fine”
“Mister Namjoon-ssi”
“Namjoon hyung”
Jungkook is sure this time his brain shortcircuits for real, for this complete stranger. Namjoon he corrects himself, to give him permission to call him so affectionately after only a few minutes of knowing him. After technically breaking- not breaking into his home.
Smile if you’re reading my mind. Namjoon smiles, something doesn’t sit right with him, he could very well be reading his mind, or simply smiling out of politeness at the extended silence Jungkook had caused, again. I’m onto you Mister Hallasan Keeper. Namjoon just smiles more fondly at him.
Jungkook goes on explaining his situation, from his rapid magic learning to being unable to wield his magic, to his father even suggesting that he could have been born from the Earth herself, just like Namjoon did all those millennia ago. The blond man restricts himself to listen to Jungkook speak, gaining a serious pose when he drops the reason for his visit, asking him for help. Jungkook’s almost sure he will deny it as he goes on to explain how his last magical apprentice had been there almost sixty years ago, going on about how he is pretty much a loner, no reason more than a brief excuse of being an outcast for practice differences with the village where Jungkook comes from, giving it a few seconds of thought before he accepts to have Jungkook under his wing, going as far as to give him a spare bedroom to sleep in along with the longest set of rules he had ever heard of.
Months with Namjoon look something more or less like this: waking up at 6 am sharp– something Jungkook had never done in his life, the first few times he had woken up later than that, it was almost impossible to know where his teacher had gone to. Have a rundown on the day’s activities and breakfast until 7. Jungkook was in charge of gardening on the 30-minute window of Namjoon harvesting for the spells he was due to make for the day. An hour of light reading– he knew better than to comment on how a thousand pages book was most definitely not light reading, but he did it anyway. He would then shadow Namjoon on whatever mystical task he had to do for the day before finishing up with him running basic high-level training with Namjoon’s guidance in the clearing– Namjoon had said that the Hallasan spirit would keep him safe and sound if he were to screw up, although so far all the spirit and her friends in the forest had done was laugh at his mistakes.
Five months in it, the whole routine came as second nature, he couldn’t even picture a day without Namjoon on it, not that there was anyone else that could pick up on the energy shift within it, Jungkook had learnt a lot from his teacher, not only in the magic department but about him as a person, couldn’t hide the lingering eyes, the curious touches of skin, every bit of information about Namjoon expanding that fondness feeling inside his heart, Namjoon was a man of habit, a powerful one at that, yet all those millennia living couldn’t hide the fact that Jungkook could see right through him, a lonely soul, as powerful as none other, yet so inherently say. Not even the whole power in the universe could keep him away from his own greatest danger: himself.
If you can read minds, kiss me. The kiss never came so perhaps Namjoon could never even read minds in the first place.
Now here’s the thing, Jungkook might be a mess when it comes to magic, but not so much at hiding his feelings, at least the best he could, Namjoon was as intelligent as men come and he had yet to notice. Namjoon’s friend that just happens to show up on a particularly lazy day– his teacher had said his magic tends to run out from time to time and would rather rest it; perhaps not so much.
Jeon Jungkook is a weak man. A weak man for beautiful things, like Namjoon, or you. Who just happened to walk inside Namjoon’s home like you owned the place– could he count it as his home too yet?
He could feel his heart wanting to leap out of him as soon as you introduced yourself, and perhaps he was imagining the way your eyes grazed over his figure before going to tease Namjoon, not that he stopped having heart eyes for the man when you walked in, he had enough heart eyes for the both of you, even if he had to keep them to himself. You were easier to warm up to than Namjoon if it was anything to go by, smoothly falling into conversation after you three had sat down for tea, walking up to Namjoon’s massive library, picking out books from their shelves as you asked him about his upbringings.
“The Jeon family? Oh, dearest, your grandfather was as good as wizards come” his brain cuts short as soon as the words leave your mouth, just how exactly could you have known the old man? The old wizard was presumably thrown out of the royal house for being unfit for ruling over the land. You playfully push your elbow against Namjoon “And I say this while knowing Joonie”
The blond man groans at your teasing.
“You-you knew my grandpa?”
“Yeh, such a shame he decided to be a mortal” Your initial interest seems to diminish as you turn to face the books yet again, a particular red cover catching your attention.
“What”
Jungkook faintly hears Namjoon standing up from his chair to try and get in between his conversation with you, although all he hears seems to come as if the voices were kept under cotton inside his ears “Y/N you’re overwhelming the kid”
For such a calm and collected posture, he had maintained not only while learning with Namjoon but back at home too, hearing such a word coming out of him really tips the glass “I’m not a kid! Why is everyone always treating me like a child!” surely it did seem rather childish to have an outburst like that, yet his mind couldn’t help but reel in all those other times in his stay where Namjoon had dismissed him from helping, saying it was a rather complicated spell you should wait this one out Jungkook. Or something along the lines of when you get stronger. It did seem the type of things one would say to their petulant child.
“Jungkook waits” Namjoon groans as he retreats to his assigned room, you can’t help the softness inside you at the way that strong independent loner Namjoon reacts to his apprentice being pissed off, certainly a first.
“You pissed off the kid” your remark isn’t that much well digested as Namjoon throws a dagger-like glare your way, groaning as he throws his head back against the couch
“Why am I parenting again?”
You shrug your shoulders as you offer him a tight lip smile, you had heard a lot about Jungkook even before you had walked inside the wizard’s home, like a reader of a slow-burning love story, you knew that ‘parenting’ was most definitely not the dynamic in his relationship with the younger, not with the way Namjoon had described the little mannerisms of his apprentice, or the way that he described his figure as the strongest back I’ve ever seen with such a tiny waist when he sent you a letter asking you to visit him.
The thing with the dynamic you had with Namjoon had been one going on for hundreds of years, feeding off of the magic that only such powerful creatures like you and him could conjure, effective yet dependent as when either of you two was in dire need of a boost, you would have to pay him a visit to work your magic. Jungkook hadn’t appeared after his little outburst, probably hidden in his room, taking only a few minutes of Namjoon glancing expectantly at the place where the younger had disappeared before you dragged him towards his room in an all too practised manner.
The whole environment was always on the calm side whenever you two get to it, something along the lines of strictly business, yet an undeniable connection between the two. Namjoon had you against his door, a dimly lit lamp on his desk, strong hands holding you in place at your waist as he leaned down to connect both of your mouths, eyes fluttering shut as he did so. Your hands found themselves tangled in his blond tousled hair in no time as he deepened the kiss, moving the both of you towards the bed as magic started glowing dimly within you two, connecting and feeding off of the spark of the situation, magic so profound and delicate that only immortal beings could hope to master. Namjoon placed himself against his elbows as you straddled his hips, your figure teasingly humping his growing bulge inside his pants as his breath started to become ragged, his own magic reaching forward to yours, just the way his lips chased yours. Yet there was only so much ominous Namjoon could handle. His hands were quick to undress both of you in between hot caresses and messy kisses as both of your bodies seem to move on their own accord, the magic itself doing the most out of the tantric experience, moans slowly but surely filling up the room as Namjoon positioned the tip of his hard cock on your entrance, teasing your folds for a few seconds before you settled on top of him in a familiar manner, sinking down on him as he throws his head back, letting out a groan. You are almost sure Jungkook could hear you both, yet your mind so clouded you wouldn’t have given it a second thought with Namjoon’s cock filling you up so nicely as you moved up and down on his length, that is until out of the corner of your eye you catch the casted shadow outside the dimly lit room.
"Your puppy is outside," You say as you stop moving on him, not quite removing yourself from the situation, yet you feel the magic in the room flickering faintly as if going dormant.
"What" Namjoon’s eyes are surprised as he lets reality sink in, his magic safely sated from the small act
"The kid that has an obvious crush on both you and me?” you state matter of factly as Namjoon’s jaw goes slack “He's watching us from behind the door"
As if on cue, there’s a rustling behind the door, feet rapidly resounding against the floor "No I'm not!"
