#//anyway. Charlie Just got here and already the place seems to be a lot worse off than before hfhvdf

[keeps-ache]

he used the internals to fix a fridge because he didn't know what it did 👍

[ginnyweasleymybeloved]

summer breezes / george weasley

hi crew :) idk why i wrote this but i was in a george mood so here we go ;)

summary: george acts like he hates you, he doesn’t really hate you. you act like you hate him, but you don’t really hate him. chaos ensues.

slight neville x reader for a second

word count: 6.9k

warnings: swearing, george being mean, lil angsty, fluffy at the end, reader’s house is not specified <3, mentions of food, kissing

let me know what you think ;)

“And what do you expect me to do? By the time I’d even realised I was falling I’d already landed face first on the proverbial concrete,” you groaned out in exasperation, while your best friend looked at you with so much distaste that anyone would’ve thought you’d murdered his family pet.

He shook his head, a scowl as clear as day splashed across his lips as he reprimanded you for your heart’s foolishness, “Of all people…” he scoffed in disgust, “Honestly, Y/n.”

“You know, you shouting at me isn’t going to fix anything,” he rolled his eyes at your statement and racked his eyes over your disheveled state. You’d obviously been battling with yourself over your—unfortunate—crush for some time. As your best friend, Ron Weasley knew he’d have to soften up on you eventually, but honestly, it was your own fault for falling for one of his disastrous siblings.

You were currently sprawled out on Harry’s bed, across from the red-headed boy you’d known since you were in nappies, your arms hanging off the edges of Harry’s four-poster. Neither you or Ron had a clue where Harry, or Hermione, had disappeared off to today. Harry was probably on the quidditch pitch practicing while Hermione haunted the library, you supposed as you listened to Ron’s rantings, wishing they’d been there to mediate.

“—of all of my siblings too! You couldn’t have picked, oh I don’t know, Charlie? Or Fred even? Merlin, even Ginny! But no! You just had to go and bloody fall for the only Weasley who actively cannot stand you.” You only caught that portion of his rave, having gotten lost in the idea of being coddled sympathetically by Harry or Hermione. You adore Ron, really, he’s your loyalist and longest friend, but Merlin was he a total drama queen.

“Charlie is five years older than me, Fred is my wingman and honestly, I snogged him on a dare last summer and I wasn’t that impressed and in case you’ve forgotten, Ronald, Ginny is dating Harry,” you lectured, ignoring how he rolled his eyes as you continued, “Also I’m well aware that he hates me. You don’t need to keep reminding me.”

His composure cracked after hearing your depressed mumble, and with a sigh he moved from his spot on his own bed and made the short trip over to Harry’s. Ron gently pulled you into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress and sat himself down next to you. He let out a heavy sigh, still slightly shaking his head—he couldn’t seem to stop—, then he dropped a heavy arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, finally offering you the comfort you’d been seeking out in the first place.

“S’alright, Y/n. Maybe he’ll get hit in the head with a bludger and forget he’s hated you since he was four.” Ron encouraged, very weakly.

You released a sigh of your own at that, “I feel like I’m betraying myself here. Like I’m letting that stupid git win.” Ron couldn’t stop the laugh he let out at your grumble.

“I’ll be honest, I thought he’d be the first to crack. You can be quite scary when you get going.” Ron divulged, shuddering at the memories of when he’d been on the receiving end of your rath.

Your family and the Weasley family had been extremely close since before you or Ron were even born, which meant you’d grown up alongside all of the Weasley children. Of course, because of your ages you and Ron had been attached at the hip as infants and remained that way even now, late into your fifth year of Hogwarts. Most of the Weasley children simply adored you, as you did them. However, there was one boy who, for whatever reason, hated you to your very core and as far as you could remember; he always had.

He is none other than the younger of the two twins; George Weasley. Despite the fact that Fred was actually quite fond of you, his twin refused to warm up to you in any way, shape or form. No, the tall and annoyingly attractive boy had made it his life’s mission not to get along with you, but instead, wage a war on you that spanned for the entirety of your childhood and adolescence.

“When did things change? When did it stop being a challenge? When did it start affecting me like this? I used to take his insults like a champ! I used to get him back worse!” You wondered out loud, letting your head flop onto Ron’s broad shoulder as he let out a puff of air through his nose.

“You still take it like a champ, numpty,” he chastised you gently, recoiling ever so slightly when you lurched forward in complete defeat. Your hands shot up to cover your face as you rested your forehead against your knees.

“No! I don’t,” you murmured dejectly, lifting your face from your hands to make eye contact with Ron. “Do you remember the other night in the Great Hall? When Neville told me he thought my hair looked pretty? And George, out of bloody nowhere, comes over and says and I quote, ‘I wouldn’t waste your time on this one, Longbottom. You’d have a better time kissing that toad of yours.’ Do you remember that?” Ron raised an eyebrow and nodded in confusion, your voice seemed to be steadily rising in octaves as you recalled the events of the other night. He had to admit, it had been an unusually unnecessary comment on George’s part, but the youngest Weasley boy wasn’t really sure where you were going with it.

“Well do you remember how I had said, ‘how’s that girlfriend of yours, Georgie? Figured out a way to make her stop being invisible yet?’ and then remember I rushed off? Do you wanna know where I rushed off to?” You pressed, watching intently as Ron nodded his head, unsure if he even wanted to know. “I went to the bathroom and I cried! I cried, Ron! Over something George bloody Weasley said to me!”

His eyes widened at that. Never once had George ever managed to properly upset you.

“And over something as small as that? I’ve heard him say a lot worse to your face.” Ron said in disbelief and you nodded, expression mimicking his as if you couldn’t believe it yourself.

“Right? And it’s like everytime he says something mean to me now my stomach drops and it actually hurts,” Ron regarded you softly, his eyes sad while he rubbed your back as you buried your face in your hands yet again, “Do you know what’s worse though?”

Ron opened his mouth to hazard a guess but no sound escaped as he drew nothing but blanks.

“I actually care what he thinks of me now. As if I actually value his idiotic opinions of me.”

It was at that moment that Harry entered the room sporting muddy quidditch gear and a confused expression, “May I ask why we’re having a heart to heart on my bed?”

Ron shrugged, continuing to rub soothing circles into your back as he told Harry mournfully, “Y/n likes George.”

“Merlin.” Harry whispered, as horrified to learn of your crush as Ron had been. “But, Y/n, he hates you! I mean he really hates you-“ the chosen one was cut off by a pillow making contact with his face. Ron had chucked it at him the second he felt your form begin to shake beneath his touch.

“Bloody hell, Harry! You’ve gone and upset her even more!” He whispered harshly. Harry quickly set his broom down and plopped himself down beside you, leaving you trapped between himself and Ron. The green-eyed boy rested his cheek against your lightly shaking back and managed to snake his arms around your torso.

