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[allurgorgeouscolors]

what white men are to white women, white women are to non white people

[allurgorgeouscolors]

Quidditch Cup

Charlie Weasley x reader

Words: 7.6k 

Warnings: none, it’s a tad long?

A/N: Charlie deserves so much more recognition, he is such an underrated character in the books, films and in fanfiction. I really enjoyed writing for him, since he has so little character in canon there is so much you can do with him

————

The whole Weasley household was upside down. The rest of world was still silent and asleep but the Weasleys were awake and running around the house packing the last things they had forgotten. Molly was making sandwiches while checking her children’s backpacks. She was looking forward to have a few days to herself. She hadn’t had that in a long time. She had planned everything out already; after she sent her oldest three away she would take a bath, she would cook dinner for herself and make something no one else in her family liked.

Arthur was feeling in his pocket every minute, afraid he would forget the tickets he had worked so hard for the past months. He was quite nervous; he never actually did things with the kids without Molly. She was always the one that made sure they were packed and ready to go. Now he wouldn’t have Molly with him, but maybe it was better. His wife was stressed out and frankly, so was Arthur. Their children were growing older and had to make important life-decisions. Molly and Arthur tried to help them as good as they could, but their kids had minds of their own.

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[allurgorgeouscolors]

Reaching for the Moon

Part I - Part II

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Interpolfem!Reader

Category: Angsty Fluff/Comfort

TW: cursing, mentions of the possibility of cheating, insecure Spencer and Reader, I reference the idea of “running away from home” but it’s more of a concept than anything else, I’m also kind of mean to Ethan, but he ends up pretty swell, I promise you. I also don’t know a ton about Ethan (there isn’t a ton to know), so I made up a lot about him. 

This is, once again, (very loosely) based on one of my all time favorite movies and I hope you like it as much as I do! Part II will be out ASAP! 

Love you all xx 

~ “Listen for dear honour’s sake, Goddess of the silver lake, Listen and save.” - John Milton ~

16 years ago…

It’s been a few years since he’s been pushed around, so the sudden jolt to the earth on Caltech’s campus is rather surprising. 

“I’m so sorry!” 

The soft, but sweet voice is incredibly genuine and incredibly alarmed, making his anxieties surrounding the fall relieving a little bit, less concerned that it may have been intentional. It’s even more apparently an accident when a small, soft hand is proffered into his eyeline. He can practically feel his knees bruising beneath him, the tumble still rocking through his system. 

“Thank you,” Spencer mumbles, taking the hand in front of him. You help him to stand and begin to help him pick up the small pile of books he’d had in his hands. As he rises he meets your eyes, calmed even further by the apologetic look in your very pretty eyes. Your very pretty eyes that light up your very pretty face. 

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you say, shaking the hand you’re holding. “And you are Dr. Spencer Reid.” 

“Um, yes,” he manages to stammer out around his nerves. “How did you-”

“You’re in my optoelectronics lecture,” you interrupt. 

“Oh, that’s right! You’re seat C27,” he nods in understanding. He almost cringes, worried he’s gone too far, shown his hand too soon, but you simply smile in response. 

“Great memory,” you compliment. “Well, listen, we’ve got about twenty minutes until class starts…do you…would you like a coffee? It’s the least I could do for knocking you over.” 

“That would be…that would be lovely,” he replies. The two of you begin to walk towards the newly appointed on campus Starbucks. 

“So, not to be creepy,” you begin, giggling in delight as his eyebrows furrow at your opening statement, “but…you’re, like, a genius, right?”

“I don’t really think genius can be quantified,” he deflects unsteadily. It’s at this point that people usually start to tease him or make him feel weird about his abilities. You look at him, head cocking to one side. 

“What about you makes people say you’re a genius?” you ask. Your eyes are so engaging that he thinks you’d likely be an excellent con-artist if you were ever to try. 

“I have an eidetic memory, can read 20,000 words a minute, and I have an IQ of 187,” he answers quickly and quietly, hoping these facts don’t turn you against him. He walks a few steps ahead of you finally realizing you’re not next to him anymore. He turns back and you’re standing behind him, staring at him, your head still cocked to one side, fixing him with a look the likes of which he’s never been on the receiving end. 

“Did someone tell you that was a bad thing?” you ask quietly, not a hint of malice in your voice. 

Spencer looks at you uneasily, “Why…what…how would you-”

“I just think,” you interrupt him, walking closer and staring up at him with what he could only describe as the softest expression he’d ever seen, “that if you have all these gifts - and, that’s what they are - you should really celebrate them. Not say them as though you want them to be listed and over and forgotten as soon as possible. There are people for whom brilliance like that is like…reaching for the moon. And look at you, down on earth to meet us all.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, determined not to drop your gaze. 

You smile, like it’s the simplest thing in the entire world, “The little time I’ve known you has shown me that…people like you, Spencer Reid, are a gift.”  

He’s not touchy. He never has been. But in this moment, all he can think is that he’s never longed to touch another human being more. To kiss one. He expects that he could live in your eyes and be happy, in fact he’s sure of it. And then…

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[allurgorgeouscolors]

My Silent Screams, Our Wildest Dreams

Summary: Reader knows two things, she loves Spencer and Spencer doesn’t love her back. But, she finds herself learning a couple more things that threaten to shake up her world.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader (She/Her)

Word Count: 3.8 K

Warnings: Pregnancy, unhealthy amounts of being obviously in love, guns/gun violence (canon level), hospitals, kissing, the kind of cheesy love confessions that only happen when someone almost dies, oh and near death experience :(

Author’s Note: This is my first fic for @shemarmooresfedora and my 500 follower co-celebration! Be sure to check out her fic too! Everything will be posted to this masterlist, which will remain linked in my pinned post forever & always! I hope that you enjoy reading!! Let me know what you think here

My Silent Screams, Our Wildest Dreams

There aren’t many things in this world that Y/N is sure about. If she has to make a guess she’d say that there are two things she’d bet her life on. The first one being that she’s head over heels in love with the only man on Earth that she shouldn’t be and the second one being that Spencer doesn’t love her back. Even if Y/N could turn back time and return to the night when Spencer turned up to her apartment soaking wet with a bottle of red wine in one hand and Legally Blonde in the other, she wouldn’t dare. She knows it’s selfish to love a man who doesn’t love her back, because there's a rather large, rather hungry part of her that is lit on fire every time Spencer somehow brushes his fingertips against her skin.

But sitting there in the Women’s Restroom, there’s a third thing that Y/N is sure of: she’s pregnant. Y/N grabs a wad of toilet paper and mops up the tears that stream down her face. Motherhood has always been something that she’s thought about in the very distant future, and never with a man who didn’t love her like she loves him. Even if that faceless person did turn out to be Spencer, he’d be spinning her around and kissing her face. She wouldn’t be crying in a dirty stall with day old make-up streaming down her face. Taking a deep breath in, Y/N pulls out her phone and calls the only person she knows that could help her.

“Penny,” Y/N says, not recognizing her own voice, yet hating the way that it cracks.

“Y/N, are you hurt? Where is the team? Is Spencer with you,” Garcia’s questions fly in and Y/N knows that Garcia has no idea, but even mentioning his name wounds Y/N deeply.

“Penelope, I need to talk to you, like right now. And I need to get this out because if I don’t do it right now. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get it out,” Y/N whispers into the phone, scared that JJ or Emily could come looking for her in the bathroom.

“I’m listening, Y/N,” Garcia tells her. Y/N’s eyes flit over the pregnancy test stick that seals her fate, one way or another. Taking another deep breath, she thinks that it’s now or never.

“I’m pregnant. And-and I’m in love with the baby’s father, but I know he doesn’t love me back,” Y/N says, quickly getting it out all in one breath, “I don’t know what I’m going to do. It’s kind of a miracle that I got pregnant at all, Penny. You know what my doctor told me last year,” Y/N think back to the last time she visited her doctor. She told her that it would be very unlikely for her to get pregnant, yet here she was 13 months later pregnant with her and Spencer’s baby.

“Y/N, sweetie, I need you to take a deep breath for me. Can you do that, honey?” Penelope’s voice is clear and strong through the phone, reminding Y/N of why she’s the first person she called in the situation.

“Listen to me now, Y/N. I will support you no matter what. You don’t want to be a mom, I’ll drive you to the nearest clinic the moment you get back and you’ll stay with me till you’re okay again. You want to be a mom, I’ll be the coolest aunt and spoiler that little baby. Hell, Y/N, I’ll even marry you myself and will raise that baby together,” Penelope finishes chuckling lightly.

“Penelope, I love you. I-I just need to get my head together. I’ll call you when we get back to the hotel,” Y/N says, still a little hesitant to end the call.

“Y/N, I mean it. Whatever you want, I’m your biggest cheerleader. And I will marry you and we will be the best moms,” Penelope tells her, causing Y/N to giggle, despite the enormous pressure that rests against her chest.

“But do you think you should at least give the father a chance? Maybe you should tell him that you love him, Y/N. I don’t think you’re-

“Thank you, Penelope,” Y/N whispers as the tears threaten to make a comeback. She hangs up the phone, a little shaken from the call. It seems so foreign to say it aloud. Y/N doesn’t know how she’ll be able to break the news to Spencer, or rather if she ever will.

***

“Y/L/N and Reid, you two will go interview the foster mother. I sent the address to your phone, Y/L/N. You need to look for signs of neglect in the language that she will be using. Anything that could lead us to getting reasonable suspicion of domestic abuse in the formative years for Anderson,” Hotch orders, nodding as he delivers the assignment.

Spencer stands close to Y/N. His fingertips brush against the back of her hand, like he’s reminding her that he’s just as alive as he is. It’s telling her that he wants to hold her hand, but can’t. They’re not a couple, they’re just co-workers who, as much as they’ve tried, can’t keep their hands off each other. The moment Hotch turns around to talk to Emily and Morgan, Spencer quickly squeezes Y/N’s hand. He lets go just as fast as he grabbed it, but the small gesture is enough to send Y/N over the edge.

“Can I drive? You’re the only one that lets me,” Spencer asks, pretending to be simply talking with a coworker.

“Of course, Spence,” Y/N says, walking past him to the doors of the police precinct, “I have the address,” her voice is quieter than usual and she hopes that Spencer doesn’t pick up on it.

“Y/N,” Spencer says, as they walk out into the dry Arizona sun, “what’s wrong, you were in the bathroom for 19 minutes, that’s 14 minutes longer than average,” Spencer says, glancing over at Y/N as they make their way to the parked SUV.

“Spencer, do you seriously calculate my peeing time?” Y/N scoffs, nudging Spencer with her elbow.

“I just want to make sure everything is alright with you. That’s all,” Spencer says, reaching down to grab Y/N’s hand. He brings it up to his lips and kisses the back of her palm, then her wrist and starts to kiss each of her fingers before Y/N pulls her hand away.

“Spencer,” she says, “someone could be looking,” Y/N is too preoccupied in hiding her secret from Spencer to notice that Spencer’s smile falters when she drops her hand. He’s as observant as they come, yet Y/N’s suspicious behavior would ring the alarm bells in his brain even if he wasn’t.

“Whatever you say, Y/N,” Spencer says, probably repeating the words in his brain till they no longer sound like a word.

“So the foster house we’re going to, what do you think we’re expecting,” Y/N says, trying to steer the subject to something strictly professional. It’s hard though, be professional as Spencer backs out of the parking spot and heads to the house.