Namjoon sighs loudly "JK just come in, I know this might seem.." the door opens and you could swear Jungkook’s eyes are about to leave his skull at the image he’s present with "weird"
"incredibly hot," they say at the same time, rendering both of them speechless
"huh kid's horny" you start removing yourself from Namjoon’s cock as your magic starts tingling, now reaching out for the younger "i like it"
"Y/N please"
You gesture by raising your hands as if surrendering, yet you know just how the night had taken a turn, willing to satiate your magic’s needs “He doesn’t like your PG training, let me handle this”
Jungkook is still sporting his Bambi eyes as he feels himself pulled into the room, closing the door softly behind him as he can only stare at you as you make your way towards him, lips ghosting over his “So tell me Jungkookie” your hand trails down to bring him closer to your naked body, taking his hand in yours and guiding it to your ass “Just how much are you willing to render of yourself for me and Joon?”
“All of me”
Jeon Jungkook might as well had been an erotic wizard like yourself if by the way he manhandles you and surrenders you to Namjoon like a loyal apprentice would to his master was anything to go by. Namjoon’s stare alone has the young man pliant as he caresses tan skin under his fingers, achingly curious as the youngest takes turns to kiss the eldest and yourself, Namjoon’s fingers playing with his nipples, your own hands working his length to life after your magic had completely undressed him, feeling both your and Namjoon’s magic reaching for Jungkook’s in a way you didn’t know was possible. A few kisses and lingering touches in, minds clouded with lust, kissing noises and moans taking over the space, Jungkook takes no time in positioning you on top of him, back to his chest as his length stretches you deliciously, long fingers playing with your clit as his own legs separate your thighs as if offering you up to his master, Namjoon looking like a man starved as he positions himself against Jungkook’s cock, his tip meeting no resistance as he glides in and nestles next to Jungkook, stretching you like no other time you could fathom, groans and ragged breaths of the men under and above you working you to your own climax, babbled words coming out of the youngest’s lips along with a promise of becoming yet another young god under your spell.
#bts smut#jungkook smut#namjoon smut#bts imagines#btshoneyhive#bangtanarmynet#thebtswritersclub#bangtansorciere
176 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tik Tok Leggings
Masterlist
Summary: Time to test these Tik tok leggings.
Warnings: swearing, Fluff, Cheeky Henry, Suggestive Themes, Plus sized reader
A/N: Just wanted to do something different thinking of maybe having a mini TikTok onshot series but unsure yet. Either way I hope you enjoy and happy Easter to those who celebrate and those who don't? Have a brilliant Sunday xx
Taglist: will be in comment/reblogs
You eyed the package wearily... just how the fuck were you meant to pull this off? Slowly but surely the confidence and 'fuck it' attitude was waning. They looked small.... very small.
You huffed a sigh looking at yourself in the mirror eyeing your form. You swear you'd gained some more weight, just a few pounds maybe? But you felt huge. Slowly you unravelled the leggings, it had been a good idea at the time but now you wasn't so sure. They were expensive and even thought you bought them as a little prank you did hope they would boost you confidence or at least be comfy enough to wear around the house.
Being a larger girl it was hard finding comfy clothes and you had to be comfy now that your boys were running around the house like headless chickens. You thought the terrible twos with trainers were bad? Your four year olds had scooters!
You grit your teeth and decided to try the leggings on gearing up for an all put war with the waist band but was pleasantly surprized. The fabric was firm and tummy controlling without feeling you feeling caught by a bloody boa constrictor! A comfy tight not spandex tight. You casually wondered about seeing if the company did bras, this shit would stop the girls from trying to knock you out on the stairs!
You pulled the material setting the... elasticated seam in your ass crack and winced... Okay that's a little strange... but not unpleasant and almost thong. You spun around eyeing yourself in to mirror. You didn't look to bad, if you said so yourself. Sure you wasn't magically strim and fit, you were blessed with a nice thick ass... but unfortunately had the thick hips and large thighs to go with it. You'd never be petite or dainty, but then again henry was huge behemoth of a man so you didn't need to be. As he said on many occasions he wanted a woman as thick as him... and you definitely fit that bill. His thighs were only slightly bigger then yours.
You turned around a few more times. Fuck okay hello there~ you grinned. You may not be the perfect sized woman but fuck if your ass wasn't glorious in these leggings~ this just might work.
You grinned and pulled on one of Henry's tshirts, the grey marines one it was snug and would ride up a little over your tummy showing off your bubble but that you felt was your best feature. And then padded downstairs, henry. Was in the large garden trying to teach the boys how to play rugby... Wanting to start them young.
You pottered about the kitchen chopping up the salad for tonight. Contrary to what people thought you were not large because you ate to much or did little exercise, you had always been bigger and admittedly since having the boys you had gained a little more weight but not ridiculously, you wasn't dangerously over weight.
You hummed looking out the patio door seeing henry jumping for joy as his boys and Kal played 'rugby' darting across the garden to the tiny rugby post at the end. Moving to Jersey to raise the kids was a brilliant idea, you had a huge country house with the land to go with it. Flat and immaculate that spread around the house in nearly four acres the lawn was mostly to the back and side and cornered off with tall hedge rows then beyond it a cornered off veggie plot and greenhouse and a work in progress chicken coop. Soon there will be a decent sized pond and some ducks... Henry didn't know yet, but if he was allowed to have a stables built four god knows how many horses you were allowed your ducks god dammit.
You grinned watching as henry ran around both the boys with his phone out cheering them on as they tor across the garden wrestling each other for the ball. You had panicked when you were told twin boys but you should have known henry would be able to handle it. It was perfect, days like this when he was home and strived to make his sons lives as magical and fun as he could, everyday was a holiday when dad was home.
You shook your head seeing the boys both lay on the floor in the shade completely tuckered out from the mornings fun. Henry can into the kitchen and you held your breath quickly bending over the counter a tad more then normal hoping to get a favourable reaction from your husband. But you couldn't help the tinge of doubt what if he didn't like them? Or thought you looked bigger then you were?
"Hey sweetheart are the boys fruit shoots in the fri-oh sweet baby Jesus" he coughed cutting himself off and took a half step back as he came in the kitchen. You giggled and turned to him then nodded your head to the fridge.
"Yeah their in there love" you said smirking and blushing as you saw him eyeing your ass tilting his head slowly down trying to get a better look at your ass making you bite your lip.
"Err yeah yeah... I... hold that thought" he said snapping out of it holding a finger up at you and looked to his phone.
"You just stay right were you are- no nope over bend over again babe... fuck me how did I get such a sexy little mama~" he growled one hand swiping over his screen. You flushed and wriggled our hips a little as you leant forward feeling on top of the world as he openly gawked at your ass. For a second you thought he was taking a photo and made to move wanting to snap up right but he napped his fingers to you pointing for you to get back down and brought the phone to his ear.
"Henry what are you?-" you tried standing once more but he crossed the kitchen pressing himself up against your ass and rocked slowly making you mewl as his bulge pressed against your ass half hard already. Henry huge hand pressed you down on the counter before him and winked then he spoke as who ever was on the phone answered.
"Hey mum, hi can you come get the boys?" He asked and you gasped at him shaking your head at him laughing. He wasn't palming the kids off to their grandparents because he wanted a midday fuck! Not that Marie-Ann would mind, she loved hosting the kids and frequently showed up out of the blue and took them out for the day. She was adamant that both you and henry still had alone time.
"No, no everything's all right I just- somethings come up~" he smirked and you laughed loud shaking your head at him, he was a little bugger! He wriggled his brows at you and nodded then flushed stuttering for a few comments.
"I.. No no of course not mum... muuuum stop- well yeah... yes I know you were young once-oh shit no I didn't mean of course your still young! Your in your prime! Okay yes, yes I promise to try my hardest... yes okay, see you in ten okay love you bye... bye mum I will. Yes I will mum bye" he muttered slowly moving through being embarrassed, shy and strangely confident before hanging up.
"Soo the boys are going out?" You giggled finding the way he reacted ridiculously cute. It wasn't what you expected, maybe a kiss on the cheek and a slap on the ass. But not him shipping the kids off for the day.
"And staying over night" Henry muttered moving both hands to your ass and squeezed and rolled the cheeks about making you squeak and try rising on your tip toes but he just growled following pressing a kiss to your neck.
"And what have we agreed to for this mighty generous gift? What have you promised?" You said arching back into him with a teasing tone knowing Marie would make henry pay for the 'young once' comment.
"Oh you know nothing too big just another grandchild, which wont be hard with these in your closet" he chuckled pinging the fabric that clung to your ass like a second skin. You flushed gasping out at him batting him away slowly. But it was a hard fought battle, Henry won easily sliding the cutting board back then let you spin to face him. He quickly hoisted you up onto the counter top behind you and kissed your lips moaning into you before pulling back and pointed at you.
