#i was supposed to graduate last weekend. my sister and i were supposed to graduate at the same time

[scarletcomet]

I am so fucking miserable

[woso-dreamzzz]

Leaving

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: You're leaving

Something changes and Alexia isn't sure when it happens.

You're leaving.

Leaving Barcelona, leaving Spain, leaving her.

She's gone home for the weekend, driven from her apartment near the stadium all the way out to her childhood home.

Her Mami greets her at the door. Alba's already slouching in front of the tv, watching some boring reality show that Alexia can't stand.

There's boxes and bags packed up at the front door. That's a little weird but she doesn't ask questions about them.

"Where's the baby?" Alexia asks, looking around for you.

There's a picture of you and your sisters up on the mantelpiece. Alba's in her graduation robes, Alexia wearing her Barcelona shirt and you in your tennis outfit. It had been a stressful day. Alba had just graduated, you had just come from a tennis session and Alexia straight from a match against Valencia.

You're all smiling though, positively beaming at the camera.

"She's at the court," Mami laughs," Where else would she be?"

"It's getting dark."

"She's not a baby," Alba scoffs, not looking away from the screen," She can decide when she comes home."

Alexia ignores her. "I'll go get her."

It's a short walk over to the tennis courts, maybe twenty minutes or so. You're the only one there, swinging your racket back and forth as the machine feeds more and more balls at you.

"Don't you have a curfew?"

You keep hitting tennis balls. "Don't you have a match tomorrow?"

She laughs. "I can't come home to see my family?"

She's teasing you and you switch off the machine to run into her arms. Alexia catches you easily, swinging you around like she used to when you were little.

Tennis had been unexpected. You were only little when Papa died so never got to experience going to the football stadium with him. Selfishly, Alexia had tried to foster a love for football in you but it was all over when you saw a televised tennis match.

You didn't like football like you loved tennis.

Alexia had a whole gallery on her phone for you at your tennis practices over the years, all the way back to your first lesson when you were very young and could barely hold your racket properly.

Briefly, she wondered where the time went.

"You're cutting it fine," You complain good-naturedly as you put your rackets back in your bag and link your arms with Alexia's," I'm leaving tomorrow. I was beginning to think that you would never visit before I left."

Your words make Alexia confused. "What do you mean?" She asks," Leaving? Leaving for where?"

You laugh. "For Poland."

"Why are you going to Poland?" Alexia feels tense. No one had told her that you were going to Poland on holiday. It was the middle of the school year. There was no reason for you to be going anywhere.

You laugh again, like she's being silly and it dawns on Alexia that you don't know that no one's told her anything.

"For tennis," You say," Remember? My new coach is there."

You were the most talented tennis player that Alexia had ever met. She had known you were the best the moment you served your first ball, back when you still wore your hair in pigtails and couldn't tie your own laces.

And just last year you showed everyone else in the world that too when you won the Australian and the French Open back to back.

You returned to Mollet del Vallès a homegrown hero even after you came runner-up at Wimbledon and the US Open.

Alexia had never considered that you would move away for tennis. You were never supposed to move away. Tennis was your football and Alexia had never had to move from Spain to pursue football.

She always assumed you would be the same.

"You're not leaving," Is what she actually says and you stop in the middle of the street.

"Ale?" You ask," What do you mean I'm not leaving? I already signed the contract. I'm leaving tomorrow."

"You're not!" Alexia snaps before softening her tone," You're not. What has Poland got that Spain doesn't, huh?"

You tilt your head to the side in confusion and Alexia's brought back to every time when you were little when you did the exact same thing, tilting your head to the side when something confuses you, your childhood pigtails swaying from the force of your head movement.

"A coach that coaches the world's number one? It will be good. Mami approves."

"Mami shouldn't make decisions about you without consulting me!"

Alexia doesn't know where this anger is coming from. You're too young to be making such a big decision. You don't know a word of Polish. You were much too little to be moving across the world without anyone to look after you.

"It wasn't her decision!" You snap back, forcing the front door open and storming inside. "It was my decision! And I don't need your permission to do anything, Alexia! I'm nearly an adult."

"Nearly being the key word!" Alexia yells back at you," You're not going anywhere! You're staying right here with me or so help me god!"

"Or what?!" You demand, fronting up to her with your fists clenched and shaking at your sides. "What will you do, Alexia?! Huh? What will you do?!"

It shocks Alexia a little bit. You've never fronted up to her like this before, never so confidently or so assertive. You weren't that kind of person.

You used to hide behind her legs when you were younger or cry when any kind of confrontation or argument happened around you.

You don't give her time to answer before you're storming off into your room.

Alba whistles a low note. "What happened with you two?"

"Did you know?!" Alexia demands," Did you know she's leaving?!"

"Of course?" Alba looks confused now. "Why? Don't tell me you've only just found out."

"She's a baby!" Alexia hisses," She's not stepping foot off Spanish soil without me! She's not going anywhere."

"She hasn't been a baby for a while."

Alexia's eyes stray to the photos around the room. Mami is a tad sentimental and old school, printing out pictures to hang around the house rather than keep them on her phone.

It's like a shrine to a younger you, with your chubby cheeks and wild hair. There's versions of you all throughout your childhood and practically nothing of the you that's just yelled at her about moving away from home.

You're a little baby in Alexia's eyes, the little baby she held in her arms a few hours after you were born, the little miracle that followed her around the moment you learnt to walk, the little angel that cried in her arms after you won the Australian Open, too overwhelmed by your own emotions.

You couldn't be leaving. Not to somewhere like Poland where Alexia couldn't drive to see you.

You were too young, to little to go so far from her.

It was like she blinked and you no longer fit into her arms, suddenly a teenager with a mind and passions of your own.

"Alexia," Mami says sternly," Go and apologise to your sister. We didn't say anything when you wanted to pursue football. We're not saying anything to your sister about her pursuing tennis."

Alexia huffs. "Why can't the coach come here? She's not an adult yet! He could be taking advantage of her!"

"He's not. He coaches the world number one, he can't just drop all of that to coach a sixteen-year-old from Spain. This is an honour for her. It's an offer that might not be open if she delays it until she's eighteen. You know how much this means to her."

Alexia doesn't make eye contact, focussing on the wall in front of her.

Your smiling face beams back at her. It's of your first proper tournament, the under-fourteens for the whole of Spain. You've just won at twelve years old in your all-white shirt and skirt combo with your hair pulled back in a complicated braid. You haven't fully lost all of your childhood baby fat so your cheeks are a little more rounded than now, like you haven't yet grown into your face.

Alexia's next to you, cheek-to-cheek. She's still in her Spain kit, having driven from a friendly against Italy. She'd missed most of your match but had gotten there in time to see your last set.

You won and came home with the trophy.

It's hard to reconcile that twelve-year-old with the sixteen-year-old you've become.

Alexia stands and knocks on your door.

"Go away!" You yell though it's clear that you're crying.

"I'm coming in!"

"Go away, Ale! I don't want to see you!"

"Too bad!"

Alexia forces her way inside and crushes you into a hug. You try to squirm away for a bit but go limp when it's clear that she's not letting go of you.

"I'm sorry," She whispers against the top of your head," I'm sorry."

"I'm going to Poland," You say," You can't stop me."

"I know," Alexia says," You're going to Poland. You're going to work very hard. You're going to win and convince that coach that he should come home to Spain with you, okay? This has got to be temporary, alright, hermanita? I don't know how long I can go without midnight snack runs."

That shocks a giggle out of you.

"You'll get sick of me when I come home," You reply," I'm going to be so good that you'll never see me. I'll always be training."

Alexia laughs too this time and she loosens her grip enough for you to lean away to look up at her.

"Never," She declares," You're my hermanita. I'll never get sick of you. Even when you grow up."

"Ale, I am grown up."

She smiles. "No, you're not."

[thatbanditqueen]

Basic Training Ch 3

A response to the prompt: "You're staring." Thanks to my harem cohort @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @be-my-ally @powerofelvis and @whositmcwhatsit

Summary: Bess heads to the dance the Morale, Welfare and Recreation Committee for the 37th armored tank division is throwing, and manages to avoid dancing with the most notorious soldier on post, who cannot seem to take his eyes off her.

Warnings: None! Wait, kissing. Swear words. This may be the slowest burn yet. Probably typos, I wrote about 1K words over the last three days and then the rest in a fever dream. So.... may not make sense. Also I am pretty sure the first phase of basic training would not have them in tanks yet, but....I am playing fast and loose with Army life in this one.

Word Count: 5. 3 K

This is my newest WIP, please like, comment, reblog and tag and let me know what you think. Thank you for reading.

You can catch up on the previous chapters here

Basic Training Chapter 3: Just Kiss Me

Saturday, April 5, 1958

7:30 p.m.

The Schwartz Residence, Killeen

Just as her shoe hit the bottom stair, Bess realized she had left her lipstick in her room and was turning back around to grab it when she saw Kay sitting in the living room, dressed in a pink cocktail dress. Her puffy crinoline skirt was gathered in a heap around her as she shifted in place, adjusting her pearl necklace.

“Um, where do you think you are going?”

Kay looked up, tucking her brown hair behind her ear as she eyed the tight, fitted sheath dress Bess was wearing. She smiled at how the white sequins and embroidered red flowers glowed iridescent in the dim light and whistled low.

“Who are you dressing up for? The guy who you snuck in last weekend?”

“What makes you think there’s a guy, Katherine, honestly. I don’t sneak men into our house.”

“Uh huh,  so you’re all gussied up in your favorite dress just for a bunch of enlisted soldiers?”

Kay grabbed her purse and followed her sister to the door.

“Why are you being weird Bess, I always come with you? You’ve been going to army dances since you were sixteen. I’m about to graduate, plus, I told Dickey I’d meet him there.”

Bess sighed, thinking of Kay’s latest boyfriend. She supposed that she should be happy because he seemed like a harmless nerd, and, according to the files she had pulled on him, was not married, inbred or bankrupt.

“I just - we - I didn’t invite you to this dance because it’s an enlisted platoon. I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Wow, you must really like who ever it is, if you don’t want me to see you with him. Too bad. Dori called earlier and told me to come. She’s been trying to reach you all day, by the way.”

Bess locked the door, and they got into her car.

“Can you believe her date?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“Of course, then it all made sense why you guys would be messing around with an enlisted tank unit. How did Dori even get involved with their MWR Committee.”

Bess rolled up her skirt so she could comfortably drive, and shifted into reverse, arching her eye bow at her younger sister as she did.

“How do you think? She asked to be reassigned to it two weeks ago.”

“Man oh man, she really is lucky. I wonder if we’ll all get to dance with Elvis?”

“Look, Kay, they sent out a memo to everyone, do NOT make a spectacle over Private Presley. Just act like he’s any other solider”

“Of course Bessie bushka. I’m on my best behavior.”

Bess looked Kay in the eyes as they pulled through the base gate.

“I am just going because I told Dori I would, I don’t wanna stay too late. So maybe Dickey Rooney can drive you home if you wanna swing all night?”

“Yeah, sure, ja volt. You don’t have to be ein klafte, Elisabet.”

**************************************************************

The tight cloth of her dress didn’t have much give, and Bess regretted her choice as she tried to keep up and hold on as she danced

“Look, this is tactical move that requires delicate maneuvers—”

“I’m not spiking the punch, Jim.”

Bess huffed and got into her rhythm as they kept up with the band’s rendition of “Tutti Fruity.”  If she let her self relax and swing into each step, it was almost like old times when she, Jim and Ben used to go out dancing in Austin or Killeen and she’d take turns dancing with her fiancee and his best friend all night. They had been the three musketeers. But that was last year, when she had a fiancee. And a different future peering back at her from her crystal ball.

The music brought her out of her silent reverie, and Bess looked to her where the band was performing on stage. The lead singer’s voice reverberated through the building, echoing up into the tin ceiling and back down again, making the room buzz with energy. There were six people in the all-Black Flapjacks: drums, guitar, bass, trumpet and then a male and female vocalist. The men wore matching silver dinner jackets and black bow ties, and the beautiful, Black woman had on a gorgeous silver dress with tulle flowers at the bust.

Bess took a deep breath, her attention shifted back to Jim, whose hands were always steady, but never needy. She was grateful he had agreed to come when she called last night and asked. A year ago they had spent almost all their free time together. Stalwart, an honorable prankster, Jim wasn’t shipping out to the Army Intelligence station in Heidelberg for another two months and Bess wondered if their friendship would end. If Ben’s new German wife would win him over and, like his friend before him, Jim would forget all about the last three years of shared adventures and promises of a lifelong friendship. Men mean it in the moment, Bess thought, I suppose women do to. Forever. What a meaningless word. How can we plan forever when we cannot know the future? The song ended and Jim escorted her off to the side. She looked for her sister, and found her swaying with her beau towards the back, hands clasped together between the lock-eyed look of first love.

“I forgot how good a dancer you are, Schwartz. And in that dress, whoowee! You’re a knock out tonight.”

“You can cut the flattery, Jameson, still not spiking the punch.”

“S’not flattery, how dare you insinuate that I would be disingenuous? You look good all dolled up, s'nice to see you this way. It’s almost like fun Bess is back, though a year ago she wudda helped me spike the punch.”

He took out his large, dark leather flask and handed it to her after taking a nip. Bess’ face scrunched up in distaste as the vodka burned down her throat, but she greedily held on and took another long drink.

“A year ago I didn’t work here, I was just hanging out with some of the reprobates from the German language division. Now it would be bad form for a Front Office secretary to spike the punch.”

“Look around, Bessie, this crowd needs to relax. They’re alllllll keyed up waiting for that Hound Dog.”

Jim was right, a heightened sense of anticipation pervaded the warehouse, even the strings of colorful paper lanterns seemed to sway with anxious excitement above them. Bess looked over at the big bowl of punch, next to the trays of deviled eggs, brisket sliders, the lime jello mold filled with seafood salad, pineapple upside down cake and more. She was sizing up the punch and checking her breath as they waited for the next song when she heard a wave of hushed murmurs ripple through the large room and turned to see Elvis, Dori and a few other soldiers in dress uniform enter the dance together. Bess’ eyes narrowed as Elvis’ looked at her.

Jim followed her gaze, then met Bess’ eyes.

“There he is, as handsome as he looks in the movies.”

Bess’ grimace could have cut through glass as she turned to her friend and elbowed him.

“Not you too?”

“What, art thou so high above us mere mortals that you don’t find Elvis Presley attractive, Schwartz? To gouache for a scholar like you?”

“It’s Private Presley now. And I’m not made of marble, Captain. Of course I recognize his attractive features. He just isn’t my type.”

She sniffed, and grabbed the flask from inside Jim’s uniform, the breath coming out of her nose forcefully as she drank a long draught.

“I’ve met him, actually, already. I was there.” Bess took another drink, tipping the flask back again and noticing that the liquid didn’t burn so much this time. “When he asked Dori out. I’m happy for her.”

Elvis and Dori began walking toward them, and Jim noticed how Bess’ stance changed as she crossed her arms and pursed her lips, suggesting that she what felt was the opposite of 'happy for Dori.'

“Well, I was at the press conference his first day here, at least four reporters asked if he has a girlfriend. Said he was playing the field so many times, sounded like a broken record.”

Bess straightened as she watched Elvis’ hand tighten around Dori’s waist and push under her bust while the blonde leaned into it and introduced Elvis to some of the eager MWR committee members who had stopped them.

“Yeah, that would be the alternate version of Hound Dog, it’s on the B side.”

Jim chuckled at Bess’ joke, but she didn’t notice, she was busy watching the Hound Dog himself, and caught Elvis glance over at her and give a little nod before his lips bent into a smirk. She realized she was frowning and plastered a big smile on her face. Jim watched this exchange with interest as Bess turned back when he spoke.

“Yeah, I see what you mean. Definitely not your type.”

Bess scowled and whispered for him to stop as Elvis, Dori and another soldier approached them.

“Why Captain Daniels, how nice to see ya over at this little ol’ dance for the 37th, are you Bess’ date ta night? Or sneaking in to try and meet you-know-who?”

Dori giggled and playfully tapped Elvis’ chest. In case, you know, they didn’t get whom she was referencing.

Jim nodded and shook his hand to stop Elvis and the other soldier from saluting him.

“Oh, neither, actually, I’m just here to make sure Schwartz doesn’t spike the punch.”

“Don’t believe a word the Captain here says. This is a great introduction, by the way. Captain Daniels, meet Private Presley, you know Doreen of course, and then, well, I cannot say we’re acquainted.”

The liquor had loosened Bess up and she giddily put out her hand to the other soldier, as Elvis fiddled with the blue dress uniform cap under his right arm and took charge of the conversation.

“This is Rexadus, I mean, uh, Private Mansfield, he’s in the 37th wit me, another Mephisss boy, we were inducted ta gather, actually." Now Elvis was turning his hat over and examining it, speaking with confidence, almost as if from a script he had rehearsed in his head. "He’s a solid, solid, guy. He really is. Guess I’m lucky, since he’s spending all his time stuck in a metal box with my ass - I mean stuck with my behind.”

Rex her shook their hands with tight, swift grip and a warm smile. Jim raised his eyebrows at Bess.

“And how do you find the Army, so far, Privates?”

“Well, it was easy ta find, just follow all the tanks.” Elvis  smiled and  looked down. “Nah, well, speaking’ jus for me, I mean, I was real honored when President Eisenhower sent me an invitation to this here costume party, and all the boys are real nice."

There was that scripted voice again, Bess mused. She had seen under the hood and Elvis' attitude toward being drafted had not struck her as honored and grateful.

"It’s not easy, golly, I tell you, it’s really whooping my - uh - caboose. But I never felt I earned my supper so well, that’s the God’s honest truth.”

Dori giggled like Elvis was the wittiest man in the world, but he barely noticed, his eyes were focused on Bess and she coughed, uncomfortably. It was hard not stare back. She almost forgot to breathe, and exhaled deeply as she forced herself to look over at the band.

Her eyes trailed over to the food, and she looked back at Elvis with concern, knowing he rarely actually went to the mess hall. He had been meeting her at her back stairwell every evening at 5:15, opening her car door and getting in without even asking. As if it were his own car and sliding across her seat was the most normal thing in the world. It actually did seem normal now, and had become part of her daily routine these last three days. They sat there in their own private enclave, and every time, as he laid his head between her thighs and rubbed her waist, she told him that they were just friends hanging out. Yesterday they’d talked past dinner hours and she’d ask him if he didn’t want to go to get food, prompting Elvis to share how someone had yelled out in line at him Monday, asking if he missed his teddy bears, and he hadn’t gone back since. Sergeant Norwood’s wife, apparently, was providing him with a loaf’s worth of peanut butter sandwiches every night. But that wouldn’t have happened this evening and Bess thoughtfully looked over at the food table.

“You must be hungry. All of you, I mean.” Bess stuttered, trying not to stare at Elvis, which, for some reason, backfired, because consciously trying not to made her think about him even more and she failed horribly at being able to stray from his blue eyes for very long. “Because you just got here. Of course.”

Dori smiled and took this as her cue to play hostess and lead Elvis away to the refreshments.

“Yes, of course, of course, y’all must be hungry, doing those tank exercises all day. I made the seafood dip over there in the jello mold, it’s a recipe from Ladies’ Home Journal, you simply must try it and tell me what you think.”

“Aw, darlin’, I don’t, don’t eat seafood.”

“The brisket is pretty good.” Bess chimed in.

Dori smiled even deeper.

“Hmm, well, I suppose it’s probably ok for a Yankee like ya self, Bess honey.”

She pulled her arm tighter around Elvis, leading him to to the brisket as Bess heard her say, “Personally, I find Millie’s brisket a little bland and dried out, but come on, you’re a growin’ boy, need to refresh ya energy.”

Dori’s giggle trilled back as she walked him away and Bess frowned again when Elvis turned back over his shoulder, clearly grinning deeper as he took in Bess’ eyes following him.

She made small talk with Rex, mentioning how the last time she had heard this band, The Flapjack’s, they had played all of Elvis’ big hits and there had been none tonight.

“He bribed them.”

Rex whispered, looking over at where Elvis and Dori stood, as she fed him a deviled egg and then a brisket slider, sticking her finger in his mouth to lick the barbecue sauce off. Her high laugh echoed all throughout he warehouse, prompting Bess to roll her eyes.

“Bribed them?”

“Yeah,” Rex continued. “Not to play ‘Hound Dog,’ not to play any of ‘em. And he bought cases of cigarettes for all the guys in our unit. He wants to make sure tonight is nice, smooth, and normal. As it can be for him, I suppose.”

Before she had the opportunity to inquire further Bess was distracted by the band as they started up a new song, a rendition of Johnny Mathis’ “Chances Are,” and she watched Dori squeal that she loved this song.

 Bess smiled at Rex.

“Well Private, want to cut a rug?”