“Do you want me to put the navigation on?” Y/N asks, even though she probably knows the answer, she still asks because she’s gotten lost on the Virginia back roads with Spencer one too many times during their monthly weekend off.

“I don’t need a computer to tell me where I need to go, Y/N,” Spencer says, looking around wildly for his next turn, “I know exactly where I am, we just got turn down Maple and then on to Revere,”

“Whatever you say, Spencer,” Y/N says, her words come out a little more annoyed than she intended.

Spencer, who never seems to fail to notice a change in her mood, reaches across the center console to place Y/N’s hand into his. Y/N, though craving the physical connection, can’t help but feel a little guilty at accepting it. Letting Spencer hold her hand like this is taking advantage of him, she thinks. But she can’t deny that Spencer’s thumb rubbing against the back of her hand makes her feel loved. It’s so steady and constant that it almost makes her think that Spencer could love her back. And maybe he could, in some rosy colored alternate reality where she was less “her”. It’s in her wildest dreams where Spencer is spinning her around, kissing her face to show just how happy her being pregnant makes him.

“You know that you really should have both hands on the wheel,” Y/N tells him, once the affection becomes too much that the line between co-workers that hookup every chance they get blurs between co-workers who are together.

“You never seemed to complain about us obeying traffic laws, from what my memory can tell me, darling,” Spencer says smartly, sneaking in a smirk as he turns left.

“Yeah, well. Maybe we should just start following the rules, Reid,” Y/N says, distancing herself from Spencer as she turns her head to face the car window.

Y/N, lost in her thoughts, doesn’t realize that Spencer has made loops around the block until she sees the brightly decorated community library for the third time. Spencer sighs heavily as he turns on the hazards and pulls over.

“Alright, I’m lost,” Spencer says, defeatedly, “you have to use that navigator thing because I don’t have a clue and I hate using it because it means that the-”

“That the government is tracking your location, yes, Spencer,” Y/N says, letting herself for a moment to forget that her and Spencer are in this weird limbo, “I think you forget that you are the government, though,”

“Well, thank goodness I got my girl over here to remind me,” Spencer says, sneaking a kiss on Y/N’s cheek as she mounts her phone to the stand.

“Hey Siri, navigate me to 568 Piedmont Street,” Y/N says, turning up the volume on her phone for Spencer as he drives off in the direction of the foster home.

***

There’s another thing to add to the list of things that Y/N is sure about. One, she loves Spencer. Two, Spencer doesn’t love her back. Three, she is pregnant. And four, Spencer and her are probably going to die.

Anderson stands in the middle of the living room, his arm around Spencer’s neck and his gun pointed at his temple. His eyes are wild, but Y/N notices a pain behind them. It’s the kind of pain that comes from years and years of abuse. She knows that she’s the only person that is able to talk him down, but she still prays silently that Derek and Emily are coming soon.

“Anderson,” she says, her voice calm as she can manage watching Spencer struggle to get loose, “Anderson, look at me. You didn’t do anything wrong. Okay, she hurt you. Melissa hurt you, Anderson. And I’m here-we’re her to get her,”

“How do I know that you’re telling the truth? You can be just saying that get your partner out of here,” Anderson says, tightening his grip on Spencer.

“Please, Anderson. You just gotta trust me. You got to trust me. Spe-Agent Reid and I are here to help you. I’m here to make sure she can’t hurt you or any other kid ever again,” Y/N says, her fear rising in her throat as she makes eye contact with Spencer.

He’s mouthing something to her, telling her to run when she has the chance. Spencer, with his last breath, is trying to save her from what seems like an inevitable ending.

“I’m not leaving you!” Y/N shouts, more for Spencer than for Anderson, but she quickly changes her demeanor as she reaches a hand out to the unsub.

“I’m so sorry,” Anderson sobs, dropping Spencer to the ground, “I just wanted my dad. No kid should have to grow up without a dad,” he cries, reaching for Y/N’s extended hand.

She accepts it and in the next three seconds, Y/N is sure that her life, for the second time that day, is forever changed. Something must have triggered him, something in the house must have brought back a bad memory because all Y/N can hear is a gunshot, and Spencer screaming.

***

Y/N changes the list. She’s sure of four things. She loves Spencer. Spencer doesn’t love back. She’s pregnant with her and Spencer’s baby. And Spencer is probably going to die, while she lives.

Derek sits next to her, though he is sleeping, Y/N can feel his steady breath that rises and falls. He’s been there the whole night, not leaving Y/N’s side. Hotch and the others went back to the police precinct to deal with Strauss’s calls about Spencer’s accident.

“Your boy is going to be just fine,” Derek mumbles, turning to face Y/N in the fluorescent lighting of the hospital, “please, Y/N we all know. Everyone knows, but you and Spencer,”

“What? I don’t even know what you’re talking about, Morgan,” Y/N says, trying to pretend she’s just an apathetic co-worker, despite her waiting for nearly five hours for Spencer to get out of emergency surgery.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. I know that you know that he loves you and you love him. Yet you’re dancing around each other like idiots,” Derek says.

“He doesn’t love me, Derek, not like I love him,” Y/N says, tensely, already guarding herself from thinking about what it would be like to love Spencer freely.

“You know that I heard the whole conversation from in the house, right? Spencer pleading with Anderson to let you go, you screaming when he got shot, you tackling Anderson,” Derek tells her, reminding her of probably the worst moments of her life, “I heard it all, Y/N. And I know what it sounds like,”

“Derek, you can’t be messing with me right now, I couldn’t handle that. I-I he almost died. He almost died thinking that I don’t love him. And God, Derek, I love him so much it hurts to breathe,” Y/N says, her sticky tears traveling down her face and onto her cardigan, that is actually Spencer’s.

It’s funny in a sick way. Y/N realizing just how terribly her and Spencer hid their relationship from the team.

“Family of Spencer Reid,” the doctor in blue surgical scrubs comes through the doors, looking for Spencer’s people, “we’ve got an update on Agent Reid. He’s stable and will be moved to a room until he’s discharged. He’s incredibly lucky that the bullet moved through just three centimeters to the right, anything closer and he wouldn’t have made it off the table,” the doctor says, her eyes moving to Y/N’s stricken face and to Derek’s stoic stare. They’re too scared to be happy and too nervous to pretend that they are out of the woods.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Morgan says, turning to place a comforting hand on Y/N’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” Y/N says, turning to hug Derek in a tight embrace, “Oh my god, Derek, I really thought he was gone,”

“Our boy is gonna be okay, Y/N. He’s gonna be just fine,” Derek says, into Y/N’s shoulder. She doesn’t say anything as Derek breathes into the cardigan. She wonders if he too is imagining that he’s hugging a healthy and strong Spencer.

***

There are four things that Y/N is sure of. She loves Spencer, Spencer loves her, she’s pregnant with their baby, and Spencer is going to make it through the night. That’s enough to get her through the next couple of hours. Her head rests against Spencer’s bed and the constant beeping from the monitors hooked up to his chest tell her he’s still breathing.

It’s been three hours since Derek went back to the hotel, on Y/N’s insistence that she will be fine by herself. During that time, she counted that Spencer took 2,775 breaths, in and out. Each time he didn’t breath, Y/N felt her heart stop. She felt her world come crashing down the second that she heard those gunshots and she knows that will not be able to bear it again.

Laying her head on the hospital bed, Y/N can feel the cotton blanket against her cheek. Her work pants are tight against her belly and she wishes that she took the chance to change into scrubs. Before her thoughts could wander too far to the idea of needing to buy maternity clothing, Y/N feels a hand brush the hair from her face.

Spencer’s brown eyes meet her and she swears that she’s never seen him more tired. He licks his lips and curves them into a smile. His hand cups Y/N’s cheek tenderly. Y/N thinks that his hands have touched every inch of her body, yet this touch is the most intimate touch she’s ever felt. She wants to give in to him, melt into this hospital bed without a care in the world, as long as Spencer’s arms are wrapped around her body.

“Spencer,” Y/N croaks out, “you, I,” she says, faltering. She doesn’t know what to say to him, words can’t seem to him justice.

“Y/N, let me say this please,” Spencer says, trying to sit up in bed. He holds his hand out for Y/N to grab. She does without hesitation. Something about hiding this from the world seems so superficial, so stupid now that she almost did it for the last time just in the SUV nine hours ago.

“Y/N, I know we said that we both weren’t looking for a relationship. I know that, Y/N. But I failed, I-I, how could I not? You are my world, Y/N. You have been for some time now. So what I’m trying to tell you is that I-”

“I’m pregnant, Spencer,” Y/N says, interrupting perhaps the only love confession she’ll ever care to hear, “You’re going to be a dad,” Y/N says, watching the way Spencer’s face morphs from confusion to joy.

He brings Y/N’s hands to his lips, kissing her fingers, her palm and the back of her hand. He kisses her through a smile and his smile turns to laughter. Like always, Spencer’s laughter is contagious.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, you were on a roll, but I’m just so glad that you’re alive. I’ve loved you for years, Spencer. I thought you didn’t love me back, I mean, how could you?”

“How could I?” Spencer says, holding Y/N’s hand in his, he brings it back up to his lips, “How could I not, Y/N. You’re beautiful, but that’s the last thing that I notice, you’re kind and you’re funny,” he kisses up her arm, groaning slightly from the pain from his stitches.

“Spencer, be careful, baby,” Y/N warns, but wishes he’ll continue anyway,

“I always wanted to hear you say that,” Spencer says, smiling through the pain. He scoots over in his hospital bed, making room for Y/N to climb.

“Did you ever think that we would end up this way, when we, uh, you know started, um?,” Spencer asks, his voice trailing off towards the end. Even after all they’ve been through, Spencer is still nervous and flustered at mentioning their previously ambiguous relationship.

“Did I ever think we’d ever be having a baby together?” Y/N confirms, nuzzling her nose into the crook of Spencer’s neck. She can feel Spencer nod “yes”.

“Just in my wildest dreams,” Y/N mumbles quietly, into Spencer’s hospital gown.

“You dreamed about me being a dad?” Spencer asks, his voice dripping with a combination of pain medications and love.

“It happened so fast, Spencer. You were always in my dreams. But somewhere along the way my dreams twisted into something that I never thought would come true,”

“But in reality, no because I never thought you’d love me like that,” Y/N tells him, feeling Spencer shift uncomfortably, “I know, it’s kind of silly now that I think about it,”

“I dreamed of you too, Y/N. I always wondered why you stood out more than the others. More than Derek and Penelope. More than anyone I’ve ever met. No matter how hard I tried, you always seemed to occupy my days and haunt my nights. And besides, I don’t think I did a very good job of hiding how much I love you,” Spencer says, breathing in deeply due to the pain.

“I think I was so scared to be vulnerable, scared that you wouldn’t love me back I’m too much sometimes-” Y/N starts, but Spencer twists his body against hers to press his lips to Y/N’s mouth.

It’s strange to kiss him again. To kiss him after knowing that he loves her back, to kiss him without feeling the burn of guilt or worrying about the cold bed that would be left in his wake. Kissing him is like breathing in fresh air, it’s a rebirth that not even in her wildest dreams could Y/N forget. It makes up for all the times that she wanted to tug him by the neck in the middle of the bullpen and kiss him in front of everyone.

Y/N snuggles in close to Spencer, his arm wraps around her shoulders, pulling her in tight. She can feel his heartbeat against her back and his wet kisses against her neck. Spencer rests his other hand in hers and Y/N brings his hand to rest against her belly.