"Right you stay- right here. Don't you move a muscle Mrs Cavill" he said seriously and backed away from you still pointing making you laugh and kick your feet biting your lip before nodding. Henry backed up to the back door and called out to the boys.
"Boys come on! Your going to grandmas for a sleep over! Go pack a bag, jammies, tooth brush and clothes for tomorrow! Come on mush hop it or cop it!" he called you smiled hearing two high pitch excited voices squealing at the thought of grandma. She spoilt them rotten. They dashed into the house quickly running past the both of you giggle as henry tried playfully nudging them on the bottoms with his foot when they ran through the kitchen to dart up the stairs and pack an overnight bag. Henry slunk out of the kitchen following the boys but kept glancing back at you.
"Remember right there babe, been too long since we fucked in here~" he growled making you flush remembering the last time you'd made love in here. It'd been when you were pregnant, the day you moved in before you redecorated you'd had Chinese take out and then made love in every room in the house.
"I'll be right here love I promise, now... You might want to sort yourself out before answering the door to your mother~" you teased pointing to the large lump in the front of his shorts making him grunt and cup himself trying to reposition himself and left the kitchen to help the boys pack.
You can safely say, these leggings were a success. You were definitely leaving a five star review... You did however regret not filming his reaction for tiktok. Honestly you didn't even have the app your sister in law had shown you and you thought it'd be something fun to try with Henry. You may just get more than you bargained for though, not that you minded... You just hoped you had a girl this time, it was about time to try and even things out a bit.
#henry cavill fanfiction#henry cavill#henry cavill x reader#henry cavill x plus size reader#henry cavill imagine#henry cavill x you
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
I've got a harsh idea! One with Marcus where his mum doesn't like you at all and thinks your with him for the fame and money so she offers you money in exchange for you to break up with Marcus. You don't take the money but you couldn't trample on all pride and still stay with her son so you break up with him but you don't even have a proper explanation because you were fine just in the morning. You pack up and leave Manchester to go back to London where you're originally born and raised. He cries to his mum but she obv doesn't tell him why until after a few weeks of trying to get you to back, understand what caused this, and just being totally heartbroken. She notices that he's really slipping without you and realises how much you mean to him. She confesses what had happened to him, after a month of being apart and he's mad but doesn't waste a time before coming over to yours to confront you about it, mad at you for not telling him too but then you make up and you're relationship is stronger than ever before. Thank you Xx
Mother-in-law
"Excuse me?" The disbelief clear in your voice as you spoke. You couldn't quite believe what you were hearing.
When Marcus's mom invited you out for lunch you were happy. You knew she didn't particularly like you, and naively enough you thought this could be a chance for the two of you to bond a little.
But here she sat, offering you money; a lot of money even, for breaking up with her son. Clearly she didn't have bonding in mind when she invited you here today, you thought to yourself - still in shock.
"Don't act so shocked, it was clear from the beginning that it was money and fame you wanted," his mother scoffed, rolling her eyes at you.
You knew her first impression of you hadn't been the best. A couple of months into your relationship with Marcus you experienced some problems with the shower in your apartment. Some sort of leakage made it unlivable. Luckily it was quickly fixed by a plumber, the only problem being that the bill ended up being £1000.
The bill had been stressing you out for weeks as you picked up extra shifts to try to pay it off. You were overworking yourself to the maximum and eventually Marcus had interfered and offered to help you pay it. After declining several times, you eventually accepted; on the condition that it would be a loan.
For you, a full time student with a part time job as a waitress, it was a lot of money and you were grateful for his help. For Marcus, a professional athlete with a ridiculous amount of money, it was nothing. For his mom however, it was proof that you were only with Marcus for his money.
Since then your relationship with Marcus had evolved significantly, and you had even moved into his apartment. Still, no matter how serious the two of you became - his mother never warmed up to you.
"I'll be honest with you, Melanie," you spoke up - trying to save whatever dignity you had left. "I love your son, and I never quite understood why you dislike me so much. I don't want your money, but I also don't want to be the reason why Marcus has to choose between me and his family. Family means the world to him. So you win; I'll leave."
And that's exactly what you did. Rushing back to your shared place, tears brewing in your eyes, you quickly packed up your belongings. It took some time, and you prayed you would finish before Marcus came home from training. You knew that if you saw him you wouldn't be able to leave. He would ask why you were sad, and when you would tell him, he would be furious - and he would choose you over his family. But he shouldn't have to choose.
You then travelled to the train station and jumped on the first train back home to London - back to the comfort of your family. Only when you went to bed that night, laying in your childhood room, did you allow yourself to cry.
The next month was hard for you, but even harder for Marcus. He thought things were great between the two of you; the ring he had been carrying around in his pockets was proof of that. But then you had just left him, no explanation, not even a goodbye.
He thought about the day you left daily, picking it apart and analyzing it - trying to find a reason for why you left. But he couldn't think of anything. You had eaten take away and watched movies the night before. He had woken up and gotten ready for practice in the morning, just like he did every day. You had kissed goodbye, talking about what you would eat for dinner when he came back. Nothing out of the ordinary.
His mother visited him nearly daily, comforting her son as he cried over you for hours. It pained her to do so, and as the days went by she started realizing her own mistake. It was clear to her now that your relationship had more depth that she had thought. The final drop was when she, after a month, learned that Marcus was going to propose. She knew she had to make things right.
"Listen, Marcus, I got to tell you something, and you're not going to like what I have to say."
It was a regular Wednesday evening, about a month after your breakup with Marcus. You were sitting inside, watching some baking competition on the telly, and eating chocolate - feeling pretty sorry for yourself.
Your parents had gone out for dinner, whilst you refused to join, so when the doorbell rang you felt confused.
Opening the door you were met by Marcus standing outside while holding up a diamond ring. "Marry me?"
"What?" You couldn't believe what was happening. Only seconds ago you never thought you would see Marcus again, and here he was - proposing to you?
"My mom told me everything, Y/N, and I'm so furious with her. At first I was angry at you too for just walking away, I still kind of am, but I had a lot of time to think while traveling here; and I realized that I love you so so much and I want to marry you-"
You interrupted him with a deep kiss, wrapping your arms around him.
"Yes, I'll marry you!"
#fanfiction#soccer#fanfic#football#marcus rashford fanfiction#marcus rashford imagines#marcus rashford one shot#marcus rashford#marcus#rashford#england national football team#manchester united#fluff#angst with a happy ending#football imagines#football one shots#football imagine#football fanfiction#soccer imagines#request
212 notes
·
View notes
Text
warm front
featuring The Line, also on ao3 here
//
“You’re a lot better at this than Ron.” Harry said into the phone.
“Well that’s not hard,” Ginny said, not mentioning how she still occasionally picked up the receiver upside down. “Speaking of, he’s started growing a moustache since you left. It’s ghastly.”
“Oi!” Ron’s voice, annoyed, in the background. Harry grinned.
“Oh yeah?”
“It looks like he’s got biscuit crumbs on his upper lip.��� Harry laughed, and Millie glared at him from behind the post office counter, “Oh, lovely, he’s giving me the finger.”
“I’ve started growing a bit of a beard actually.”
“Come off it.”
“Feeling left out?” Harry joked
Ginny snorted. “Yes, desperately. Isn’t it hot?”
“Well I think so.”
She laughed, clear and quick, and Harry could imagine her, all limb, leaning against the kitchen cupboard curling the phone wire around her wrist. He’d bought the phone as a bit of joke before he’d left, and then as a joke she’d installed it, and then for a joke he’d rung her, and then this was how they talked now. Arthur had apparently worn a suit when the electrician came to install the power plug.
“Isn’t it hot though? Bill says Australian summers are killers”
Harry looked at Teddy, sat on the post office floor in nothing but shorts sucking an ice-pop. “I’ve been sunburnt in places I never have been before, but it’s mostly fine.”
“Wow, sexy.”
“Bet Ron loved hearing you say that to me.”
“I’m sorry Harry, you want to do what to me? Put that where?”
“Gin-“
“No, we couldn’t in my room, there’s not enough room. Lounge is better, more space. On the dining table.”
Harry could hardly talk. “Stop,” he choked, “He’ll never speak to me again.”
“He left when I said the bit about the lounge, said I was being ‘very immature.’”