“Sorry. Shouldn’t have said that.” He told you genuinely. “Should we go and find Hermione?”

You only shook your head. Embarrassment quickly overtook you as you realised your were crying in front of your two best friends over George fucking Weasley.

“No. No, I’m okay. It’s fine,” you sat up and hastily wiped your tears away.

“It’s okay to be upset, Y/n,” Harry spoke softly, squeezing your middle in a short hug, getting mud from his quidditch practice all over you.

With a resolute shake of your head you stood up and faced the boys, who each looked at you with pity filled eyes, then you spoke as steadily as you could, “I’m not upset. He hasn’t upset me,” you weren’t fooling anyone, really. Your eyes were bloodshot, your cheeks and nose were red and your voice was slightly hoarse when you spoke. The boys entertained you anyway, nodding in agreement.

“I’m telling you this as his brother and your best mate; you can do better.” Ron told you honestly, he wasn’t lying either, you were the type of girl who could get any boy she wanted without lifting a finger. Well, not any boy—obviously— but that wasn’t anything to do with you. Ron had his suspicions in regards to why his brother acted like such a knob towards you, however he’d been thrown off his scent recently when the older ginger stopped being mean to you teasingly in favour of being just plain mean.

You gave Ron the best smile you could muster at his words, “You are absolutely right, Ronald.”

Harry snorted before making his way over to Ron’s trunk, he rifled through it for a few seconds before pulling out one of Ron’s jumpers. He casually tossed, what you recognised to be Ron’s Christmas jumper from Molly, over to you with a grin, “Put that on. I got muck all over you.”

You had plenty of your own Christmas jumpers made by Molly Weasley but they were all the way over in your own dorm. Besides, you liked stealing the ones made for the boys as they were usually far too big for you which made them extremely comfortable to wear.

So you happily pulled the maroon jumper over your head, the wool effectively covering your dirtied t-shirt.

“Oh yes, by all means, you two just work away.” Ron grunted sarcastically. In all honesty, he didn’t care if you stole every piece of fabric he owned, if it made you feel better, he couldn’t care less.

“Right,” you said, making your way to the door of the dorm room, “I think I’ll go for a walk before the sunsets, calm myself down a bit.”

The boys nodded, “See you at dinner?” Ron asked and you gave him a smile and a small nod of confirmation before you set off out of the Gryffindor common room.

Thankfully, you didn’t run into George on your way out. You walked peacefully through the gardens and behind the greenhouses, it was around five in the evening and the sun was beginning to stoop low behind the tree line. The days were beginning to take on a chill as October approached quickly, you’d gone out without grabbing a jacket and you couldn’t deny that you were beginning to feel the cold nipping at your skin despite Ron’s jumper. Pulling the sleeves further down your wrists you carried on, trudging forward through the fallen leaves of the garden, you weren’t ready to go back inside yet. Going back to the castle meant you’d have to look your problem in the face, literally. You settled on the fact that you’d rather endure the physical cold rather than the emotional coldness you were sure to receive from George at dinner.

When you’d reached the back of the third greenhouse you could faintly hear someone humming to themselves and a soft smile found your lips when you saw who it was. Neville sat on a chair in the greenhouse, right by a plant that you hadn’t a clue what it was called, seemingly humming the little tune for the plant in question. Despite his undeniable clumsiness, there was something about Neville Longbottom that soothed you greatly. He has a good soul and his heart is usually in the right place, even if his head is sometimes screwed on slightly loose.

Gently, trying not to startle him you knocked on the closed door of the greenhouse before you opened it and walked in, “Hi, Neville. Mind if I join you?”

Neville blushed slightly but nodded his head, “Course! There’s a spare chair just there,” he pointed nervously to the chair. Once you settled yourself beside him, he let himself relax slightly.

“What sort of plant is this?” You asked him curiously. You really liked plants but you weren’t the best at keeping them alive, Neville though, seemed to be something of a green thumb.

He beamed at your question and quickly began to explain everything about the plant before you. You didn’t absorb a lot of it but listening to Neville speak so freely, something he rarely got to do amidst the other Gryffindor boys, filled you with a sense of serenity. Between his voice and the light wind that blew against the glass building, you’d completely forgotten about your red-headed problem.

“—sorry, I’m probably boring you. My nan says I have a tendency to ramble.” He cut himself off, cheeks heating up as he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully.

With a small giggle you only shook your head at the brown haired boy, “You’re not boring me at all! I quite like listening to you speak,” you admitted although you felt a bit silly after saying it out loud. Neville seemed to grow even more flustered after the words left your lips.

His eyes searched your face for any sign that you were teasing him, but all he saw was your kind eyes and comforting smile. Not exactly sure about what to say to you, Neville made an observation, “You’re cold.”

You gave him a nonchalant shrug, “I’m okay.”

Completely unsatisfied with your answer, Neville shook his head in protest and shrugged off his jacket. He was used to spending a lot of time in the garden so he was usually sporting far more layers than necessary, just in case. “Here, wear this. You’ll catch a cold otherwise,” he fretted and you didn’t have the heart to turn his offer down, you didn’t want to turn it down either, you were absolutely freezing. Gratefully you accepted the jacket and wasted no time in pulling it on.

“Thank you, Neville,” he looked you over for a moment, you could tell he was debating with himself on whether or not to speak, after a long few seconds of his eyes running over you he spoke.

“You look nice- I, uh, the jacket. You look nice in the jacket- I mean, the jacket looks nice on you-“ another giggle left your lips and effectively put the boy’s fumbled ramble to an end.

“Again, thank you, Neville. You are unbelievably kind.” You told him sincerely, quite enjoying the blush that adorned his cheeks.

“We should probably head back to the castle for dinner now. It’s gotten dark,” Neville said, standing up after giving his plant a loving pat.

The walk back to the castle with Neville was nice. The pair of you chatted idly about school subjects and house drama, but you had to admit, you weren’t paying a huge amount of attention to the conversation.

“Thanks again for lending me your jacket,” you said sweetly, shrugging the jacket off as you reached the main hall of the castle.

Neville, who seemed to be in a perpetual state of bashfulness, took the jacket back gently, a rosy blush painting his features, “It was no problem, really.”

Neville had always been incredibly kindhearted, sometimes to his own detriment. He treated people with respect and never turned anyone away if they needed help with anything at all. He is sweet, honest, loyal and, whether you liked him or not, he is indisputably adorable. And you found yourself thinking about how entirely better your life would be if your heart had chosen Neville to have a romantic fondness towards.