“I wonder what it will be like to hold their hand,” Spencer mumbles into Y/N’s (his) cardigan.

“Least it’s not in our wildest dreams anymore,” Y/N says, kissing the bare spot of Spencer’s skin that is exposed from his gown.

Spencer hums as his breathing goes more steady. He takes his turn to press sweet kisses into Y/N’s temple, whispering to her that he’ll never miss a day when he tells her he loves her. Y/N holds off from sleep until she’s sure that Spencer is asleep.

“I promise, I’ll never not let you hold my hand,” she whispers to Spencer’s sleeping form in the dark, “but thank goodness you have two hands,”

***

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! I really love to here what you thought!

The next fic will be out on Wednesday and I'm very excited to those prompts :)

Regular Taglist:

@shemarmooresfedora @april-14-blog @willowrose99 @calm-and-doctor @spideygenius @measure-in-pain @nomajdetective @spencerreid9 @saspencereid @laurakirstine @winifrede @muffin-cup @spencers-dria

Really Cool Blogs :):

@alltooreid @mercy-burning @boldlyvoid @homoose @ssa-m-187 @babymetaldoll @reidingmelodies @wheelsup @spencerslibrary @spookydrreid @rigatonireid @ilomiloreid @geniusgub @mggswhorificlover @cacoetheswriting @aperrywilliams

[allurgorgeouscolors]

Send Me To The Moon. Act 1: The Agreement (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif! Credit to the creator!)

Masterlist

——————

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is tired of dating. Nothing makes sense to her, and it’s a waste of time. Her friend, Spencer, thinks maybe they are destined to be single. But his prediction could be long forgotten when a new agent joins the team. This could be more complicated when the new agent develops a massive crush on Reid and asks Reader for help.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Reader feels self-conscious in some moments. Discussions about lack of self-esteem and self-deprecation for Spencer’s part. Idiots in love. The worst profilers on earth. Some strong words.

A/N: This piece has three acts. The first two are fully written. Voice your thoughts to me to know how I should end it.

——————

Act 1: The agreement

It came off easy to see that (Y/N) wasn’t having a good Monday morning when she stepped into the bullpen. Spencer could notice it immediately. When he was about to ask her, (Y/N) didn’t give him a chance.

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[allurgorgeouscolors]

Content 2/2 - F.W (M)

Empty Chapter II

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

CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD HERE

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

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

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

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

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

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

Five Years Later, 2003

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

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

Aleyna quirks a brow, "Whose Stacey?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fleur! What are you doing here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Auntie ____!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ginny pauses, “Erm, yeah…”

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

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

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

“____?”

And then, you’re suffocating.

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

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

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

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

He’s still wearing the bracelet you gave him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes grow wide. “Sorry Ma’am.”

Someone clears their throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, stand straight soldier!” you demand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, I’ll drink to that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, any plans for Christmas Eve ____?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sighing, you set your hand on your lap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aleyna, don’t.” you nudge her arm.

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

“Wha-“

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

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

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

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

“How’s Blaise doing by the way?”

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe he did, only you didn’t see.

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

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

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

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

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

————————

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

Jambo’s no different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Absolute blasphemy.

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

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

Of course your logic sucks.

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, you’ve had your coffee today.

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

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

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

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

“Morning, I know it’s early and-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, down girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright.” he says softly.

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

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

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

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

“Eva!”

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

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

Fred winces. “Actually-”

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

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

You freeze. “What?”

They broke up? “Why, oh Fred-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nonetheless, you smile. “Just that what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That turns the after taste into pure panic.

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

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

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

——————

You look good.

Or, at least you think you do.

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like a you problem.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aleyna gives you both questioning looks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why!” says Ginny, banging another fist.

“I think you know why,” says Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What I meant to say was, I wan-“

“Oh my god, ____, Fred!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She doesn’t wish you a merry christmas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well what changed your mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not upset, I’m tired.” you sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eva stutters, “What?”

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

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

“No, he won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean to cheat you know!”

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

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

“Yeah, you!” you cry.

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

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

——————

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you tell me she cheated?”

Fred’s expression softens. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fred freezes - second time that night.

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

Fuck fuck fuck.

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

But it was too late.

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

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

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

You almost swallow your tongue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s Freddie for you, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

“Finally!” George yells.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____.”

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

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

You smile back, “Oh it’s alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Took you long enough.”

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

“I won’t.”

Your lie slips so easily.

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

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

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

“____.”

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

“____, darling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes it does, and stupid!”

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

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

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

“That doesn’t explain the rest-“

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

“I can’t do this tonight Fred-“

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight Fred, merry christmas.”

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Knock Knock

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

“Fred I-“

“I wanted to-“

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

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

“Fred,-“

“No, let me finish this time.”

You stay silent.

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff. “Look how that turned out.”

Fred raises a brow.

“Sorry, continue.”

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

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

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

“I did.” you smile.

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

“Near what?” You gasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was thinking of you.”

“Oh?”

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

“Do what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fred, don-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then - ahh Freddie!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

“Wha- which one?”

“The white one.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

Of course he isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Of course he has abs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too - oh!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fred! Oh god - ah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well shit.”

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

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

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

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

Fred’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hums in response.

“You’re staying over, right?”

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

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

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

[allurgorgeouscolors]

Empty - F.W (1/2)

Gah daym this was a JOURNEY to write. I swore to myself to never write angst because, well I suck at it. But here we are, I swear this has a good ending because my heart can't bear that. I could've written this much better, so I promise to bring my A GAME for chapter 2. Enjoy, also Lee in this is a hate crime. This is very story telling-esk so I hope it flows well.

I wouldn't have written this chapter without the help of my good friend @mochiixjimin she helped me edit and spice up this whole thing so thank you so much to her! She's an amazing writer, go check out her work and show her some big love right now or else!! her wattpad

Chapter 1 out of 2 (Backstory)

Summary —> Life has always been a cruel joke to you, yet you simply play along. Overshadowed by Eva Burke your whole life, watching from the sidelines while everyone flooded each other with love, it would always feel like a joke.

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST (with a fluffy ending in the second part) / One mature scene (18+) and then it's angst again <3 / Some slander / Offensive language

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

You were a bright child.

Beaming bright enough to keep a tight lipped smile during flu-shots, and enough to put on a happy façade when your dad threw away the drawing you had done of your family dog, rather than hang it up on the fridge.

Children have foolish dreams, and that was yours. Your friends in preschool boasted about their pictures being hung like trophies on fridges, with decorative magnets and even bigger pink bow ties.

The fridge in the Y/L/N manor was empty. Always empty, just how Ms. Y/L/N liked it. Empty marble floors with empty rug designs, and empty rooms with even emptier people living in it. They were both empty people. Hollow and void of any emotion, at least towards you.

You were different though. You were filled to the brim with ambition and hope and so many positive emotions that your parents never seemed to reflect on you. You were like those Disney princesses. The princesses always had hope, and when you have hope good things happen.

Right?

Your dad never meant to give you false hope. He just wished you’d keep your mouth shut as he worked until late hours. Using big words and having big aspirations, you shouldn’t have.

Mr and Mrs Y/L/N weren't bad people per say, just busy. They didn't know how to raise a child, this was obvious, because the purpose of even having a child was to fix their marriage. But a temporary fix wouldn't do it, it never did. There was always that hole on the roof, leaking rain of despair into their falsely built home that no bucket big enough could hold back. Because it always found a way to overflow.

They didn't know how to show their love, so they did it with money, clothes, toys and crayons that you would later use to draw pictures of your family, only to have them end up in the dumpster once again.

They spoiled you rotten, bought you gifts you never even dreamed of asking. You just shut up and enjoyed it, what else could you do? Whine and demand attention? Risk losing their favor? There was no favor to lose.

You got yourself a fat A plus on your third grade math test. Star stickers on your chest, you entered through the glass double doors of your house with a crooked smile - two front teeth missing of course - making your joy all the more endearing. Your backpack strapped tightly over your narrow shoulders, hanging low with all the crammed books you pushed before leaving school because you were just so excited to show your parents.

You received a big sloppy kiss from your Nanny, who practically was like a second mom to you, and dashed right into your fathers office to show him your new accomplishment.

"Good job, I'm proud of you."

You froze. You found a way to actually get their attention. The attention you so craved, the recognition you would die for. This was revolutionary. Basically a new era for you.

Nanny made you a star shaped cake that night, and sat with you while gently stroking your hair and listening to you blabber about how easy the math questions were. It felt warm, motherly love. Even if it was false, it would never compare to the love of your own mother, a love you would never get.

You spent all your night studying, your eyes burning under the harsh light of your lamp in the early mornings and your pencil, ebbing away over sheets and sheets of blank paper. Writing away your little hands off until they ached, just to snatch another A and get a good job.

This was good, it worked out very well. You became that student who looked forward to class, just to get a good grade and have the validation of your parents. The sight of your father’s lips quirk up even in the slightest, and how your mother’s eyes shone briefly in appreciation of your hard work, even if it was for a quick second, it was worth it.

Until the new neighbors moved in.

Mr. Burke was a round, cheerful man with an even rounder belly, and a big fat pipe that always hung on his lips. Mrs Burke looked and acted like those fairy godmothers you adored. You couldn’t believe such people existed. Mr Y/L/N invited them over for dinner, for courtesy. He was not happy about said courtesy.

He ended up liking the couple, they had a little daughter called Eva, who was small and adorable with round red cheeks and big doe eyes. Not only Mr and Mrs Burke, but the Y/L/N’s adored Eva as well. She was happy, always smiling, and her teeth weren't nearly as crooked as yours, not to mention she had pretty long hair like a princess.

You liked her a lot, took her to pick flowers, showed her the drawings you had prepared for the empty fridge; in case Mr Y/L/N ever had a change of heart and hung them up, you had been trying for three years and weren't giving up any sooner.

Eva was nice, kind enough to share her M&M's and very used to compliments unlike you. She seemed to get a lot from her parents and yours. The adults were so kind to her, always smothering her with love and kisses. You were happy for Eva, happy that Eva somehow managed to gain the favor of your parents before you did.

Little girls tended to be jealous, you weren’t. You were just glad to have a friend so cool, she didn't blush and stutter under praise and apparently her drawings were pretty enough to go on a fridge.

It was a Thursday afternoon when your mom smiled at you for the first time since your last exam grade. "Look, Eva drew us a picture, isn't it pretty?"

The crayola stash under your bed was no longer needed, they appeared clumsily dumped in the neighborhood trash the next day, most of them stomped under the pressure of your little sneakers. And the bundle of drawings you hid under your pillow, wishing on fairy godmother that one day they would be hung up too, were ripped; clearly a struggle given. You had paper cuts on your hands, and your Nanny thankfully applied ointment before Ms and Mr Y/L/N noticed, or rather, stopped to care.

Though you knew that even if you paraded herself with bloody fingers dripping to your elbows, they wouldn't care.

Nanny did, she was there. There when you were haunted with nightmares when the moon was particularly dark, cooing at you and letting you sleep next to her in that small bed of hers. There when you tripped and fell, small scratch resulting in a screaming tantrum. She was gentle, sweet, paid well.

You decided to go and pick flowers with Eva, and make a pretty flower crown for yourself, months after your drawing incident. Of course, you didn't have such silly dreams anymore. You didn’t wish to have your pictures hung, to have your mother wear the flower crowns you made and frankly you didn’t care for the sight of the sparkle in your parents eyes. Nanny’s was enough.