//
Andromeda, desperate to get out, away, gone, bought the land in Australia six months after the war ended. She’d said it was because she’d always liked the heat, but when Harry got there he knew why. He’d never seen anywhere so unlike England, the Australian countryside was all scorched earth, red dirt, dry trees. It could have been a different planet entirely.
He’d followed her six months later to be with Teddy, who at almost a year had hair permanently sunshine yellow, except when it rained it went as grey as concrete. Harry liked the spiders, sand, sunburn of it all. Sometimes, dumbly, he found himself missing sheets of rain, but only when it was so hot he could barely see straight.
Mostly he liked how there was nothing to do there, nowhere he had to be. He was teaching himself how to drive, burying things for Teddy to sniff out (dog nose), going into the tiny town to talk to Ginny on the post office phone, and helping Andromeda build a shed out the back. He’d never used magic less. The days were long and the nights were longer, but it was so different here that that too felt right.
He didn’t know when he’d go home. He kept meaning to set a date and then just didn’t, and then everyone stopped asking. It was stupid, but he felt like he’d know when he was done.
//
“Dad won’t let me see the phone bill,” Ginny said, picking up on the third ring and not saying hello, “It arrived this morning and he’s been locked in his office all morning with it.”
“Oh, God, I can-“
“Don’t you dare offer to pay for it. I don’t even think it’s that much, I think he’s just trying to recreate the logo at the top or something.”
“I-“
“Stop trying to pay for it- “
“I’m not– “ Harry, who had been, was silent. Then: “Gin, please-“
“No- “
“But- “
“Shut up-“ she said, unbothered, “Mum asked if you got the stuff she sent.”
“I did, the biscuits were excellent. And the tea bags” Harry had cleaned out the tin so Teddy could use it as a hat, which he had been wearing for two days now.
“I told her they already had tea in Australia but she didn’t believe me.”
Harry smiled, “I didn’t mind.”
“She said that even if they did have tea they wouldn’t have English Breakfast, or they would call it something crazy like ‘Australian Outback Breakfast’.”
“How thoughtful of her.”
“Stop being nice about it, it’s ridiculous.”
“It was nice of her.”
“Australian Outback Breakfast, Harry”
“I hate tea and hate that it was graciously sent to me by your mum.” Harry obliged.
“There we go. Killed any snakes yet?”
“Oh yeah, loads. Bears too.”
He could hear her smiling, “Bears, huh?”
“All in your honour.”
“Naturally. Still no success in seducing Millie?”
Harry looked around to the post office reception desk, a stones-throw away from the phone, to where Millie– middle-aged, cardiganed, glasses– was pretending to read the paper and not hate him.
“Haven’t you heard? Wedding’s in the Spring.”
“Damn. Well, we had it good there for a while but true love always wins.”
He laughed, and Millie gave him a look. He waved. She ignored him and went back to the paper.
//
Ron sent letters, barely legible, by owls that had to be nursed back to health in the bath.
Harry,
Sorry for the writing but I’m on the muggle train because we’re going to Ireland for a few days to stay with her Hermione’s Aunt because she’s ‘dying to meet me’ (???). Anyway, Hermione also says to tell you that Ginny is thinking of cutting a fringe, because apparently that’s important. Apparently girls do that in a crisis, or whatever, she’ll write and explain it.
Ginny is basically living at ours now. The other day she put a Hollyhead Harpies poster up in the living room and when I tried to charm it off all the players screaming at me like Sirius’s fucking mum, so I just moved the cabinet in front of it. Bloody nightmare.
Honestly it isn’t even half bad having her around, she knows all these drinking games and set up your room and sometimes has a go reading over Hermione’s policy reports to the Ministry when I’ve sworn off them. Do not tell her I don’t mind her being round she’ll be annoying about it. I’m getting that Harpies poster off the wall.
Hope Teddy is good and everyone is demanding more photos as usual. All Victorie has to do is chew the carpet around here and everyone gets a bit teary, including me. George jinxed Perce’s glasses into binonoulars the other day and for a weird second everything felt like before and Vic giggled and then George looked like he’d been hit the fucking nightbus. I don’t even know how to explain it– kids really just have no idea about any of it.
Hope Andromeda is good and that the driving is going better. Dad’s framing all of the phone bills he gets which Gin probably already mentioned but I can’t tell you how weird it is to go into my old room and it’s just a bunch of framed bills. Hermione says hello which I’ve already written but she said I didn’t make it clear enough.
We miss you mate. Home soon yeah?
Ron
//
Often, he thought of the week he’d told them he was leaving. Hermione, drunk, talking to Ginny on the patio of the burrow when she thought everyone was inside. It makes sense, really, she’d said, He’s never been anywhere he wasn’t hunted too. Ron had looked at him and then loudly dropped his firewhiskey and the girls had jumped, turned around, stopped talking, but still. He’s never been anywhere he wasn’t hunted too. Huh.
//
“How’s driving?”
“Oh, fine. I killed a swan.” Harry said, demoralised. Ginny laughed for a good two minutes.
“What?”
“I hit the wrong pedal and speed up instead of slowing down. I didn’t know what to do so I just moved it off to the side of the road.”
“Ah, the Boy who Lived strikes again.”
“Stop,” He was smiling, “What if Teddy had seen it?”
“He’s not even two. He probably would have thought it was, like, having a lie down or something.”
Harry was laughing now, “A lie down?”
“Yeah, a spontaneous, truck-induced–“
“–Permanent–“
“–Permanent, lie-down. I’m almost jealous now actually.”
//
Andromeda was in her garden a lot. Getting anything to grow was near impossible, but she wouldn’t stop working at it. She kept saying that soon they’d be able to have a green beans salad, so Harry just drove to a market and stuck a few green beans in the ground to make her laugh. As a sort of joke they’d started calling the land ‘the farm’ even though nothing ever grew here.
They took Teddy to the ocean for the first time and his eyes went blue the second he saw it. The beach where they’d buried Dobby was overcast, water as grey as dishwater, but here the it glittered like glass, blue light come alive. Teddy sat in the shallows, trying to flatten waves with his fists, laughing.
Andromeda sat on a towel by the dunes under an enormous hat, tears running down her face, abruptly laughing when Teddy tried to eat sand or fell over a sandcastle. Harry knew how she felt. Impossible, how two years ago Teddy had two living parents and Harry had been seventeen, dead and walking, and now they were sat on the beach, people they loved dead for real, as Harry and Teddy lined up shells on the shore.
//
It was three in the morning but Harry snuck in through a backdoor, cloak on, having to jimmy the lock because he forgot his wand. The streets were pitch black, only three streetlights in the whole main street, with two of them not working anyway.
“Why’re you awake?” Ginny said lightning quick, knowing the time difference by heart, and Harry’s chest unlocked. It was stupidly comforting, Ginny’s voice, how she never said hello on the phone because she never learned, how if he really made her laugh she’d hold the receiver away from her, like he wasn’t desperate to hear it.
“I thought I saw Sirius today,” he couldn’t stop himself, “There was a dog on the farm and it was huge and I thought– I forgot he was dead. Isn’t that stupid?”
There was only Ginny’s breath down the phone. Picture: her in the kitchen, gripping the receiver, still. The memory looped in his brain, how Sirius’ name had risen in his throat, how odd it felt there, how long it had been since he’d said it aloud.
“No.” He almost didn’t hear her it’s so quiet, “I went to the shop yesterday and asked Ron if Fred was in the back. I forget too.”
His heart slowed, the memory of the shop: solid and real, running again, made for laughing, rose up, only then he shut his eyes and saw everyone laid out in rows, glassy eyes, and somehow he was walking through the forest again, going to die, but not soon enough–
“Harry.” Ginny’s voice, dragging him back to earth, “You did everything you could. Sirius knew. Everyone knew. No one could have done better.” She sounded so sure, voice as clear as glass, he’d be a fool not to believe her, “It hurts because they loved us. They loved us. That’s the part to remember.”
//
“You are kidding-!” This time Harry didn’t say hello.
“I’m sorry, who is this?”
“Harpies reserve!” Harry was yelling in the post office and Millie looked appalled, “They’ll promote you in two weeks, you genius, I knew it– “
“I’m sorry I really have no idea who this is.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t say anything.”
“I sent the letter!” Ginny dropped the joke, indignant.
“We spoke two days ago! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me then–”
“–I sent our fastest owl.”
“Marius is currently passed out in the sink–“
Ginny laughed, “I wanted you to get the letter,” she said, finally, “I wanted you to see it. Did you see Madeline McKinnon signed it?”