He hesitated. “Uh, I think -" he looked over at Elvis, who was making his way to the corner of the dance floor. “Probably better if I don’t, gonna go check out the chow.”

“C’mon, you little Yankee, I’ll dance with you, even if you have no taste in brisket.” Jim took her hand and raised his eyebrow. “By the way, Elvis Presley is in love with you Bess.”

“Stop it, Jameson.”

“Did you see how his buddy hardly touched you?”

“How would he know? These boys don’t talk about their crushes in their bunks at night. ‘Sides,he is here with a date.”

“Oh fooey! Elvis doesn’t have to tell him anything, all Rexadus, or anyone need do, is clock how that boy looks at you and, man, that’s all she wrote. You don’t dance with another soldier’s girl, it’s the code. Dori doesn’t stand a chance, honey, he’s just too polite to turn her down. I bet his mama is just like her. Which is probably why he likes you.”

Bess gave him a stare.

“Ok, maybe not exactly like Dori. I cannot see the good Mrs. Presley making you go all the way to Dallas so she can dress shop at the boutiques. They were share croppers, right?”

Bess nodded at Jim as she swayed with him, attempting very hard not to look over at where Elvis and Dori slowly danced.

“Something like that. Very very poor. But Jim, you dance with me, and I was your friend’s girl for two years.”

“That’s different Bess, I hate most women.” Jim looked back over at Rex and his voice trailed off. "Most people, actually. You are saving me from all the eager beavers here looking to snag an officer as a husband.”

“Well, looking around, some of them would probably settle for snagging just a night with an officer.”

They laughed and Jim led her around the dance floor in perhaps the most chaste slow grip of any of any officer or gentleman that danced a slow dance that evening.

The song ended, and the band kept going with their version of Sam Cooke’s hit “You Send Me.”

Bess could not help herself, and found her eyes move to watch Dori press her cheek to Elvis’ and it made Bess’ stomach clench inadvertently. Elvis’ eyes locked on hers while he pulled Dori tighter to him, tilting his head with a smirk. Something in his eyes told Bess he could tell how much she envied her girlfriend, a fact she refused to even concede to herself as she looked away, scanning the room for her sister. To her dismay, Kay was now kissing her dweeby young lieutenant toward the back of the warehouse, not so much dancing as staggering back and forth in place.

Hitting someone’s shoulder, Bess turned to apologize until she saw Elvis had moved Dori right behind them. She stepped hard on Elvis’ foot, then apologized loudly and profusely. That didn’t get him to scout off and they remained dancing next to each other as Jim ignored Bess’s pinches at his wrists clearly signaling for him to lead her away.

“Why hello there, Moo Moo, fancy bumping into you here?”

Dori smiled big and pushed her hands further up around Elvis neck as she swayed to the rhythm.

“Moo Moo? Y’all are gonna havta tell me bout that” Dori giggled. “And look at you Bessie, honey, I just LOVE your dress.” Her eyes moved to Jim. “Y’all having fun?”

Bess stepped closer to Jim, nodding and avoiding the coy irreverence in Elvis’ dark blue eyes as she slyly tried to navigate her partner away from them. She kicked Jim’s shin to let him know that if he did not politely guide her away this very instant she would begin to kick harder.

*******************************************************

Leaning against the wall during a ballad, Bess found herself making a mental note that Elvis’ seemed to avoid dancing to the faster songs. During this one, he had gone off to get some punch and then started walking in her direction only to be assaulted by a troop of MWR committee members, offering him samples of the desserts they had baked as a pretext to come and talk to him. Bess smiled as one asked him to dance, then turned at Mabel’s voice, observing the rosy glow of the other secretary’s cheeks.

“Mhmmm, the punch is good tonight.”

Bess smiled, then leaned in to smell Mabel’s glass.

“How many of these have you had, Mabel?”

The older woman replied without missing a beat. “Five.”

“I’m cutting you off, I think it’s been spiked.”

“Of course it has. By me.” Mabel took her glass back, gulping the rest down with a wink. “Someone needed to liven up this funeral. Hold this for me, won’t you?” She asked, and Bess’ jaw dropped a bit as she watched Mabel cut in on Dori.

Bess wondered if Mabel still preferred Burt Lancaster to the movie star she currently leaned her head against, happily watching her colleague cozily nuzzle into Elvis tall frame. He was a good sport, joking and swaying with Mabel for a second dance,  then stepping to the side and chatting with another swarm of woman who tried to contain their eagerness as they brought him another tribute of dessert platters.

Bess danced to The Flapjacks performance of “Jambalaya,” but quit as the music turned toward more and more ballads while the night went on. It was late, the people on the dance floor seemed to have coupled up and the decorum had slowly fallen to the wayside as the senior personnel disappeared. The air fell thick with a heady, hazy lust provoked by the swell of sweet, slow rhythm and blues and the release dancing provided from the stress of barracks life. Jim had ducked out, and Bess wished she had given Kay her keys and gone with him. She managed to stay as far away from Elvis as she could through he evening, which wasn’t hard. If Dori was not monopolizing him, he only made it a few feet before another woman tapped on his shoulder. During this time, Dori had cornered her and begun drilling Bess for information, asking why she didn’t pick up her phone anymore, and what the deal was with Elvis.

“Moo Moo? Is that a nick name? Are you sure y’all are just friends? Honey, say the word, and I will be on my way. I do not throw myself at men.”

Thinking of their double date last week, Bess restrained herself from explaining that this seemed to be Dori’s primary hobby.

“I promise, it’s a silly nick name, Moo Moo is what he called his childhood cow named, get this, Bess. I’m telling you, Doreen, we’ve just accidentally stumbled into a very casual friendship.” She rubbed her friend’s shoulder, and looked out at Elvis laughing with his dance partner.

“He's lonely, and just jives more with women. You saw him with Mabel in the office. I’m not saying I see wedding bells in your future either. But then again, Dori, you don’t want to get romantically involved with Elvis Presley, do you? I can only imagine the havoc he is going to wreak on the girls in this town once he gets his bearing and into phase two. That boy is a fast operator, so fast you don’t even know what happened and boom, you’re asking him out.”

Dori narrowed her eyes. “Mmmhmm. Well, honestly I don’t want to marry him, Bessie Boo. I just want to experience him. He is so soft, Bess. That jaw! And those eyes. Ufffff. And when he kisses you, oh, it’s like having lightening strike your cheek. I’m fixin’ to get more before the night is over, hopefully with my mouth.”

She winked as the song ended, and strode off to get him back. Bess had to giggle at the glare Dori shot a younger girl from the switchboard office who looked like she was about to ask Elvis to dance.

Lonely, awkward, and ready to be done, Bess rolled off the wall and told Kay she was ready to leave. Her sister politely told her to get bent, promising Dickey would drive her home. So Bess subtlety slipped out of the side door next to the stage and made her way towards her car, ambling slowly in the cool evening air. Bess found it a sweet respite from the crowded, stuffy ware house stuffy. Out here, it was peaceful, and she savored the darkness as she looked up into the black sky. The stars and moon were hidden by some clouds, and Bess tried to get lost in the murky shadows as she wandered away from the sounds of the dance. She begged the wind to tamp down the anxious buzzing in her head. It was then, when she paused in the passage way between two tall buildings, that she heard the sound of footsteps following her, and turned to see a tall, dark figure striding toward her with purposeful, swift steps. His shoulders were back and his hands were out and he slowed when he heard Bess speak.

“All dressed up and marching in a hurry, huh? Loose your parade, Tupelo?”

Elvis’ gait turned into a wide swagger and Bess stumbled into the building backing away from the force of Elvis’ magnetism. It was not a smart escape strategy because he followed in step, his hands on his waist as he looked her over.

“Al - al - always, the smart ass, huh?”

“I’ve been a smart ass my whole life, Tupelo. Try to keep up.”

Elvis shook his head, chuckling low.

“You’re staring. Stop it.”

“Honey, if you didn’t want me to stare at you, shoulda worn a different dress.”

She gasped, and Elvis stepped closer, his right arm up against the wall while his left moved over her waist and he whispered into her forehead, his voice was low, teasing, almost babyish.

“Be honest, Moo Moo, did you come out here cuz you wanted me to chase you?”

Bess looked at the eaves of the building above her, she could hear the faint sound of the band back at the dance playing “The Girl Can’t Help It” and Elvis hips swayed very slowly at half time with the beat.

“Nope, I, I was leaving, actually.”

“How could you leave without dancing with me, baby. Not even once. An ya hardly even talked to me all night. Every other girl in there is ready and rearin' ta pounce on me, but you make me come chase after you?”

“I’m - I’m not like very other girl, Elvis. I’m not trying - trying to ….”

The way his thumb trailed up her arm made Bess shudder and she lost her train of thought.

“Hmmm. Not tryin’ to what, Moo, huh?”

He leaned into her ear as he spoke, and the skin on her bare shoulder prickled as his thumb rubbed over it while he whispered softly.

His voice was warm on her neck, and it reminded her of the first summer Mama drove her and Kay down to Galveston spontaneously for a week. They had stayed in a cheap motel across from the beach and enjoyed the warm Gulf water while eating fried shrimp and hush puppies and getting sunburnt. There, in the golden sun of the Texas Gulf, Bess had forgotten how uncomfortable it was to move through the world. No, standing where the sun met the surf had set her free, and she had become a wild animal dancing in the water and screaming into the waves while the sand crabs tickled her feet.

Elvis’ breath on her neck had the same effect. She felt wild, relaxed, totally at the whim of her body as she bit her bottom lip and looked up at his half-lidded eyes. She wanted to pull him close and scream into his mouth, howl at the untamed force of nature that rippled beneath his cheeks. He tightened his hand at her waist and kissed her neck, but then stepped back at her shudder.

“Ya scared not scared of me, Moo Moo, are you?”

She shook her head, but trembled as Elvis fingers feathered lightly down her arm.

“You don’t never have to be scared of me, baby, I won’t ever hurt you.”

“Elvis, I -”

He kissed her neck again, murmuring into her skin. The top of his cap rubbed into her hair. “Wanna get out of here? Go somewhere we can jus… Talk?””

Just as Bess began to answer, she felt a light sprinkle of water on her nose and looked up as it started to drizzle down on them. The rain brought her wits back to her and she gently pushed Elvis away, feeling the water increase and her hair slip down over her face. She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

“You are here on a date with someone else, and I have to go home.” Squeezing him in a tight hug, she kissed his cheek one last time as he nodded, before removing her heels and sprinting off through the puddles to find her car.

**************************************************

Bess had managed to wash her face and get her dress off before she succumbed to the extreme need for a pot of hot tea. Now she stood in her kitchen, towel drying her hair and shivering as she waited for the kettle to boil. Hearing a knock at the door, she yelled out hurrying to the front of the house.

“Kay, the door is open! Or is numbnuts a catching disorder -  shit.”

There was Elvis, hat in hand, on her front doorstep.

“Numbnuts?”

She swayed to the side, watching the back of a white Studebaker whirl around the corner. A white Studebaker very much like the one Mabel owned.

“My sister’s boyfriend is not the sharpest shooter in his platoon.” She held her robe closed as she looked down at her thin, white silk night gown. The thin matching robe didn’t do much, but she felt more decorous pulling it over herself.

“Did Mabel sneak you off post?”

Elvis grinned mischievously and strode past her into the house

“Hello to you too, Bessie, whatcha cookin, good lookin'?”

Closing the door, she shoved him as he walked backwards down the hallway.

“Don’t you hello me, what are you doing here?”

Elvis unbuttoned his jacket, and draped it around her shivering body.

“Still cold honey?” He drew her in, rubbing her shoulders. “Let me see if I can warm ya up.”

His jacket was still cozy with the heat of his body as he drew Bess into him. Breathless, she let him enclose her in his embrace, folding her arms into his chest as she lifted her chin up to gaze into his eyes.

“There she is, there’s a good lil Moo Moo.”

Elvis leaned down to bundle her further into him, his hands moving inside her open robe to caress the sides of her body, his nose stroking hers as she closed her eyes and whispered into his jaw.

“Elvis, you shouldn’t be here.”

“I know honey.” He pulled her closer, kissing her cheek at the fold of her earlobe as Bess crushed into his.

Her mind was racing, racing the with knowledge that at any moment her 17 year old sister would come home and probably know how to work the door knob. Racing with the knowledge that her father and mother were flying back to Waco tomorrow and she needed to be rested and alert when she drove to pick them up. Racing with the knowledge that Elvis Presley was the absolutely worst choice for a romantic entanglement or fling, not just because he was famous, handsome, rich and probably already dating any number of women in Los Angeles, Memphis and God knows where else. And therefore, an unimaginable person to be seen with publicly or explain to her family.

But it was worse than that, she could already tell, from the way her mind bent towards him all through the day when he wasn’t around, and directed itself to him with an intense, buzzing focus when he was. For these reasons, she knew he would be the worst kind of all-consuming distraction that she could possible let herself get involved with right now.

Her mouth had other plans. Namely, how could it find his mouth?

“Elvis.” She mumbled as her lips brushed the nape of his neck and her hands wrapped around his body.

“Yes Bess?”

He looked down at her as she tried to find the words she wanted to say.

“I - I - I”

“I know honey, you don’t date soldiers.”

She smiled a lazy, goofy half smile.

“Mmmhmmm.”

He gripped her tighter, pinching the flesh at her sides.

“Honey, dating is not the word on my mind right now. I am not interested in asking you on a date.”

He kissed her forehead.

“I do not have no intention of driving up to your house in my pink Cadillac.”

He kissed her nose.

“I don’ wanna have to come meet ya mama and shake your daddy’s hand.”

He kissed her cupid’s bow.

“And I definitely ain’t about to take you out to fancy restaurant and buy you dinner.”

He kissed her lightly on the top of her mouth, his teeth grating over her lip.

“I do not want to date you, Bess.”

“Good, because I don’t want to date you either.”

“So don’t date me, baby. Jus kiss me.”

**********************************************************

Click here to read Chapter Four: Dance

@eliseinmemphis @moonchild-daniella @tacozebra051 @ab4eva @kingdomforapony @everythingelvispresley @richardslady121 @dkayfixates @artlover8992 @peskybedtime @freudianslumber @amydarcimarie @toreigh @notstefaniepresley @18lkpeters @yynneessmons @lookingforrainbows @prompted-wordsmith @ashtag2887 @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @returntopresley @girlblogger2002 @rjmartin11 @bigromansgirl-blog @literally-just-elvis-fics

Let me know if you want to be tagged. Feedback, suggestions, thoughts and questions always appreciated.

[catamano]

11:47am - Georgia

Lunchtime. The best and worst time of day. Forty-five minutes of freedom but the halls and cafeteria are jam packed with people. I’m the last one out of bio as I make my way into the hall. I don’t feel like eating with anyone today. My mood hasn’t improved very much since this morning, especially since I was pulled aside after math class. Is everything okay, Georgia? You’ve been late a lot. I said yes and told her I’d do my best not to let it happen again. I asked her about extra credit or test corrections and she said we’d talk Tuesday.

Laughter echoes through the hall as I pass by three girls that I don’t know. They’re probably seniors. I’m the only freshman that has a locker with the seniors. I have no idea why. It’s the best spot in the school so I guess I just got lucky.

“Georgia, hey!” I look up and see Parker standing right in front of my locker. She’s dressed in a black turtleneck and denim skirt. Both mine. How many things of mine does she have? Whatever. I’m just surprised to see her not having lunch with her boyfriend. 

“Hey,” I say quietly. I’ve been pretty annoyed with her lately. She’s blown me off for three straight weekends and has yet to come to one of my games. I promise I’ll come to the next one! 

“Where were you this morning?” she asks, glancing at her phone. She’s been so absorbed in her own thing, I’m surprised she even realized I wasn’t here.

“Late,” I dryly reply. I manage to get my locker open on the first try. Nice. The lock is not great so usually it takes a few tries.

“Why?” She’s staring at me now.

“I lost track of time,” I answer. Partly a lie, but I don’t care. I unzip my front backpack pocket and grab my ID before quickly shutting my locker.

“Do you want to get lunch?” Weird question. A month ago lunch together was always implied.

“Sure.” I shrug. I guess lunch with Parker is fine. Maybe we can catch up.

We silently start walking down the hall in the direction of the cafeteria. This is so awkward. We’ve known each other for almost ten years and we’re acting like strangers. We used to tell each other everything, now I feel like we barely know each other. We haven’t been talking too much outside of school. Every time I text her and ask how she is, she sends a ton of messages, usually relating to her boyfriend. As soon as I try to talk anything related to me, she stops replying. I’m kind of sick of it.

“So,” she pauses, smiling, “do you want to see a picture my homecoming dress?” 

“You got a dress?” I ask. We were supposed to go shopping together.

“Yeah, last weekend, Michael’s sister invited me to go with her and her friends,” she tells me.

“Seriously?” I feel my eyes start to narrow. She told me she had to do something with her mom last weekend. Whatever.

“What?” Is she seriously clueless? I stop walking. I don’t feel like having lunch with her anymore.

“We were supposed to go together,” I remind her. It’s funny that she can blow me off for three weekends but still wear my clothes to school.

“Yeah, but I’m sure your mom already ordered you one, didn’t she?” When I graduated middle school, Mom ordered me a dress for the ceremony. Parker has not stopped giving me a hard time about it.

“No.”

“Oh, well, I can come with you and help pick out yours!” she offers. That’s not the same thing and she knows it.

“It’s fine,” I say, “I’ll just go with someone else.” Mom has asked me to go twice and I’ve told her no because I was waiting for Parker. After this morning, I don’t feel like shopping with Mom. Maybe I’ll ask Weiss or Sasha.

[starfall-spirit]

Renaissance Masterlist

AN: I LIED. It's out tonight, though it is 11:45 here, so close enough.

Feyre tells Rhys she's pregnant won the bonus chapter poll, though the honeymoon was a very close second. I was watching the results like, are y'all serious?

Anywhoseville.

CW: Smut. Tooth-rotting fluff. You know, smluff. The usual.

Word Count: 1188

Bonus Chapter: And Then There Were Three

This was not how she imagined the girls’ trip ending. Mor, being the cool cousin, decided to take Avy on a beach vacation in celebration of her graduation. They’d invited Feyre along, suggesting Rhys and his brothers plan some sort of boys’ trip or hang out. It started out well enough. They’d have five days of lounging in the sun or swimming and then come in for dinner and movies. Maybe a little wine. Then Feyre caught a stomach bug. Or she thought she had.

Until she realized her stomach was only turning at certain smells. Ones she typically approved of. Then she recognized she’d yet to run a fever, and recalled it had been long enough since her last cycle to be concerned, even if she had always been irregular by a few days.

Now, staring down at the pregnancy test she’d gone to buy that morning, that line made her condition clear enough. Washing her hands, she stepped out of the condo’s bathroom. 

“Well?” the waiting pair demanded together, both more than eager to drop the word aunt in front of their names.

There was really no way to tell Rhys first at this point without flat out lying to the girls. “I suppose it’s a good thing you two have been the only ones drinking on this trip.” She flinched at their squeals of excitement, accepting their hugs a moment later. “Okay, okay. Don’t break any ribs, please.”

Her phone buzzed with a text and she detangled herself to grab it. Two messages from Rhys popped up.

Missing you. 

Can’t wait till you’re home.

She smiled. Boys’ weekend that bad?”

Cass is drunk and singing. Az and I don’t know what to do with him until he passes out.

Sing along until someone’s ears start bleeding? she proposed.

I’m glad you find my suffering funny.

I’ll leave you girls be. Goodnight, my love.

Goodnight.

“How are you gonna tell him?” Mor asked when Feyre set the phone down. 

She shrugged. “The same way I’d tell him anything else. I’m not worried. I know he’ll be thrilled.”

She and Rhys had agreed months ago that Feyre could come off birth control. Even as calm as he had been on the subject, she’d seen the new light in his eyes when she said she wanted to start trying for a baby. Neither of their families had been perfect, but they would make it work, whatever challenges came their way.

“The same way you’d tell him anything else? Well where’s the fun in that?” Avy asked.