Eva agreed, dressed in a pink tutu Mrs Y/L/N gifted. You didn't comment, though deep down you gazed at the skirt in sparkling envy. Your mother never bothered to get you such pretty things. The two of you gathered saturated petals and nice ribbons while giggling amongst yourselves. Until, you accidentally caused Eva’s flowers to levitate.

Eva ran home, crying and calling you a witch. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N’s dirty looks made her feel shameful, and even dirtier when a letter addressed to her was dropped by a pretty owl you insisted on petting. It was from a school called Hogwarts, in the faraway land of London, and it seemed, not only you but Eva got the same letter the next day.

Though the Y/L/N’s and Burke’s were proud of Eva’s letter. They weren’t with yours.

— — — —

The ride to Hogwarts was interesting to say the least. You had so many questions unanswered, were you a fairy godmother too? Was that your destiny? Was that the reason you never got any attention, because you were destined to give instead of receive?

Eva was cheerful as always, making fast friends in newly bought uniforms and holding a pretty, long and thin wand, with designs flowing across the premise. Your wand was...functional. You were sad you couldn't choose, and that the wand chose the owner. It didn't make sense, what if you didn't want this wand? What if you wanted something charming like Eva’s? It should have been mutual.

It was while trying to find your way to the bathroom that you met the Weasley twins. Quite handsome, a year older and absolute fucktards. A word you learned from the two. Though you always found yourself laughing more at Fred’s jokes, you liked them both equally.

“Hey George! Look.” Fred had exclaimed, clinging onto his brothers shoulder and dragging him across. “Who's that girl?”

You introduced yourself, happy façade on, gentle words slipping out of your mouth like nectar. They had to like you, you told yourself. Just this once, more than Eva.

When sorted into Gryffindor, Eva, you and the twins became inseparable. Your group grew in second year, when Katie, Lee and Alicia Spinnet joined the bunch. You would make fun of the ghastly Potions Professor Snape, and imitate Dumbledore in the hallways to mess with the older students.

You loved your time at Hogwarts, and the adventures that came every year. Especially when Harry Potter joined.

“Hey Fred.”

Fred, who was fiddling with his bracelet you had bought him hummed in response, not bothering to look up.

You sighed, “Do you think the flowers can feel it when we pluck them?”

Fred turned at that, his bracelet was now tightly secure after his struggles. “I hope not.” he smiled, a faraway look on his face whenever he gazed at you. “You know, some people like pain.” he winked.

You merely looked at him confused, clearly way too young for...whatever that is.

He started laughing loudly, slapping his knee and causing you to scoff and slap him on the shoulder.

Third year was when it bloomed. The slight girly attention you gave Fred grew. Fred was...Fred. A handsome ginger, beater for their house's Quidditch team, always charming and charismatic that somehow oozed out of him whenever he did anything really. It was not unusual, every girl in school had a crush on him. That wasn't the case, Fred was one of your best friends, and you refused to entertain the idea of a possible...relationship.

Yet sometimes, you'd find yourself thinking about hugging and kissing Fred like you’d seen couples in your favorite movies did and you’d fall asleep with reddened cheeks and a boy with even redder hair in your mind.

But feelings couldn’t be controlled, nor easily hidden. Eva found out in your fourth year after hearing you mumble his name in your dreams. Fred Weasley was getting more handsome as years passed, and you found it hard to contain your feelings. You were crushing, hard.

Eva was...Eva about it. Happy, but nothing changed. She didn't tease like George did when he found out, nor did she act any differently towards Fred.

“Hey ____!” Fred had sat next to you, shaking the entire couch because he grew that tall during summer. “Got a new girl after me.” he looked at you, almost expectantly, as if you wouldn’t react the way you always reacted.

“That’s great Fred.” you smiled, gulping whatever lump that was forming in your throat and struggling to come out as vulgar words you wished to yell.

“Yeah,” Fred sighed, “It’s...great.”

Fred Weasley was a ladies man, and he wasn't afraid to show it. It was okay, because you were happy enough to be one of his closest, and that was enough. He often boasted about getting girls, and how successful his jokes were, and you always loved snapping back to him cockily, even more cockily than him. Playful banter was easy, comforting between them and when he turned away you would love to shyly entertain the idea of being one of those girl’s Fred talked about.

Fifth year, you had a sudden growth spurt. That was also the year where you discovered Cosmopolitan, Vogue and of course Witch Weekly. Hair no longer in a ponytail, legs shaved and smooth, short skirts with no nylons, you were a new person. After getting your period in third year, your spurt came late, but sudden. Way too sudden in the time of three months. It was hard to handle the changes occurring to your body. It was all too much that you had to become a lady and the fact that you didn’t have your mother to help was a pain you hid deep within.

It was as if whichever god above decided to squeeze your entire life into a summer and call it a day, because it was simply too busy. How ironic. No one saw your growth except old Nanny Gladys. Not Eva, nor her parents considering they went on a getaway and the Burke's, who had gone to Brazil.

But you were over that, you discovered the great telephone, and the great Hermione Granger, package deal with Ginny Weasley. You guys would talk on the phone for hours upon hours, Ginny obscuring your personality and Hermione altering your view on your parents. And Hermione was right, they were assholes. You didn't give a flying fuck about empty praises anymore.

You had become almost too tall for your older clothes, and your breasts were way too big to fit in the training bra you bought not even a month ago. Your hips, now wide and swaying as you walk became graceful, were decorated with long gem bracelets.

You cursed like a sailor that summer, ran around fields with family - your family being your dog, Jambo - bare feet. You stomped on flowers you used to pick as a little girl, stomping on those silly fairytale dreams you used to nurse, and never felt freer. For the first time ever you felt that maybe being empty could be more freeing than having false hope weighing you down.

Returning to Hogwarts was a big deal to students. Who changed, who glowed up after what happened last year - nothing, it was all childish drama.

Before your parents could even see your new self, your escapade to the Granger household was successful. The Y/L/N's didn't care, nor did they write. You knew it should’ve hurt, but frankly, you didn’t think having the pain in your chest was worth it. Hermione was awestruck, of course, after laying her sights on you for the first time since May and insisted on walking into the Entrance Hall, arm in arm with her and Ginny to show you off like some sort of revelation.

It was a revelation all right, at least to the boys, and some girls. It seemed no one saw you as a girl before. George oogled, and Lee was so shocked to find out that you were actually a girl with a pretty figure and an even prettier smile that he stopped clapping you on the back like he always did. Not a girl, you have become a woman. It was far too sudden, new uniforms and a whole new wardrobe had to be bought.

"____? You were a girl?" Fred joked, ruffling your hair like nothing changed between you. And that's when you realized, no slutty skirt, how much pushup your bra, or no matter how pretty your hair looked, Fred would always see you as ____, the girl with crooked front teeth and who once ate a worm in second year. Your teeth weren't crooked at all anymore - thanks to a few years of braces - and finally clear of uncomfortable metals but you felt as if Fred would always see the ghost of them on your pearly whites when you smiled.

He had this view of you that blinded him, caused him to treat you as he treated Ginny while he flirted and played footsie with other girls, including Eva.

That did not stop Eva from giving you false hope, and you took the bait, naive like always. Hope, that's what ruined it all. "You're beautiful now, of course you have a chance!" she said, rubbing your shoulder reassuringly, as if she had warmth to begin with.

It was all false, yet you still believed. You always had. Like a fool.

Ginny didn't like Eva, and maybe that's why you gravitated towards her. She was the first person who had ever met Eva that wasn't charmed by her kind smile and attractive words. Eva was...displeased. She grew up having the attention of everyone around, so when Ginny Weasley told her straight to her face that she wasn't shit, Eva seethed. The attention of Ginny changed nothing though, because Eva was the main character. Everyone - except Ginny, and secretly Hermione (though she would never say it) - loved her, they followed her around like puppies and praised her on her wonky wand work.

The upcoming Yule Ball brought great upswing to Hogwarts.

You were far too busy with her classes to take interest in the tournament - even though the dragon race was the gnarliest sight you had ever seen. Your goal was set, become a badass Auror and move out as soon as possible, so you didn't have to face your parents (except Holidays, yuck.)

But the Yule Ball was your chance. A chance with Fred Weasley.

You could ask to go as friends and maybe, just maybe a little hope and the night would end much more romantic than you had anticipated.

Plucking up courage was the hardest part, you practiced with your bathroom mirror so long that Ginny had to blast through the door and drag you out of her dormitory.

Fred Weasley agreed, why wouldn't he? You, his closest friend, asking to go as a group and drink all night while gossiping? It was a win win. At least that's what you told herself.

That was a lie, it wasn't a win win.

You gave it your all getting ready, dress silk, makeup and expensive shoes. You took a long shower, scrubbing and shaving yourself to a smooth gliding porcelain, only for it all to be washed down with reddened eyes and a boy with even redder hair.

Fred greeted you the same, danced the same, and you chatted the same; you were reminded again, for the second time, that you stood no chance.

Fred told you that he was going to get drinks, a quick trip to the booth and mumbled I'll be back in a second. He was not back in a second. Several minutes passed, and your worries caused your feet to follow after Fred's footsteps.

You ran, trying to find him in the empty corridors of Hogwarts, tears welling in your eyes because he wouldn't. He wasn't that cruel, life wasn't that cruel.

But it was, and in a distant empty classroom you saw Fred Weasley, on his knees and between Eva's legs, groaning and praising her like a starved man. Worshipping her like everyone else had, burying himself in her and completely forgetting the drink he’d bring back in just a second. He’d left you thirsty and alone in the Great Hall and left you to drink from a cup he hadn’t known to be forbidden. Yet Eva did.

Eva's perfect dainty hands tangled in his ginger hair, thighs clamping shut while her high pitched moans flooded your mind and echoed around your head. They were so loud that she couldn’t even hear the loud echoes of your footsteps and the woeful cries that left your lips as you ran. It wouldn’t be the first time she had ignored your pain for her own selfish reasons.

Your heart shattered, and suddenly you were six again, watching your parents praise Eva, hang her drawing on the fridge. A soft breeze tickling your bare toes, dangling from the small cushioned seat you sat on while you watched Eva braid Mrs Y/L/N’s hair. Emotionless, silent, not asking for anything, knowing that you won't receive in return. Eva's small hands carefully placed the flower crown on Mrs Y/L/N’s pool of hair, and she smiled, heart warming and hopeful. Suddenly you remembered the feel of your own hands tangling in between your locks as you stood on your tiptoes, trying to imitate your mothers braid on yourself in the mirror you couldn't reach. You pretended, only for a moment before it twisted into knots.

What a cruel joke, you thought as you watched Eva receive the world from Fred, from your parents, from your friends and from every damn person you had met.

You cried on a big set of stairs that night, your wails echoing as you asked whoever, whatever what you had done. What you had done to deserve such treatment from the people around you. It was rather cliche - and maybe a bit too dramatic. It was an uncomfortable seat of course, and your body, as well as your heart, ached. Pain, misery, false hope and enough hair spray to melt the ozone.

The princesses always cried on big sets of stairs, uncomfortable stone floors causing them to shiver while they hid away their beautifully animated faces in their perfect hands. This was different, there was no fairy godmother to fix your makeup and clone a gentlemanly Fred Weasley, a perfect prince. You knew, because you cried, and prayed and cried and prayed until your throat was sore. There was no fairy godmother, it was all a lie. There was no happy ending. There would be none.