She sounded like a kid. He grinned. “I did.”
“Best beater this century sent a letter to my house, asking me to be on her team. Madness. The English team are after her you know, it’s all over the Prophet.”
“I hope you’re not expecting me to send the letter back because I think that really will finish Marius off.”
“Please, you think I sent the real thing? Dad made twenty copies. He hung two on Ron and Hermione’s fridge and sent one to Aunty Muriel.”
Harry grinned, “You’re brilliant, I’m hanging my copy on the front door, framed.”
“The moving logo may cause problems for the muggles”
“Who cares? I want to tell everyone about this. Chaser for the Harpies–“
“I’m a reserve.”
“For now.” He could hear her smile through the phone, “What did everyone say?”
“Ron said I was a traitor and that he was also proud. Mum cried. Hermione promised to actually watch a game, George reminded me about nicking his broom all that time so technically he was also partly on the team, Bill bought a season pass, Charlie hung a giant Harpies poster in his shite apartment and sent a photo, Luna sent me awful flowers that won’t stop smoking, and Percy called to congratulate me on my admission to the ‘Hollygrove Harps.’”
Harry laughed, “Incredible.”
“Yeah, Perce’s was particularly heartfelt.”
//
Harry,
I’m sat at the dining table and everyone’s still here, but Mum wanted me to recap Charlie’s birthday dinner right now because she doesn’t want you to miss anything. Hermione also agreed with this mental idea.
Dinner Summary:
Food was good
Hermione tried to explain the electric collage or whatever decides American elections to Dad, it was stupid.
Hermione says it was electoral college not the eccentric cage or whatever I wrote
George got Charlie a life-size model of the Horntail that he almost opened in the house. Mum had a fit.
Dad told a story about how the Muggle Foreign Minister ended up with a bathtub cursed to drown anyone in it.
Ginny wants me to say Percy is wearing a cardigan Millie would be proud of. I do not know what this means. Better not be a sex thing.
Hermione says hello (again she insisted I write this down like it isn’t obvious)
Mum wants me to say we all miss you still (again, obvious)
She also wants to know if you need her to make you any shorts (do not answer this)
Charlie wants to say cheers for the gift – apparently they only do that burn cream in Australia and it’s hard to come by
George doesn’t have anything to say he just wanted to be involved so I’ve written this so he’ll bugger off.
I’m bloody sending this now, I feel like a quick quotes quill (Fleur asks how you are). Have a good one mate.
Home soon yeah?
Ron.
//
Sometimes, when he was driving home from the post-office just after the sunset, everything sat in the new-dark, he’d remember when he used to be on watch, sat in front of the tent holding Hermione’s wand with everything going wrong, and how only then he’d let himself think about Ginny. Her voice, long laugh, longer legs, telling him to move over, pass the milk, look left, met her later, skip that flashcard, relax, put Luna in as chaser if it all goes arse up– she’s Ravenclaw but I’ll vouch for her. Dumb hours spent on the Quidditch pitch, sun going down, watching her get shot after shot past him like she even needed the practise. C’mon Potter at least try to save these, you’re making Ron look like Wood. Her hair everywhere, laughing, head back, both of them impossibly far from the ground
I really don’t want to die, Harry would think in the dark, wand out, ready for it, I really don’t want to die and miss out on you
//
Harry,
Sorry I couldn’t call but everything’s been nuts here and I wasn’t sure when I’d get to talk to you. Malcotti’s fucked her ankle so I may actually get put in for a game?? She’s been told to take it easy for a week and we play the Magpies in four days, so?? I’ll let you know when I can call. I’m currently writing this at the post-office desk and running late for practise.
Sidenote: this express owl cost me four galleons so I hope it does a dance on its arrival or at least arrives within the day. Tell Andromeda hello and that I’m still rooting for the green beans. Also, good luck for the driving test!! I’m sure you won’t hit anything living or dead and/or drive into a lake, but also if you do just confund the instructor. I solemnly swear not to tell Hermione.
Thinking of you. Kiss Teddy for me,
Gin
//
The click of the receiver: “I only have five minutes, we’re about to eat.”
Harry smiled, “How’s home?”
“Absolutely nothing to note. Victorie threw up on Bill yesterday, so that was a joy.”
“Supportive as usual.”
“Hey, I am supportive.” Harry could tell the phone was jammed between her shoulder and her ear, heard a knife on a cutting board, “Supportive of Victorie’s right to throw up on Bill whenever she wants.”
“Are you cooking?”
“I’m cutting potatoes by hand to avoid the lounge because Fleur and Mum are talking about how to discipline children.”
“Sounds tense.”
“You don’t know the half of it. Ron had to pretend to be on the phone with you earlier for ten minutes just to get out of there. He says hi– fuck!”
Harry heard the phone fall, “Ginny?”
A scrambling on the other end, distantly: “You’re bleeding on the potatoes!”
“Hi,” Ginny’s voice, a little breathless, “I cut myself.”
“You alright?” Harry asked, quick-shot.
“Oh, yeah. Just blood. Admirably everyone is showing a lot of concern” (Percy’s voice, distant and mournfully, “well there’s no way we can eat these now”)
//
He thought about going home sometimes, about the flat with Ron and Hermione he was currently paying for that he’d never lived in, what he’d do back in England. No one had ever come out to visit him here, some unspoken agreement they’d all made to give him space. Except, knowing Ron and Hermione and Mrs Weasley and he’s never been anywhere he wasn’t hunted to it probably was very much spoken, it’s just he wasn’t there for it.
The thing is, if he went home that meant no more seeing Teddy every day, sitting around eating cereal, watching him walk into walls or turn his nails pink, giving him ice cream for lunch and strap him into the truck, driving around the farm doing spins just to make him laugh. Even after all this time Australia was so far from the familiar, every night him and Andromeda sat on the deck lazily casting cooling charms, looking at all the stars.
On full moons Teddy got in bed with all the curtains open, blinds up, just to look at the moon. He couldn’t sleep unless he saw it. Harry wondered if he ever did anything like that, got pulled towards something of his parents without realising it. Quidditch, probably. Looking for something without knowing, not sure what you were really missing. Teddy’s huge eyes, the moon, and that familiar feeling: Stop, wait, I can’t believe I’ll never see you again. Come back, I wasn’t done yet. I don’t know how to do it without you.
//
It was pitch-black, four in the morning Queensland time, but it had been the only time she’d had free. Harry was leaning against the booth wall, letting the cloak slip, exhausted. Ginny cleared her throat in an odd way.
“So, you know I hate asking about this. It makes me– I don’t want to be that person” She sounded, wrong, uncomfortable, like white knuckles gripping the receiver, “But everyone’s been asking and I want– when do you think you’ll be coming home?”
Harry was quiet. All this time away– almost a year, eleven months, it occurred to him– and she’d never asked. She was the only one who hadn’t. “Oh, I don’t know. Soon, I guess.”
“Yeah.” She said, unreadable. A beat went past, and Harry could feel the shift, how that was the wrong thing. He could hear her breathing. “Do you want– if you want, we could take a break-“
“No” Harry said, so fast, “No, no I don’t want that. Do you want that?”
“No. No. I just– I don’t want this to be difficult. I don’t want you to feel, like– obligated. If you want like room away from everything I get it. Just tell me– I don’t want– Just tell me.”
Harry’s heart was going into his chest like an endlessly slamming door. How to explain it? You wouldn’t believe the space here, all this room, all this time I have. I didn’t think I’d get it. I want space but never from you.
“I’m not with you because I feel obligated. I’m– That isn’t how I feel. I don’t want space or a break or anything.”
Silence, endless, pouring down the phone. He could be sick. Then, Ginny’s voice: “Okay.”
“I’m coming back to England, Gin. I’m coming back, just, when I’m– when I’m done. I’m coming home. Soon.”
“Okay. I just wanted to make sure that this– that this is still good.”
“It is.” He was so stupid. A war ends and everything finally works out, everyone safe for real, and he goes running to the other side of the world and doesn’t say when he’s coming home. Ginny, at home, getting a phone wired up just to call him. He had no luck for seventeen years and then it all came at once, and now he doesn’t know what to do with it.
“I love you,” he said, which he never said because it felt heavy, full of gravity, and he spent all his time trying to make her laugh.
Deep breath. He could hear her shoulders unknotting through the phone. “I love you too.”
//
“Harry?”
“Ron?”