After separating from Neville, you made your way towards the Great Hall. On your way you bumped into Fred Weasley, who surprisingly, wasn’t accompanied by his twin. He greeted you with a wide smile and, as he always did, he ruffled your hair.

“So! I have a proposition for you,” the look on his face as he spoke was nothing short of wicked, a pit of nerves began to form in your stomach with the way his eyes were lit up excitedly.

“What are you proposing?” You encouraged exhaustedly. Whatever it was would probably end with you running from Filch.

Fred lopped his long arm around your shoulder, effectively pulling you along with him as he walked in the opposite direction of the Great Hall. Any chance of you getting fed this evening had gone out the window the second Fred clapped eyes on you, you’d made your peace with it. “I’m glad you asked, princess- “ at the sound of the pet name you let out a guttural groan.

“Freddie, please, I’m not in the mood to help you make some poor girl jealous just so you can get a snog,” you whined weakly only for the boy to ruffle your hair and tug you closer to his side.

“Let me finish! As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” he paused to glare at you jokingly and you smiled apologetically, “I have a plan to make George stop acting like a prat.”

A disbelieving scoff left your lips, “Yeah that’s likely,” Fred laughed and pinched your cheek lightly before carrying on.

“Angelina told me that she heard you crying in the girls toilets the other night,” he informed you. Your eyes widened in shock and confusion, you didn’t think anyone was in there with you and you also couldn’t piece together what your moment of weakness had to do with Fred’s master plan. “And before you start, I know it’s because of George.”

“That’s ridiculous, Fred.” You lied, unconvincingly.

Fred laughed again, it was a gentle laugh that let you know he hadn’t come here to tease you but to help you, “I know it’s ridiculous and that’s exactly why I know you’ve been so down in the dumps the last few days.”

“Besides,” he started again when you remained silent, “Why else would Ron be giving his brother the silent treatment?”

“What does any of this have to do with your plan?” You asked, eyes sad and heart heavy for the second time that day. You’d only just managed to get the whole thing out of your mind, and yet, here it was again.

“Well I happen to know why George acts the way he does,” you met him with a raised eyebrow and a bored expression.

“Because he hates me, I know.” Fred’s lips grew into a wicked grin and he shook his head, coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway.

“That’s where you’re wrong. He doesn’t hate you,” he lowered his lips to hover right by your ear before he whispered quietly, “He loves you.”

With a roll of your eyes, you pushed the boy away, fixing him with a hard stare, “Come on, Fred. That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking!” He exclaimed desperately, “We were in potions making amortentia, yeah? And Slughorn called George up to tell the class what he smelled and do you know what he said?” Fred retold madly, knowing full well that this was possibly the only opening he’d get to make the two of you realise your own feelings. Fred was well aware that you developed a crush on George, he picked up on it the second you began looking crestfallen when hit with a snide remark from his twin. He knew long before now that George had loving feelings towards you too, but their recent potions class was the only hard evidence he had to support his theory.

You shrugged helplessly in response, and Fred grabbed your shoulders and looked down at you urgently, “He said it smelled of cloudberries, daisies and-this is a direct quote-‘summer breezes’,” you stared at him numbly, not exactly sure what to say as the description did match the perfume you’d been wearing regularly since you were thirteen.

“That’s you, Y/n!” Fred confirmed and you pulled your lips between your teeth before shaking your head in complete denial.

“Lots of girls wear that perfume-“ Fred cut you off, ruthlessly.

“Name one.” You racked your brain but you genuinely couldn’t name another person who wore the same perfume as you. “You can’t, can you? Because it’s your smell!”

“Ok fine! So it’s my smell, what exactly do you expect me to do with this information?” Fred rolled his eyes in exhaustion at you.

“Blimey, you’re as daft as he is sometimes, do you know that?” Fred ran his hands down his face in exasperation before looking at you softly, “I except you to come with me so we can drive him mental for a bit and if he gets nasty I’ll embarrass him because I’m an incredible brother.”

You let him lead you towards Gryffindor Tower all while complaining about how you were starving only for Fred to hush you each time you let out a hungered whine, “We can raid the kitchen later on, love,” he promised and you sighed in defeat, “That’s the spirit.”

When the pair of you entered the Gryffindor common room, George was already there, probably waiting for Fred to return it. He sat one one of the sofas that faced the fire, completely relaxed and you hated the fact that you thought he looked amazingly ethereal with the way the flames from the fire lit his skin in an orange glow.

He hadn’t noticed you yet and Fred took notice of this. The older twin subtly slid his hand into yours and intertwined your fingers with his before turning his head and shooting you a mischievous wink. Fred Weasley was a nightmare, but when he was on your side, he never failed to make you smile.

Accepting that whatever Fred was about to drag you into would result in nothing but chaos you took a deep breath and followed Fred over to the sofa.

“What is she doing here?” George practically seethed, despite the intensity of his glare, you didn’t miss the nervous look he shot in Fred’s direction. What you had missed, though, was how harshly he’d clenched his jaw upon noticing your intertwined hands.

You decided that tonight you’d play the game slightly differently, if what Fred was saying was true, it would make things all the more entertaining. So, instead of your usual menacing glare and ego-shattering insult you met George with an innocent smile, “Was just hanging out with Freddie, thought I’d come say hello,” you said, sitting in the middle of the two twins.

George stared at you suspiciously, “Hello. That all?”

“Hi. No, actually, I think I’ll sit with you for a while. If that’s okay?” Fred was smirking from his spot beside you as he watched George’s face contort.

“You’ve never wanted to sit with me before.” He told you, squinting his eyes and trying to decipher what you were up to. He couldn’t lie to himself, he definitely wouldn’t mind you staying so close to him for a while, however he’d also sooner die then let you think you had the upper hand.

His and your composure cracked simultaneously at your next sentence, your truthful and somewhat vulnerable mumble of, “Well, you’ve never given me a chance to.” He knew you were right so he didn’t say anymore, opting to shift his gaze to the roaring fire, trying his best not to let his mind linger on the fact that you were wearing his brother’s jumper. His nose perked up at the scent that drifted from your spot, unusually close to him. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d fancied you for a long time, but, there was also no denying that he’d done a perfect job of making you hate him. Yet, as much as he wanted to just cut the crap, tell you that he thinks you’re the most insufferably beautiful girl he’d ever seen and kiss you and never ever stop, his pride would never allow him to cave. Especially not when you challenged him so effortlessly.

“So how come you were headed to dinner so late anyway?” Fred piqued up, growing tired of the lack of hostility between yourself and his twin.

“Oh. I was sort of worked up earlier so I decided to go for a walk ‘round the greenhouses. I bumped into Neville and I suppose I just lost track of time,” you explained halfheartedly.