“Lord help me. You two are terrible.”

~~~~~

In the end they’d agreed on a “souvenir”. In truth, it was a gift bag with a rattle and onesie under a couple layers of tissue paper. Unoriginal, perhaps. But it didn’t need to be a grand affair. “Rhys?” Though his car was out front, the empty house told her enough. She shrugged, heading to the master bedroom to open Bryaxis’ crate and change into pajamas.

She heard the front door open. “Feyre?” 

“I’ll be back out in a minute!” Twisting her hair in a clip, she came back out to the living room. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He stooped to kiss her cheek. “I missed you. You ladies didn’t let my sister get too drunk, did you? She is still underage.”

“She was with two responsible adults, despite what you may believe about your cousin. You and your parents can stop all the fussing. We took care of her.”

“I was teasing.” He slumped into the couch, tugging her into his lap. “Mostly. Right now, the only thing I really want to think about is how dearly I’ve missed my wife the past five days.”

She smiled. “I brought you something bag, you know.”

“Oh?” 

Her smile broadened and she tucked her face into his neck. “That gift back in front of you isn’t for the cat.”

He hummed, shifting forward to pluck it from the coffee table, furrowing his brow at either the lack of weight or the muffled plinking of the rattle. She bit her lip as the tissue paper slipped from his fingers, his body tensing beneath her. “Rhys—”

He laughed, his beautiful smile breaking through that shock. “Feyre, you’re really—I mean, you're certain?”

“I tested positive on the beach trip. I was feeling sick and other things started lining up. I’m pregnant.”

That pure glee softened as he cupped her face, kissing her soundly. “Feyre. My Feyre.”

Her back hit the cushions of the sofa. “At least take me to bed, you mongrel.”

He chuckled, cradling her in his arms once more, practically growling as she stretched to scrape her teeth against his neck. “Fuck. Feyre.”

“Now if we could put those two things together.”

He grinned, laying her down and pulling his shirt over his head. “You’re a mess,” he groaned into her neck before pressing a kiss there. “And you make me a mess. And I thank God every day that you do. I don’t know where I’d be without you, Feyre.”

“Living it up like any other guy in his twenties, I assume. Lucky for the both of us I saved you from that method of dating.”

“You and that smart mouth,” he growled, dragging her shorts down her legs, her panties and shirt joining it seconds later. He kissed down her collar, between her breasts, and lower still, to where their child would soon be growing. Her throat tightened as he lingered there. “God, I love you.” 

He pulled back long enough to peel out of his jeans, rolling over to pull her on top of him, the hard length of him pressing against her. And as eager as she was for that… This time she was the one sliding down the bed, her hands and mouth trailing over his chest and abdomen as she made her way down. He choked as she took him in her mouth. “Feyre.”

One word—her name alone—and he sounded positively feral. It was truly her favorite sound. He hissed as she took him deeper, nearly hitting her gag reflex. She would have taken more, had he not pulled her off of him and back up to a desperate kiss. She sank down on him with a low groan, hands bracing on his shoulders as he gripped her hips to hold her still. To say she was impatient at the moment would be an understatement. “Rhys.”

He cursed as she clenched hard, her nails biting into skin. Though his grip remained firm, he let her shift over him, each stroke bringing her closer to the edge. She cried out as her release crashed through her, at first barely registering Rhys rolling them to flip their position in the bed before thrusting deeper, already working her into her second orgasm. But rather than the pinch of teeth or filthy words, it was a kiss that sent her over the edge. Tender, passionate, and claiming in its own gentle way. 

It was a promise. One they both meant to keep, granting their child the picture-perfect family they deserved. Granting themselves their own happily ever after.

~~~~~

@goddess-aelin // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @acotar-fanns // @reverie-tales // @acourtofwips // @jealousveronya // @darling-archeron // @elentiya-whitethorn // @gwynkyrie

[hockeygossipdaily]

https://www.tumblr.com/hockeygossipdaily/759835640064098304/httpswwwtumblrcomhockeygossipdaily7598346517?source=share

I really don’t know much about her now. And I’m not one of these people to talk about rumors I’ve heard in present day because it’s none of my business. I’ll answer this one person. And that’s it. I just enjoy hockey gossip, I don’t say anything but this time because I know and knew of both girls I figure it’s a first and last time. Here’s all the high school gossip. That I could remember.

I’m two years younger than Dixie. Many people don’t know that King School was not her first high school. Her parents put her in an upper scale boarding type high school for her freshman year. She has some sort of seizure disorder and people from that high school bullied her relentless about it. She was supposed to graduate in 2019 but it was pushed back a year because her parents took her out of school for six months and placed her a psychiatric hospital basically. All this is public information that she has spoken about while in a school and in the media.

She was a part of field hockey and cross country. My older sister was on the cross country team and interacted with Dixie a handful of times. At the time Dixie was dating a basketball player from her previous school. My sister noted to me back then that she was always “trying” to be black. I think everyone knows that Dixie loves rap music, but it was also the way she dressed and talked back then. At that time her dad was running for local office and her vibe really didn’t fit the perfect republican daughter image. B-Rad is a nickname from a movie. It’s basically a person who exemplifies a caricature version of black culture. Her teammates in field hockey gave her that name.

Minor detail, she and Kate became friends my Freshman year coming into King. They both got suspended for fighting in gym bathroom over this roach looking guy. It was big drama for weeks. Their parents forced them to be friends. Kate used to get bullied for dating boys that were already taken. Dixie saved her from getting beat up many times. They both drank a lot and smoke a good amount of weed on the weekends and during parties. Typical Norwalk/ Stamford behavior. In high school she wasn’t mean to anyone. People liked her or couldn’t stand her. Either was understandable. Her friend group were the drama starters. I personally stood in my own lane and just listened to the gossip but never commented. Also when Charli came to the school in 2018/19, I never saw her or Dixie together besides during field hockey games. I’ve never once interacted with Charli, don’t know anything about her.

Mimi her high school best friend, I know her well. If I’m being honest, in high school Mimi was one of the very few POCs at our school, me also being one of the few. She’s the girl in that unfortunate video that was all over TikTok. I know her and Dixie were friends since middle school and even to the end of high school. They apparently drifted apart. This girl still comes to my family BBQs and we don’t ever talk about Dixie. She’s also been getting freighting DMs since that video. I just want to say they were both extremely ignorant but don’t ever tell anyone to unalive themselves for something they did as a teenager. No one is perfect. There’s people who are able to get out of Norwalk and go to college or whatever and grow away from that privileged suburban mindset. Or there’s people who move out and lean into it more.

Anything beyond 2019/2020, I know certain things that happened that I will not share. Private things within the D’Amelio family. That’s all I got for y’all. I’m going back into my cave.

Thank you for sharing anon that was more than enough. Greatly appreciated

[jayspaceinc]

15 lines of dialogue: Ayden 🐾

1. “Umm okay sure. But, how exactly are you going to convince them to have dinner with us? They never do. They’re either at the office or in the home office or sleeping or— do they even eat? Did they used to eat before you guys adopted me?” He joked as neither of them really liked to talk about their parents or the lack of their presence.

2. “Please? They’re talking about firing me for leaving early everyday and I always get bored during the last half.”

“And that’s my issue… why? Quit leaving early!”

3. For the first time since being in here, Celia had finally laughed. “Ayden, you’ve gotten just a wee bit fruitier since the last time we’ve talked, haven’t you?”

“A little. But it’s growth. Girls weren’t really my thing I guess. What can I say? I’m growing with the times. Unlike you know who.”

“I’m standing right behind you.”

“Oh good, so you know I meant you.” Ayden quipped. He’d gotten much funnier since the last time they’d seen him.

4. “I’m 17. Not a kid. Celia, carry me?” Ayden pouted, giving her puppy dog eyes.

5. “We already know his,” Kori nodded in the direction of Greyson.

“Hard not to when you’ve almost burnt the school down on countless occasions.”

“Yeah and what do you know?”

“Oh I know a lot. Hinote ‘Greyson’ Takahashi. Graduated valedictorian with a 4.5 GPA much to your mother’s dismay. Would have graduated 2 years early had you not been suspended so much. Vandalism, pranks, bullying, so many fire alarms set off by your doing. The fact you might have given someone the clap. I could go on,” Ayden grinned ear to ear with a cheeky smile as if he hadn’t just disclosed Grey’s entire life story to the entire table.

“Please go on. But before you do, remember, I know where your sister lives and subsequently, I know where you live. And no, I didn’t give anyone the damn clap so check your sources on that one.”

“I know. I was the one who spread that rumour. You’re a virgin.”

“That was you?!” Greyson tried to grab Ayden had Summer not pushed him back into his seat.

6. “That’s because you’re money hungry. Ayden, just drop it. Don’t mention anything this weekend. Please?”

“Fine. 30 credits and I won’t say anything today. Just today.”

“I’m not paying my baby brother not to say anything. I live with you, remember? You say anything and I can make life hell.” She had a dark look in her eyes. She’s not joking. She knew all of his fears so the possibilities were endless.

“Okay, when I said 30 credits, I was kiddinggg! Of course, I was kidding. Your secret’s safe with me.”

7. “Any other questions before we leave?”

“What are we supposed to be eating tonight?”

“Ayden.”

“What! This is an important question.

8. “I should probably start breakfast since people are waking up now.”

“Really? Thank God, I’ve been starving since I woke up.”

“You should’ve said something earlier then.”

“Greyson, my priorities will always lie with seeing shirtless men before I ever consider eating. That’s a compliment by the way.”

“Thank you I think?”

9. I would’ve gotten up earlier but.. let’s just say yesterday was a mess.”

“That’s reassuring. So are you done being a moody aloof teenager then?”

Ayden rolled his eyes. “Something like that I guess. I just had some internal stuff going on. It hasn’t completely faded but, I’ve been granted with a gift not even Jesus himself could ignore.”

“Also reassuring.”

“I can’t say anything right now. But keep an ear out,” He slid out of bed and took his bag with him into the bathroom. The water cut on, signifying the beginning of a shower.

10. “Which one is mine?” He asked as he slid into the lone seat beside him.

Ayden gave a confused head cock to the side as one of his eyebrows raised as if it was ridiculous for Greyson to even ask him such a question. “None of them..? I’m eating all of this.. Go grab your own food if you’re hungry.”

“Really? You’re eating all of this? Right now?” Grey asked incredulously as he mentally counted the number of plates sitting on the table.

“Greyson, I’m a shapeshifter. My metabolism is 9 times faster than yours. I’m going to eat all this and still be hungry in an hour. Go, before the line gets any longer,” Ayden nodded off towards the breakfast line that had twice as many people now than when he sat down.

“Fine. Nice to know this is how I’m repaid after cooking you breakfast, lunch, and dinner for an entire weekend like a servant.”

“It’s tough being on the other side of things, isn’t it?” He asked as he chewed through a mouth full of eggs.

11. “She’s like a girl version of Ayden,” Celia said.

“What is that supposed to mean?!” Ayden exclaimed.

“Which part are you confused by?”

“I’m not confused, I’m offended you guys think I’m a brat.”

Greyson gave a scoffed laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What was that huffing fit you were having for like two, three days?” Kori asked, finding that statement laughable even without outside context.

“I was coping with my losses.”

12. Greyson looked back for himself and closed the door behind him. “You wanna take a walk with me?” There was a quick whipping sound coming from behind him, an excited tail now attached. “That looks like a yes.”

“Don’t be demeaning, Greyson.”

“So you don’t wanna take a walk then?”

“..No I do.”

Grey laughed and ruffled the top of his head. “Cool then get your shoes on, I’ll meet you outside.”

13. Ayden had heard enough. He walked up to Celia’s side, breaking through the men that surrounded her. “Watch your mouth when you’re talking to her. Her spit is worth more than your entire existence.”

14. A: It wouldn’t surprise me. Bow was a major sl— Ayden deleted the message he was about to send.

15. “Don’t tell me you’re tired already. Tap into that animalistic spirit.”

“I don’t know what that means!” Ayden huffed, joining them finally. He took a moment to heave, his lungs already pushed to their limit. “How can you expect me to run with no meal?”

“Do you know what I have for breakfast in the early morning?”

“Don’t tell me—“

“My breakfast is the adrenaline of life. Chasing after the rush. It always fills my hunger.”

“Yeah well, ‘adrenaline’ isn’t a substantial food item that can be chewed and swallowed.”

[thegoddessmaker]

Side Out: Chapter 1

Satan wasn’t cast from heaven; he was turned to glitter. 

It was the only plausible explanation for why the speckled pieces of plastic fervently stuck to their victims, no matter how much effort was put into their removal. I’d found glitter in more places on my body in the last two weeks than I could remember seeing in my lifetime. Every card that arrived in the mail was covered in the substance. No matter how carefully I opened them, the particles would inevitably spill over the carpet, creating a mess that would put unicorn blood to shame if the books were to be believed. 

I didn’t understand why so many damn cards were showing up. It was the beginning of the school year. Two seasons stood between now and graduation. Most people wouldn’t start sending congratulations until spring. My mother’s relatives couldn’t help themselves, though. My titi Tvora was the worst offender. They celebrated every accomplishment like it was the last I’d ever make. It would upset me if it weren’t as endearing as it was. 

Placing the black and gold card on the top of the mantle, I brush the remainder of the glitter from my hands onto the floor. The vacuum would take care of it during the midday run. There was no need to preoccupy myself with it now. 

“Really? You did not just brush that onto the floor.” 

I raise a brow at my sister, tapping my hands together for good measure. Miki stands with her hand on her hip. The bow shape of her evenly portioned lips is turned into a frown, her amethyst-colored eyes narrowed disapprovingly at the confetti dotting the ground.  Her long silver hair is twisted into a hair clip, cascading in ringlets over her shoulders. It complimented the golden-brown hue of her skin beautifully, shining like the glitter dotting the floor under the harsh LEDs sunken into the ceiling. She’d been playing with her style recently, insisting that senior year meant she needed to start dressing for the professional world. I wasn’t sure what professional environment allowed for a backless crop top and cargo pants pulled straight out of the nineties, but far be it from me to burst her bubble. Besides, she’d worked hard for her incredible physique, spending more time in the gym than was reasonable for a human being. If she wanted to show off the line of her abs, I wouldn’t stop her. 

“We have a Roomba for a reason, Mi,” I answer, adjusting the pleats of my skirt as I cross the room. The offending substance somehow managed to avoid the black knit of my socks. I supposed I should be grateful for that. 

She rolls her eyes, exasperated. “Great. Automated service to drag glitter all over the apartment.”

“Then we need a better Roomba.”

Throwing up her hands, she surrenders, picking up her bag from the chair she threw it into every day when she returned from class. We’d lived together in this apartment for the last three years. Mother had insisted on purchasing it when she’d come to visit on parent’s weekend freshman year and witnessed the “horror,” as she referred to it, of our living space in the dorms. We were required to live on campus the first year, but were free to choose our living arrangements after that. Mother had taken full advantage of that freedom to put us into a “suitable” apartment  in University South. I didn’t think a “suitable” apartment needed a pool and a personal gym, but it was the only compromise she’d been willing to accept. She’d wanted to buy a penthouse in Evergreen Park, but Miki and I quashed that quickly. We already stood out as the daughters of the founder of the most well-known gemstone conglomerate in the East. The last thing we needed was to attract more of the wrong attention by flaunting our wealth in everyone’s faces, even at a “new ivy” like Stanford. Presenting a veneer of humility was necessary to keep up appearances. 

I retrieve my backpack from the hook by the door, slinging it over my shoulder along with my gym bag resting on the floor underneath it. It was Thursday and Halloween, which meant a long day on campus. Volleyball practice would go until nine, and I was certain that Miki and Dalila would drag me out tonight. I’d successfully avoided the last three years by sneaking away while they chattered about their plans for the evening. I doubted I’d be so lucky this year. Miki was determined to see that I attend a party this year. She’d selected the perfect costume for me by her own admission. Unsurprisingly, she neglected to tell me what exactly it was that she’d selected.  I shuttered to think what it was that she’d thrown together.

Still, I’d suck it up. It was our last year together. The least I could do was acquiesce to a night out on her favorite holiday. Plus, it wouldn’t be half bad with the right company. We were set to scrimmage with the men’s team this evening in Halloween tradition. I’d be able to convince Omari to join us and if Omari came then Isee and Dante wouldn’t be far behind. Their presence would make things substantially less irritating to deal with. They were a good time—and they knew to bring all the good liquor. 

Glancing down at my watch, I motion for my sister to hurry along. We were going to be late if we dawdled further, and I had a lab later today that I needed to prepare for. I still hadn’t the faintest clue why I’d elected to take up a neuroscience major, considering it bored me to tears, but it made my mother happy. She’d always wanted my sister and me to become doctors. 

‘Do something good for the world,’ she’d said. 

Despite donating a sizable chunk of her fortune after marrying Father, she never quite felt that she’d done enough, whether for herself or her people. Her great-great-grandparents had fled Ethiopia during the Italian invasion, selling off their stake in the country’s resources to the highest bidder. The fortunate timing allowed them to purchase a controlling interest in three mines along the eastern coast of Africa. While the rest of the continent was ravaged, Mother’s family escaped unscathed, holding on to the rights to the mines through a series of strategic partnerships with China and Japan. Those partnerships eventually led to my mother and father’s meeting when their business relationship turned to romance. 

The perfect fairytale ending.

But as with any money-generating enterprise, my ancestors’ gains did not come without sacrifice. Thousands of men and children were sent off to die in the mines during that time. Feeling the weight of her role in the death of her people, Mother reverted the profits to the country when she came into control of operations, raising wages and providing compensation to families that had lost relatives due to working conditions. Those small measures had done little to touch the enormous coiffures that Grandma and Grandpa left behind in the end, and despite the protests from the board, the company was thriving. However, those meager successes didn’t erase the guilt Mother felt for her family’s role in the exploitation of her people. I didn’t know if she’d ever find peace with herself in that regard. 

A shoulder nudges my own. A brunette desi woman stares at me with an amused smile. “Daydreaming again, Kitamura?” she asks. 

Busted. 

I grip the bus strap tighter, pulling my earbud free with my opposite hand. I hadn’t noticed her come on the bus, too absorbed in my thoughts to spare a glance around me. Nithya was a petite woman, standing only five foot three and a half—and yes, the half was important. She had lovely hazel eyes and hair that rolled in the softest waves I’d ever seen down her back. Her skin was the color of walnut but cool, not warm-toned. The daughter of prominent politicians, she’d entered my life sophomore year after joining our humble club team as our resident libero. She was fast and agile with an intuitive sense for the game that few people possessed. Finding her had been like finding a piece of the puzzle we weren’t aware we’d lost. She’d singlehandedly raised the bar for all of us.

“Lost in thought,” I reply, glancing down at my phone. 

“I can tell. Your RBF was showing.”

There was nothing I could do about that. Unlike my sister, I’d inherited the sternness of my Father’s expression, resulting in a permanent stone face that earned me the nickname ‘Ice Queen’ from enemies and friends alike. Mirella, my childhood friend, was the only one to understand my ailment as a fellow sufferer. 

Miki leans over, smirking at me. “My poor sister. Doomed to be forever alone despite her impeccable looks all because of that scary habit of hers.”

“I’ve had a boyfriend before,” I point out. 

“Yeah, but he sucked, so we don’t count him.” She never got along with my ex. I knew she tried to, but they were like oil and water. 

Well, to be fair, when it came to Kai, everyone was oil. I met him my freshman year when he was the TA for my introductory biology class. At the time, he was entering his senior year and starting his second term as a student senator. He was quiet and unassuming, with a cute face hidden behind wire-rimmed glasses that were far too thick. It wasn’t until I went to him after class for help one day that I realized how charming he was. He had big aspirations to become the next Steve Jobs of medicine. It didn’t take long for him to work his way into my bedroom and, eventually, my heart. 

In hindsight, he was a red flag walking.  

He had a nasty habit of talking down to anyone that he considered dumber than himself. Most people fell into that category for him. It was admittedly fascinating to watch his mind at work—he was brilliant—but his rudeness wore on me. We parted ways at the end of last year when he finally got his acceptance letter into Harvard, thanks in no small part to the hours I spent with him studying the MCATs and reviewing his personal statements. He told me the same day the letter arrived that he felt it would be better if we parted ways so he could focus on his studies. It was a hell of a birthday present.

I hadn’t re-entered the dating scene since. I figured with graduation nearing, there wasn’t much of a point in trying to find someone when it would end before anything could get started. While she understood my hesitancy to jump into another relationship, she didn’t understand why I’d taken a vow of celibacy too. It didn’t matter how often I told her I wasn’t celibate. As long as my bed was empty, it may as well have been the same thing. 

“Better to be alone than unhappy,” I say, referring to her original comment. 

“You’re alone and unhappy, so how does that work?”

 I wanted to punch her. “I don’t need someone to be happy.”

“No, but it might make you less mopey.” She playfully pushes my shoulder, grinning. “You know what they say. ‘Best way to get over one man is to get under another.’”

Nythia scoffs. “Sounds like something written by a man.”

“It’s worked for me so far.”

“Haven’t you been dating Rahim for like two years now?”

“And he was the perfect medicine for getting over my ex.” 

Rahim had been good for my sister. He was a looker—athletic, tall, muscular and a sharp mind to boot. His fiery red hair reached past his shoulders, falling in waves straight out of a Pantene commercial. Part desi, part saudi, I was certain he came from some serious oil money if the designer labels he sported were any indication. He’d bought a horse for club polo matches, for Christ’s sake. 