“Can you hear me? Is this?– how do I know if this is on?”
“It’s on,” Harry said, hurriedly, “Is everything alright?”
“I tried to give Pig a letter for you this morning and he bit me and flew into the window.” Harry started laughing, “So I thought I’d try give him a break.”
Harry pulled himself together, “Yeah maybe that’s for the best. How are you?”
“Oh, the usual. The shop is still nuts so Hermione stopped by to help out on Saturday and ate half a Bile Biscuit thinking it was shortbread– hilarious. George threatened to charge her. If Ginny’s not at a practise she’s at our place drinking all the milk, and Luna came by the other day and threw all the stuff in the fridge out because she said it was infected with ‘Mimilice’. You?”
“The same. Teddy turned his leg into the end of a snake the other day and I had a fit. Andromeda put him in the sink so he couldn’t slither away before phasing back. It’s currently 39 degrees.” Ron laughed.
“God, even your voice sounds hot.”
“Woah, mate. I’m seeing someone and so are you.”
“Ha ha.” Ron said sarcastically, “I wish I could turn this up so everyone in the empty living room could have heard that.”
“Please don’t try to use the speaker phone, you’ll accidentally dial the embassy or something.”
“’Speaker phone’? What could the phone have to say?”
//
Teddy turned two and Andromeda make him a cake by hand with a spider on it that moved. He blew out the candles and looked bemused, sat in a top Hermione had sent, still holding onto a scrap of ribbon. Harry took him outside and sat him on his Nimbus Seven Series, entirely too long, and Teddy did slow circles while Harry held the end, watching him laugh, tiny hands grasping the handle. Suddenly, like being thrown through a window, Remus was in front of him, standing in the Hogwarts Hallway, breathless and happy, saying his sons name.
//
The post office has been closing for a good fifteen minutes, but Harry brought the cloak, pretended to leave, then snuck back and picked up the phone again.
“I think I just saw Millie’s husband.”
“You’re kidding.”
“A guy came to pick her up, he had a hat on, she got in the front seat–“
“What kind of hat?”
“I don’t know, normal. Like a normal old-person hat.”
“You didn’t say he was old.”
Harry grinned, “You really thought Millie seemed the type to be with a 25-year-old?”
“Hey, you’re going out with me after all–“
Harry spluttered, “I’m a year older!”
“Year and a half–“
“You’re unbelievable. That is not the same.”
“Just because you like younger women–“
“I don’t like younger women, I like you, or I did until a few minutes ago. I’m now reconsidering.”
“You like me.” Ginny said, not really serious but also deadly so.
Harry smiled, said dryly, “What gave me away?”
//
Harry had started dreaming of home, the staring in the street, dishes washing themselves in the Burrow, Hogwarts lake dark and silky as eels. He couldn’t tell what had brought this on, only that he was now driving into town every day to talk to Ginny, and now Ron, Hermione, even Neville were coming to the phone.
“They miss you” Andromeda said, unprompted, drinking muggle wine on the deck one night after dinner, “Molly wrote last week asking if you mentioned when you’d be coming back.”
“Oh,” Harry said, because he couldn’t think of anything else. “Do you think you’ll come back?”
The question hung between them. Terrible thought: Teddy never back in England, Teddy growing up where Harry couldn’t see him.
“I will.” She looked back at him, unbearably, and it was everything that went unsaid.
“How?” Harry asked, unthinking.
Andromeda looked back out the window, the pressing dark, the unbearable heat. Even after all this time, making dinner, sitting on the dark deck, weeding the garden, she was still unreadable. Grief undid you in layers.
“Because Nymphadora would want me to.” She said, simply. “Because I want her to think I’m brave.”
//
The post office shuts for a week because Millie goes out of town, and the place is small enough that that means it’s not open till she gets back. Harry makes it four days before apparating hundreds of miles away, almost splinching himself in the heat, dizzy from lack of practise, and stumbling to a payphone at the side of a highway.
Click. “Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”
“Yeah, I went out of town to call.”
“Out of town huh? Miss me that much?” Ginny’s voice, joking.
Unbelievably, Harry thought. “Yeah well, Teddy isn’t much of a conversationalist.”
“Don’t let him hear you say that, you’ll knock his confidence.”
“He’ll get past it. How are you?”
“Fine. Well– actually, you won’t believe what happened at practise on Thursday, I hope you’re sitting down–“
“I’m not–” Harry grinned
“Squat then,” Ginny said blithely, “because Jacqueline has actually gone full bonkers–“
//
“My parents say its incredible “ Hermione’s voice, the only person in his life who spoke in a normal tone on the phone
.
“Yeah, we’ve been actually.” Harry didn’t have the heart to tell her that Teddy had found the Great Ocean Road blindingly boring and had only made it an hour in before him and Andromeda had decided it wasn’t worth the screaming anymore.
“Yeah, Mum and Dad were thinking of coming down, doing it again.”
Harry played along, “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She was endearingly fake-casual, “Maybe Ron and I would come too.”
“Ron wants to drive 150 miles along a stretch of boring road with your parents?”
“You didn’t say it was boring.”
“Slip of the tongue,” Harry smiled, “What about the Ministry? And the shop?”
“We’re thinking about doing travelling.”
“The year we spent in a tent in various country-sides not enough?”
“Funnily enough seeing the sights wasn’t top of mind then.”
Harry smiled darkly, “If we’re going travelling let’s do Italy, or America, or something. Soon. Somewhere none of us have ever been.”
Hermione left it a beat too long for it to be a normal silence, “I heard Italy is beautiful, the history there is incredible…”
Harry could almost hear talking to Ron later: “and then he said if we’re going travelling, ‘we’re’, Ron! And ‘soon’! he thinks he’ll be travelling with us ‘soon’!. And Ron, “so you didn’t ask when he’s coming back then?, and then Hermione: “didn’t you hear? soon! He said soon!”
//
He was walking back to the car from the post office one day, Teddy plodding beside him infatuated with a passing goose, with Ginny’s voice still swimming around him, the sound of Ron telling her to shut up, pass the receiver, I’ve got to tell him the Cannons score, and he walked into the travel agents and booked one-way ticket to England for next week. Just like that.
Stupid, really, how he heard their voices all the time (walking in the street, making a sandwich, fixing the plumbing) but had never made the connection. He was in the street like always, hearing the call all again, and thought I wish they were here for real, and then walked into the air-conditioning and pulled out his chequebook. It really was that easy. The goose was still outside when he left holding his ticket, Teddy squirming to get closer to it with a full-on beak that Harry was trying to hide with one hand.
Home soon Harry thought the whole drive home, the thought expanding in his chest, the window open, his hair blowing everywhere– longer than it had ever been. Even when he got back to the farm, told Andromeda (who promised to follow in a year), made dinner, went to bed, he imagined he would feel different. Something huge and unfelt before, but really everything was the the same as ever. He just missed them, is all. He was learning that sometimes love really was that simple, that it was reason enough.
//
“I read that people sometimes make signs at airports.”
Harry smiled, phone cord wrapped around his palm. “Saying what?”
“Guess you’ll find out tomorrow.”
“Oh, God.”
“Don’t worry, no magic involved. We don’t want to alarm the muggles. Luna asked if she could bring her lion hat but Hermione got intervened.”
“Luna’s coming?”
“Yes, duh. Everyone is. It’s been a year a half.”
Harry, who had had visions of kissing Ginny ridiculously for an hour in front of the plane, adjusted his expectations.
Ginny, as usual, reading his mind: “Don’t worry. I’ve briefed Ron that I’ll still be kissing you senseless so he had better start getting over it.”
Harry grinned, “Bet he loved that.”
“He called me a cocksucker, and then I pointed out that actually I hadn’t been in a year and a half–“
“Gin!”
“–and he said my name exactly like that, yeah.”
Harry couldn’t stop laughing, bright red in the post office for the last time as Millie shushed him, “You are unbelievable.”
“Well, believe me.” she said, dryly, “I’ll be seeing you in 29 hours.”
Harry, also counting, ducked his head, grinning. It turned out all his best luck was waiting at this part of his life, who knew. Thank God, Thank God, Thank God.
“I’m going to be totally unusable, you know. The flight’s twenty-one hours.”
“Yeah, you’re an idiot. I know you’re on a whole no-magic kick but this really is the limit. What are you going to eat?”
“Hermione says they serve eggs and stuff.”
“Wow, really? How?”