Fred let yet another smirk overtake his face, “Longbottom, eh?” He wiggled his eyebrows and you let out a short giggle while shaking your head, sure, it would’ve been a good topic to tease George with, however, Neville was simply too sweet to be used as a pawn.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s very sweet. But he’s just a friend,” George looked almost satisfied with that answer, his usual scowl making an appearance once again.

“He could do better.” It was a barefaced lie. Neville couldn’t do better than you. In fact, George was of the firm belief that nobody could do better than you.

“Of course he could, he’s quite the charmer,” you spoke wistfully, finally giving Fred the show he’d been hoping for, as you egged George on.

George pretended to think for a moment, “I’m sure he is. Personally I think you’d be more suited to Filch, although, I’ve heard his standards are quite high.”

You took the boy by surprise when you laughed, the airy giggle left your mouth had such a profound effect on George that he almost wished he’d kept his mouth shut. His heart was leaping and there were butterflies beginning to form in his stomach, he physically had to will himself not to stare at you in awe when your eyes turned to meet his. The glow of the fire only aided in showing him how gorgeous those stupid eyes of yours are. “Mmm, yeah I suppose I should lower my expectations,” you paused briefly and mimicked George’s earlier motion of pretending to mull over your options. Your next action had Fred practically howling with laughter.

“You’re available, aren’t you Georgie?” You’d asked in a mock sultry tone, leaning towards him and lightly brushing your hand down his arm. Loving the way he choked on air you got up from the sofa, not before shooting him a wink, and sauntered towards the portrait hole, “I’ll be in the kitchens. See ya later, sexy.” You directed the last part at George, who looked as though he’d been frozen in time as Fred’s laughter grew in volume.

Upon entering the kitchen, the house elves had fussed around you, handing you food at any given opportunity. You had finished eating a while ago, you were currently nursing a hot cup of tea while chatting away to one of the house elves, only to be interrupted by someone else entering the kitchen.

He set his sights on you and quickly moved to the seat across from you, a look of urgency on his face that reminded you of Fred, “Whatever he told you. It’s not true,” you raised an eyebrow, sipping your tea uncaringly.

“Mind elaborating?” You asked tiredly.

“Fred.”

“Thank you, George, very clear and helpful,” you grumbled sarcastically and the boy let out a huff.

“You were acting different. You know something. What did he tell you?” George demanded through gritted teeth and you only deflated against your chair. It always boggled your mind how everyone described George as the nicer of the twins.

Not answering, you decided to start asking your own questions, “Can I ask you something?”

“Seems like you’re going to no matter what I say,” he sighed out as an elf pottered up to him and handed him a cup full of hot tea. He took it gently and thanked the elf with such sincerity that you wished you hadn’t seen the exchange, simply because it stung to know he’d never treat you with that level of sincerity.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He sat frozen for a second. Your tone of voice took him by surprise. It was needy bordering on desperate, nothing like he’d ever heard you speak before, not to him anyway.

George took a sip of his tea and shrugged as if the question was a stupid one, “I don’t.” A cold, humourless laugh came from you in response, the kind of laugh that made his stomach drop.

“Bollox. I’m being serious, George. Tell me what it is about me that makes me so insufferable to you!” You exclaimed, heart rate increasing and tone raising in octaves as you felt yourself growing more upset by his reserved expression.

George let out a heavy sigh, the jig was about to be up. You were upset and merlin was he tired of pretending that he didn’t want you in every way, shape and form.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.” There was no trace of hesitance or uncertainty in your voice, at this point you didn’t care what the answer was you just had to know.

“Fine,” he said all too casually and you knew by his tone that he, as per usual, wasn’t taking you seriously. “I don’t hate you. The only insufferable thing about you is how annoyingly gorgeous-“ you cut him off right then, with a scoff of pure disbelief.

Shaking your head rapidly, you stood from your chair and all but stormed out of the kitchen. His footsteps began to echoed behind you a few corridors later, he would’ve caught up to you sooner had your response to his would be confession not left him completely immobile. He called your name but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. Tears stung your eyes and you absolutely refused to let him know that he’d managed to bring you to the point of tears. Not that it was the first time.

“Bloody hell, Y/n! Hold on would you?” He called, finally getting close enough to reach out and grab your wrist. He spun you around to face him and quickly placed his hands on your upper arms to stop you from doing another runner. When he took you in he swore he’d never hate himself more than he did the moment he looked at you to see your eyes filled with tears, small drops escaping and carving a trail down your cheeks while you sniffed miserably.

“What?” You snapped, hostility the only thing you felt like offering the ginger in the moment. His brown eyes bored into yours with so much intensity but they held something you didn’t recognise. They looked sad, almost.

“I wasn’t making fun of you.” He stated honestly but you furrowed your eyebrows, your eyes set in a glare.

“Then what were you doing?” You croaked, letting your tears fall freely as the damage was already done. The sinking of your stomach and the tightening of your chest didn’t do a thing to ease your mind as George’s hands squeezed your arms.

He licked his lips quickly, he felt they’d become unbearably dry, and then slowly, he let his hands trail down your arms and took your smaller hands into his own. He hoped you were feeling the same electricity he was when he touched you.

“I’ve been a prick to you. You didn’t deserve it and I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere, but you second guessed him. For all you knew it was just some elaborate prank, Fred was probably in on it too.

When your gaze didn’t soften, he continued to speak, “So I understand why you wouldn’t believe me when I tell you that I don’t hate you. But I just-“ he cut himself off with a heavy sigh.

“You just what?” You squeaked when his eyes spent a moment too long observing your lips. You hardly had time to register the feeling of his hands leaving yours before they were cupping your cheeks instead. “What’re you doing?” You wondered, completely dazed by the way he stared at you. His warm hands holding your face causing your stomach to jolt in an entirely different sensation than before. As much as you wanted to push him away and tell him to shove his apology, you couldn’t help but take him in. His lips were parted ever so slightly and his cheeks were flushed, probably from chasing you through the castle, his hair was disheveled and merlin he looked like he wanted to kiss you.

Your question floated in the air, completely unanswered. Next thing you knew his lips were on yours. He kissed you as if you were oxygen and he’d just been drowning and you couldn’t help but move your lips harmonically against his too. Your hands clutched his wrists as he continued to cradle your cheeks. In all honesty you weren’t sure at what point he’d backed you against the wall, or at what point his tongue had entered your mouth or when exactly his hands had migrated to your hips, yours now tangled in his hair. His body was pressed flush against yours and the small groans he’d let out when you tugged at his hair or ran your tongue against his made you realise that you couldn’t care less if this was one big prank or joke. It was happening and that’s all you cared about.