No one came to find you that night either, and you had to drag yourself back to the Gryffindor common room, feet bare, mascara, blush - anything else you put on in hopes of being able to become like Eva even only for one night - practically nonexistent from the way your tears washed them away.

You didn't sleep that night, and your head was unusually clear, pounding, but clear. You laid awake, eyes blood-shot and stinging while your dress shuffled uncomfortably between your sheets. You were too tired to change, and your dress was far too pretty to be worn so short.

Ginny's words replayed over and over again. "They're not worth it." her voice was so clear, and true. Mr and Mrs Burke weren't worth it. Your parents weren't worth it. Fred Weasley wasn't worth it. Eva wasn't worth it. The midnight chirping of bugs invited themselves in from your open window, and blue moonlight streaks beaming down in lines from the tulle curtain flowed with breeze, it was calming.

You felt calm, for the first time in sixteen years. You felt calm.

Fred and Eva started dating that week. Everyone acted like they expected it, and you realized just how blind you had been. Eva Burke and Fred Weasley, golden couple of Hogwarts.

You watched them, emotionless, as they embraced with love and so much passion that you felt embarrassed. Embarrassed at how you’d blushed and squeal over Fred in front of Eva and George and anyone who had found out because now you knew. Now you knew that their amused smiles were probably pitying grimaces because they knew that you two were never meant to be. It was always Fred and Eva.

Fred was an amazing boyfriend, making sure Eva was taken care of, lovingly staring at her whenever and wherever, arm looped around her waist at all times; you realized they were truly not worth it.

"You disgust me."

You didn't mean the words to escape so carelessly, but when you said them, you realized you didn't want to take them back. The growing pit in your stomach felt weightless. "Excuse me?" said Fred, stopping his nibbling on Eva's neck, who was just as shocked. You scoffed, Eva already had enough purple bruises to parade around so why did Fred have the need to add more?

"You heard me right," George, Lee, Ron, Harry, Katie and whoever sitting in their circle stared at you, wide-eyed, Ginny and Hermione, however, were grinning devilishly. Kind ____, wouldn't hurt a fly, quiet at times and didn't know how to stand up for herself. It was shocking, but you were done pretending. You didn't want to be like that anymore, you wanted to say whatever came to mind and not worry about the consequences. "You guys disgust me, I know I should be supportive but you don't match, at all."

You turned to George. "And you, no you can't talk about Katie like that." George went pink. "You're disgusting for sleeping around carelessly and telling girls you'd write, stop giving people false hope. Grow up. You’re nearly an adult and you can’t even treat a girl right."

"And you Lee," Lee went quiet. "What gives you the right to make fun of me like that. I'll wear whatever the fuck I want, just because you don't have the courage to wear a headband. If you can talk about my breasts, I'll talk about your shrimp."

"Ron, you take advantage of Hermione then lead her on. Open your eyes, asshole."

"Harry, you're not the main character. You're not always going to be the center of attention, nor do you have the right to yell at your friends."

"Alicia, god you're so stupid. I'm sorry, you're great but such an airhead. No, you can't ride a Thestral if you can't see them, and stop eating quill ink they're bad for you."

You stood up, grinning proudly, heart loud in your chest you feared someone might hear. "Frankly, I don't wanna be friends anymore. I'm done with this façade, except you two, 'Gin, Hermione. The rest of you are just so fake." she gestured to them. "Boys," she nodded again. "Don't talk to me anymore, and Lee, give me back the money, think it's about time don't you think? I've been paying for you since third year."

And with that, you left. You left Three Broomsticks, grin wide and chest heaving. Hermione and Ginny ran behind, whooping and cheering you on as they laughed.

The news of your outburst spread fast like wildfire caught in wind. That week was bliss, you no longer had to watch Fred and Eva, nor did you have to act sweet to anyone. You didn't have to laugh along Lee's sexist jokes and look away to wince, it was pure bliss. You realized that the feeling of being free didn’t have to be momentary.

Pansy Parkinson was surprisingly a good friend, she didn't have the same fakeness to her, the one Eva had where her smile was too kind. She spoke her mind, though every Slytherin did, and you liked that. Ginny wasn't happy with your new found friends, but she couldn't separate you. You made your own decisions from now on. It was refreshing.

You told your new friends everything, eager to get it off your chest and breathe, and they listened. For the first time, someone listened. You didn't have to get good grades, nor did you have to act like a sweet angel.

You teared up the first time Pansy said; "It's not your fault,". You knew it wasn't your fault, but hearing someone else say it with such genuine eyes made you believe. Actually believe.

It started off with you watching from the sidelines as Draco and Blaise pranked, insulted and shamed whatever your old friend group did. It wasn't unusual for Draco to act this way, but he got especially irritated after hearing what you told them. Blaise, someone usually quiet, had stepped up and decided to somehow release the pent up anger he had for the Gryffindor students.

The year ended, and you had started to sneak in an insult or two towards Fred and Eva. It felt nice, like finally, step by step you were clearing your years of hidden jealousy. But, there was no one to tell you that this simply wasn't the right way.

That summer, you stayed at the Burrow. Ginny had invited you and you were quick to say yes; obviously a fact forgotten. Fred, George and whoever you had insulted last year stayed in the same house. You simply didn't want to go home, and if this meant seeing Fred Weasley then you had to endure it.

Molly Weasley was the sweetest person you could ever meet, and it was genuine. It felt genuine, you feared your teeth might rot if the woman got another word in. Molly greeted you as if you were her own daughter she hadn't seen in years. You felt valued, seen.

Until Eva was there, Fred invited her. You had to watch the only person you were able to love, introduce the only person he was able to love to his mother. It wasn't you. It would never be you.

And you realized, even after everything, Eva had once again found a way to be more loved than you.

The grin Molly broke out was nothing short of beautiful, and you couldn't help but smile as well. The smile wasn't directed towards you of course, and you sat on that small kitchen chair, celebrating a relationship that caused your ruin.

Eva didn't care that your friendship was over, nothing budged in her life. She still got the same attention, still received the same love from Fred. The same affection, the same attention and the same everything. Or so it seemed.

Though unlike Eva, Fred merely watched you with sad eyes.

You stayed clear of the couple and the rest. You hung out with Ginny and Hermione only, ignoring the dirty looks Ron and Harry gave you. The secret, whispered insults Eva threw your way. George didn't say anything, but he didn't object either. This was enough to show how he felt. At this point you really didn't care. Why would you, when they didn’t either?

You held your head high just like Ginny and Hermione told you to, and you spoke in a loud and clear tone whenever asked something. Eva didn't, she stuttered when you spoke to her directly. Her words scrambled against each other when she tried to voice her insults in louder statements than a whisper. For the first time, you felt relief. You felt intimidating, protected by the barriers you had built around yourself.

Longest day of summer hit, and it boiled. Tanning became a distant dream, you would bake in this weather, and you were thankful to the big AC box you had brought from home. You couldn't sleep that night, sweat beads falling down your forehead that was already covered in a thin sheen. You had decided to get a cold glass of water, not sure how you ended up face to face with Fred Weasley. His wand tip shone with blue light, and his freckles were much darker because of the sun. It seemed the sun decided to be cruel to Fred Weasley back and wash Fred over with it's deathly heat. He was sunburnt, this was an understatement. He was burnt.

You couldn't help but start laughing when you met, ignoring the proximity, ignoring the sleeping house, dead silent and a big leap from the lively Burrow, ignoring Fred's soft breaths he let out every other second. You couldn't live off on false hope anymore.

Suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore, and your face quickly fell. You took a big step back and inhaled, ready to ignore him like you had been doing for the past year. But Fred Weasley was a persistent man, and he gripped your arm and looked at you with determined, doe-like eyes. "Tell me what I did wrong." he said, adamant on fixing this, whatever this was. You both didn't know.

You stood silent.

"Please flower,"

"Don't call me that." you said, stern and gaze sharp. Fred didn't react, he kept on insisting.

"Please, tell me how to fix this. I can fix it," he pleaded, a plethora of empty promises fell out of his lips like nothing. He lied like it was nothing, he was oblivious to everything he and everyone around them had put you through. It was infuriating.

You didn't say anything. You knew he would not fix anything but maybe staying silent would give him the false hope that spinned mockingly in your head for the past eighteen years.

"I'm sorry, just please. I can fix this, I promise, don't be like that." empty tears fell down from his eyes. He looked empty, tired. They lacked the charm they usually shined with and you wondered if it was only you that caused such dullness. Eye bags prominent that you never noticed before. It all felt like a lie, a cruel joke.

Fred Weasley was simply a cruel joke. His presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, especially when you down it like how Hagrid nurses a Firewhiskey filled pint glass. You never know how it will hit you. But in the end, you'd always find yourself curled next to the toilet, crying your eyes out because your headache was simply too much.

He was sobbing now, hanging onto your waist like you would simply vanish and you let him. The grip he had on was like steel vice - almost concerning - but you didn't touch him, didn't say anything. You just let him be, like he did to you. Allowed him to hopelessly hang off you before you would eventually leave him alone, like he did to you. "Where did I go wrong? How could we end up like this? What went wrong?"

‘You’, but your voice couldn’t be found.

Questions were useless when the answer was already right in front of his eyes. You didn’t let a single tear fall, you wouldn't forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

You blinked, and that night was over. Summer continued on like nothing happened, like it didn't leave you heart broken and in such shame yet again. You continued on ignoring Fred as he looked at you with sorrowful eyes. Looked at you more, with more than he did his own girlfriend.

You blinked and the school year started again with another terror looming around the corner. There was simply no need to keep up anymore, because school was easy. You attended classes, got good grades, a few scar here and there from Umbridge's torture chamber, a woman who stood at a whopping five foot three yet still teriffied an entire school.

You blinked and you had already become a proud member of Draco's insult the Gryffindor's club. You didn't even feel bad, being horrible to the people you hated for years felt like a breath of fresh air. You didn't go as far as physically hurting any of your old friends, but coming up with damaging insults was such fun. A lot more fun than sitting around with a fake smile.

You blinked, and you were already moving out from your childhood house. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N were unusually happy, this was a given. They would have a new empty room and make another office, like they didn't have enough already. You feared they would start getting rid of bathrooms once too into their work, and they would have to do their business in bushes or buckets. Scratch that, you didn't fear that, it would be fucking hilarious.

You blinked, and when had time passed too quickly? Where did all those empty childhood years had gone? You were already graduating, on your way to become an Auror. You had lost contact with all your old friends now, regretfully Ginny and Hermione too.

The war had hit too quickly, luckily you survived, so did your friends. Unluckily, it left you with a nasty scar right across your left brow. It looked sick, but the hit wasn't worth it. It hurt like a bitch. You could see, it was a close call but vision wasn't an issue. The trauma though, god did Bellatrix's breath smell bad.

When it was all over, you had seen Fred hugging his family tightly. It seemed the Weasley's all survived, and you gave them each tight lipped smiles while holding a bunched up rag to your head to stop the blood gushing out. This wasn't the reunion you wanted to have with Ginny, but hey, you take what you can get after a revolutionary Wizarding war you barely made out alive.

Before a franticly running Fred could reach you though, you apparated to your flat in Diagon Alley, ignoring the thrumming of your heart, and how you practiced in front of a mirror to congratulate their successful joke shop that morning.