It was an ideal match for Miki, in many respects. Since he came from money, she never had to worry that he was only interested in her for hers. They also got on well enough, and it was clear to anyone with eyes that Rahim adored my sister. For her part, this was the longest I’d ever seen my sister stay with anyone, so he had to be doing something right. I didn’t know if they would stand the test of time, but he made her happy. That was enough for me. 

Ignoring Miki’s comment, I push the button to request the next stop, shifting through the crowd towards the door. “I’ll see you both later tonight.”

“Wait, we need to figure out where we’re going tonight,” Nythia calls after me. 

I throw up a hand, stepping off the bus. “Do it without me. I don’t care where we go.” The doors close behind me; the vehicle continues its way down the block. I plug the earbud in again, turning up the music playing on my phone. Three hours of class to get through, and then I could spend the rest of the evening sweating out my thoughts of Kai and graduation. 

Mercifully, class went by faster than I thought it would. There was no syllabus day in a lab class, given that we only met once per week. The fast pace of the lesson made up for the duration. I was out of there and lacing up my sneakers courtside in record time. 

Today was our first week with the new recruits. Most were freshman, although a handful of sophomores and juniors had also made the cut this year. With my sister and I graduating, we were in special need of new setters to fill our shoes. Miki and I managed to run a tight ship with our six-two formation the last three years. I was optimistic that some of the new recruits we’d selected would be able to rise to the occasion. They showed more promise than the majority of new recruits in recent history, performing well in practice despite the initial nerves. 

Coach Mezza blows the whistle, signaling for us to bring it in. I chuck the ball I’d been holding during the drill into the cart, jogging over to join the others. 

“Good work today, everyone. We’ll call it early today. I believe you have plans with the boy’s team to get to,” Mezza says. She puts her hand in the center, glancing over at me. “Captain?”

I throw my hand over hers. “Team on two. One, two.”

“Team,” echos the chorus of responses. 

The group breaks apart, hands receding from the circle. The freshman huddle together, chattering excitedly amongst themselves. Most were nervous about going to play with the boys, unsure of what to expect. It was nostalgic, watching them. 

“To be young and naive again,” Miki comments, walking up beside me. She’s accompanied by a   girl with coily black hair looped together in a long twist that extends well past her shoulders. Her sepia-brown skin makes the sapphire blue of her eyes pop, not that they needed the help. At five eight, Dalila was a solid outside hitter with a strong constitution. The girl also happened to have one of the biggest verticals a woman could. If not for her gentle face, she would be quite intimidating. 

“I think it’s cute. Reminds me of when we joined,” Dalila says. 

Miki folds her arms over her chest. “I don’t remember being nervous.”

“Didn’t you almost throw up after practice?” I question. 

“I just said I didn’t remember, didn’t I?”

I didn’t realize surpressing the memory counted. Dalila laughs, rolling her eyes. 

She pats my back. “Shall we?”

“Let’s get their beating over with.”

Miki grins, she and Dalila keeping pace with me as we head over. Nythia joins us at the curtain, dipping through it to greet the men’s team waiting on the other side. “Fear not, you’re still getting your asses kicked today!”

Omari is the first to greet us, crashing into me to swing me around. “If it isn’t the fantastic four in the flesh. How have you been, Aki?” 

The black-haired man bore a striking resemblance to his sister standing beside me, only with cheekbones turned up to ten. His purple-dipped dreads are tied back in a ponytail that reaches his shoulders, the underside of his head shaved into fade. His skin was the same sepia-color, barely light enough for the black-line tattoos covering his arms to show through. He grins, full lips parting to reveal white teeth underneath. It was a shame his cocky personality made him insufferable most days. He was perfection otherwise. 

“Fine, thanks,” I reply. 

Isse is next to greet me, ruffling the top of my hair. The big man was built like a linebacker at six three and made for a hell of a middle, with Omari as his opposite. His rich brown skin was sheened with sweat, no doubt from the effort the olive-skinned boy standing behind him had put him through.  He’d shaved his head, opting to braid his hair into cornrows for the first time in a while. It looked good on him. “You’ll go easy on us, I hope?”

“She never goes easy on us,” Dante mutters. That was as close to a greeting as I would get from him. The guy may have only been five-ten, but he was full of sass. It came as a shock to everyone when he and Isse announced they were together. For the longest time, we all assumed Dante wasn’t into anyone romantically. I still got the sense that their relationship was less than traditional. 

Dalila pats Dante’s shoulder. “There’s always hope for next year.”

“Imagine that. All it took was becoming a super senior to finally be the best setter at school.” Dante was technically excellent, but he lacked the same creativity my sister and I had when it came to setting. He played things safe. The consistency of his sets made for a strong team, but it wouldn’t win him any medals without a powerhouse hitter to put the ball down. I’d hoped they would find one this year, but it didn’t seem like that was the case. 

Miki claps her hands. “Alright, let’s warm up. Hitting lines, both sides. Nythia and I will pass. Dante and Akina can handle hands.”

The group forms two lines, plucking balls from the cart at the foot of the line to toss to the passers. No one was paying attention. That was typical for the first warmup. Everyone was too busy greeting one another and catching up from the summer break, or in the case of the freshman, too scared to devote full focus. During the season, we scrimmaged with the boy’s team once a month, but the first gathering after the break was always the most lax. There was time for things to get more serious later in the year. Honestly, it was one of my favorite parts of returning to campus. I was going to miss it next year. I may have been the captain, but that didn’t mean I needed to take my position too seriously, especially this early. There would be plenty of time for that as we approached regionals. 

Preoccupied with chatting with Isse, Miki shanks the next pass, sending it sailing to the right corner of the ten-foot line. The next hitter in line, a newcomer freshman I didn’t recognize, relaxes, figuring I would let it go. Usually, I would have, but I was bored enough today to try something for the hell of it. If no one was going to hit the ball anyway, I might as well do something crazy. 

Chasing down the ball, I jump up to meet it, dipping my head backward toward the opposite wall. The antenna stares at me, the space above it offering invitation for a shoot. I wasn’t even sure if I could push it that far, but what was the harm in trying? If I failed, at least it would land on the divider, so I wouldn’t have to chase after it. 

I palm the ball between my fingers, launching it at the spot on the wall. It was a surprisingly good set. In a game, I would have drawn a handful of cheers and awestruck calls from onlookers. Assuming someone was able to hit it, that is. No one was there today, though, not in the crowd or on the court. I lift my head, closing my eyes as I land on my feet. 

Two sounds echo over the court a second after: the first, the thwack of a palm hitting the ball’s leather; the second, the thump of the ball smacking into the court. I catch the sight of it slamming into the right-angled corner of the ten-foot line on the court opposite me. It bounds off the ground and into the concrete wall on the other side. 

The court falls silent, everyone too stunned to speak. 

What the hell just happened?

I whip my head around. A man somewhere around my age, hair the color of a crow’s feathers,  lands half-crouched on the ground, his right arm still swung behind him. He was tall—taller than anyone else gathered around him. The tanned-bronze color of his skin defines muscles running over his biceps and forearms as though he’d emerged from an anatomy book. His hair is damp with sweat, rolling in loose waves around his eyes to obscure his face, but not by nearly enough. I could make out the diamond cut of his jaw and the fullness of the pout of his lips, turned up into a smile that revealed every one of his teeth. 

He was fucking gorgeous. The kind of breathtaking beauty that forces you into doing a double take because you’re certain that no human being can be that stunning. 

I understood now what my sister was getting at earlier. I could forget a lot of things under a man like that. 

[going-through-some-stuff]

Entry Twenty-One - Sunday, May 14 2033

I cried for the first time in a long time this weekend. Last time was over 5 years ago when we put my dog down. I honestly couldn’t tell you how old he was at that point, we’d had him for as long as I could remember. Definitely 12+ years old. He was a bitter old man of a dog who would definitely yell at kids to get off his lawn if he was a human, but he was a great dog and I loved him. But I digress, that’s not what this weekend was about. My sister graduated med school this weekend, and I couldn’t be more proud of her and all of the work she put in to get this far. I wish I could say this was heartfelt tears and I cried because she’s pursuing her dreams and getting to do what she is really passionate about, but that’s not what happened. The ceremony was in a packed hall where we were shoulder to shoulder with everyone, it was hot, the lights weren’t even bright but just weird, and people were excited that their friends, family and loved ones were graduating med school so it was loud. I don’t want to sound like I’m blaming them for what happened, they had every right to be excited for their people and it’s not their fault it was too much for me. I made it through most of the ceremony just fine, but about 75% of the way through I just felt it all at once. I had to close my eyes and really focus on my breathing to not lose my composure. I really wanted to cover my ears too but didn’t want to draw too much attention to myself so I didn’t. That helped for the most part until the end, which is all just a blur. Everyone was of course standing and clapping at the end of the ceremony, which was much worse than the concentrated groups of loud noise for individual names being announced. Then we all had to leave, and it was cramped both inside and out so it was just making the sensory overload so much worse. I honestly barely remember between the last 25% of the ceremony and managing to find my sister in the crowd. I just remember being hot and cramped and barely being able to focus. It got a little better once we found my sister outside because it wasn’t as cramped, but it was still a little too much so I was kinda standing off to the side trying to avoid being touched or really interacted with in any way. I thought the worst of it was over and then we got in the car and it just all hit me like a train. I was sitting in the back and I honestly don’t even know how to describe how I felt. It was just all too much. I had to fully close and cover my eyes with my hands and spend all of my energy on just breathing normally. We were initially supposed to go to dinner after but by the time we got to the place I was holding back tears. We ended up going back to my grandparent’s place and I just ran into one of the bedrooms downstairs and threw my face into a pillow and just started fucking weeping. I just laid there with my hands over my face, laying on my side facing the wall for like half an hour crying. I texted my mom and said they should all just go to dinner and that I’ll be fine, so thankfully they were gone by the time I got my composure so I could just pack my stuff and go. I also had basically forgotten I’d made plans to play games with friends so I managed to power through that. I had fun playing with them and don’t regret doing it, but I definitely should’ve just gone to bed. I finished a couple of hours later and just went into my room and passed out. I hoped that was the end of it, but I woke up the next morning (today) and could barely get out of bed. I spent basically all day in bed, I think I got out of bed like three or four times in total to either get food or go to the bathroom and just go back and lay down in bed. I think the most time I spent out of bed was probably 20-30 minutes to shower/get ready for bed. I’m normally pretty tired on a daily basis but I couldn’t tell you the last time I was this exhausted. It felt like I got hit by a fucking truck and was so hard to be awake but I also couldn’t really sleep so I was just on my phone all day.

If my family somehow finds this and figures out it was me, I’m sorry for being stand-offish at the ceremony but I just couldn’t handle it. And to my sister, I hope you know how proud of you I am. I couldn’t wish for a better sister and hope you accomplish everything you want and more in life. You’re the best role model I could ask for, and if I can even be half the person you are I’ll count it as a success.

Before I start crying again writing out all the things I have a hard time saying, I’m going to call it a night. It’s ya boi, AW, signing off.

[anniekong]

2022

A busy year filled with milestones (an engagement, a bike tour, turning 30), adventures (new places, new rotation, new apartment) and personal growth (completing HBA mentorship program).

Started the year with a ski trip! Green slopes were enough to left my legs debilitated for a few days. Anyone wanna go snow tubing/ snowmobiling instead? Or hangout at the spa? :)

Lost power in my apartment for two weeks which had us scrambling from one hotel to the next. Felt like a tourist in our own town

It was supposed to be a trip to San Francisco & LA for a wedding and I was really looking forward to the hikes and Mexican food. I had a luggage filled with blazers, leggings & hoodies. Got to the airport to find out that we were going to Belize instead! Landed in Belize and saw my sister and Ravi at the airport. Came back engaged~ Really enjoyed snorkeling in Hol Chan and their amazing foods.

Celebrated Nick’s bday doing what we do best- Catnapping the kitties

We had the 5 Boro Bike Tour the next day- two months of cycling 5 days a week and barely made it onto the Verrazano Bridge. Survived the first 25 miles with flying colors but struggled with the last 15.

Ray and Gaurav had mentioned that it was all flat and that the entire tour is equivalent to a two hour cycling class. Two miles into Central Park and hitting the hills, I knew they were telling me white lies to get me to sign up 😂

Graduated again 😆

Impromptu trip to Punta Cana- really loved Monkeyland. Came back to my sassy friends

Had to say ‘see you later’ to my colleague, mentor, sponsor and most importantly, friend. He was the first person I called to ask if I can relocate to his building when my apartment was out of commission. Despite knowing you for only a few months at the time, you’ve welcomed me with open arms. You have helped me tremendously and I probably can’t return the favor but I can pay it forward.

Finally made Peru happened- amazing sites, food and company.

Went to Zurich for work. No one wore masks at the airport or on the plane ride here. It really felt like as if the pandemic is a thing of the past. It was great~

Juggling between two time zones proved to be challenging but it’s the ideal place to work if you have global colleagues. Calls with Asia in the morning, Europe during midday and US in the afternoons.

Squeezed in a weekend trip to Luzern. Currently unwinding and starting the year in Chi town. Sometimes you need to slow down so you can speed up. None of the items on my to do list are getting done and I’m fine with it. That’s next year’s problem.

We were able to stand on the frozen lake. I’ve also learned that being cold is all relative. I’ve always thought if you’re cold, you’re cold. What does it matter if it’s -2F vs 10F. Miserable either way. After surviving the single digit weather, we would walk out when it was 20F and we would say, in agreement, wow, it’s quite warm today. The weather is not so bad. Crazy, I know. Nick’s father suggests that we meet in a Florida next year. I was thinking the same thing at the airport.

Thankful for the challenges and the happiness in 2022. It was a great year overall. Looking forward to the next.

Happy New Year, everyone!

A

[happypopcornprincess]

If your requests are open, you can write something Smut (if you're comfortable with that) and fluff where Fanboy has a secret relationship with Hangman's sister, maybe Jake finding out all about it in the end

first of all, thank you sm for this request. I was looking for a project to test myself and see if I could write Smut, so I really went all in on this one.

Call Out My Name

Pairings - Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia X fem!Reader (ft. a very angry brother! Jake Sersin)

Premise - Mickey returns safe and sound from his latest mission, and the only thing he wants is you. But fate has a different plan, and a surprise awaits.

TW: Mentions of abuse, homicide, and sexual assault

Warnings: SMUT +18 (minors DNI), p in v, mentions of self-pleasure, some swear words.

A/N - This is my first time writing porn with a plot (I apologize for not holding back because it's MICKEY FREAKING GARCIA?!?!?!?)

Plus we all believe and concur in the idea that Jakey Jake would go absolute feral over the idea of the reader dating Mickey so I wrote that too XD\

Set in the same AU as The Wedding Bet Date (prequel Hannix fic)

The reader is of age, maybe 22-23, and an art student in Washington DC. And given the fact that Mickey graduated early at Top Gun, he might be 27-28 here.

This was requested Anonymously, whoever you are, thank you ❤

My Main Masterlist || Send your requests here!

Washington DC

The knock on your door was unexpected.

It was a Monday morning and you had to take a leave from school. You hadn't had a day off in a long time. This is because you have been called in on weekends to finish your latest project. So you walk up to the main door confused as to who this might be, and when you opened it, your knees almost gave out.

It was him. It was actually him.

Mickey stood on the doorstep of your apartment with a grin plastered on his face, holding a bouquet of flowers.

You stood there for a minute to comprehend what you were seeing. Then, you launched yourself at him, holding onto him for dear life as he held your waist tightly. 

It has been months without him. He had been called to a mission in the middle of the Pacific and had to leave on short notice. The last night with him, you held him and silently cried as he brushed your hair with his fingers, whispering promises of coming back to you.

And now he was in your arms, he was real. He kept his promise.

“I miss you like hell Hermosa.”

“I missed you more,” you reply.

Meeting Mickey was pure coincidence. You met him one night at the Hard Deck while visiting Jake some six months ago. You were there looking for trouble and he was there alone to have a drink. You talked for a while and one hour later he was fucking you in his car.

What was supposed to be a one-night stand turned out to be the most beautiful relationship you have ever been in.

He was kind and funny, and he loved fiercely. Considering your brother was none other than Jake Sersin, you knew there were risks to dating someone in his field.

You knew he was your brother’s colleague, and Mickey knew how Jake might react once he discovers you two. However, you were ready to risk it all, for Mickey Garcia made your heart flutter like no one else, and you were in for it.

And then he grabbed your hips, a growl leaving his mouth, “and you have no idea how I missed this ass.”

You were actually surprised at just how much that turned you on. You dragged him inside and slammed the door, and he was already kicking his boots off. His lips were on yours in an instant, your hands fumbling on his shirt to get it off. He placed the bouquet on a table near your door. He quickly grabbed the hem of your sweatshirt and dragged it upwards. You raised your hands to let him undress you.

You were now standing in the middle of your living room in your bra and shorts, as he worked on removing his shirt. 

His toned abs were on full display, his dog tags swaying on his chest. You missed the way they felt under your hands. Mickey was all over you, his lips leaving marks on your neck. He sucked the soft skin as he walked you towards the couch. Your legs hit the armrest and you both fall on it, him on top of you. He started kissing your breasts, his lips latching onto your nipple, your arm draped around his shoulders your nails digging in his back as he continued to kiss your body.

“That picture did no justice to you, mi amor” he whispered against your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Before he left, you had given him a polaroid of yours wearing his favorite set of lingerie lying on the bed that he had kept in a safe place in his dorms, taking it to the shower every day. 

His hand shifted south, finding your waistband in an instant and pulling it down. You sigh loudly as the cold air hits the wetness pooling between your legs.

Mickey’s mind was fogged with lust, touching you, kissing you, and looking at his favorite girl lying underneath him. He really wanted to have his sweet time with you, to kiss every inch of your body to make up for the time lost. However, right now he wanted nothing more than to be inside you. 

The whine that you let out right now? It made his heart race.

“You touched yourself, darling? When I was away?” he asked as he leaned back on his knees, unbuttoning his jeans.

“Yes. Every night Mickey. But it wasn’t like you, nothing like you.” you breathed out, your heart racing as your eyes traveled towards his boxers.

That may have stroked his ego because when you tried closing your legs, you saw his bulge. Mickey held your knees and spread them apart as he clicked his tongue. He looked you right in the eyes as he shed his boxers, sitting fully naked in front of you.

You could never, will never get used to seeing him like this.

His built frame, the dip of his waist, the dark lines of his arms. He always reminded you of the sculptures of Greek gods and heroes you studied at college. He leaned forward, placing both his hands next to your head. He hovered over you as you held it with both hands, bringing it closer to kiss it. He gripped your neck and rubbed his cock between your folds. You let out a moan at the sensation. Having lined up at your entrance, you pull him closer by his dog tags, and he fell on top of you, entering you at once. Both of you let out lewd moans as he filled you up.

“me estas matando mi amor” he grunts as he starts to move slowly, but as you locked your legs around his waist, his pace quickened. Your foreheads touched, and the coil in your stomach grew. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, nails digging into his skin.

“Oh, baby, I'm… I’m close,” you say, your breath shaking as you lock your legs on his waist. Your hands grabbed his biceps.

And then he stops.

“Not like this.” He growls and grabs your hips tightly, flipping you on your front and spanking your ass. When you look back at him, he looks right into your eyes. He brings your hips closer to his crotch, then thrusts into you, hitting just the right spot which made you see stars.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air, and the thought that your neighbors could hear you does not even enter your mind. "F-fuck, fuck... yes!" you moan loudly.

“Take it, baby, that’s it, let go, I got you,” he says between thrusts, throwing his head back at the pleasure he was receiving through you.

You hide your face in your arms as you come hard. The full force of your orgasm made your legs shake and an almost pornographic moan ripped from your throat.

But Mickey wasn’t done. His grip on you tightened and he grunted with each thrust, his speed decreasing, and you felt warm liquid fill your insides as he came.

“I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you too, Mickey."

Panting, his chest hits your back, and you caress his hair reaching behind you. It has grown, not much but it was longer than the time he left.

You stayed like that for a while, your breathing returning to normal. He pulls out of you and leaves a kiss on your shoulder, and gets up to walk toward the washroom. You fall on the couch. It has been two months since you had sex and you were already feeling the sleepy exhaustion that comes after, spreading through your whole body.

You hear shuffling as you look at Mickey coming towards you. He was wearing black boxers and a t-shirt. He gives you a shy smile and hands you a hoodie.

That was another thing about Mickey. He could bend you over a table while fucking you raw one minute, and the next he would blush like a teenager if you even touched his hand accidentally. He loved you too much, and you did too.

You wear the sweatshirt, not caring about your previous clothes lying on the floor. He sits next to you on the couch and places his arm on the back. You snuggle into him, resting your head on his chest as he leans back, his arms wrapping around you tightly. He kisses your forehead and runs his fingers through your hair.