Even as he reluctantly pulled away, he chased your lips with several shorter kisses before separating entirely. He rested his forehead against yours, his guard completely down now as he admired your swollen lips and heaving chest. The feeling of your fingers in his hair made it nearly impossible for him to keep his lips detached from yours, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing that.”

Your eyes searched his face for any sign that he was lying, when you found none you finally let yourself smile. A similar smile formed on George’s face, “I meant what I said earlier. I really do think you’re annoyingly gorgeous,” the boy silently praised himself when you let out a cute giggle.

“You’re quite cute too. When you’re not running that massive mouth of yours,” you teased although you weren’t really joking, to your surprise George let out a bellowing laugh before placing a fluttering kiss against your lips.

When he pulled away again he looked around the hallway, as if he only now realised where he was. Luckily nobody was wandering the halls since curfew was fast approaching and the unwelcoming cold that occupied the hallways left little reason for students or staff to be out and about. George slid his hand into yours again, this time intertwining your fingers with his. He gave you a hopeful glance and asked, “Do you wanna go somewhere?”

You nodded your head and let him tug you into one of the abandoned astronomy classrooms on the upper floor of the castle, Filch rarely ever patrolled up there which is why George decided on it. As well as that, since the classroom, which had been out of use for a good few years, had been used for astronomy the ceiling was bewitched to reflect the night sky.

George hadn’t come to this particular class in a while but thinking on his feet he remembered the cupboard at the back of the classroom used to hold blankets, he remembered when the classroom had been in use during his first year, students would be all but freezing during the winter, so they’d stocked the classroom with blankets to be brought out during the colder months.

He made his way over to the cupboard and grinned happily when his hand landed on a rather large woollen blanket. The material was scratchy but it would do for what he needed it for. He grabbed one more blanket from the dusty press before he made his way back over to you.

George suppressed a chuckle as he watched you, your face completely turned up, watching the stars on the ceiling with awe in your eyes. He busied himself with laying the wool blanket out on the bare floor, the room was devoid of tables and chairs so he didn’t have to worry about finding a space. Once he was finished, he plopped down on the blanket and expectantly patted the empty space beside him, “Come on then, sit down,” he urged and you finally tore your eyes away from the charmed ceiling.

A small laugh left your lips when you settled yourself down beside him, he wasted no time in covering the pair of you in the second blanket. With an exaggerated sigh he laid back and waited for you to do the same, he turned on his side to face you when you did. In contrast to earlier, George had an air of nervousness about him as he deftly took your hand and began playing with your fingers, not meeting your eyes. “Just out of curiosity,” he began quietly, making eye contact with you now, “What exactly did Fred tell you?”

His question forced a somewhat smug smirk to crawl onto your lips and you couldn’t help but take the opportunity to tease him. You leaned up on your elbows and twisted slightly so you could look down at him, trying not to waste too much time admiring the view, you answered him, “Oh, nothing really. Your lovely twin just happened to mention that you had a very eventful potions class the other day…” you trailed off, biting back a smile as he groaned.

“Mhm and what was it that he said you smelled from the amortentia?” You poked his cheek and he closed his eyes, a tiny smile growing on his face despite his blushing cheeks. “Cloudberries…oh! And daisies, now, what was the other thing? Let me think-“ you pretended to ponder before George cut you off by pulling you down on him and pressing his lips to yours in a kiss much softer than any of the others.

“Summer breezes,” he whispered against your lips before connecting them again, “It smelled like you,” and with that his hand snaked to the nape of your neck as he pressed his lips against yours, pouring all of his feelings into it, hoping it was enough. In all honesty, now that he’d felt what it was like to love you, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to go back to pretending to hate you.

Once he pulled away you were completely breathless, however, George seemed to have more to say. “I don’t want us to go back to the way we were,” absentmindedly you brushed his hair out of his eyes, stroking the red strands soothingly as he continued to confide in you, his voice, face and body completely vulnerable to you. Something about him trusting you with his feelings reassured you that his intentions were pure and banished any notion you possessed of the whole thing being a joke, “I didn’t like it, acting like that but you were always so unbothered that I felt like I had keep one upping you,” he confessed.

“You always gave me this feeling in my stomach whenever you’d come over to the Burrow with your parents when we were little and I didn’t understand it. I just thought that it must’ve meant I didn’t like you…” George seemed to get lost in his own mind as he gazed at you regretfully, his fingers trailed the length of your spine sofly, “By the time I realised, we were both older and I suppose I just thought you couldn’t feel the same ‘cause I made you hate me,” you hummed in acknowledgment, your fingers still working his hair, keeping it out of his eyes that looked at you so intently that you could’ve drowned in them and died happy.

“But then the other night after dinner Angie slapped me upside the head and talked my ear off about how out of order I’d been—obviously I agree with her! You weren’t even talking to me but Neville was complimenting you and I don’t know… just got possessive,” he muttered the last part, losing some confidence but regained it upon seeing the little smile on your lips. “Then Ron looked about ready to push me off the astronomy tower when I saw him this evening. Blimey, I knew it had to have something to do with you since Harry was snippy too.” You had to laugh at the exhausted look on his face when he recalled your two best friends.

Mockingly, you gave him a stern look and clicked your tongue, “Well, perhaps if you weren’t so mean to me all of this could’ve been avoided,” George groaned once again, feeling guilty he pulled you even closer and buried his face in your neck.

“M’sorry,” you carded your fingers through his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his head. Your lips against his head caused him to lift his face from the crook of your neck, “Forgive me?” He asked, a cute pout on his lips.

“I’ll think about it,” you teased, giggling at the offended look on his face. George let out a dissatisfied sigh, he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear before giving you a toothy smile.

“Don’t worry, love. I plan on making it up to you.”

[therealvinelle]

What if Bella got possessed by a demon in Twilight? Like pretty standard, The Exorcist type of stuff.

A lot of you anons should just head on to Ao3 instead of my inbox because whereever you went with this fic idea, I’m sure it’d be delightful. Lulzy, but an absolute delight.

Since you say Twilight, I’ll just set the timeline to the beginning of the series, when Bella has just arrived in Forks. She got possessed just before leaving, as Renée wanted to try an ouija board.

So, for the purposes of this ask, demons are real within the Twilight universe. They have to be very few and far in between, though, since humans don’t know about them and they presumably don’t care about following the Volturi law.

Bella is Reagan and the demon Pazuzu has taken up residence within her.

As happened in The Exorcist, this isn’t very noticeable at first. Bella starts saying some messed up things, yes, enough so that the other kids at school avoid her and the teachers give Charlie a call, but she’s not running down the stairs like a spider. Charlie is worried about her behavior and calls Renée about this, but he’s not dialing up any priests just yet.

Well, Bella gets worse.