[allurgorgeouscolors]

Take Me Home | Masterlist

Summary: Spencer swears he'll never let himself fall in love again.

based on this request:

Hi I love your work! Could you possible do something where a few months after Maeve died Spencer sort of dated/hooked up with reader and when he realized his feeling with her he pushed her away and broke things off with her, just as she was about to tell him she was pregnant.

Then when Spencer comes out of prison, jj asks Spencer to pick up Michael from like nursery and sees reader (who owns the nursery) and he asks her out to coffee. In the middle of the night Spencer gets a call from reader asking him to come over where she tells him about how she got pregnant with twins. A boy and a girl.

And she shows him them asleep in their room and he just hugs her as he cries cause he’s so happy and emotional. And get some Spencer dad content pls and the twins interacting with the team🥺🥺 I love how you portray Spencer as a dad.

Part One NSFW

cw: Angst, Smut, friends with benefits agreements, pining, unrequited love, accidental pregnancy

Part Two

Cw: angst, pregnancy, birth, canon violence

Part Three

cw: spencer's arrest, high spencer, drug use, kidnapping, murder, canon typical violence, angst with a happy ending

[allurgorgeouscolors]

Happy Birthday Fred | george weasley

Single Part

Parings: George Weasley x Female!Reader 

Warnings: character death, childbirth, and pregnancy

Words: 958

Summary: George’s birthday is given a whole new meaning when his daughter is born on April 1st. 

THE DAY FRANCINE Weasley was born was chaotic and tiring for both Y/n and George. The day had started off like every April 1st for the past eight years had gone, quiet and reserved for mourning the loss of Fred Weasley. Even after all the years going by it still hurt like a fresh wound.

All day Y/n had been feeling a little off, somehow the baby growing inside of her belly felt heavier. Each movement took more effort, and the cramps she’d been feeling the entire last half of her pregnancy were more intense and painful. But because of her husband's pain and grief about his birthday she chose not to say anything, comforting through it all until the very last minute. 

That very last minute just had to be at the Burrow during dinner. Y/n had been barely picking at her roast and potatoes, a birthday dinner that George reluctantly agreed to be a part of. Y/n’s very swollen belly was uncomfortable and everyone noticed how her face screwed up uncomfortably with each movement. 

    “Is everything alright dear?” Molly asked, she had been the first and only one to call attention to the obvious frustration building up in the young woman. 

    George glanced over at his wife with sad eyes, knowing how bad of a partner he was being by not trying to take care of his pregnant wife. Their eldest children, Fred II and Roxanne had been keeping an eye on her though, being incredibly more observant than other seven year olds. 

    “Oh yeah,” she said as a strong cramp struck her lower belly, “Just some more braxton hicks and all, my due date is still a week away.”

    Y/n noticed that across the table Hermione opened her mouth to say something but stopped when Y/n’s grip tightened around her knife at the sudden pressure that felt like her bladder suddenly released all over her. The potatoes that were on the fork splattered onto the table. George reacted faster than anyone, “What happened?”

    “I think - I don’t know -” she stood up from the table, wet dripping down her legs and onto the floor. A large spot covered her front and she sighed embarrassed, “I’ll clean it up -”

    “Nonsense!” Molly’s voice was firm but her face held a wide gleam, “You're water just broke dear, I dare say it’s time for you to get to St. Mungos.”

    Y/n gaped at the older woman, she’d obviously given birth before. The twins sitting at the table were proof of that, but she had been induced then after being a week past her due date.

    “Come on love,” George said, his voice was quite likely from hardly watching all day, “Mum will watch the twins right?”

    Molly nodded eagerly, “Of course! Send me a patronus when she’s pushing and we’ll come sit in the waiting room.”

---

    Y/n was determined not to give birth until the next day. Though it was seeming unlikely when she was already four centimeters dilated by the time she was put in a bed. George stood at her side eerily quiet, he had grown to be less loud and obnoxious then he had been during school, but there was always the part of him that would hold onto it forever.

    Y/n was worried that if she gave birth to this baby on his birthday George would retreat away, unable to look at their daughter without seeing the ghost of his brother written on her small face.

    “You’re doing amazing Mrs. Weasley,” one of the nurses said walking in for the second time that hour to check her dilation, “Are you ready for the potion?”

    “No,” she gritted her teeth as a contraction rattled her body, “I-I am not giving birth today.”

    The nurse gave her a strange look but didn’t question it, likely having heard a million different requests as odd as that one before. George however didn’t hold back as soon as the woman left the room he was turning to his wife with eyebrows furrowed together, “Why don’t you want to give birth today?”

    “It’s April 1st.”

    He gave her a look that made her regret saying that, “Trust me I know,” he sighed running a hand through his hair, “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

    “I-I’m worried that if our daughter is born today you won’t be able to get over sharing her birthday like you did with him.”

    George closed his eyes and sighed, “You can say his name; Fred,” he said, “It’s been almost ten years and I miss him every single day. There isn’t a second that goes by where I don’t wonder what it would be like to have him here-”

    “I’m sorry George.”

    “I miss him but I already love this baby more than anything in the world. My kids are my life Y/n, my family, you are my life. Nothing will ever change that.”

    Y/n grinned at him feeling a little breathless as she did so, this was one of the first real times they had talked about Fred. She hadn’t said his name to anyone in years, a part of her almost felt weird about even thinking it.

    His reassurance calmed her a bit, and at 9:42pm on April 1st Francine Weasley was born looking like the exact perfect mixture of her parents. When George held her for the first time he was near tears, looking down into her eyes that already seemed to hold so much knowledge of the world ahead of her.

    As a tear stripped down his face and George looked up at the sky, hoping to whatever was out there that his brother could hear him, “Happy Birthday Fred.” 

---

Requests are Open!!!

||credit to the artist of thr drawing up top||

[allurgorgeouscolors]

like i would \ s.r fanfic

pairing: spencer reid x reader summary: spencer cheated, and reader wants to get revenge. genre: angst? i think? word count: 1.9k warnings: cheating, curse words, talk about sex and mentions of sexual things but no actual smut. (daddy kink, edging, bonding) minors DNI. a\n: yo im on a roll with writing fics (because i dont want to do my uni work but well ignore that). also this is obviously inspired by song like i would by zayn. what is in bold and italic are readers thoughts

masterlist - -

She knows what she's doing is wrong. She knows its childish, stupid and petty. She knows that it will probably do more bad than good. But honestly? She doesn't really care. As she was applying the last touch of her makeup- the dark red lipstick he loves so much, she can't help but grin at her reflection in the mirror. She looks good, damn she will even say she looks hot. Walking to the bar downtown with her head held high and heels even higher, she knows that tonight, she will make him jealous. He will regret breaking her heart, he will regret acting like a complete asshole to her.

The bar would probably be much too crowded for her liking, but you couldn't expect less from a Friday night in DC. she knows he and his team will be here- after all she still follows penelope on instagram and saw her posting a story of all the team sitting and drinking at their usual bar, and him sitting and smiling on the corner, with the little bitch sitting on his lap.

One last look at herself on the black screen of her phone before going in to make sure she still looks good, one last puff to her hair and one last breath. She's ready to get her revenge on Spencer reid.

Her long legs carrying her inside the bar, the bouncer already knows her after being here with him so many times that he doesn't even need to check her ID. a year gone to the drain, she thinks to herself about the first night she met him at this exact bar and letting him into her heart. But she wont allow self pity to take over tonight, no, she did it for the past month and had had enough. Tonight she's going to make him sorry, sorry he ever chose that blonde over her.

The loud music blasts as she makes her way through the crowd, people dancing and grinding against each other without a care. She used to be one of them not so long ago with him, dancing like they are alone and nothing can come between them. Well, nothing besides his ability to keep his tongue in his own mouth. As she talks to the bartender to order her drink, she spots his team sitting in the corner.

‘Now I just need one of them to notice me so I'll have an excuse to come’

she thinks to herself, and like the gods themself heard her, JJ looks her way and waves. She pays for her drink and sways her hips towards the busy table, making sure to have a visible smirk plastered all over her face. “JJ hi! I missed you so much!” The rest of the team moved their heads at the sound of her voice, and though she didn't look in his direction, she could feel him cringe at how close she was to him. All of the team had a fake smile on, trying to hide their obvious tension between you and their teammate. “Me too y\n! I hope you're doing good, we all missed you on our girls night out last week” “Yes y\n, you must come with us next time!” penelope added Y\n took a long sip from her drink and waved her hand in dismissal. “I'm sorry girls, I've always loved hanging out with you, but I don't think we can anymore. I don't think i can trust you while you're still friends with the man who cheated on me” All the eyes that were on you were directed toward Spencer, and awkward silence lingered for a few moments while no one knew what to say, or even wanted to say anything.

‘Step one of the plan complete motherfucker’

After another sip from her sweet drink, and still ignoring Spencer's eyes that drilled holes in her head, she spoke again. “I hope you'll all have a nice time, i'm going to find some better company” Turning around, a huge smirk on her lips, she knew they all looked at her and felt embarrassed about what she said to them. She hoped that Spencer and that girl would feel even worse than the rest. With her glass empty, she left it at a random table and walked over to the dancefloor, just close enough so they all would still be able to see her.

‘It shouldn't be hard to find someone to dance with, i look like a goddess tonight’

With her back towards the table who was still looking at her, she moved her hips from side to side, while grabbing the neck of the man closest to her. His name didn't matter, she didn't really care what he did for a living and if he looked good outside of the dim lights. She only cared that he put his hands on her midsection and pulled her close. After a few songs and some kisses full of tongue, she turned around with his hands still on her, to grind her ass on his growing bulge. She closed her eyes while his hands traveled up, slowly massaging her breasts through her halter top. She opened her eyes and saw exactly what she wanted- straight ahead was Spencer, staring right at her. The little blonde is still sitting on his lap and trying to get his focus back on her. She smiled mischievously at him, looking straight into his eyes while moving her hands on top of the stranger, encouraging him to grab her boobs even harder.

‘Good thing i didn't wear a bra tonight’

She turned around to the young man behind her, excusing herself to the bathroom and saying she'll be right back. As she walked towards the ladies room, she didn't need to look back to know who was following her. Around the corner she was leaning with her back to the wall, waiting for him to show his face. “Hi spencer, long time no see” He stood shocked before her, hands in his pockets, not knowing what to say and how to start this conversation. Why did he even follow her? He had a beautiful girl sitting with him and here he is walking after the woman that told him, in nicer words, to go fuck himself. Sure, he deserved it, but why is he still feeling so drawn to her? Why cant he remain with the other girl, the one that wants him? And most importantly, why is she standing here, looking better than ever, and just laughing at him when he looks at her?

“Cat got your tongue? Or is it the blonde slut that waits for you back at the table that has it?” Spencer ran his hands over his face in frustration. “What are you doing here y\n?” “Just trying to find someone to go home with. Hoping it will be better than the guy i took home from here last time. He was a dick and ended up cheating on me” Spencer's body moved on his own, slowly inching closer to her. As she glanced down, she saw the tent forming in his pants.