“You alright? Are you hurt? If I did, I'm-”

You stop him before he could say anything. “Lieutenant Mickey Garcia, If I could point to one person who would never ever hurt me, knowingly or unknowingly, that would be you.” you caress his face, looking at him with love and adoration, “You could never hurt me, okay?”

He gives you a genuine smile, the one that makes you feel warm and giddy like he was your first love.

Which he might be because Mickey has ruined every other man for you. You giggle and leave a sloppy kiss on his lips, and he tightens his hold on you as he kisses you back.

That is when you hear the door open.

It all happens in milliseconds.

Your mind races through the thought; did you lock the door? as soon as you hear the noise?

You both turn towards it.

You watch as Jake, your beloved brother, walks through the door.

You widen your eyes in surprise as you stare at him.

He then looks around your apartment, at the splayed-out clothes on the floor, at the bouquet on the nearby stand, and finally at Mickey.

Then Jake throws his bag on the floor and runs towards him, eyes blazing with fury.

—/—//—/—//—/—//—/—//—/—//—/—//—/—//—/—//—/—//—/—/

You first met Jake Sersin when you were introduced to him as your older brother after being adopted by his parents. You admit being scared of him at the beginning. He was a 16-year-old tall, blonde, high school football player, and you were 6, ten years younger and suddenly thrown into a new environment.

One day he found you crying in your room sitting on the floor. He sits next to you and softly asks you why you're crying, and you respond by hugging him and crying on his shoulder. You tell him how you were scared that your father would come for you and kill you just like he did to your mother. He assured you that it would never happen and that he would always be there to protect you.

That day he swore he would never let you cry ever again.

You have been inseparable since.

So it was only believable when you saw the rage that was brewing in his eyes as he stared down at Mickey in your living room. You were kind of impressed with your ability to stop Jake before he could even reach the living room, running towards him and holding his shoulders. He did not fight you but kept staring at Mickey ominously.

You made him sit on a chair, and Mickey stood in front of him. Standing between the two of them after haphazardly cleaning up your discarded clothes, you crossed your arms. This was partly for fear of witnessing a fight between your brother and your boyfriend, and partly because you didn't know which side to choose.

The truth was that you were never intending to have a secret relationship. You never got the time and opportunity to do so. You had talked about telling your brother and Mickey’s friends before Mikey left. You would make them sit and break the news calmly to avoid the situation you were currently in.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Six months,” you answer honestly, not wanting to lie to him.

Jake's deduction is precise, "Around the time when you visited me at Miramar?"

“Yeah,” Mickey responds.

Jake keeps looking at him as if he was wishing for him to drop dead right at that moment.

“So you’ve been messing around with my sister for half of the year, all while I thought you were my friend?”

You almost rolled your eyes at the comment, “Jake, I am an adult fully capable of making my own decisions. Mickey and I are not ‘messing around'. We are in a committed relationship.”

“Is this true?" he looks at Mickey.

“Yes, Jake. I did not know she was your sister until we started dating. We were about to tell you-”

“When? Before I could catch you making out in Y/N’s apartment.”

“Jake!” you almost give him a piece of your mind until Jake says, “Y/N, leave us alone. I want to talk to him.”

“Why? So you could beat him up after locking me in my room?” you ask him.

Jake just looks at you with his brow furrowed, almost in disbelief, “Have some faith in me, sissy, we’re still co-workers.” he points to Mickey and himself.

After hearing your childhood nickname from him, you barge into your room slamming the door, but not before muttering under your breath, "That didn't stop you from getting your ass handed by Rooster."

“I heard that!” he says in your general direction.

As he stands up from his seat, Jake finally takes a look at Mickey. He did not cower when he was about to hit him, blinded by the thought that he had done something unthinkable to his baby sister. He stepped forward, looking at him in the eyes in a relaxed stance, but avoiding his eyes.

Given the current situation, he recalled an interaction with him just weeks ago, that made him look at this situation in a very different light.

—/—//—/—//—/—//—/—//—/—//—/—//—/—//—/—//—/—//—/—/

Two weeks ago; Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean

It was a grueling day at training. The mission was due in a week and everyone involved was exhausted. But that did not stop Jake and his mates from catching up in the common room, after all, it was a Friday evening.

So there he was, sitting there sipping coffee with Mickey and Reuben. His mates from the uranium mission. They laughed after thinking about the absurdity of dogfight football that Maverick made them play, and how if you actually think about the rules, the game did not make any sense.

“Anyways, I'm heading out. I really miss my tough old mattress." With that, Reuben gets up and leaves the room, leaving Mickey and Jake alone.

“How’s Natasha?” Mickey asked him in an almost teasing manner, sipping the last of his coffee.

The question made him smile. He and Natasha were finally in a relationship after what happened at Maverick’s wedding. She was currently stationed in Arizona, and he missed her even though they spent like four weeks together. It felt like a lifetime since he met her.

“She’s good. She’s doing well,” he says, with a smile on his face

“You got someone waiting back?” he asks, partly to continue the conversation and partly out of curiosity.

“Yeah, I do actually. She’s… she’s amazing,” he replies, ducking his head with a bashful grin on his face.

Holy shit, she got him blushing? He thought.

“Good lord Fanboy, you’re in love.” He laughed, looking at how his eyes sparkled just thinking about the girl.

A smile spread across his face. "Can't wait to meet her man! She's the one I want to spend my life with. Hold her hand, and watch her smile. It's been so long since I last saw her.”

“She's a civilian?”

“Yep, she’s in art school, about to graduate”

“Really! Where? My sister’s in art school, they might be in the same place.”

Having understood the context now, he realized Mickey's face that day was not shocked, but concerned. Concerned that Jake will make the connection.

“She’s in California.” He had replied.

“Ah, My sister’s in DC, haven’t seen her in a while. I'll probably drop by this time," he says, getting up and waving goodbye to him as he goes to his room.

—/—//—/—//—/—//—/—//—/—//—/—//—/—//—/—//—/—//—/—/

“The girl you told me about, that’s Y/N, right? Or do you have another one in California?” Jake asks, tucking his hands in his pockets.

Mickey stands straight, looking him directly in the eyes, "No Jake. It's Y/N. Every time I take off, I pray to God to bring me back to her. I love her Jake. And I'll do so until my last breath,” he says without hesitation.

Jake’s eyes shoot up at this. 

He knew Mickey was a good guy. He knew that he would never hurt you or anyone else in the way he was thinking. He could see how much respect and love he has for you in his eyes. And he had witnessed how he talks about you behind your back.

Mickey and you were in love, and as much as he would hate to admit it, he was kind of glad that his sister was with someone like him. Someone who was ready to face him for you.

“Okay then. You have my blessing,” he says, smiling at him.

He hears a sudden burst of sound coming from behind him, and he turns to see you running out of your room. He laughed at the fact you were eavesdropping on their conversation.

You run up to Mickey and grab his hand. He responds by holding your hand between both of his palms.

"But," he says, "You're gonna talk to mom and dad about this. And keep it PG in public, especially in front of me. Or I will knock your teeth out.” his elder brother's instincts kicked in at the moment.

“Yeah, Jakey, whatever,” you say, smacking his arm. You knew that behind his tough man persona, he was an emotional sod. So, you walk toward the kitchen. “Now that my boyfriend’s safe, who wants some food? Because I am starving!”

“I do,” says Jake, grinning at you.

“I’ll help” Mickey replies, following you to your open kitchen that was basically a shelf in the corner of your living room.

College kids struggle, right?

Jake watched you both subconsciously fit together, relaxing your bodies, stealing glances at each other when the other was distracted. It was obvious that you would be happy with him, after all, he makes you smile like no one else.

A/N - Thank you everyone for sticking with me till the end of this fic! if you liked it please let me know through the asks and the comments. Any and all requests, headcanons, and drabble requests about this AU is mostly welcome. Love y'all, Take Care!

Requests are open! Feel free to request anything.

Tag List:

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[frogtanii]

[buckle up; this one is a long one (1.6k words)]

things weren’t supposed to turn out this way.

she was supposed to show up, apologize “sincerely,” and the boys, her boys, were supposed to welcome her with open arms and swiftly discard of you.

instead, she was sitting in the back of a cramped police car with two pigs, one of which had a horrible b.o. problem and an affinity for sauerkraut.

it was so frustrating.

and, of course, it was all your fault.

you’d been blocking her from true happiness ever since the beginning when you’d first met in middle school. it was crazy because you’d actually seemed nice; kind, understanding, and you didn’t judge her for what her father did to her mother or for how she acted out because of that.

sure, you were a little weird and sometimes you could be downright rude to other kids in your class but you cared for her in a way that no one else had before.

(un)fortunately, you didn’t come alone — you were a packaged deal. your childhood friend, daishou, came into her life right along with you. she didn’t mind at first; daishou was fun when he wanted to be but he was mostly full of snarky comments and sarcastic quips.

the three of you spent all your time with each other; from playing at the playground to helping her begin her makeup youtube channel in 8th grade.

you all got along pretty well up until you got to highschool. once there, you threw yourself into your studies, sort of retracting yourself from her and daishou.

how selfish.

she couldn’t help but feel betrayed by you—you knew how bad she was at making friends and you didn’t even care, leaving her all alone to fend for herself.

well, not all by herself.

daishou was a constant. no matter where she was, or how alone she was feeling, he was there to provide entertainment at the most, and his presence at the least.

it wasn’t always the healthiest, most functional friendship, she could admit that. there were weeks that daishou would choose to ignore her for no apparent rhyme or reason, citing his explanation as he just didn’t feel like it.

obviously it sucked but he was her only friend, ever since you so cruelly abandoned them. i mean, you still ate lunch with them every day and invited them over to study and hang out, but it was not the same.

with you so absent, she grew closer and closer to daishou to the point she was spending almost every waking moment with him. and, as the story so goes, she fell for him, head over heels.

she knew it was a bad idea, if their friendship was anything to go off of but she didn’t care. she was desperate for love and physical affection and he seemed willing to at least give her the latter.

after she decided to confess, nerves all the way in her throat and a box of chocolates behind her back, daishou took her virginity in the back of his ford fusion, hard, fast and nothing like she’d imagined.

the next day, she’d cornered you in the library (where you always seemed to be) to tell you the good news. your face was unusually blank as she detailed the best night of her life to you, your response being less than stellar when she was done. “please be careful,” you had said.

what did that even mean? you clearly wanted to keep daishou safe from her which was ridiculous because weren’t you supposed to be her friend too? she’d stormed out of the library after that, determined to demand a kiss from daishou to make her feel better.

that day was one of the last that she’d see you for a while. you got caught up with clubs and schoolwork (and apparently therapy for god knows what) while she got caught up with daishou.

things with him weren’t... great. they never really were but things were getting even worse. his random bouts of silence got longer and though it was only freshman year and they’d been dating for less than 5 months, he’d meet with her after school with a hickey plastered on his collarbone that she knew she didn’t put there (she sucked even harder over the spot to claim it as her own).

as she said, things weren’t great but they weren’t horrible either. they remained that way all the way up until sophomore year.

you and her had drifted even further, hardly speaking to one another unless it was for a project or to vaguely greet one another in the halls. it was okay though. you had all your other friends and she... well she had daishou.

speaking of, her “boyfriend” had been more distant than usual. she wasn’t an idiot and she knew he’d been seeing other girls on the side, but she believed she would be the one he’d end up with, the one he’d marry.

how foolish she had been.

it was prom night and she felt beautiful. her beauty channel had finally begun picking up traction (she’d just hit 13k subscribers the night before!!) so she filmed a prom night makeup tutorial, making sure that every square inch of her face was perfect. donning a silky blue floor length dress, she felt like a princess and she certainly looked the part.

she showed up to daishou’s house about 30 minutes before the event, ringing his doorbell with an elated grin painted all over her face. he had mentioned in passing that his parents and older sister would be out for the weekend, leaving the house for themselves. that meant sex and sex meant being wanted.

after the third ring of the bell, she started to get nervous. maybe he wasn’t ready yet? maybe he needed help with his tie? just when she was about to wring the bell again, the door swung open to reveal daishou... not in his suit.

“oh, it’s you,” he’d grumbled. “‘m not goin’ to prom.” she felt her breath catch in her throat. she’d protested and begged for an explanation but he wouldn’t give one to her. eventually, she’d followed him into his house, furious because how could he do this to her? on her night?

it didn’t take very long for him to get fed up, his snake-like eyes honing in on her, filled with venom. “‘m not goin’ because i don’t like you anymore. you still look pretty though.”

just like that, with just a few words, he’d shattered her heart. she was frozen in place, completely disconnected from daishou, her love, as he not-so-gently pushed her out the door, slamming it in her face.

she felt tears stream down her cheeks and before she knew it, her legs were carrying her to a place she hadn’t been in months.

banging frantically on the door, she cried out, begging for someone, anyone to hear her. the door opened quickly and there you stood. you’d clearly been studying but as you took in her frazzled appearance, it seemed as though your heart broke.

you ushered her inside, sat her own the couch, and began to make her a cup of tea, your parents having been out for the night as well. once the kettle went off, you quickly prepped her drink and gave it to her, the words flowing out of her like liquid once she had taken a sip.

she didn’t know why she was even there but despite the animosity between the two of you, you seemed like you truly... cared. (neither of you mentioned the tears that stained your favorite t shirt or the quiet apologies you muttered into her hair).

that night quickly went and passed and by the next day, she was feeling rejuvenated and more like herself. however, that feeling quickly dissipated when she caught you in the hallway between classes speaking with daishou behind the stairwell in hushed tones.

within the span of a few hours, her heart had been broken twice and she was sure she’d never felt such heartache before.

she turned on her heel and darted away, avoiding your every attempt to talk to her for weeks and weeks until you just... stopped trying. after you’d cut off conversation, yet again, the sadness quickly festered and morphed into anger.

that anger only grew when she watched you graduate at the top of your class in your senior year, your smile blinding as you accepted your diploma. it only grew when she saw that you had made it into the university of your choice on your instagram story, her own rejection letter torn up in the bottom of her wastebin. it only grew when she saw you’d made your own youtube channel, her own going untouched and neglected (her last video had been a half-assed “get ready with me” that had more dislikes than likes due to her horrible makeup and even worse attitude).

soon enough, the rage had intensified until it had taken over her whole being. she was just so angry at all that you’d done to her, all the ways you’d ruined her life that she couldn’t keep herself from plotting your demise.

when she got the email from the hyper house management team that invited her into the house and offered the option that she could pick someone she wanted to move in as well, her anger turned into excitement.

this was her chance. this was her moment to turn your life into a living hell, to make it at least a fraction of what she went through by your hands.

she was going to make you pay and god, was it going to feel great.

the metal of the handcuffs chafed her wrists as she adjusted herself against the cool leather of the cruiser, the discomfort removing her from her reverie.

yeah, right. it seemed as though she was the only one “paying” right about now.

she tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling, tears filling her eyes but refusing to fall.

things definitely weren’t meant to turn out like this. not at all.

℗ poker face

not like this

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - OMFG THE BACKSTORY REVEALED I AM SO OVER IT >:(( this took me forever to write and i still wasn’t able to include everything i wanted to so hop over to my asks if you need any clarification!! oh oh && just a reminder, this playlist is from meiko’s perspective so chances are, things didn’t exactly go just like this wink wonk KAJS ANYWAYS DONT FORGET TO FEED ME ILY <3333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saiKishaircLip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp • @keiarma • @shrimpypenis

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[weelittleweasley]

meet the wealseys (f.w.)

prompt: you met fred at the joke shoppe when you had first arrived from america. after dating for a little while, he asks you to come and meet his family. needless to say, your visit to the burrow was one you’ll never forget.

pairing: post war! fred weasley x fem! american! reader

warnings: mention of the war and death, food and eating

word count: 6.4k

Diagon Alley was much different than what you had pictured, but in the best way possible. The tight quarters were packed with people as you pushed through, looking at the different store fronts, seeing how each one was uniquely different and magical. This was not what you were used to in the States, but you knew that you would become adjusted very soon. The hustle and bustle was refreshing and exciting for a young girl starting a new life abroad. As you continued to stroll along the alley, people called out to each other, exchanging sickles and galleons for merchandise, laughing and hugging each other, poking a smile onto your face. There were many stores to choose from, but you kept your eyes peeled for a store front that jumped out at you.

It didn’t take long for that to happen.

Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, the banner clearly spelt out with a animatronic person, tilting his hat up. Number 93 Diagon Alley. 

Your curiosity stirred inside of you as you shrugged and pushed the front door open. Sounded interesting enough. As you entered the shoppe, you were instantly greeted with screaming children, things zooming past you, and so many colors. The shoppe itself radiated childhood joy which made your heart soar with excitement.

Walking through out the store, you quickly realized that this was a joke shoppe with countless amounts of products. Ones that you were familiar with and others that you had never heard of. You laughed to yourself as you saw Dungbombs and U-No-Poos. “Clever,” you spoke to yourself as you continued to walk through the aisles of the stores. Whomever started this joke shoppe clearly had an affinity for their childhood and having fun; something you could gladly get on board with.

As you walked around, you saw how excited everyone was in the store. It was full of life and nostalgia and joy. There was laughter, smiles, and cheering; how could one not love it here? The store’s energy itself made you want to stay forever. As if England couldn’t get any better.

You filed through the shelves, shuffling through brightly colored packaging and funny titled products that brought glee to your face. Maybe you could purchase a few things and send some of them home back to your family and friends in America. They would get a kick out of these. Slowly, you had accumulated a pile of toys and such in your arms. I must look out of my mind, you think to yourself. A 20 year old girl by herself in a joke shoppe, carrying poop themed jokes. 

 “Need a basket?” a voice calls from behind you as you flip around. Standing there was a tall, well dressed man with flaming red hair gelled swiftly away from his face as he smiled at you. His chocolate brown eyes were warm and comforting and his smile was enough to have you weak in the knees. “Seems like you got your hands full,” he speaks before ducking his right eye down in a cheeky wink.

His forwardness took you by shock. You stammered for a second before finally speaking, “Yeah, sure, thank you.” He hands you a basket that you dump all of the products in. “I appreciate it, thanks,” you smile back at him.

The red haired gentleman speaks, “It’s my job. Literally.” You chuckle lightly, nodding your head, realizing he was the owner of the shoppe. The uniform, the proud badge he wore on his suit jacket, the amount of confidence he exuded. It made sense. “You’ve got a fine selection of products in your basket, I must admit,” he smiles, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Some of our bestsellers.”

You smile back at him, tilting your head, trying to get a read on him. Was he trying to flirt? Or was he just trying to make a sale? “I suppose that’s why I’m buying them. Although, not all of them are for me, I must admit,” you sigh. “I’m sending some to my family back home. Figured my brother will like it.”

The owner nods his head, “Ah, yes. Nothing a brother loves more than poop themed pranks. What a brilliant sister you are,” he winks as you lightly chuckle. “I figure home is the States for you?” he asks as you furrow your brows, wondering how he knew. “Your accent. It’s pretty recognizable,” he laughs as you roll your eyes. “What brings you to London?”

At first, you hesitated sharing your story with a business owner of a joke shoppe that you had just met. But there was something about him that made you want to trust him. “I graduated from Ilvermorny four years ago. I decided I wanted to move out of the States to find other work to see if there were more job opportunities here. I moved here about a month or two ago,” you tell the flame haired man who leaned against the wall, listening to you intently as his eyes darted from your eyes to your body, quite obviously checking you out. You gulp when his eyes meet yours with a smirk on his face. Within an instant, you decide to play his game. “Besides, there are cuter men in London.”

He chuckles at your joke and nods his head. “Understandable. Seems like you moved for very important reasons,” he replies as you blush. “Can I check you out?”

You freeze. “Can you what?”

The gentleman laughs at your surprise. “Your merchandise? Can I ring you up?” he clarifies as you exhale a breath with a blush, lightly laughing before nodding. “Brilliant...besides, I’ve been checking you out since you walked into the store,” he simply states before leading the way to the cash register. Your heart stops as your mouth runs dry. At least he was honest. “I didn’t get your name,” he speaks as he ducks behind the counter, taking your basket and ringing up your things. “I’m Fred.”

Fred. The name suited him. You smile, “(Y/N),” you speak, extending you hand to shake his as he does so with a smirk on his lips. “The shoppe is really amazing. You must be proud of it,” you praise him as he smiles proudly.

“We are,” he speaks as you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “My brother and I run the shoppe together. He’s my twin,” he reveals.

“Twin?” you clarify.

“Yeah, twin. Georgie!” Fred calls out into the shoppe. 

Suddenly, from behind a stack of boxes pops out a figure identical to Fred. “Good God,” you breathe out. The twin, now known as George, walks over to Fred as Fred slings an arm around his brother. As they stand next to each other, you realize just how identical they were. The only way telling them apart was the color of the shirt they wore. This would surely be trouble.

“George, this is (Y/N). She recently moved here from America,” Fred tells George who smiles widely at you, extending his hand to shake yours as you gladly accept it. “(Y/N), this is George, my twin.”