Edward, for the record, was interested in this delicious smelling girl with the mystery box brain up until she started spouting profanities in the hallways at other students. Not being able to read her mind, he assumes Bella Swan is just like that. There’s no challenge, no reward, nothing to keeping her alive, his only real reason for not eating her at this point is Carlisle. Though his sheer distaste at that vulgar human who dares to tempt him so makes him resistent to drinking her blood, just out of spite. She’s not his perfect damsel with the delicious blood, and that ruins a lot of the appeal. Not all, mind, because that blood is still delicious.

Though it does help when she’s pulled out of school. Edward can pretend vulgar hamburger doesn’t exist, even as he ruffles through her wardrobe for sweaters to huff.

Back to Charlie, whose daughter is now running down the stairs like the spider.

He sends her to every shrink he can afford, has all the doctors in Forks look at her, and none of them give him an answer he can believe. He’s at his wit’s end.

And this affliction, whatever it is, that’s affecting Bella, it doesn’t seem natural, not human. She speaks in tongues, sexually assaults herself (yes, this happens in the movie), growls and hisses like an animal, in every way acts like- well, whatever it is, Charlie’s ability to deny that this his daughter’s affliction is supernatural in origin is growing thin.

But none of the shrinks can help him with that, and Charlie is a “lapsed Lutheran”, so I doubt priests is something he’ll consider all that seriously. He needs occult help, yes, but from someone who will actually help Bella.

His mind turns towards Carlisle Cullen and his children, and how Billy reacted when they moved into town.

Charlie laughed off his friends’ fears then, thought it was ridiculous to believe the Cullens could ever be anything but human. He dismissed their unusual looks as just that, unusual looks, their too-good-to-be-true cover story as them being that wonderful, and was quite happy about it.

That was then, now his daughter is fast becoming proof that the occult is indeed real.

And Dr. Cullen is so very kind, excellent in his work as a doctor and above all knowledgeable.

Say that Billy was right, that these guys aren’t as human as they appear. Well, that makes them the only people in the world, in Charlie’s world anyhow, who might be able to help.

Which is how Carlisle has the town chief walk into his office, tell him his daughter is possessed by a demon, and that Carlisle has to come over and have a look at her.

Now, as I think demons would be extremely rare, we’ll allow that Carlisle with all likelihood hasn’t seen any of these before. Quite the contrary, he was once a man who persecuted women suspected of witchcraft. He understands Charlie a little too well, but is also not touching this exorcism quest with a ten-foot pole.

Except, the chief seems convinced that Carlisle himself isn’t entirely human.

What would a human doctor do?

Carlisle really has no choice here but to come with Charlie. Besides, no matter how one looks at it what Charlie said about Bella is highly disturbing, the girl obviously needs medical attention.

So Carlisle has a look at Bella, and his “ahahaha we’re all human in here” smile quickly stiffens as he finds that whatever’s going on with Bella, it is indeed not human. She’s spitting green goo, talking Latin backwards, inhumanly strong, impersonating Carlisle’s father, and depending on how closely we follow Pazuzu’s actions in The Exorcist she may have killed a man. There’s scars on her body spelling out pleas for help.

It becomes clear to Carlisle that this girl really does need an exorcism. Or something, anyway, this is terrifying new territory for him.

But he has neither any clue nor the authority to perform an exorcism, and he lacks the network to get his hands on a human priest who’ll do this. More, even if humans could help (and considering how misinformed they are about vampires, the odds of that are extremely slim), involving more humans than have already been pulled into this would not make the Volturi happy.

There’s really only one place to go where someone will have the resources to help this suffering human, and that’s Volterra.

There’s a risk that demons are like immortal children and Aro will kill her on the spot, but Carlisle, still spooked from father Cullen’s voice coming out of this 17-year-old girl in the 21st century, has no other recourse.

So he tells Charlie he’s taking Bella somewhere Charlie can’t follow, and it’s likely they’ll never see each other again, even if Bella is saved. Charlie is devastated, but the promise that his daughter could get better means he can’t refuse. Just the fact that Carlisle isn’t entirely human yet benign makes him the best help Charlie is able to get her.

Carlisle takes Bella to Volterra, where Aro puts on his best Max von Sydow impression and says “Ah, demons... I’ve seen this once before, in the memories of a merchant from Ur...”

Knowing Aro while not knowing the lore of The Exorcist well enough to know what to do about a demon possession if you don’t have a Catholic priest on hand, I imagine Aro dresses up in whatever it is that Sumerian priests wore thousands of years ago (he always told Caius those bedazzled costumes would come in handy someday, and look who was right! VINDICATION) and tricks Pazuzu into possessing one of the humans Heidi brought in instead. This human is promptly killed. Ta-da, Aro smiles to Carlisle, he solved the problem!

Bella wakes up surrounded by insanely beautiful people in an underground palace in Italy and remembers nothing. Carlisle gets the honor of explaining to this human girl that she was possessed by a demon, Charlie asked Carlisle to fix it, and now the nice man who makes jingling noises whenever he moves because he’s dressed head to toe in gold wants her to be a different kind of demon because he can’t read her mind.

Bella caught maybe half of that.

Carlisle refuses to elaborate on the “possessed by a demon” part. No, Bella, you did nothing embarrassing, no one thought you were weird. We hardly noticed you were possessed at all!

But he was serious about that last part, Aro noticed she has a special ability so he’d like for her to become a vampire.

Bella, still, overwhelmed, makes a phone call to Charlie explaining nothing at all but assuring him that the demon is gone. She is then made a vampire.

Edward arrives too late to the party, so late that the party is in fact over, as he didn’t believe Carlisle when he said hamburger was possessed by a demon. Now it turns out that the disgusting, vulgar girl was in fact a delicate flower and a damsel in distress this whole time. Except, now she’s a vampire. Woe! Theirs is a love that never bloomed.

Bella has no idea who this guy is, and asks Renata to make him go away.

[abiggaynerd]

What made me ship maxwil. Sorry this is really just a jumbled mess JKNKJN but hope u enjoy reading it anyway. Under a cut because its too fucking long

Wilson and Maxwell are don’t starve’s main characters. They show up in the original game’s intro movie together. 

Maxwell speaks to Wilson on the radio, offers him a deal, and Wilson takes it. 

Now, think about that- Wilson, with no hesitation, takes a stranger’s dubious offer from a radio that is NOT supposed to be two-ways. He ruins his life without even thinking about it. 

This shows us how DESPERATE Wilson is for human contact. 

Wilson lives alone in a house, far away from his family who hates him, and not a single friend. Some might say Wilson doesn’t like people. But what i see is a person who ADORES people, being forced to be apart from them (exactly like maxwell) because no one will take him seriously. Wilson is working this hard because he is convinced if he just makes one good invention, has one big break, then people will finally respect and like him. It’s not just that he wants knowledge for knowledge’s sake.