Harry considered. “I actually have no idea. Maybe please bring some chips or something to the airport.”
Ginny laughed, the best sound in the world, “Only if you bring me some eggs.”
#sorry this is late sorry to all my unanswered messages i had to post this today i had to get it away from me!!!#hinny#hinny fic#harry potter#ginny weasley#otp: several sunlit days#i have to run everyone is waiting on me sorry everyone i love you all lots i turn 21 in three days who could believe it!!!#carolineswritingtag
618 notes
·
View notes
Text
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.
*********
General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe
Fred Weasley taglist: @susceptible-but-siriusexual
#fred weasley x reader#fred weasley#fred weasley fanfiction#fred weasley fanfic#fred weasley imagine#fred weasley one shot#fred weasley x you#fred weasley x y/n#fred weasley fluff#fred fluff#fred weasley angst#fred angst#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter fanfic#harry potter x reader#the lightning era#hp fanfic#hp fanfiction#harry potter imagines#my writing#angst#fluff#slow burn romance#slow burn romance au#cute#romance#post hogwarts#fred weasley x fem!reader#the weasley twins#fred weasley reader insert
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Day 51: Parents
Rose was fast asleep in Harry's arms, her tiny little toddler body curled against his chest. Harry was also fast asleep, his head rested against the back of the couch in a way that Draco knew would make his neck ache.
The living room was littered with books and toys, it looked like paint and pancake batter had exploded in the kitchen, the bathroom had been flooded and bubble foam hung from the ceiling. Draco didn't even want to know what mischief his husband had gotten up to with Rosie in the back garden.
As it stood, poor Felix was nowhere to be seen, Draco hoped that he'd gone off to hide in his kitty tower.
Still, Draco couldn't help but stand in the doorway, staring at Harry and Rose together, with something akin to awe blossoming between his ribs. Watching them made something in Draco's chest ache.
Harry was good with kids, he treated them like they were the most important people in the room, like he really cared about Princess Melon the toy horse. Whenever they went to a Weasley family party, Harry spent most of his time playing with the kids.
And kids loved Harry.
He felt a bit guilty. Draco could never quite work up the courage to ask if Harry wanted to have kids of his own, always too afraid that his answer would be yes.
"Harry," he murmured softly, stroking his fingers through the other man's curls in hopes of not disturbing the little girl sleeping on him.
Harry's eyes fluttered open and he smiled up at Draco.
"Let's put her in her bed so we can go to bed," he whispered.
The other man nodded and gingerly stood up, keeping Rose as steady as possible so she wouldn't wake up.
(Read more below the cut)
He followed along behind Harry, watching from the doorway as he tucked her into the bed in their guest room. He'd transfigured it so it was small for her and he carefully folded the blanket over her, making sure to tuck her stuffy in next to her. Harry brushed a soft kiss to her forehead, "Sleep tight, bean," he murmured, casting a couple of floating lights over her bed so she wouldn't wake up in the dark.
When he turned and his eyes caught sight of Draco, he gave him a warm smile and slipped his fingers through Draco's on the way out of the room. The door closed with a soft click behind them and Harry pressed a kiss to Draco's cheek, "How was work? How did your trial go?"
He nodded, following Harry down the hall to their bedroom, "It was good. We won, Matilda won enough from her lawsuit to be able to pay her medical bills and put a down payment on a new house."
"Congratulations, babe," Harry said, opening the door to their room which neither Rose, nor any of the other children that visited, were allowed to enter. All of the tension slipped from Harry's shoulders as they entered the quiet sanctuary of their bedroom. "I knew that you'd win," Harry added as he stripped out of his tshirt.
"How was your day?" Draco asked.
Harry groaned and flopped onto the bed in just his boxers, apparently too exhausted to put pajamas on. "We had a blast," he said, "but she is a handful."
"Just tell me that Felix is alright," he said as he slid under the covers and pulled Harry in so his back was pressed against his chest.
The other man chuckled and he could feel the rumble of it through his own chest, "Felix is fine. He sulked all day after she tried to force him to drink imaginary tea, I think he's just been hiding in the top of his cat tower."
He pressed a kiss to Harry's neck and the other man snuggled closer to him.
"You feel good," Harry sighed contentedly.
Things like that always made Draco a little breathless, no matter how many times Harry had said them before. "You feel good, too," he whispered back. "Can I ask you something?"
"Mmhmm," Harry hummed sleepily. "'Course you can."
"Do you ever wish that we..." he trailed off uncertainly.
"We what?" Harry asked, rubbing the arch of his foot over Draco's calf.
"Were parents?" he forced out.
Harry's body stilled for a moment, "Sorry?"
"Do you ever wish that we were parents?" he repeated,
The other man rolled over and looked intently at Draco's face, "Do you?"
"I asked first," Draco replied.
"Honestly?" Harry asked.
He nodded.
Shrugging one shoulder, Harry said, "Sometimes," and Draco's heart sank. "Sometimes, when I'm cuddling one of the babies I think that it would be nice to have one, or when Rose wants to sit on my lap and listen to stories, or when Teddy asks me questions about flying his broom." He shrugged again, "Yeah, I think I might like that."
Draco nodded, trying to figure out what to say, what to do.
"But then," Harry continued, "There are other times that I see Ron and Hermione and I think that I'd never want that life. Or after one of the kids has run me into the ground, then I have a hard time picturing myself being able to do that every day in perpetuity."
Draco nods slowly.
"And then there are times that we go on vacation, or we go out to a nice dinner, or we have sex in the kitchen, for example, and I remember that I love our life the way it is. I like the idea of being the fun uncles, of being the place that the kids come when they need time away from their mums and dads. I like what we are," he repeated. Then he said, "Do you wish we were parents?"
Draco shook his head and brushed his nose along Harry's. "Not at all," he replied. "I'm petrified of being a parent and I also like the freedom that we have right now."
"Exactly," Harry said with a nod. "Maybe someday or maybe not ever."
"Do you ever wish that we were a family?"
Harry tipped his head up and pressed a kiss to Draco lips, "We are a family. Whether we ever have kids or whether it's just the two of us. You are my family, Draco." He brushed his thumb over Draco's cheekbone, "And you're enough."
--------------------
Day 50: Anonymous | Day 52: Tattoos
#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days#drarry#drarry drabbles#drarry ficlets#families#love#thanks for the prompt!#<3
290 notes
·
View notes
Text
dating george weasley and being a ravenclaw
warnings: stupidly [wickedly] hot men named george fabian weasley, kinda smut, cussing fs, angst because our angel is insecure, also i may have almost cried writing this and it’s sO LONG I AM SO SORRY
people that may like this (?): @whiz-bangs78 @vogueweasley @gcdric (whenever you’re back! :)) @theweasleyslut @thehufflepuffwife @lupinsclassroom @wand3ringr0s3 @kitwalker02 @monoscandal @pansydaisy
i’m obsessy espressy w this pic btw please take it for your enjoyment
this man boy
is so enamored with you
he doesn’t even really know a whole lot about you at first, stealing glances from across the great hall
listening intently when you answer questions in class
he starts to memorize the way you roll your eyes when you ask snape a question you can’t answer
and the way you wrinkle your nose when someone stereotypes you based on your house
you’re fiery, but you’re so poised for quick answers and sharp looks
he would pay big money to have you roast him during class like you do to cormac when he tries to hit on you a lot
which earns him many a revenge prank
and then he starts to try and talk to you, rather foolishly at first
but he finds it so intensely sexy the banter you two get involved in during these interactions
“If it isn’t my favorite little bird, Y/N ;)”
“Aren’t there other nests for you to bother, Weasley?”
“None that I find as mildly riveting, my dear, I do love a bird that chirps back”
“Do you like ones that bite, too?”
“I don’t know if your beak is sharp enough, love”
“Come up to me when I’m reading again, and I’ll give you some harder evidence of just how bad my bite is hmm?”