With a large smile, you speak to George, “Pleasure to meet you. I see where Fred gets his handsome looks from,” you joke around, making George laugh wildly.

“Oh, you’re brilliant. I like you already,” George beams before nudging his brother with a knowing look. Fred gave his brother a shove as George smirked at him, knowing exactly what was going on here. Unbeknownst to you. “Well, I hope this isn’t the last I see of you, (Y/N). I’ve got to go restock some shelves, but don’t be a stranger,” George tells you, very friendly for just having met each other. 

And just as quickly as he came, he’s gone, disappearing behind boxes. “He seems lovely,” you tell Fred who rolls his eyes, making you giggle. 

Fred shakes his head, “Ball breaker,” he huffs. “But he’s my brother. Gotta love him,” he smiles. “That’ll be three galleons,” he chimes. You look at him puzzled. There was enough merchandise there to be well over ten galleons, but he was only charging you three. But before you can protest, Fred speaks, “The new girl discount,” he winks as you smile at him gratefully before handing him three galleons. “I hope your brother enjoys his things.”

You look up at Fred and gulp. The fact that this complete stranger had you at a loss of words was beyond you. “I’m sure he’ll love them,” you speak honestly as Fred smiles softly. “I hope this isn’t the last time we see each other, Fred,” you reveal to him honestly. There was something about Fred that made you want to be around him. The life he had inside of him was enticing and exciting; he was different than other men you have met in London. 

Looking into your eyes, Fred gulps before speaking, “I’m sure it won’t be. In fact, since you’re still new to London, maybe I could show you around this weekend? I know a few good spots in the area. You know, since I’m a local.” 

His words make a grin appear on your lips as you nod your head, “That sounds really nice, Fred. I’d like that.”

“Wicked,” Fred breathes out as you giggle. “Saturday? We can make a day of it? We’ll meet here and I’ll give you a very comprehensive tour,” he wiggles his brows as you smile with a nod. “Until then, (Y/N).”

You give Fred a small wave goodbye before exiting the joke shoppe with two bags full of pranks and toys. And now a date for Saturday.

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

“Fred, let’s get a move on! The shop opens in twenty and it’s new release day!” George yells from outside the bedroom door as Fred groan, cuddling further into your chest as you rub his back. “(Y/N)! Stop distracting my git brother!”

You chuckle as Fred calls back out, “Leave her out of this, you wanker! I’ll be ready in five!” George groans from outside of the door before you hear his footsteps disappear into the kitchen. Fred looks up at you as he lays on your chest, you brushing his floppy red hair out of his eyes. “I guess that’s my cue,” Fred huffs before peeling himself off you, rubbing his face with a groan.

It had been three months since you had met Fred that day in the joke shoppe. Three months since he had flirted with you and you had gone out on your first date. There was undeniable chemistry between you and Freddie. He adored how you loved to joke around, not taking yourself or anything too seriously. He adored that way you looked around London with such wonder and curiosity with wide eyes and smile. Fred loved the way you threw your head back with you laughed and gave his hand a squeeze. Fred loved when you bit back a smile when you teased him before giving in and falling into a fit of giggles. Fred was smitten with you and you him. You adored his confidence and professionalism, but you adored even more the way he could act like a fool at the drop of a hat. Fred was childlike in the best way possible. He was a breath of fresh air. He was what you needed when you moved here.

“Oh, come on, Freddie,” you sit up in the bed, Fred’s large t-shirt draped over your body. “It’s new release day! That should be loads of fun! Besides, after the work day is over, you know I’ll be waiting for you,” you kiss his shoulder blade. You worked just up the road at the Apothecary, so it was easy for Fred to run over and see you on his lunch break. That was Fred’s favorite part of the day. He secretly wished that you didn’t get another job, so he could easily run over on those lunch breaks to steal a quick kiss and see your face. Even if it was for three minutes. 

Fred begrudgingly pulls on his suit pants, huffing, “I can only hope that this release goes well. George and I invested a lot into this release and if it doesn’t do well, then we’ll lose a lot.”

You give your darling a knowing look, “It won’t do poorly, Fred. You and I both know that.” Fred gives you a gentle smile as he buttons up his shirt. “Come here,” you sit up on your knees as Fred walks over the edge of the bed. You pull his tie around his neck before tying it for him, something you knew he loved. “Today is going to be a brilliant day and you are going to sell out. I feel it in my gut.”

Fred takes your chin in his fingers, forcing your gaze up to his. His eyes look into yours with adoration before he pulls you in for a sweet kiss as you smile into it. Fred’s lips move gently against yours, making your stomach sway in excitement. Kissing Fred never got old. He gently pull away from you, pushing his forehead against yours. “I love you, angel,” he coos as you blush. He pecks the tip of your nose before sighing, “I’ll stop by the apothecary around lunch to update you on how sales are going.”

With a small nod, you watch him open the bedroom door and get ready to leave. “I love you, Freddie. You’ll be great,” you call after him as he sends you a wink.

“What about me?!” George’s voice booms from the other room. 

You laugh and sigh, “You’ll be phenomenal, Georgie!”

“Hah! I got a phenomenal and you got a great, Fred! Guess (Y/N) has a favorite twin!” George teases his brother as you hear a slap and George squeal an Ouch!

“Oh, would you shut your fat mouth and get downstairs!” Fred exclaims at his brother, making you chuckle. 

The sounds of the twins banter slowly faded as they descended the stairs of the flat down to the shoppe below. You smiled to yourself as you pried yourself off of Fred’s comfortable linens and forced yourself to get ready for your own job that awaited you.

Soon enough, the lunch hour rolled around and you were finishing helping a customer purchase a bunch of ingredients for a spell. “Have a lovely day,” you chimed as you handed her a bag full of her things.

As she left the apothecary, you exhaled deeply and arched your back, stretching the kinks in your back. Standing on your feet all day really took a lot out of you. 

The bell at the front door chimed signaling that another customer had arrived. Mindlessly, you begin speaking, “Good afternoon and welcome. Is there something I can assist you w-”

You are briskly cut off by a pair of lips on yours as you instantly melt into Fred’s touch, humming gently into your embrace. Fred pulls away with a large grin on his face. “Hi, Freddie,” you speak.

“How did you know it was me and not George,” he questions you, poking at your sides. “How do you know it’s not George right now pretending to be Fred? Huh?”

In between giggles, you manage to speak, “I know my boyfriend, Fred.” Fred halts his tickling as you smile up at him. “Besides, George has a more square jaw than you do. You also have calloused finger pads from opening boxes and George doesn’t because he carries the inventory,” you recount as Fred looked at you, quite impressed that you had little tells between him and his twin brother. “Anyway, how are sales going? Business booming?”

Fred smiles widely before you jump on the counter, Fred standing in between your legs. “Better than booming. We sold out at eleven in the morning. Nearly an hour after we opened,” Fred gushes as you gasp, pulling him in for a tight hug. You weren’t surprised that the release went well; the boys knew their demographic and always knew what the people wanted. “But that’s not all the good news, my love.”

You give your boyfriend and knowing look. “Really?” you ask as he nods. “Oh, I’m scared.”

“No need to be,” he chuckles. “I called my mum to tell her the good news and she thinks a celebration is in order. She invited us, all of us, to come home for the weekend. Everyone will be home. Me, George, Ron, Percy, Ginny, Mum, Dad. I assume that Hermione and Harry’ll be there too because bloody hell it’s not home without them. Mum even said that Bill and Fleur may stop by at one point! It’ll be a mini vacation! Isn’t that brilliant?” he beams.

But instead of cheering in glee, your heart freezes. Going to Fred’s childhood home to meet his family and his friends? Not just for dinner. For the weekend. You had no idea what to expect. You knew that Fred had a large family and he spoke highly about all of them. He told you stories of his childhood and Hogwarts and he always seemed to speak of it all with such love.

It’s not that you didn’t want to meet his family, you just didn’t want to not meet their expectations that they had for Fred. From the stories Fred and George had told you, Mrs. Weasley was very protective over her children. Especially after the war. With Fred nearly dying, she was especially careful with Fred. The last thing you wanted was to make his mother disappointed in his choice of a partner and even more terrifying, you didn’t want your beloved boyfriend’s mother hate you.

“(Y/N)? You haven’t said anything? You alright?” Fred snaps you out of your thoughts as you shake your head, bringing you back to reality. “Do you want to come home and meet my family?” he excitedly asks you, taking your hands in his as he kisses the backs of them tenderly, looking up at you hopeful for your response.

You couldn’t say no. It would break Fred’s heart. Besides, you were going to have to meet them eventually. With a deep breath, you reply, “Of course I do, Freddie love.”

Fred claps his hands together, “Wicked. Oh, this is bloody brilliant. I’ll have to run back to the shoppe and ring her and tell her to make an extra place setting for tonight.” Fred looks at you, childish joy bubbling in his eyes as you sigh softly, giving him a gentle smile. The look on his face made you fall in love with him all over again. “I can’t wait for them to meet you. They’re gonna love you,” he tells you, holding your face in between his calloused hands as you smile. “Godric, I love you,” he breathes before kissing you quickly. “Okay, I’ve got to get back to the shoppe. But after you’re done with work, go pack a bag, and meet me and George back at our flat. We’ll apparate from there!” 

And with that, Fred is out of the apothecary without another word, leaving you speechless, still sitting on the counter. As you sit there, just puzzled, your co-worker notices your predicament and laughs, “Meeting the family tonight, eh?” 

“Seems like it,” you gulp. 

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

You stood nervously in the living room of the twins’ flat, overnight bag in hand as you nervously nibbled on your fingernails. George yelled things to Fred from his bedroom as the two twins chaotically packed their bags and gathered things for their weekend stay. “Do you think we should bring our own brooms?” Fred boomed from his room.

“No,” George yelled back. “The ones that are in the shed will be just fine.”

Brooms? Should you have brought a broom? Your eyes dart to Fred who emerges from his room, duffel in hand with a large smile on his face. “Should I have brought a broom?” you ask him.

Fred laughs and shakes his head. “No, all you need to bring is your beautiful, wonderful self,” he speaks, kissing your forehead. “Georgie, let’s get this show on the road!”

“Coming, coming!” George bellows before appearing from his room, backpack on with another small bag in his hand. “Would you like to do the honors?” he smiles at Fred.

“Thought you’d never ask, brother,” he beams before pulling his wand from his pocket. “Everyone ready? Got all their things?” Fred looks at George who gives him a confident nod as you feign confidence and give Fred a small smile. “Brilliant...” he trails off before with a flick of his wand and a whoosh.

And suddenly before your eyes, you are not in the flat anymore. Instead, lush green grass is beneath your feet and the smell of rosemary and thyme floats around in the air. Ahead of you stands a proud, tall house that have Fred and George grinning from ear to ear. They were home.

Within seconds, George speaks, “Last one inside carries up all the bags!”

Fred and George are instantly set in a mad dash as you roll your eyes and shake your head with a smile. You slowly walk behind them, carrying your bag, heart beating hard against your chest. The time was now and there was no avoiding it. 

When you reach the front entrance, George looks at you, “(Y/N)! You didn’t even try!” You laugh and shake your head. “Eh, it’s fine. We’ll force Ron to carry all the luggage upstairs,” George shrugs.

Fred appears and grabs your hand, pulling you inside with a bright smile. “Mum! Dad! We’re home!” Fred calls out before chatter starts blooming from all areas of the house, making your heart race. Fred looks at your nervous eyes and squeezes your hand. “No need to worry. I’m telling you they’re going to adore you.”

First down the stairs is Ginny, the only Weasley daughter. Her eyes land on her two other brothers as she grins widely. “Look what the cat dragged in,” she laughs before George scoops her up in a tight hug, spinning her around as they both laugh wildly. George puts her down only for Fred to do the same thing to his younger sister. “I missed you both so much. Home isn’t the same without you two,” she speaks to her brothers. 

Fred pulls his sister into his side, “We missed you too. Everyday we miss you, little.” Ginny smiles up at her brother. “Gin, this is my girlfriend, (Y/N). (Y/N), meet the littlest Weasley, Ginny.”

“I may be the littlest, but I’ll still kick both of your asses,” Ginny pushes her brother teasingly. Ginny smiles at you widely. “I’ve heard all about you. And by all about you I mean I’ve heard what Fred tells Mum who tells me,” she laughs as you smile. “Can I give you a hug?” she asks.

You smile, “Absolutely.” Ginny embraces you tightly as you smile widely. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Fred and George speak so highly of you.”

Ginny pulls away from her embrace and speaks, “They better.” You laugh. She had the same sense of humors as her brothers. “Your accent is so pretty. Well, I mean, all of you is pretty. Gorgeous, actually. Well done, Fred!” Ginny compliments, making Fred blush a deep crimson. “You could probably do much better than him, you know that?” she teases, making you laugh. You and Ginny would get along just fine.

“Alright, enough of all that,” Fred grabs your hand, pulling you away from Ginny. 

Shortly after Ginny’s arrival follows bumbling footsteps and a voice that says, “Full house already! Bill and Fleur haven’t even arrived. I’m not giving up my bed for anyone, hear me?” George immediately tackles the Weasley brother to the floor, making him cry out. “George, get the bloody hell off of me, you git!”

George laughs, “Aw, I missed you too, Won-Won!”

Fred bursts out into laughter before George climbs off of the tackled brother. “Hey, Ronald,” Fred messes up his brothers hair as Ron shakes his head with a smile. “Missed you.”

Ron smiles at his brothers, “Missed you both too. Although the tackle wasn’t appreciated.” Ron glares at George who gives him a firm pat on the back. “You must be (Y/N),” Ron smiles warmly at you extending his hand for a shake. “Really nice to meet you.”

“You too. Didn’t realize that it was customary for your brothers to attack you when returning home,” you laugh as Ron shakes his head. 

“Neither did I. Every day is a surprise here,” he huffs. “One second, pardon me,” he excuses himself. “’Mione! Fred’s girlfriend is here!” Ron calls up the stairs. “Gin and ‘Mione have been dying for another girl in the house for forever. She’ll be happy to see you.”

You smile at Ron, “Always good to have more girls. Gotta balance out the playing field.” 

As soon as you say that, who you can assume is Hermione along with another boy with jet black hair comes down the stairs, of which you can assume is Harry Potter. Ron was right about Hermione, she was over the moon to have another girl in the house. To quote her, she said, “Thank Godric. Do you know what’s it’s like living with mostly boys? Do you know how many times I’ve almost fall into the toilet because the seat was still up? Too many times, Ronald Weasley!” 

Harry on the other hand was much more soft-spoken, but equally as witty as Ron and Hermione. Again, making a comment based on how you were way out of Fred’s league. “Merlin, Fred, how do you do it?” Harry said. “(Y/N), blink once if you need help,” Harry joked, making Ron and Ginny crack up. You, of course, played along with the joke, blinking three times, making the friends laugh harder.

“Okay, okay, enough of that,” Fred pulls you away. “Percy! Mate!”

Coming from outside was who you assumed was Percy alongside Mr. Weasley. Both of them in work clothes, covered in dirt and such, from working outside. “Freddie! George!” Percy beams before engulfing his two brothers in bear hugs. The sight made your heart warm. The love that this family had for each other was enough to make you melt. “Great to see you again. You’re (Y/N), right? Lovely to meet you. So glad you could come over for the weekend!” Percy shakes your hand excitedly as you smile.

“I’m glad to be here!” you admit, now truthfully. Everyone was so lovely and warm.  Percy steps away so now Mr. Weasley could meet you. “Mr. Weasley, thank you so much for having me. I’m so delighted to meet you and your family,” you beam.

Mr. Weasley gives you the warmest smile you’ve ever seen and grabs one of your hands squeezing it. “We are even more delighted to have you as a guest in our home. Oh, and please don’t call me Mr. Weasley. Arthur is just fine,” he smiles. “Speaking of our home, where is your mother?” Arthur looks the the rest of the group as they shrug. “Molly! Your sons and their guest have arrived!!” Arthur bellows up the stairs.

Seconds later, a glowing older woman starts down the winding staircase in the middle of the home, beaming, “Sorry, sorry, sorry, I was making their bed with fresh sheets. Now where are my loves?” Mrs. Weasley looks at her twins and tears start to form in her eyes. “Oh, my babies!” she exclaims as Fred and George engulf their shorter mother in a tight hug. “You boys don’t come home enough. I know the business is doing great, but please come home more. We miss you dearly,” she pinches their cheeks lovingly as George kisses his mother’s cheek.

Fred starts, “We miss you, too, Mum. Always.” Mrs. Weasley smiles at her son. “Mum, this is my girlfriend, (Y/N).”

Within mere seconds, Mrs. Weasley has scooped you into a hug, squeezing you tight as you giggle at the gesture. “Oh, my dear, it’s so wonderful to meet you at last. I can’t believe Freddie was hiding you from me all this time,” she gushes before holding you at arm’s length. “Beautiful American thing you are! Goodness, Fred, well done!” Fred rolls his eyes, making you giggle.

“It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Weasley,” you smile warmly at your boyfriend’s mother.

She instantly starts shaking her head, “Oh no, dear. My name is Molly. Not Mrs. Weasley. Please, I insist.” You smile at her with a small blush on your cheeks. It had only been ten minutes, but you felt more at home than ever. “You are just a peach!” she pinches your cheek. “Adorable. You hungry, dear? Cuppa tea? I have dinner in the oven. We’re having roast chicken. Freddie told me that was your favorite meal. Lucky for you, it’s the dish I’m best at,” she whispers the last part to you as you giggle.

This family was doing everything they could to make you feel at home and it was surely working. You felt like you belonged here. Molly linked your arms together, insisting you tell her everything you and Fred had been doing as a couple for the last three months as she made you a cup of tea. “Mum’s already stolen her,” George nudges his twin with a cocky smile. “Good luck trying to get her back.”

But you didn’t mind being stolen off by Molly Weasley. The woman was a delight. She was sweet, kind, and so thoughtful. Molly loved hearing the way you spoke of her son. “You speak of him like he’s the only man on this planet,” she coos as she poured you tea. 

You blush a wild shade of pink. Maybe you had to get used to blushing around the Weasley family. “He’s the only man on this planet for me,” you shrug. “Fred is a proper gentleman, Molly. Really.” Molly rolls her eyes, knowing how abrasive her own son could be. “No, seriously,” you laugh. “All of the boys that I’ve dated are all back in America, sure, but none can hold a candle to Fred. Honestly.”

Molly squeezes your hand, “And I hope it stays that way, my dear. The way that Fred speaks of you is unlike anything I’ve ever heard from him before. Hold onto each other. What you have already is worth it.”

“Thank you,” you squeeze Molly’s hand back. 

The dinner hour soon rolled around which meant the arrival of more Weasleys. As everyone was finding their seat, two more people apparated into the Burrow. “Bill!” Ron exclaimed before engulfing his brother in a hug. Bill stood tall next to a beautiful blonde haired woman who you assume to be his wife, Fleur. The couple was breathtakingly beautiful. 

Fred leaned down next to you. “That’s Bill and his wife, Fleur,” Fred confirmed your thoughts. “Fleur is part Veela. She has a...complicated relationship with my mother and Ginny. But no need to worry, that ship has sailed. She’s actually quite lovely,” Fred tells you as you nod.

Knowing that Molly Weasley didn’t instantly take a liking to everyone made you think about the initial reaction she had to you. It made you feel better how warm she was towards you, even though you wouldn’t wish coldness from the Weasleys on anyone. 

“Bill, Fleur, this is my girlfriend, (Y/N),” Fred introduces you to his brother and his wife. 

Bill shakes your hand with a polite smile. “Nice to meet you,” he beams. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Bill teased his brother.

“Keeping me a secret, eh?” you look at Fred.

“An American girlfriend! Oh, this is brilliant,” Bill laughs. “Looking forward to getting to know you,” he speaks.

You turn to Bill’s wife, Fleur who gives you a small smile. “Nice to see another girl in the ‘ouse,” she beams. “You are quite beautiful,” Fleur beams as you blush yet again. But this time it felt different. A Veela complimenting you on your beauty. “’ow did you manage to get ‘er, Fred?” Fleur keeps the teasing going as he groans.

“Bloody hell, I get it! My girlfriend is gorgeous, and American, and out of my league! Are we eating dinner?” Fred tries to change the subject which just makes everyone else laugh.

Dinner was divine. Molly really knew how to cook and boy, did she make a feast. Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, vegetables, gravy, bread and chocolate cake for desert. Fred had told his mother what you’re favorite foods were and she gladly obliged to making all of them to which you thanked her profusely for. 

Ron leaned back in his seat as the dishes were being magically cleaned. “You should come over more, (Y/N),” he rubs his belly, full of dinner, making you laugh.

Ginny sprung from her seat, pulling Harry up with her. “Well, digest quickly, Ron. The sun is setting and George promised me a game of quidditch before nightfall,” Ginny smirks at her older brother who groans.