‘Step two complete’

“No y\n, I think you came here to make me jealous. You want to make me regret cheating on you, to try and make me feel as bad as I made you feel. I took control from you and you're just trying to take it back.” At the end of his sentence he was so close to her, their faces were almost touching, his hands locking her in a cage near her head. For a moment she felt a bit nostalgic for the first time they were in this situation, but it faded quickly when she remembered who he came to the bar with tonight. “Always the profiler, aren't you daddy?” A small hiss escaped his lips as she said his favorite title. But she wasn't done torturing him yet. She sneaked her hands up his torso as she continued speaking. “I gotta be honest with you, when I walked in on you and that girl last month, I felt betrayed. But now, I only feel sorry for you, you wanna know why daddy?” He started leaving small kisses on her neck, sucking bruises she would have to hide tomorrow. “Tell me princess”

‘This is too easy’

“Because I know you and I know your needs. Being with a girl 10 years younger than you might be exciting in the start, and might be something that most men fantasize about. But what all men fail to realize, that while she might still have the body of a 25 year old girl, she doesn't have the experience that i have” She pushed him closer to her by her hands and wrapped her right leg around his torso to keep him pushed against her. Her lips came close to his ear while she continued. “She doesn't know how to please you, she doesn't know how to touch your body and make you feel like I do.” She trailed small kisses behind his ear and on his neck, feeling his breath stopping while she sucked a bruise on his pulse point, and her hand slowly rubbing the bulge in his pants. “Tell me i'm wrong daddy and i'll stop” But he couldn't speak, she knew he wouldn't be able to. He might like to play dom in the bedroom, but she could control him just as much. “Tell me, does she submit to you like I did? Does she let you edge her for so long that she's begging for you? Does her body feel as good as mine as it wraps around you? Can she take all of you while she's on her knees with tears running down her face? And most of all, does she let you tie her up and leave bruises that will stay for days?” He pulled his head up and looked at her in the eyes. They were dark and his pupils were blown wide, full of lust. All he wanted was to kiss her, to push her into the bathroom stall and fuck her senseless, like he fantasized about in the last month after they broke up. “Youre killing me baby”

‘Oh you haven't seen nothing yet’

She put on the most emphatic smile she could and caressed her palm on his cheek. “I know, and i hope you'll remember how good i can make you feel, because you will never get to have me again” She pushed him off her, walking with her back towards the crowd and her face to the pathetic man infront of her, ready to place her final blow. “I hope that bitch was worth it, because what we had was real and pure. And you fucked up. But that's ok, because I will be able to find another dick to please me, but you will never find someone as good as me. Goodbye forever spencer.”

She walked away from him, not even wanting to hear the poor excuses he would try to say to her. She smiled and waved to the young girl that was staring at her from the table, both of them knowing that Spencer followed her to the back of the bar and why. She slowly pointed at her neck, showing her the purple bruise on her neck that formed from him, seeing how her face fell as she saw it.

‘Maybe now you will feel like i did when i watched you shove your tongue down my boyfriends throat bitch’ And with that, her plan was over. She walked out of the bar, ready to put that chapter of her life behind her. Needless to say, she never came back to that bar again.

[allurgorgeouscolors]

I reallly love how the untouchables have a genuine friendship. When Olivia and Anwar showed up immediately for Ruby after she ended needed things with Otis for good. We also know that Ruby never told Olivia and Anwar where she lived. In letting down her walls for Otis. She was able to the same for Olivia & Anwar

[allurgorgeouscolors]

one of their cutest scenes 🥺

they’re cute

[allurgorgeouscolors]

Sheer Luck [Fred Weasley x Reader] - Requested

Title: Sheer Luck Pairing: Fred Weasley x Female!Reader Word count: 4.2k Published: 13 September 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Warnings: Mention of food and a bit of swearing Summary: Fred has no choice but to help George in the shop, leaving his son, the little Fabian to play alone for a little while longer. But when Fabian goes missing, Fred panics only to find his son in the company of none other than the girl he still harbours those stupid feelings for. Request: [x] Request sent by @prismarts

"Hi bab! Congratulations on the 2.9k followers and the anniversary! I hope you're having a great time celebrating! I was hoping if I could ask for🗡️. If I could please request a Fred Weasley fic where he is a single dad and asks the reader, an old friend of his from Hogwarts, to help babysit his kid cause he was unbelievably busy with the joke shop that day and the kid gets attached to her."

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

Battle of Swords; 2.9k followers and 1st anniversary celebration event

If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

The Weasley family had always been known to be loud and full of life, each member adding to the lovely chaos with their own handful of personalities. Fred's son, the little Fabian was of course, no exception. Unsurprisingly, he was energetic and at times rather troublesome just like his own father. There was never a dull moment around him. It's been 5 years since Fred first held the little bundle of joy, his tiny body comfortably laying across his lower arm. Only 5 years. He couldn't comprehend how fast he had grown and how smart he had become in such a short amount of time. But with such an independent little boy, trouble was always lurking around the corner.

Fred was assisting George in the shop, helping with the sea of customers. He wasn't supposed to be working, but George couldn't keep up and the new recruit they hired quickly turned around and left the shop upon seeing how busy the place had become. So, Fred had no choice but to help his brother out whilst often his eyes wandered to Fabian who was seated beside a shelf, playing with a toy, trying to entertain himself.

The chiming of the bell above the entrance never ceased and even when Fred had gone to the storage room in the back to pick up a couple of boxes, it still rang in his ears as though it was permanently stuck in his memory. With a subtle shake of his head, he returned to the counter and placed the boxes behind him whilst he served the next customer. Between typing two digits into the till, he turned towards the shelf where Fabian was seated at, only to find the tiny wooden chair empty, no sign of his son anywhere nearby. His heart skipped a beat, his breathing turned shallow as his eyes frantically surveyed the shop. Panic flooded his entire being. As though someone dumped a bucket of ice-water over him, he froze in his spot, eyes wide in shock, the worst possible scenarios playing in the back of his mind.

Without a word of apology, he left the customer behind and rushed around the shop, looking for the ginger-haired little boy. He ran from the ground floor to the upper floor, from the entrance of the shop to the most hidden storage room in the back, but he couldn't find Fabian. Fred felt as though it was a punishment. He loved his son, he loved how lively he was, but at times he just wanted a bit of calm, a little silence, just a small amount of time for himself. But now all those thoughts seemed like a punishment. Now that Fabian was gone, he wanted to rip anyone to shreds who dared to stand in his way of getting his son back.

A silent chuckle disturbed his self-depreciative thoughts before it turned into a fit of laughter. As fast as the wind, Fred turned around, knowing the voice too well to ever forget. His eyes widened at the sight of his son playing with no other than the only girl who made him lose his mind back in Hogwarts. The only girl who didn't fall for his flirty comments and chat-up lines, the only girl who never wanted to be more than a friend, however hard he'd tried.

"I have a feeling your father will kill me if I keep you away any longer, so let's go back before he realises, you'd disappeared," you giggled as you picked Fabian up and seated him on the curve of your waist. "Just promise me you won't run up to people you don't know in the future, okay?" You gently flicked his nose, earning a small giggle from the boy.

"But I know you. Daddy has a photo of you and him on his desk," Fabian replied as your eyes widened in surprise, your breath hitching. Fred felt his heart skip a beat. A part of him felt relieved to find his son in good hands, but another part bathed in embarrassment at the thought of you realising how infatuated he was with you even after all these years. Though you'd never known about his love for you, he didn't dare confess after all, he was certain if he let Fabian talk, it would quickly change.

"Oh, has he now?" You asked as the initial surprise vanished and a playful smirk sat across your face.

"Fabian!" Fred interrupted, before things took a rather awkward turn. Though he was unable to pretend he wasn't beyond excited to talk to you once again, first, he needed to scold his son. "Didn't I tell you not to just run off and talk to strangers?" He asked as he reached for Fabian and took him from your arms with a grateful nod offered to you.

"But she isn't a stranger. I see her photo every day in your room," he held up his little index finger as though he was lecturing his own father. A comical scoff left Fred's lips.

"But it doesn't mean you can just run off without telling me where you are going. I was worried about you," Fred wasn't the same, careless boy you had met in school, he had grown into a man with responsibilities, family and a business to run. A small smile spread across your face as you watched the conversation between Fabian and Fred, the little boy giving his dad a run for his money.

"Daddy," he pointed his finger in his father's face as though he was ready to scold him this time. "You told me that it's not nice to interrupt people when they are busy," he shook his head as though he was disappointed in his own father.

"I also told you that you have to let me know if you'd like to go somewhere," Fred retorted with a hidden smile in the corner of his lips.

"You see daddy, that's the problem. You told me to let you know if I want to go somewhere, but you also told me not to interrupt people when they are busy. I'm a child daddy. I don't know what you want me to do if you don't make it clear," Fred blinked at his son with wide eyes, shocked at his reply. He only seemed to wake from his momentary trance when a loud giggle erupted from your lungs.

"Oh, your son is a handful," you attempted to stop laughing, but once Fabian winked at you, you couldn't control yourself. Tears welled in your eyes; facial muscles stretched painfully. He was a carbon copy of his father and more.

"Fred!" George's voice came from the counter. "I could use some help," he grimaced, knowing he had interrupted something important, but he had no choice but to ask for his brother's assistance. A heavy sigh left Fred's lungs as he tried to look for a solution. He didn't want to leave Fabian alone nor did he want to leave you just yet. He wanted to talk to you, he wanted to ask how you were, what you've been up to and a thousand other questions, but George needed him.

"The lady can play with me until you are working," Fabian interrupted his train of thoughts.

"You can't just say that," Fred shook his head as he met your gaze.

"I mean, I don't mind. I don't have anything else to do and he seems like a fun kid," you smiled at Fred with the same smile he had loved so dearly as a teenager. You reached for the kid, wiggling your fingers as Fabian returned the gesture, attempting to get out of his dad's arms, but the only obstacle between the two of you seemed to be Fred himself.

"Are you sure?" He asked with a deep frown, not daring to believe what was happening. After all these years he ran into you out of sheer luck and out of nowhere you offered to help him with Fabian who seemingly already felt attached to you.

"My arms are getting tired," you replied, still wiggling your fingers. A deep chuckle left Fred's lips and at last, let you take Fabian from his arms. "Now get back to work," you shooed him away, earning yourself a mischievous grin from Fred as he shook his head.

"Just go to the back, he has his toys there," he said as he turned towards the counter, but after the second step he halted. "Oh, and thank you," you nodded in response and continued toward the back with a giggling Fabian in your arms.

By lunch time the shop calmed down a little and Fred had a minute to take a deep breath and lean against the shelf behind the cashier. He closed his eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair, making a mess out of his already dishevelled look. With a heavy sigh, he turned to leave, but he found himself face to face with George, who wore a knowing look and a playful smirk.

"What's that shit eating grin for?" Fred asked with an arched brow and tilted his head slightly.

"You lucky bastard," he chuckled in a reply, confusing his twin even more.

"Am I supposed to understand?" He furrowed at his brother.

"After all these years, you are still in love with her," he chuckled. Fred just shook his head, lips pulled into a thin line, not wanting to give him a reply, but George caught his arm as he tried to escape. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm on about. You were a second away from drooling on the floor," he scoffed in a comical tone, finding entertainment in his brother's love life.

"I did no such thing," he huffed, slightly irritated.

"Oh really," he arched a questioning brow. "Because out of the two of us, it was you with a shit eating grin when you recognised her," his chuckle was dark as though he found enjoyment in annoying his brother, but Fred kept a straight face, attempting to hide how right his twin was. "Fred, you've been alone for the past 5 years," he patted his brother's shoulder. "And for whatever magical reason, she happened to come here on the same day you needed help. Call me a fool, but it is no coincidence," he shrugged as he picked up a box that Fred brought out earlier and walked to the front of the shop to fill up the shelves.