He has someone offering him exactly what he wants, and it’s not just the offer, it’s the fact someone is talking to him. Wilson wants someone to listen to him, and believe in him, and that is JUST as important as the knowledge, if not more so. Maxwell has complete faith in Wilson’s ability to make this portal. Wilson trusts maxwell more than anyone else, simply because he’s gotten the smallest bit of positive attention. 

That makes his betrayal absolutely crushing for Wilson. Wilson is the only person who explicitly says he hates maxwell in the first game. He feels betrayed much more personally than maxwell intended, he’s furious, and he finds out maxwell didn’t actually believe in him the way he thought. Wilson is forced once again to completely rely on himself. Wilson likes himself and believes in himself a lot, but he sort of has to. No one else will. And that’s a hard thing to deal with.

Wilson goes through the worlds, because he wants out, obviously. He is the only one to canonly reach the end of adventure mode. Wickerbottom may think he’s an idiot, but he’s the one who made it to the end of the line, not her. 

Wilson is likely expecting a boss fight here, or something, but what he gets is a sad, frail old man who is suicidal and has nothing. Maxwell has completely given up. When you free max, it says “take pity?” Wilson does. Wilson KNOWS this will end badly for him. Wilson KNOWS he’s not going to get anything in return. But Wilson frees him, because Wilson is unequivocally GOOD. Wilson cares about people, deeply, and would do anything for them. Wilson does not like to see people suffer, and Wilson will take on the pain for himself if he can. Maxwell has hurt him more than anyone, but Wilson still takes his place. 

Now if we look at this from Maxwell’s perspective: Wilson is just another person to trick into coming here. Maxwell is putting on a show, using all his charisma, doing what They brought him here for. It’s the same as everyone else. 

Something interesting about adventure mode is that maxwell does NOT want you to continue. He does his absolute best to keep you from getting to the end. Scaring you, killing you, bribing you. You think it’s cruelty or fear of you at first glance, but really: maxwell does NOT want you to suffer the way he does. 

Maxwell brings you here, puts you in a terrible world, but in his mind, NOTHING is worse than the throne. Look at him on the throne and look at him as a survivor- on the throne he has nothing but despair and the desire to die. As a survivor, he’s extremely peppy in comparison. The throne has ruined maxwell, and even though he’s past the point of caring if you come to the constant, he does NOT want to be the reason someone else is on the throne. 

But is the door itself a cry for help? Was that a subconscious thing maxwell did? Charlie doesn’t have an adventure mode. She seems quite happy on the throne. Or is it because the Them are tired of maxwell? Compare Charlie’s world to Maxwell’s: considerably harder. Charlie’s world may allow you to revive yourself, but Maxwell’s is objectively easier. Less bosses, less danger, more resources. Maxwell also tries to give you a world you can have everything you need in in adventure mode, which is THE BEST he can do for you- something probably only allowed because the Them know the survivors won’t take his offer. 

When you get to the throne, despite being in absolute mental agony, maxwell cannot make himself trick you into freeing him. Which he COULD. He could pretend the key will let you out, he could pretend it’s something he REALLLY doesn’t want you to do because oooooo its gonna free youuuu and send you to earthhhh. But he cannot allow himself to do that, because this is the last bit of kindness and humanity he has- giving you the knowledge that the throne is the worst fate possible here. He clearly doesn’t think you are going to do it until you do- he’s shocked and thrilled when he stands up. 

Wilson frees him, knowing everything, after everything, and that SHOCKS him. Maxwell considers Wilson his savior. He owes everything to him. 

They don’t see each other again until cyclum. Wilson attacks maxwell, and while some people may think it’s because he’s angry, i think it’s because he SAW maxwell die and assume it’s either an insanity hallucination come to kill him or a new monster come to trick him. When max doesn’t attack when Wilson stops, he stops. 

Now, there are a lot of things Wilson could do. He could leave, he could kill him, he could ignore him. But Wilson feeds him. Maxwell is TOTALLY FINE. Max can get food himself. And food is a valuable resource. Wilson chooses to feed maxwell, because Wilson is good. They camp together, another thing Wilson doesn’t have to do. Wilson then decides to WORK WITH MAXWELL ON A PORTAL. AGAIN. Wilson makes the ACTIVE CHOICE to trust maxwell, with NO REASON TO. 

Now, we don’t know exactly what happens when the other survivors get there, but it stands to reason Wilson protects and defends max against the other survivors. Even though the portal failed AGAIN, and its possible max was fucking with him AGAIN. Wilson CHOSES to trust Max, even with evidence that could imply otherwise. 

If we look at the quotes, Wilson banters with max a lot, and can be annoyed with him. But when max is dead, Wilson explicitly reassures him he’s already working on reviving him. 

Maxwell, like Wilson, thrives on attention. He needs it, even if its negative. It’s easier for him to be someone to hate than just a sad man to pity. His persona- where he misses the throne and being king, is a lazy asshole, and hates everyone- is just that, a persona. Max is an actor, after all. He and wigfrid have this in common: he cannot handle being HIMSELF because being himself is terrifying. He doesn’t have anything as himself. He’s nothing as himself. I don’t think mentally he would be able to handle it! And Wilson knows this.

Maxwell also, when Wilson dies, asks if he really wants to come back. I think this is the only way he can think of to try to make up for bringing him here. It’s not much, but Wilson wouldn’t feel pain any more. Of course Wilson wouldn’t accept that, but maxwell offers because it’s the only thing he can think of.

Wilson is someone maxwell is nervous and shy around, when greeting. He’s the only one max shows explicit affection for. Like i said before, max sees Wilson as an angel, as his savior, but maxwell cannot handle it. It’s easier for him to be a huge asshole. But Wilson does not let him drive him away. 

I think the banter is something Wilson enjoys! Wilson is a sarcastic person, and he and max are intellectually equals. I think max is someone he really enjoys spending time with, as well as someone he would do anything for.

Now if we look at one of the more recent videos, with charlie, Winona, Wilson, and Max, maxwell sees charlie for the first time in a long, long time. He is frozen, but when Wilson calls him, he immediately follows him out. This shows me he puts Wilson on the same level as CHARLIE now, if not HIGHER. 

But something else that isn’t technically canon that made me ship it is this: when i played adventure mode for the first time, i got all the way to the end cutscene and died during it. I didn’t unlock max so i had to do it again. 

I restarted, and it made me think of Wilson KNOWING adventure mode was not a way out. KNOWING the end was not going to go well for him. But going through all five worlds, AGAIN, JUST to free maxwell. And that really got me to love the ship jknkjn

In conclusion maxwell and Wilson have an absolutely beautiful relationship, and it’s good. 