(Unbeknownst to you as you walk away, he’s already got some harder evidence growing in his jeans...)
he doesn’t stop searching you out, determined to prove to you he’s enough
you two after about a week and a half finally go out to hogsmeade on your first date
he takes you to the three broomsticks where you both drink butterbeer and make deep conversation for hours until close
there’s a point where he makes you laugh so hard you snort and spit out some of your butterbeer
which makes him snort and spit out his butterbeer
he realizes a couple things then:
1) he’s obsessed with the way you tell stories or talk passionately about the subjects you love. he adores watching how you light up everywhere in your body and talk so fast at points you can’t breathe
2) he wants to live in your head. he studies the way you think and watches you intently as you process punchlines and stories and memories and he realizes
i need to be something she thinks about
and without realizing it while you’re laughing super hard he puts his hand on the back of your neck and kisses you like it’s the last night on this planet
after about 12 seconds he pulls away and starts to turn red seeing your blank face unmoved
“i-i’m really sorry i promise i didnt mean to be that guy i just-“
and you’re pressing into him everywhere mouth and body and mind and he’s drinking you in like the butterbeer stained on his scarf and he is totally balls deep in love with you
you two are inseparable after that, making it official on the walk back to the castle
if you’re going on a stress tangent about how much work you have, for Beverly negative thought he’ll press a kiss to a pet of your face until you’re giggling and a mess and you’re kissing him back and then you’re on the table in the library...
“Georgie, you’re gonna kill my grades if we keep doing this!”
“You kill me everytime you blink for godric’s sake and yet here I am!”
he is a simp
he says he isn’t but anytime you bring out the “georgie, please” or “love, please” he turns to butter
fred thinks it’s the funniest shit and he capitalizes on it constantly
he calls you his little bird
most specifically his mockingbird because he claims you always set him at ease and make him feel like everything is centered
and he’s right, you do
you center the wild fire in him when he needs to breathe and look around
you see parts of him that aren’t balanced
there’s a night when you walk in on him just curled on his bed crying
your beautiful boy alone and sad and you instinctively start to cry too
You wrap your arms around him as he turns to you and buried his head in your lap. George, my love, what’s wrong?”
“I-I’m not like Fred I’m not like Charlie I’m sure as shit not like Bill I’m not like anyone that’s actually important” he chokes
“George-“
“No, you don’t understand, Y/N. I’m not good enough. For anyone. And I see it and hear about it everyday when my mum brags about how great her kids are and save us for last and when Fred can never shut up about how good he is at EXISTING and I-it swallows me whole, Y/N, I cant feel like this anymore” his body wracks out a harsh sob and you hold him like this
You hold him until he can start to fall asleep and you lay with him until you too, are asleep when he wakes up to tell you
“I love you. Forever, Y/N.”
And you push the hair off his lightly sweaty forehead and tell him “and I love YOU, George Weasley.” and you two fall back asleep happy crying in each other’s arms
he sees you struggle too
struggle with your workload
struggle with your own insecurities of not being good enough for him
telling him you’re just a girl that talks a lot about weird stuff and that you bring him down and he every time cups your face in his hands and pulls you down into him and says
“I love you here.” And kisses your forehead. “I love your mind.” And kisses below your earlobe “and I love you here. How you listen to people and always know what to say” and he kisses your nose “and I love you here, how you snort when you laugh really hard.” And he finally lands on your mouth, staying there for a moment, “and I love you most of all here. When you speak everything in your head and laugh and sing and talk and just breathe, my love. You’ve always been enough in all those places.” He presses one more kiss to your forehead and murmurs “I love you everywhere.”
anyway it’s time for spicy stuff
bow chicka wow wow as Fred would prolly say
George loves fucking you in the library it’s canon
he loves hoisting you on a table or against the stacks and murmuring against your skin how loud you are for him
“Is my little bird wanting to chirp a little louder?” He pries your thighs farther apart prompting a squeak and a small whine. “There it is, love, taking me so well...keep quiet, angel don’t want Pince to know how much of a cockslut you are for me writhing against the shelves do you?”
whew chile anyways
he also likes to touch you when you’re reading to him
but will stop and pull his face away from your neck and your hand from your core when you stop reading to him
“Angel, are you so much of a slut that you can’t focus on the words in front of you?”
“N-no, Georgie, oh my god right there”
“Thereeee, it is-“
mmmmm he’s hot fuck on GOD
when you guys slept together for the first time, he brought you to the *ding ding ding* restricted section after hours
he set up a whole ass blanket and relit the candles and brought pillows
it was very much making love to george and he whispered sweet nothings and praises in your ear the entire time
ugh what a MAN
anyway, TO THE BURROW WE GO!
molly fucking adores you
“My George brought home a beautiful Ravenclaw? Please know, Y/N he is an idiot most of the time and we wouldn’t be hurt if you found an out-“
“JESUS MUM LEAVE ME ALONE SKENSOWOWKWKKW”
again, Fred really does love you and enjoy your company
frequently comments about truly how unconditionally happy George has been, and how happy it makes him to see his younger twin so confident and full of joy
he also wouldn’t say this out loud but the more confident georgie gets, the better his prank plans become
i mean after all - he is the brains of the operations ;)
every chance he gets when you’re around his family or really anyone, he’ll sneak up behind you and plant a hearty kiss on your cheek and a quick “ILOVEYOU” in your ear before running off to do god knows what
oh, y’all bicker constantly
and by bicker i just mean argue about like
aliens
or is Wyoming a state
just like factually dumb but quirky shit
you’ve only had a fight like ONE time
and it was because George took a prank too far with Fred and you didn’t talk to him for an entire day
and because George has a lot of separation anxiety plus fear of abandonment he did not take it really well
You had gone back to your room after dinner in the Great Hall. For the whole day George didn’t eat. You knew because you hadn’t seen him anywhere in the Hall, and none of your classes. When you opened the door you saw him crouching knees pressed to his chest on your bed, he looked like a ghost. He met eyes with you and choked out a sob and ran to you, you opening your arms to hold him. “Please forgive me, Y/N I know you’re hurt but please don’t leave me I’ll be better next time I promise” he got faster and you knew he couldn’t breathe so you just whispered to him you weren’t going to leave you’ll be with him and you’ll stay and mistakes happen, you promise. “Georgie, I promise I’m never leaving. Okay?” He nodded into your shoulder, hunched into you. “I love you so much it hurts.” “I know, Georgie. I know.”
regardless for all his quirks and all his fears and hurts
there is nothing you wouldn’t do
to spend every waking moment with this boy
your love
and he, for the first time, knows he is enough
#George weasley#george weasley x ravenclaw!reader#George weasley smut#george weasley imagine#george weasley headcanon#harry potter imagine#harry potter headcanon#Harry Potter
696 notes
·
View notes
Text
So I’m sitting taking a well earned break from the minus 40 conditions and looking on tumblr and I had this pop up in my suggestions. So. Here I am. A dairy farmer wondering why they would be a waste product. Mine are not. So I’m looking into it all “huh well let’s see what this is about and...the first thing that pops up from the web is
https://www.change.org/p/mpi-prosecute-the-owner-of-til-the-cows-come-home-farm-sanctuary
https://i.stuff.co.nz/the-press/news/north-canterbury/122823026/mpi-called-to-cow-rescue-sanctuary-over-concerns-for-cattle-welfare
So even thou.. she left the animals to die, her claim is that she left them in the care of the land owner, who himself said he was just a landlord, not the cows owners. And not even in the property. She is again demanding even thou they have been starved near to death. One being put down by vets, she is still fund raising and “saving” more animals, and demanding people do something about these poor staved animals. Letting on it’s nothing to do with her..
Another article stated she had hired a grazier to feed them because she could not, due to covid restrictions..
Yet exceptions are made for those needing to deal with animals and not once during this time did she have anyone check the animals like ohh. A vet? The people delivering the food? She never questioned why she didn’t need to buy any feed during this time.. pay a vet bill.. not a single animal issue?
And before people say to much about “covid and she couldn’t!” She has a history of not planning anything out.
Mum Ruth said her daughter had caused them a few logistical headaches, in particular the time she rescued 300 bobby calves in one go.
They had no where to put all the animals. No food.. no money to care for them..
There’s a point when it’s animal hoarding over caring. And this is a great case on what real exploitation is. When the donations dropped then ended during covid she just stopped paying her bills. When the cows broke out looking for food is when the officials where called in by concerned neighbors. She only came back later when they found out who owned the animals. She then jumped to start fund raising and ensure everyone knew it “wasn’t her fault”.
Please explain to me someone. Why starving and mistreating your animals. Denying them medical care and abandoning them is better then a farm where they have all needs met. Yet some are sold so the rest live?
298 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
slowtovvn
A spectre is haunting me-
leri-leria
Unbetitelt
alexis-924
Untitled
noaleevents
נועל'ה - אולם אירועים כשר למהדרין בר
imaginariumgeographica
and even there, there are stars