With a heavy sigh, Fred headed to the back of the shop, heart pumping hard against his ribcage, each step speeding up the little rascal that kept him alive as though it knew he was getting closer to you. As he opened the door, eerie silence welcomed him. He looked around the stack of shelves, but he didn't see Fabian or you, nor could he hear anything. Then he continued to the tiny side room where they usually had their lunch break, but it was also empty, though the open triangle sandwich he bought for Fabian was half-eaten on the wooden table. With a deep frown he went to the last room that they usually used to take a rest. As he moved the burgundy curtain out of the way, a small smile spread across his face at the sight of you laying on the chestnut couch, eyes closed, breathing even whilst Fabian laid across your chest, his thumb comfortably tucked in his mouth to soothe himself into sleep.

Fred couldn't stop his movements as he shuffled closer and crouched beside the couch. Tilting his head, he watched you peacefully sleep with his beloved son on your chest as though you had a connection from the very first moment, you'd met him. He lifted a hand to brush a tiny lock of hair from your face as a soft smile spread across his lips. You slightly scrunched up your nose and sniffled at the unexpected touch, earning a silent laughter from Fred.

He didn't let out a sound, but his presence still woke you. After a couple of heavy blinks, you focused your gaze on Fred, a warm smile painted across his face. "Hey," you whispered in a hoarse tone, sleep still evident in your voice.

"Hey," he said as his lips curved wider. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he continued in a hushed tone, his gaze moving from you to Fabian.

"It's fine," shaking your head, you attempted to get up, but you quickly halted your movements as Fabian stirred in your arms. Fred just chuckled as he picked up his son and waited for you to sit up as he took the space beside you with his son soundly asleep in his arms, head tucked against the curve of his shoulder.

"He sleeps like a bear, so you don't have to worry," he said as he sunk deeper in the couch.

"I hope you know how lucky you are. You have a brilliant kid," you said with a soft smile.

"I know," Fred hinted a tiny kiss on Fabian's temple before turning back to you, his eyes shining with pride. "He is a handful sometimes, but I guess it's in our blood," he smirked.

"It definitely is. Now at least you know what poor Molly had been through," you giggled as he nodded with a playful grimace.

"And I only have one, imagine seven. I don't think we give enough credit to mom," he shook his head as he chuckled.

"You know you've changed a lot," you added.

"Have I? In what sense?" He arched a questioning brow.

"Well, it's only been what— six years since we graduated, and you have your own family and a business. You grew up to be a man, Mr. Weasley," you smiled as you bit on your bottom lip.

"I didn't really have a choice," he smirked, trying to play it off, though it certainly wasn't easy, even with all the help he had from his family and even if you were oblivious, it was easy for you to understand it from the gaze he rested on you.

"Why? Of course, if you don't mind me asking," you said, not wanting to pray into his life.

"I was still very young when Fabian was born and the relationship I was in was on and off for a year, even as she was pregnant. We just fought a lot, which I have to say was my fault, so I ended it. I took Fabian since his mother wanted to enjoy her life and I guess I had to grow up," he shrugged, but quickly halted his movements as Fabian stirred.

"Have you thought about contacting her now? Maybe she would want to come back?" You asked, tilting your head curiously, but Fred shook his head.

"No, I never loved her. That's why we broke up. I was still in love with the girl I fell for in Hogwarts," he chuckled, but your smile disappeared which Fred quickly noted.

"I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have attacked you with all these questions," you shook your head, gaze falling to the ground, clearly feeling embarrassed. Fred reached for your hand and cupped it in his palm, squeezing it reassuringly.

"It's okay. It's been a long time since we have talked. I'm curious too, you know?" He offered you a playful grin as you lifted your head once again. "We graduated and you just left. No letter, no words, no good-byes. Honestly, I felt a bit betrayed," he let out a comical scoff.

"I'm sorry," you shook your head. "I had the opportunity to travel, and I just packed up and went for it."

"But why without a word?" He frowned as he studied your face.

"I— I had my reasons," you picked at your nails as you tried to avoid the question. Though Fred was eager to know what happened, he didn't want to push you.

"Well, I'm glad you are back," he replied with a soft smile. "That is if you are back," he chuckled awkwardly.

"Yes, I am planning to stay now," you replied as you lifted your head, a light smile spreading across your face. There was a momentary silence as you gazed at each other, but you had to speak, that's what you came for after all. "I— you know I— oh just forget it," you giggled awkwardly, stopping yourself from saying whatever you wished to.

"What is it? Now you made me curious," he grinned at you with curiosity shining in his chestnut eyes. There was hesitation in you as you played with your hands in your lap, but at least you decided to speak up.

"I— I came back for a reason—," however before you could have continued, Fabian stirred in Fred's arms, calling for his dad. A heavy, relieved sight left your lungs.

"I'm here, good morning," he chuckled as he hinted a small kiss on his son's temple, but his eyes shot back to you immediately. "What was it you wanted to say? What reason?" He asked, not missing a word you said.

"Oh, it's nothing, I better go anyways. I have to go and check out some flats," you chuckled, but Fred didn't miss the strain in your voice, the obviously phony tone behind your laughter as you stood up. He didn't care if you could read his facial expression, he frowned regardless.

"You wanted to say something," he said. He knew it was something important, he could feel it in his bones as silly as the thought seemed.

"It's not actually. It really isn't," you shook your head defensively and scrunched your nose, a sign he had learned all those years ago still carved in his memory. You were lying. It was important and you were struggling against your own self not to tell him what you came for. "I'm just gonna go now. I'm sure we will run into each other later. Take care," you said with a smile that Fred could swear held some sort of pain.

Fred stood up from the couch, but you were already hurrying out of the shop and by the time he was at the counter, you were across the street, as though you were running away, escaping from him.

"George, can you please pay attention to Fabian for a second?" He asked his brother, though his eyes still followed you. Without a reply George took Fabian from Fred's arms and pushed on his twins' shoulder as though he could read his mind. He received a nod, but not a thank you or a reply, before Fred was dashing out of the shop, following you down the rather empty alley. He tried calling your name, he knew you heard him, he just knew, but you didn't turn around. He sped up his steps along the cobblestones grabbing your arm with a gentle force as he reached you. "Why are you running?" He asked, heaving heavy breaths.

"I'm not," you scoffed, but you didn't meet his eyes, though your gaze wandered around your surroundings. He placed his palms against your cheeks, not missing as you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes just a tad longer to bask in the moment.

"But you are. I know you. I know you were trying to tell me something important before you left. I knew all the little signs back in school and I still know the way you scrunch your nose when you are lying or how your eyes wander around awkwardly when you are afraid of looking at someone, not wanting to expose yourself," he couldn't miss the fear in your eyes, though he couldn't understand. "You might have changed, but a part of you is still the girl I fell in love with, and your tell-tale signs haven't changed a bit," he shook his head, his own words not registering. Your eyes widened, lips parting in surprise and once Fred processed the words he uttered, he mirrored your expression, air stuck in his lungs.

"You loved me?" Uncertainty laced your voice. Fred silenced himself for a moment, weighing his options, as his heart thundered under his ribcage. But at last, he spoke up.

"I have," he replied.

"Have?" You asked just as Fred hoped you'd catch on his wording. He nodded, but he couldn't form another word. He came after you to talk to you, but he didn't anticipate confessing his own feelings and as he stood in front of you, feelings laid out to you, he found himself paralysed.

"I didn't know. I thought— I thought you just flirted with me for the fun of it," you shook your head which Fred only mirrored.

"I ran after you like a hopeless puppy, but you'd told me so many times that you'd never date someone like me. I couldn't dare confess and ruin our friendship," words spilled out of Fred without a warning, and he couldn't stop himself. "But then you left, and I regretted not telling you how I felt. It would have been better to just let it all out and wait for your rejection than shoving it to the back of my mind and hoping it would just vanish. It never has," a heavy sigh left his lungs, his hands still cupping your face, but you stood in front of him wordlessly, staring up at him like a deer against the flashlight. "Say something, please," his pleading tone finally woke you from your trance and before he had the time to realise the vanishing gap, your lips pressed against his with the weight of over seven years' worth of heavily hidden feelings. Fred didn't need another moment to process what was happening, his arms already sneaked around your waist as you locked your own behind his neck. He kissed you back as though his life depended on your sole kiss, as though you were his air and without you, he was unable to survive. But you took the attack with the heart of a warrior, basking in his desperate attempt to make up for all those lost years, urgently needing you in his arms.

Panting for breath you finally parted, though Fred didn't let you go as he pressed his brows against you. "Woah—," he breathed, unable to create a coherent sentence just yet. A silent giggle left your lungs as you watched his blushing cheeks.

"I really never thought you liked me. Fred, I left because I was so stupidly in love with you that I couldn't handle seeing you with someone else," you confessed finally, your words making him frown.

"Why would you have seen me with someone else? I only had eyes for you," he said.

"I saw you flirting repeatedly, always with someone else, and I didn't want to see it. I couldn't watch it and I couldn't just stay your friend. I thought if I left it would help me get over these stupid feelings, but I clearly couldn't," you scoffed.

"But in our seventh year I did nothing but ran after you. I was stupidly desperate," he grimaced at the memory of his last year, running after you like a silly dog.

"I didn't realise, I could still vividly recall each and every girl you openly flirted with," you said.

"I'm so sorry," a heavy sigh left Fred's lungs.

"Don't apologise, please. After all these years, I came back because I thought I'd just put an end to this, tell you how I felt and get over these stupid feelings. But if you tell me that you still love me, how am I supposed to get over you?" a silent chuckle left your lungs.

"That's the beauty of it. You aren't," a playful grin appeared across his face. "Don't you dare– even for a second– think that I'll let you go now," he shook his head. "You made the mistake of coming back and I'm planning on making up for all those years," he didn't need your agreement, the silver lining of tears welling in your eyes and the soft smile across your face said it all. He lifted your chin and pulled you closer, closing the gap between you, this time kissing you slowly, savouring each moment his lips finally spent devouring yours. "Shoot," Fred interrupted the kiss, just as stunned as you were. "I have to go back, I left Fabian with George. It's never a good idea," he explained, earning a loud laugh from you, that sweet voice he'd been craving for so long.

Fred grabbed your hand, interlocking your fingers without hesitation, before you headed back to the shop, to find Fabian hanging upside down in George's hands. "Look daddy, the shop is upside down," a comical scoff left Fred's lips, before he walked closer to his son and took him from George, shaking his head at his twin as he saw his son's heavily pink cheeks.

"Not anymore," he replied, but before he could have spoken again, Fabian interrupted.

"So, is she my new mommy then?" The little boy asked with the same mischievous grin his father wore as the question left his tiny lips.

"Erm— why don't we discuss that later?" He asked as he walked up to you and wrapped his arm around your waist whilst placing a kiss on your temple.

"She is definitely my new mommy," Fabian said as he looked at George, heavy laughter erupting from all three of you.

Notes: If you enjoyed reading this little piece, please don’t forget to leave a like, comment and/or reblog. Your opinion matters and gives us motivation. Thank you ^^

If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

Taglists are in reblog from now on.

[allurgorgeouscolors]

SEX EDUCATION | 3.01

[allurgorgeouscolors]

[allurgorgeouscolors]

no because they’re actually so fucking cute

with the way he was smirking when he was talking

and the way she smiled before kissing him