“Quidditch? After this meal? What are you trying to do, Gin? Make me have a heart attack?” he complains. “Why can’t we do a morning game?”

“Cause you always sleep through morning matches!” Harry defends Ginny who smiles proudly at him. “Get your lazy arse up and get a broom!”

Harry, Ginny, Fred, George, Ron, and Bill all rise from the table and rush to the garden shed to grab brooms. You just laugh along with Fleur and Hermione at the table before you three rise from the table, walking outside to watch the game that would eventually descend into madness. 

Hermione runs ahead of you and Fleur and to the backyard, calling out, “I’ll be score keep!” 

Fleur turns to you and smiles, “’Ow are you feeling? I know the feeling of meeting the family for the first time. Although, I think you and I ‘ad different experiences.”

You give Fleur a knowing smile. “They’re a lovely family. I was very nervous to come here because I didn’t know how they would react to have a complete stranger in their house, but they’re really great. Freddie was right.”

Fleur links your arms together as you walk to a small clearing in the backyard as the lot before you hops on brooms and takes to the skies. “I know I ‘ave my ‘istory with the Weasleys, but they are very good people. Kind people. Genuine. And I know, Fred. I saw the way ‘e looked at you at dinner. The boy loves you very much. And being loved by a Weasley,” she looks up at her husband, laughing on a broom as he pats Freddie’s shoulder, “it’s the greatest feeling in the world. ‘old onto ‘im, (Y/N).”

Your heart swells at Fleur’s words. It was beautiful to see the way she spoke of Bill. How she looked at him. You could only wish that you had that kind of love with Fred. “Thank you, Fleur. That means a lot,” you squeeze her hand. 

The two of you look to the sky to see the lot waiting. “Are you all going to start this game or not? I wanna see some action!” you tease those in the sky as Fleur giggles next to you. “You gonna win for me, Freddie?” you give him a wink.

Fred scoffs, “Of course I am.”

The quidditch game had ended quite quickly after a brief thirty minute game, Harry catching the snitch with ease. “That’s what happens when you challenge the best quidditch player of this generation,” he sticks his tongue out at Ginny who rolls her eyes and shoves her boyfriend inside.

“Wonder what happens if I beat up the best quidditch player of all time,” Ginny speaks as Harry laughs before running up the stairs away from his girlfriend who had just lost the quidditch match.

As the group files back in again, Bill and Fleur make their way upstairs back to his old room. Ron and Hermione scramble into the living room, Hermione challenging Ron to a chess match, giggling as Ron places a sneaky kiss on her cheek, George throwing playful punches at Fred who slaps his bum, running away as George yells at him. Percy, who sits in the recliner groans, “Can you be any louder? I’m trying to read!”

George looks at Fred who has a devilish smile on his cheeks. “Be louder? Alright!” Fred exclaims before he and George link arms and start scream singing a random song that came to their heads, making you shake your head and laugh. 

Percy just leans further back into his chair with a sigh, but there is a small smile on his face as he watches his twin brothers, dance around the living room, occasionally letting a chuckle out here and there. 

You sit on the couch, observing it all take place. To an outside eye, the Weasley house looked chaotic. But really, it was perfectly orchestrated. Everyone had their own thing to do, but still interacted and operated alongside each other without fail. Ron and Hermione quietly playing cheer in the corner, little giggles here and there. Percy reading a book, curled up in the corner. Ginny and Harry running up and down the stairs, in and out of the house. Bill and Fleur upstairs, getting ready for bed. Molly in the kitchen, cleaning up before getting ready to retire to her bedroom where Arthur was surely waiting after finishing the garden work. Fred and George acting like fools in the living room, babbling about the shoppe. The house was like an orchestra, each person playing their part that was very different from the others, but they all clicked together to make beautiful music.

Beside you on the couch, Fred sits and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “First day at the Burrow. How are you liking it?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

You cup his cheek with your hand, brushing your thumb against it. “It’s perfect here. I can see why you love it so much,” you admit as he smiles, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. “Your family is so sweet. I really adore them already.”

“And they adore you. Mum especially. She was gushing to Dad about you over dinner whilst you talked to Ginny and Harry,” Fred confides in you as your heart swells. His family liking you was all that mattered. “You’re smashing it. But I knew you would,” he shrugs as you giggle. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Kissing his lips gently, you speak, “I’m glad I came.”

----

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[endlich-allein]

Interview with Till about his life: he fought with his father, killed his beloved dog, swam on a wild river and worked on suffering. How Till Lindemann's mind works

"I will finish you off" and why you fought for the German army.

Werner Lindemann wanders around the room, interrupting the silence with strange questions, writing something down. His motive is to get to know his son and make him a friend. But it's complicated. Generational conflict.

"My island of tranquility is shaken every day. The day before yesterday, a guy pulled on my socks because his were torn. Yesterday he didn't put out a single lamp in the house. Now, with voluptuous delight, he spits cherry pits into the cat's fur. Is this grown boy really an adult?"

The apprenticeship in Rostock, where you have to do window production after graduation, is the limit of boredom. Till Lindemann moved to his father in the countryside so that he could forget about the hustle and bustle of the city and not fall under the article for anti-social attitudes. He thought of a new life, in which there was no pointless work, and arranged an attic in his father's house.

In the mornings over coffee, he scolded life that everything went according to schedule. And listened very loudly to music - electronics and metal. My father didn't understand and grumbled: “I matured late. Naturally, I wanted to listen to the music I liked, but I could not get my hands on these records. For example, my father did not understand when I bought the Alice Cooper record for a month's salary.

Werner Lindemann was a children's writer who went through the war.

At the height of his career he disappeared for weeks on literary tours - his fame spread to teachers and librarians across the country. His father pecked at Lindemann for refusing to work and promised to turn him in:

"My willful child. What doesn't fit his standards is rejected as nonsense or crap." So he took a job as a carpenter, where he made shovel cuttings and cart wheels. The head foreman constantly drank vodka during the day, didn't want to be annoyed with questions and addressed the long-haired Lindemann with the nickname: "Mozart!" This suited him.

Werner Lindemann talked about war, hard existence and limitations. For example, about a grenade splinter that remained in his body. Lindemann did not believe in all these stories - but categorically did not accept service, war and murder:

“After that I objected: “I would hide, I would not go to war. Why did you even let yourself be dragged into this? You could have hidden."

And he said: “It didn't work out. They searched for it and it took away."

Then I said: “I would rather go under arrest. Never in my life, I would go to the front line to shoot people. It's against my nature. It would be better if I went to jail."

Much of the time father and son were simply silent, even while watching television.

"He regularly made me feel guilty, to say the least, he placed himself on a pedestal towards me: I shouldn't complain. At your age, I ran barefoot through the stubble, and in my stomach - a potato in a uniform."

The only acceptance is Mike Oldfield's music: "One day my father came to grumble again. At that moment I was listening to Mike Oldfield, and he sat down and said: "That sounds interesting."

For me it was like a quantum leap: my father sits in my room, listens to my music and thinks it was good. Probably because of melancholy. He was sitting in a rocking chair that I made myself - at the time I was working as a carpenter on a farm. I, too, always sat in an armchair, immersed myself in music and smoked hand-rolled cigarettes."

The conflict was intensified by a fight. Lindemann bought a Trabant car, installed speakers in it and tested the sound - loud as usual. “Then my father came and I had to turn off this fucking music. It was kind of loud for him. He was then fiddling around his cases of flowers, and then suddenly the situation escalated. I think he slapped me while I was still in the car.

He leaned toward me and hit me with the back of his hand. I made some bullshit remarks like, "Leave me alone," something like that. That was a provocation to him, and he said: "If you do that again, I'll hit you for real." And I said, "Then you'll get it back. Because you're crazy. Don't you dare to hit me anymore."

And then he hit me with his palm again. He wasn't controlling himself.

He was exalting himself. Instantly he introduced himself as a boxer - he had boxed in the Hitler Youth - and I just... I thought I didn't hit him, I just pushed him away. And then he stood in front of me again, "Come on, I'll finish you, you haven't got a chance!" Somehow. After that, he went up to the attic and threw all my stuff out the window.

It happened over the weekend, my sister was there, a lot of screaming, serious drama. Then I packed my things, put them in the car, went to a friend's house and never went into his house again. At first I lived with this friend, and a week later I bought myself a house in the village."

His father's book is about his son, which the son will only open up after the death of the father.

Lindemann is a late child. He was born when his father was 36. The gap in their relationship was felt in everyday life and perception of the world. Werner Lindemann woke up early in the morning, worked with the circular saw under the windows and did not understand when his son slept until noon after a working week.

Lindemann's parents then lived separately, but kept in touch. Mom worked as a journalist and discussed her texts with his father. "She still lived in Rostock and always came to see him only on weekends. Mostly on Sundays she came back quite early, because she couldn't stand the stress of being with him, either."

In 1988, the book “Mike Oldfield im Schaukelstuhl Notizen eines Vaters" In this book, Lindemann Senior describes the relationship with his son (whom he calls Timm in the book), who settled with him at the age of 18. The book was written in the 80s and laid on the table until the German Democratic Republic and the Federal Republic of Germany were reunited.

Werner Lindemann wanted his son to take up writing too. But this only amused him, although as a child he wrote poetry. At the age of 13, little Till Lindemann and his father were returning home along the bumpy road to Mecklenburg. They talked about career self-determination:

"You should already have thoughts about what you want to become, boy." My answer: "I don't know yet, maybe a fisherman on the high seas."

But immediately, no matter what I said, objections arose: “But then you have to get a certificate of maturity. But then you will be away all the time. But then you won't be able to start a relationship."

There was always a “but”.

At some point it got on my nerves, as usual. And I said: "Worst case scenario, I'll just become a writer.

I still remember how alienated his face became. "And what do you think then, what do I do! It's a very hard job! In fact, it's not even a job, it's a passion. And it's a job that's supposed to be enjoyable."

I said, "I don't know anybody who works with pleasure."

"Yeah, that's the problem. You have to look for a job that gives you pleasure." Then I say again, "But some people never get to choose..." This gigantic discussion happened because I didn't take his profession seriously. At the same time, he was completely lost, funny!"

Lindemann thoughtfully read his father's book, in which he comprehends their relationship, after his death. Faked for hidden anger and indecision. For example, in a situation where their dog Kurt was bitten by a fox. The father was frightened because of rabies: “At the same time, we did not even know whether he was bitten by a fox or not. The father immediately called the huntsman. But I said: no one will enter this courtyard and shoot the dog. I'll do it myself if I really need it. At some point I really had to kill the dog."

Lindemann is not a monster. The animals he fiddled with are an important attribute of childhood. He had an aquarium and hamsters, brought mice and rats home, and was friends with dogs. “Like many children of new buildings, he felt the need for someone alive, in need of love,” said Werner Lindemann. Sometimes the appearance of an animal in the house was surprising:

“This guy will never say what he's up to. He appears on the doorstep at the same time as me. He gets out from his vehicle, throws his coat open and puts a young black shepherd in my hands. "Your Christmas present!"

Till's father is speechless. My son stands before me like the sun's little brother. Touchingly concerned, he directs me into the house, working out a plan for the animal husbandry, accommodation and diet of our new pet housemate.

With confusion, a question flies from my lips, "Wheredid you get the dog from?" "Timm" is gibbering, "Imagine, the mason in the barnyard wanted to hang him, simply wanted to strangle him with a rope, said he was a worthless eater..."

Werner Lindemann died of stomach cancer in 1993, when his son was 30. They didn't finally reconcile, but Till visited him in his last days and was there for him with his mother: "They couldn't be without each other, even though they lived apart. Unreal, but my mother never had another man afterwards. To this day she can't let go of him."

- Not going to the Olympics in Moscow and ending up in the German ghetto

Lindemann had the knowledge and the potential to be a swimmer. And a shyness that pounded harder three days before the competition than concerts in front of crowds of thousands. "I know how difficult it is to develop willpower and stamina and instill those attributes. In the GDR this was instilled in us by coaches and so-called functionaries."

Lindemann came to swimming at the age of eight and devoted his entire youth to the sport. He would get up for training at five in the morning and pass out in the evening. His grandmother watched him from the stands. At a competition in Leipzig she shouted at the coach, who told Lindemann off for a poor result. The grandmother took the coach by the ear and said: "How do you talk to my grandson?"

Sports tightened up his upbringing and developed self-discipline. “Drilling - probably the boy has already received this experience as a swimmer,” Lindemann's father wrote. - Once he had to take second place in a competition, but by no means first place. Of course, he got carried away, forgot about it, became the first, thanks to which he received a shouting for indiscipline. And whenever he lost in the future, his coach would torture him at practice for a long time and yelled at him: "Even if you win, you're not a winner yet!"

Lindemann swam the 1.5 km freestyle and could have gone to the 1980 Olympics in Moscow. Everything was ruined when he left the hotel without permission during a competition in Florence: "I didn't want to run, but just wanted to look at the city. Cars, bikes, girls. I was caught and kicked out of the team, but then I didn't give the required results either."

Lindemann competed at the European Junior Championships, but did not go any higher. After the story in Florence, his career in sport slipped away. Perhaps an abdominal injury influenced his departure. Lindemann is gone, but he doesn't yearn: "I was relatively young. There were no good [memories] left. I was glad it was over."

"The hardest part was getting back to normal. I fell into a real hole. My home was no longer a sports school, but a ghetto in Rostock. Now I stood out through drinking and fighting. I used to be surrounded only by beautiful ladies who were interested in swimming. Now I had fierce women standing in front of me asking, "How come you don't drink?" When I was shy about approaching a girl, it was interpreted as: "Are you gay?"

Lindemann now works with a coach and swims a few kilometers before his tours to get in shape: "When I exercise, I feel a certain lightness - not only physically, but also mentally. I just feel better. The main problem is staying in shape. That's where self-discipline comes into play. Teeth grinding is important."

- Three weeks in the wild and loneliness as a creative tool

Emotionally, concerts = sports:

"How do I go on tour? Hungry. And happy. It is good to compare concerts with sport. You don't want to do both at first. You don't want to go on stage. You don't want to go to the pool. You don't want to go to the boxing ring. It all happens with reluctance. It has to be accepted somehow, that's life: spring, summer, fall, winter.

When it's done, winter's gone, the blooming begins, greenery appears, it gets bright, and you start to get a taste for it. When it's over, you feel happy. Then the body produces a sea of chemistry, a lot of happiness hormones. I think the body rewards itself."

The stage, like sports, is an embarrassment, but a necessity. Lindemann wore dark glasses in order to collect fewer views from the audience. Therefore, a couple of steps before the water, he looked at the pool with a shiver. You need to cope with yourself in order to open up to new emotions.

Lindemann's gut requires solitude and moderate solitude. This is the point:

“Loneliness is always good for a creative push - you drink a glass of wine and you feel even shitier. Art is not complete without suffering; art exists to compensate for suffering."

With his friend Joey Kelly, Lindemann spent three weeks on the Yukon River. They paddled through the wilderness in a kayak for eight to 10 hours each and lived in a tent. Lindemann didn't take a tape recorder with him, so he transferred the lyrics wandering in his head on paper.

They were catching inspiration and atmosphere:

"There were times when we wouldn't say a word for hours, but then: look there, look there! It was breathtakingly beautiful. These relatively fast-changing panoramas and skies, layers of clouds, the colors.

Except for a few bears and wolves, it's hard to see anyone else out there, it's exhilarating. Along the way we saw two hunters setting traps. No one else.

I grew up in the countryside, and I have a very strong connection to nature. I love fishing, hunting. It's an archaic experience that I like to revisit over and over again. When I'm in the city for too long, I start to miss it."

To recreate situations in the Yukon, Lindemann and Kelly trained for nine months on the Rhine river in Germany because of its liveliness.

"We went down the Rhine to where the transport ships create huge bow waves. If we hadn't had a coach with us, we probably would have been sunk by the side wave impact already during our first attempt," Lindemann said.

Together with Kelly, he had four sessions with two coaches and swam from Cologne to Koblenz [more than 100 kilometers by car]. Lindemann trained separately each week on the lakes in Mecklenburg. It's both physically challenging and savage identical to being natural.

In 2015, Till started his solo project Lindemann. On the album Skills In Pills, the song Yukon was released, in which the lyrics appeared first, and then the music.

- "My lyrics come from pain rather than desire."

The country boy is big and not much of a talker. That's how the Rammstein members saw him at the start, when they were hanging out at home. "He looked cool, like a big peasant talking one sentence an hour," keyboard player Christian "Flake" Lorenz recalled. - He always had food and vodka. He'd just steal a couple of ducks somewhere and cook them on a tray. And then, frozen like in Sleeping Beauty, there were people lying in corners and on trunks in his house."

Lindemann loves and appreciates home gatherings. This came from my father, who always had guests. “In my opinion, this is the little bit that I inherited from him. Throwing parties and gathering people. Throwing parties and getting people together. He just enjoyed being a good host. The house was always full of guests from Leipzig, from Rostock, foreign guests, even from Kazakhstan.

It was always exciting for him. He stood at the stove, cooked, bought an abundance of wine, and there was always a fire in the garden. At some point he stopped drinking, then he left the party at 21:00 and the whole company continued to feast. And in the morning he got up at four, cleaned and tidied up."

Till Lindemann is about self-digging, overcoming and childish shyness, which is covered by a pumped-up figure of a swimmer. This is how Lindemann decrypts himself:

• “And I really am like a big child - ill-mannered, but harmless. People think that I am always strong, explosive. This is not true. I am sensitive and easily hurt, but in love I am romantic and passionate."

• “At the very beginning, you sit somewhere in a dark room, open a bottle of wine and figure out how to make the lyrics popular with the music. At first you only have a vague idea of ​​what it could be.

And when, three years after recording, mixing, and more mixing, developing the artwork, all this nonsense, then you stand on stage, and what you came up with then really works, when you manage to get 20 thousand people to raise their hands, then you experience incredible sensations."

• “Art is a kind of therapy.

When I feel that something is arising inside me, domineering and is most often dark, I need to give it a way out, otherwise it will simply crush me. So destruction and self-destruction are the two pillars on which my creativity is based.

But everyone chooses this for himself.

• “My lyrics arise from feelings and dreams, but still more from pain than by desire. I often have nightmares, and I wake up at night sweating, as I see terrible bloody scenes in my dreams. My lyrics are a kind of valve for the lava of feelings in my soul.

We are all struggling to hide behind good manners and outward decency, but in fact we are governed by instincts and feelings: hunger, thirst, horror, hatred, the desire for power and sex. Of course, there is also additional energy in us - this is love. Without it, all human feelings would fade away."

- "When you're constantly living someone else's life, it's very hard to get back into your own skin. I like that in principle, but sometimes you start to get confused - are you out of a role or not yet. You're already Till, or you're still a homicidal maniac."

- "I hate the noise. I hate the chatter. I expose myself to it, which is pure masochism. And then I have to protect myself from it. Noise makes you crazy. You die in it."

• “I think there is no God. And if he is and actually allows all the misfortunes on this earth, then he must punish me along with other sufferings. I will not pray to such a god."

This is how the members of Rammstein see Till - flexible and with a split personality:

Guitarist Paul Landers: "Till is so good that when you let him know that his lyrics should go in a different direction, the very next day he brings a new version of the song."

Guitarist Richard Kruspe: “He's a hell of an extreme man. He dives very deeply into situations where I cannot follow him. Everything he does is very extreme; I don't know anyone who does it. "

Drummer Christoph Schneider: "I would not want to be in Till's shoes: his soul is tormented by doubts and contradictions, he is equally a moralist and a monster."

June 1, 2021 - Translate by Lindemann Belgium

[comfortwriting]

A Triwizard Baby - Final Part - F.W

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist

Final Part of the 'Triwizard Baby' mini-series.

Please Read Parts 1, 2, 3, and 4 if you haven’t already.

A/N: Thank you ever so much for loving and for showing so much support and excitement for this mini-series, it has been one of my favourite things to have ever written and I'm so sad it's coming to an end, but I hope you enjoy it <3

Warnings: Implied Smut, swearing.

Mr and Mrs Weasley were slowly approaching the hospital wing, George following not far behind.

“Yeah, which I’ve only just found out are mine!”

The hospital wing doors opened, Molly and Arthur standing in the doorway, staring at you, their son, and their grandchildren.

"Mum!" Fred smiled "Dad!"

You looked up and swallowed hard at the sight of your child's confused grandparents, they were just as clueless as Freddie with this whole situation, but when Molly's eyes landed on the smaller and sleeping twin, her heart burst into flames.

"Oh, congratulations dear!" she smiled, starting to tear up, you encouraged Fred to hand the baby over for her to hold.

Molly cradled the bundle of joy in her arms, counting his fingers and toes, stroking his soft hair as tears filled her eyes "he looks just like you, Freddie when you were a baby."

"He finally knows," George smiled, approaching you, planting a friendly kiss on your head and sitting next to you "I'm sorry I couldn't be here."

"It's okay," you sigh, the corners of your lips curling up into a smile "but it's okay, everything has worked out perfectly in the end, better than I ever thought it would."

“I’m sorry for crashing into you” he frowned, sitting next to you on the train “is your head alright? I can try and make the bruising go away.”

You couldn’t stay mad at him, you chuckled and shook your head “It’s okay but thank you for offering” you smiled.

His twin brother entered the carriage, “Fred-” he stared at you “what’s happened to you?”

“I wish you were coming with us” Fred sighed, grumbling to himself.

“Oh don’t be silly, you’re going on holiday!” you beamed “just make sure you take plenty of pictures, I’ve heard Egypt is lovely!”

“I’ll write to you and I’ll send the photos through the owl post if I’ve got enough time.”

“We’re supposed to be studying for our O.W.Ls!” you hissed at Fred, hiding your answers from him as he continued to make your stationary levitate and drop onto your head.

“Please take part in this prank, Y/N” he begged “I promise I won’t ask for anything ever again.”

“But you always do, Freddie!”

He stared at you, pouting and making puppy eyes.

“Fine” you sighed, giving in “Let’s go and do it then.”

Fred punched the air and grabbed you by the hand, pulling you away from your desk, the two of you smirking and giggling with excitement.

“I didn’t realise it would be this cold” you shivered, standing outside of Honey Dukes, snow falling from the sky and sticking to the pavement.

Fred pulled off his knitted jumper “Put this on love, don’t want you freezing now do we?”

“I want you.” you breathed, pulling away from the kiss “I want you to fuck me like you do everyone else.”

“I want you too” Fred replied, taking your hand and fleeing from the party.

“Are you going to tell him?” George asked.

You shook your head “No, and the both of you aren’t going to tell him either, you need to promise me.”

“I’ve got plans!” Angelina smiled, unable to hold her emotions back, the bottle lid slowly starting to tremble as the liquid inside bubbled up.

“What’s going on?” Fred asked again, slightly puzzled as he had never seen her so excited.

“You don’t know?!” Angelina gasped “Me, George, and the girls are planning a surprise baby shower for Y/N!” she beamed.

“I’m ready to tell you” you sighed again “who the father is.”

They all stayed silent except Matt’s little sister, “who is it?” she asked quietly.

“Fred,” you blurted out, unable to hide his name for much longer “Fred Weasley is the father.”

"Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?" he asked, opening the ring box

You and George smirk at one another and laugh, shaking your heads, you partner Fred watching you and his newborns full of life - he had never felt this heavy strike to his heart before - but he couldn't mistake it anymore, he knew - he was truly in love.

Flickering your eyes open, you smirked at the open wide brown eyes staring back at you, the peppered freckles sitting across his nose and face which you slowly stroked with your index finger.

You didn't need to speak, you could just live in this moment forever, with him, your husband.

Your bedroom door slowly creaks open, you and Fred quickly cover your faces with the bed covers so only your eyes are visible, and the two of you chuckle when you hear the pattering of feet thunder across the room, only to be followed by another pair of feet, less thundery and more stumbly.

Your two boys pounce on the bed, full of energy and mischief, you and your husband jump up and lift up your children in your arms, pulling them into the soft and cosy sheets, tickling them, the room filling up with their laughter.

"Gideon! Fabian!" Molly yells up "Get down here now! Leave your poor mother and father alone to sleep!"

"Go! Go!" Fred whispers "Uncle Ron won't show you any magic if you don't listen!"

"Listen to your dad!" you smile "Or Uncle George won't show you any magic either!"

Your twins quickly pull shocked faces and scamper away, hurrying downstairs to finish packing with Molly to go to her house for the weekend as you and Fred were getting ready to go away for your honeymoon.

"Last night was the best night of my life," you kiss Fred softly, bringing up your hand in the morning light, examining the beautiful ring.

Hearing the door close downstairs and many feet storm away from the house, Fred wraps his arms around you and he pulls you into him, kissing your neck, his hot breath now tickling your ear.

"You won the bet" Fred whispered

“So, when can we make another one?” Fred winked.

“When we graduate from Hogwarts!-”

“Next year?” he raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t let me finish! We need to graduate, get stable jobs and have a house with enough room!”

“So next year then?” Fred smirked, still cradling the baby.

Your furrowed your brows, unsure whether or not he was bluffing.

“Okay then, since you’re all confident, let’s make a bet.” You smirked back.

“If I win, we make another baby, if you win… we get married,” Fred said softly as the baby opened his eyes and let out a cry.

"Even if I did," Fred sighs "I still want to make another one."

You ponder the thought for a minute, "So why don't we?"

Sharing a glance, your husband attacks your lips with his, his hands roaming all over your body and pulling off your pyjamas whilst you take off his and get your hands lost in his golden hair. Life had finally worked out for you, for the twins, for Fred, you were finally a family - you never thought that you would be here now compared to the situation you were in three years ago.

Fred's eyes admire your naked body basking in the beam of sunlight that burst through the gap in the curtains, his finger traces your stretchmarks and he places small kisses across every single one of them, the reminder that you created and nurtured two lives inside of you, two lives he had helped you create after a heated makeout session at a party.

Fred didn't want anyone else but you, and the thought of him being present for the whole nine months to see another life blossom inside of you, gave him one more reason to thank the world for being in it.

taglist: @amourtentiaa @alwaysnforeverfangirl @horrorxweasley @inglourious-imagines @reeophidian @sebby-staan @onlyfreds @pandaxnienke @xmalfoyweasleyx @onlyfreds @manuosorioh @cosmiccomicloverqueen @the-romanian-is-bae @fhhsposts @cavalinhox @purple-vodka-99 @simpforweasleys2 @dracoismybabey @xuminghoasworld @michael-loves-chickens @freddie-weaslebee

[marktuansvevo]

got7: valentines day dates!

warning(s); a little bit of suggestive content in youngjae and bam’s parts, cursing

happy valentines, babes!! ♡

mark;

mark showers you with fancy gifts, no matter how hard you protest. “you don’t have to so much money on me,” you would say through the bathroom door as you slipped into the pretty baby pink floor length gown you had just unwrapped. “you know just spending time with you is the only thing i ever want.”

mark hummed at the sentiment, not looking up from his phone. “i would have whisked you away to taiwan if there wasn’t a goddamned pandemic.”

when you walked out of the bathroom, he instantly brightened, motioning for you to turn around so he could see how well the dress fit. “you always look so pretty,” he said, giggling. “can you wear that to dinner? i love how you look in it.”

now it was your turn to coo. “mark, valentine’s is cheesy. we don’t have to go out, i can order us takeout.”

“stop avoiding all the attention. why can’t i properly show the world how much i love you?” mark raised his eyebrow at you. “you deserve to be spoiled. period!”

“you can show the world how much you love me publicly,” you got on your tiptoes to kiss right below his ear, nipping a little. you smiled at the small giggle he let out. “but just know, i’m showing you how much i love you privately tonight.”

you expected him to blush, mark always got flustered when you talked to him about the bedroom. instead, he smirked at you, biting his lip. “good, because i bought you lingerie for tonight, too. you can be my pretty model.”

now you were the one blushing.

jaebeom;

different from mark, jaebeom keeps the valentines festivities private. he knows that you had a big presentation to pitch in front of the higher ups at your company, so he knew you were stressed. he wanted to relieve you of any and all stress and take care of you for the night. jaebeom made you your favorite meal, as well as a red velvet cake, and had bought three beautiful rose bouquets for you, each one representing one of the years you had spent together.

you walked through the front door, and even from the kitchen he could hear you sigh loudly. it must have been a long day.

“y/n?”

“hmmm?”

“happy valentines,” he whispered, pulling you into a hug and giving you a peck on the lips. “i love you.”

“i love you too. uhm, i don’t mean to be a downer baby, but i don’t feel like going out tonight,” you sighed, resting your head on his chest.

“rough day?” he frowned when you nodded. valentines was always one of your favorite days, so seeing you so down made his heart hurt. “well, good thing i made us dinner so we don’t have to go out.”

you picked your head off his shoulder, looking up at him. “you did?”

“yes, baby, don’t look so surprised,” he laughed, taking your hand and leading you to the kitchen to see pasta and cake on the stove and the three bouquets on the dining room table. “we may have to sit at the island tonight, there’s a garden at the table.”

the two of you sat as the island of the kitchen, him listening intently as you told him about your day from hell. he could tell by your voice that you were exhausted, so once you finished with dessert, he took your plates and put them in the sink.

“cmon babe, you deserve to relax. let me run you a bath and i’ll do the dishes tonight.”

“why don’t you join me instead?” you asked sweetly. “just wanna be close to you.”

he winked at you. “anything for my valentine.”

jackson;

you were under strict instructions from your husband to meet him at a fancy restaurant with your two beautiful daughters in tow, since he had to work all morning and couldn’t make it to their schools valentines class parties. he felt so bad when his youngest, elizabeth, who was still in preschool started to cry when he told her he couldn’t come to her party. the oldest, natalie, who had just turned nine, put on a brave face, but you and jackson could tell she was crushed.

“cmon, girls, daddy doesn’t like when we’re late,” you urged, smiling softly as you watched natalie help beth change into her jumper.

“does daddy have gifts for us?” natalie asked, her eyes wide.

“mm, yes honey, and i have one for you too,” you smiled knowingly as your girls began to scream in excitement, almost knocking you down as they exited their shared room.

you made it to the restaurant, where you let out a breath of relief.  the girls wouldn’t stop pestering you about what your present for them was. you thought you might drop the ball and spill your little secret, but you kept your mouth shut, singing along to one of your husband’s songs that was on the radio, and the girls followed suit.

you walked them into the restaurant, where jackson was sitting alone with balloons and three gift bags – one for each of his girls.

“daddy!” your girls screamed in unison, running through the restaurant to get to their daddy. you watched the looks on the couples face as you passed by – some looked at the girls with joy in their eyes, while others just rolled their eyes, probably just wanting a quiet, romantic night out. you just smiled, nothing could bring your spirit down.

“ah, my girls! i missed you so much!” he said, scooping them both into his arms. “how were your parties, sweeties?”

you sat across from your husband who was taking in the stories of his daughters days, replying with the same amount of enthusiasm that they did. after the girls were done talking, natalie crossed her arms.

“daddy, are you trying to distract beth and i from these gifts?”

you giggled as jackson crossed his arms over his chest. “isn’t valentines supposed to be about love? i just want to hear how my girls are. i love you all very much, you know.”

your heart somersaulted. you fell more and more in love with him day after day.

the girls opened their gifts – a stuffed clifford the big red dog for beth (he was her favorite right now), and a lego set for natalie. they both thanked him endlessly. “daddy, will you help me put this together?” natalie asked, almost shyly.

“of course, baby girl.”

“mommy, what is your gift for us?”

jackson studied your face as you took the rectangular box that was tied up with a single black bow out of your pocket. there was a big, stupid grin on your face. “this is for all of you. i want you all to know i love you so much.”

“go ahead, girls, open it,” jackson urged, still studying your face. you winked at him.

“uh, mommy, what is this?”

jackson’s eyes were blown wide as he looked at the two positive pregnancy tests. “tell me you’re joking?” his eyes were misty now. the two of you had been trying for a third child for two years and had been failing. your daughters looked at the two of you, dissatisfied with your present.

“do you know what this means, girls?” jackson asked in a whisper, squeezing your hand from across the table. “you’re going to have a little brother or sister in a couple of months.”

“no way!!!” they cheered, hugging each other.

“this is the best valentines gift i have ever received, thank you baby,” jackson said. you sent him a wink.

“couldn’t have made it without you.”

jinyoung;

you were glowing as you looked over at jinyoung from across the table. he smiled as you just beamed at him, playing footsie under the table. it was 3am at the diner off campus, and nobody was around to see you two. you were happy, sucking on your milkshake. jinyoung just admired you before saying; “you have sex hair.”

“and who’s fault is that?”

the two of you had been the best of friends for as long as you could remember, and now, your senior year of college, the two of you had been best friends with benefits. you had been hooking up since the day you had called him sobbing about an exam, and he had consoled you by kissing you. it’s been history ever since then.

“when are you going to admit that we were made for each other,” jinyoung was nothing if not blunt. he smiled gently, reaching across the table and holding your hand. you shrinked in on yourself, blushing.

“i thought we agreed it’d be too much,” you said, stealing one of his fries off his plate, avoiding his gaze. “with senior thesis and projects…”

“i never agreed to that. you said that and i just went along with it because i didn’t want to lose what we have. i think it’s bullshit to say that us dating is too much. we see each other at least twice a week,” he paused before smirking. “you’re sitting here in my pajama pants with sex hair. on valentines day”

he had a point. the two of you always made time to see each other – studying at a local coffee shop on mondays and sometimes hooking up on the weekends (to relieve stress, of course).  you couldn’t deny the chemistry that the two of you had…and graduation was only a couple months away...would it really be so crazy to start dating right now?

“i know you adore me,” jinyoung smiled, saying it softly. “and i know that i adore you. so what’s the problem?”

you looked down. “i’m scared. i don’t want to lose you.”

jinyoung knew you had insecurities in relationships – the last guy you dated had moved away without even telling you and moved in with one of his girlfriends. he has helped you through that time of heartbreak in your life…and he didn’t want that to ever happen to you again. he wouldn’t stand for it.

“y/n, i would never hurt you.”

you squeezed his hand. “just give me some time, okay? you’re right, i do adore you.”

“i’ll give you whatever time you need.”

jinyoung picked up the tab and you drove back home in silence, your fingers interlaced with his. you looked over at him in the passenger side. “nyoungie, will you spend the night?”

he kissed your fingers. “of course, sweetheart.”

when you woke up the next morning, you’re alone. you immediately panic until you smell….eggs?

you walk into the kitchen to see jinyoung flipping eggs, and pretty flowers on the countertop. he smiles widely. “good morning, my valentine.”

cheesy bastard.

you wrap your arms around his back, breathing in his scent. “i don’t need anymore time.”

“hm?”

“i want to be yours, jinyoung.”

jinyoung turns around in your arms before kissing you. “i have always been yours.”

youngjae;

“youngjae, are you there?” you giggled as you sat on your shared bed.

“im here baby,” he said. “jinyoung keeps bugging me to watch with us.”

“tell him no! it’s date night,” you frowned. “im gonna go get a bottle of wine.”

“okay, honey.”

you walk into the kitchen, admiring the flowers youngjae had ordered for you for the tenth time that day. you grabbed your favorite bottle of wine and scooped up the little sleepy ball of fluff before heading back into the bedroom. although you would have loved to have physically spent valentines with youngjae, you realized this was the best it was gonna get.

“get the wine?” your boyfriend asked before squealing at the screen. “coco!!! oh, i miss you both so much!!!”

“is that coco!!” you heard jinyoung squeal too. mark came into the frame and started cooing too.

“jinyoung, mark, date night!” you giggled, lifting coco into your lap, shaking the little paw to say “hi.”

“i miss you guys,” you tell the boys. “i really do, but can jae and i enjoy valentines together? we just want some alone time.”

“ahh, okay y/n, happy valentines,” jinyoung winked at you.

“you really should come out here with us, they never listen to me that well,” youngjae says. “you look so pretty. i wish i was there with you.”

you and youngjae had been in a long distance relationship for three years now, and it got easier, but there was just some days you longed for each other. you knew this was one of those days, you could tell by the longing in his eyes.

“jae. i miss you,” you pouted. “coco, say bye to your daddy, mommy has to show him something.”

youngjae knew you were up to something. “jae...how about we skip the movie? i bought something for you,” before you could hear him answer, you started stripping out of your pjs, showing off your brand new lingerie. it left absolutely nothing to the imagination and made you look so sexy. and it was red, too. you could hear youngjae gulp, his pupils blown wide.

“why must you torture me?”

“oh, i mean, we can watch a movie instead....,” you teased, pulling down a strap to reveal more cleavage to your awaiting boyfriend. “its up to you, ill slip into my pajamas and we can —.”

“don’t you even think about stopping,” he growled, shifting the computer down to show you him palming his bulge. you grinned.

your plan was unfolding marvelously.

bam;

you didn’t want to make a big deal about bam working on valentines day. you knew it was a cheesy and cliche holiday...but that didn’t stop you from feeling sad that you couldn’t spend the whole day in your mans’ arms. you pushed the feeling away, texting your boyfriend “happy vday! love u”

you busied yourself with school work to ignore the hurt you felt in your heart, but you couldn’t get your mind off bam. you scrolled through your camera roll to pick the pictures for your instagram post. before you could post a picture of you posing with bam on the beach, a call interrupted you.

“y/n, what are you doing right now??” jackson asks in a panicked voice.

“uh, working on a project...are you okay?”

“bam just fell, he’s in pain. he keeps asking for you, can you take him to the ER??”

“ill be there in ten.”

you sped all the way to the dance studio, bracing yourself for a broken ankle or a gash in his face. oh, god, you wanted your heart to stop racing.

“where’s my baby boy??” you asked jaebeom, who was smirking when you first saw him, but the smirk was completely wiped off his face when he saw your misty eyes. “jaebeom, is he okay? why couldn’t you have brought him to the ER! i could have met you there!”

“uh, y/n, come with me. and stop crying,” jaebeom led you into the studio where bam was sitting on the floor. the studio was surrounded with gifts all wrapped up in pink and red, heart shaped balloons, as well a buffet of your favorite foods. you looked at jaebeom in confusion, who just winked at you and closed the door behind him.

“happy valentines, baby,” there was a knowing smile on his face.

“you are such an ass. i almost had a heart attack driving over here,” you whined, pulling away from his hug.

“y/n!! i was just trying to surprise you,” your boyfriend said, picking one of your gifts up and handing it to you. “please let me spoil you all day. i knew you were upset with me for coming to work, let me give you the valentines i know you want.”

you smiled. “how can i argue with such a big softie?”

“shut up, i cant help that i love you,” he was pouting now. “now let me eat whipped cream off of your body.”

yugyeom;

“how do you expect to meet someone if you have an engagement ring on your finger when you’re a single woman?” your new friend, yugyeom asked you. “seems strange to me.”

“maybe i don’t want to date anybody, did you ever think of that?” you asked him. “besides, it wards off all the creeps. hey, there’s a diner at this exit, wanna stop?”

you pulled off the highway to the diner. it was valentine’s, so of course the place was crowded. yugyeom whined. “can’t we just get mcdonalds or something? we’ve been in the car for six hours and im hungry.”

prior to six hours ago, you didn’t know yugyeom. he was bam’s best friend, so you had heard of him in the past. yugyeom was visiting some art school in new york, while you were going home to see your family for your sister’s birthday. wanting to save both of his friends money, he suggested you drive yugyeom to new york. you didn’t know….it was a long drive from chicago, but yugyeom said he would give you half the gas money, so it would be worth it. new york wasn’t cheap.

“exactly, so we should eat a proper meal. we still have six and a half hours left.”

“fine,” he huffed.

the waitress sat you two down and gave you your menus before squealing. everyone in the diner turned their heads. “oh. my. GOD!!! did he propose to you today? that ring is absolutely stunning!!”

“oh, no I –“

“as a matter of fact, i proposed this morning. we’re on our way to new york to tell our families,” yugyeom beamed at her, kicking your foot under the table.

the waitress looked like she might faint. “that is so romantic. whenever you’re ready, dinner’s on the house.”

she scurried away, and many “congratulations” rang throughout the little establishment.

“aw, honey you’re blushing,” yugyeom winked at you. you rolled your eyes. you didn’t know if you were smitten with this guy or if you plainly disliked him.

“don’t point it out, dear,” you played along. “have you figured out what you want to order?”

the two of you ordered and pretended to be a couple the whole meal. you scoured at your friend when he stole some of your french fries off your plate. he just sent a wink in your direction. when you sipped some of your milkshake, he rested his hand in his cheek, staring at you. you giggled.

“yeom, what are you up to?”

“just admiring.”

okay, so you were smitten by him.

the two of you went back to the car, where a small smile was playing on his lips. “that was kind of fun.”

you blushed, sinking into the drivers seat. “i haven’t had that much fun in years.”

“maybe you should get back into dating. i think you would make anyone have a good time with you.” he said offhandedly. “that ring is going to prevent you from ever going on a date again.”

“dating is never that easy,” you tried to reason with him…you had been burned so many times in the past, why would you ever want to let yourself get hurt again.

“it was with us,” since your eyes were on the road, you couldn’t see him shrug. “i’m going to take a nap, happy valentines.”

you glanced over at his sleeping form, smiling to yourself. you managed to take the ring off your finger without crashing the car and set it in the center console. beside you, yugyeom opened his eyes.

“does this mean i can take you out once we get to new york?”