[billiewena]

for the 100k fic celebration, here a portion of the “what if 10x05 had a sastiel agenda?” AKA lil shit sam/jealous dean destiel fic I first shared a while back! been having a lot of fun basically rewriting and expanding on the entire musical episode with new songs (and lots of cute kristen & siobhan moments because OF COURSE they’re still a couple.) it was really encouraging to see the positive response to it back then and it's been taking forever because of work/other writing but I’m so excited to have this one be the first full-length fics I ever post.

It starts with costumed teenagers locked in a tight embrace with absolutely no room for Jesus.

“What are they doing?”

Marie glances over her shoulder for only a brief second.

“Kids these days call it hugging,” she says slowly. Geez, it would’ve been less insulting for her to just outright say Wow, you’re old.

Except it’s not just any of the show’s stars hugging over there. One of them is the “Dean” who’d been mid-rehearsal when they arrived and looked more like Bieber than him with the blonde wig. And the other? Well, he would recognize that Columbo coat anywhere.

“Is that in the show?” he asks, pointing their way.

Marie quickly shakes her head at the accusation. “Oh, no. Siobhan and Kristen are a couple in a real life.”

He nods and lower his hand. Got it. That’s all it was. Everything’s fine. Nothing to worry about—

“No, my play explores the nature of Sastiel.”

“The — wait, what?” he says, confused at once.

“Sastiel?” Marie pauses, giving him a second to figure it out. He doesn’t. “You know, the relationship between Sam and Castiel?”

Dean blinks.

“Sam and…C-Cas?”

“I know, I know. Edlund’s series never finished. I’m lucky I got these drafts. Ugh, it’s Midnight Sun all over again. But the love story is all in the subtext,” she says with confidence. “Can you believe there are people who still think Destiel is endgame? After everything that happened after the angels fell? After Gadreel? Please.”

He silently sounds out the word. Des-tiel? Wait…

“Ever since Cas came back from the dead and took on Sam’s pain, I knew. I just knew. Every one of their arcs had been parallel to each other’s from their fall from grace to the trials. And now with Dean gone, all they have…is each other.”

Marie sighs. “Besides, you can’t spell subtext without S-E-X.”

He coughs and nearly chokes on an asteroid-sized lump in his throat.

“I…uh. Yeah, th-that’s not…you know, I think I’ve seen enough,” Dean says with a forced smile. “Thank you for your, ah, time. I’ll, uh, we’ll follow up if we have questions about the missing persons case. I—alright.”

And with that he purses his lips, turns on his heel and walks away — nearly tripping over one of the stage chords as he does. Why are there are so many of them anyways? This is just some all-girls school production, not the goddamn West End.

He finds Sam in his natural nerd habitat (the tech booth) sifting through all the bins of A/V supplies.

“Yeah, not to interrupt the blast from the past here but it’s time for us to go,” he says, patting the door.

His brother shoots him an annoyed look but packs up and follows him out all the same. Not that Dean bothers to wait for him; no, he makes a beeline for the car as soon as he leaves the booth.

“Hey, what’s with the rush?” Sam calls after him as he runs to catch up with him at the school entrance.

“No rush,” he says shortly. “Just wanted to see what you found out before you got too lost in the nerd sauce over there.”

He doesn’t need to look back to know he’s on the receiving end of a Classic Sam Bitchface right now and continues to stomp his way through the parking lot.

“Well, no EMF, no hex bags. None of their props are remotely hinky. Talked to Maeve and all those extras in the auditorium.” Sam finally catches up and walks side-by-side with him now. “You have any more luck?”

“Nah. Ms. Chandler's office is just a pile of empty bottles and regret. She's probably just face down in a bar somewhere. Or a ditch. I did get to hear all about the director’s, ah, creative vision though,” Dean says, teeth gritted. “Apparently we go into space, I become a woman, and there’s even ninjas and robots!”

“Robots. Huh. Well, that’d definitely be a new one.”

“There’s no robots in Supernatural—”

“I-I know that,” Sam says in exasperation. “I just mean it’s, y’know, innovative. And Dean we’ve fought weirder. Remember the teddy bear? The fairies? The ballet shoes?”

“Well, you just wait until you hear about what she in store for you, Lover Boy,” he says.

And that makes Sam do an instant double-take.

“Uh, Lover Boy?”

“Yeah, your number one fan back there —” he says, gesturing back towards the school, “— was telling me all about the play’s, uh, love story between you and Cas. You got something you’ve been meaning to tell me or what?”

“The love story? Wait, what do you mean me and Cas?”

Dean scoffs, already in utter disbelief of the words he was about to say. “Like you and Cas, together. Together together? Romance of the ages the way she made it sound. Apparently it’s all in her play!”

To his surprise though, Sam just… laughs. “Well, I mean hey, that’s an improvement from the ones who wrote about me and you.”

“You got that right,” he agrees with a shudder. Meeting one Becky the Stalker was bad enough. Knowing she wasn’t alone and that she had an audience made it even worse. “She even had a portmanteau for you, dude. Like you’re some celebrities in a grocery store tabloid. Sass-tiel.”

“Sass-tiel?” He seems to seriously consider it but shrugs. “I don’t know. What about… Samstiel? CasSam? Cam? Mmm, maybe not that…”

Dean groans. “Really? That’s your issue with this?”

“Of course it’s not my issue,” Sam says. He stays pensive for a few more seconds until chuckling again to himself this time, as if he’s the only one in on a private joke. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Cas is great but…”

“Not your type?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam says. No, it’s definitely more than that and he’s doing a piss-poor job of hiding his amused expression.

Dean turns and stares him down. “What?”

“I dunno,” he says, his smirk fully visible now. “I just think it’s funny they’re pairing me up with Cas when the one with the ‘profound bond’ with him is right there.”

“Oh, haha. You’re hilarious,” Dean retorts at once.

“Hey man, I’m not the one who stayed in Purgatory for a year to find him.”

His glare takes on a murderous edge.

“Okay. You know what? You’re going to do that thing where you just shut the hell up! Forever!”

Sam holds up his hands in either what’s either a show of innocence or surrender.

“Alright, alright. Well, other than the Charlie Kaufman of it all I got nothing.”

“So…what?” Dean says. “This-this all... This whole musical thing, everything, it's... it's all a coincidence? There is no case?”

“Unless you're seeing something I'm not, no, Dean. There's no case here,” he says sincerely this time.

“Come on. This has classic Trickster vibes all over it.” He almost wants to turn around and start yelling, Come on out Gabriel you bastard!

“Trickster’s dead, man. And he wasn’t just a trickster, he was an archangel. And they’re all gone too.”

“Could be a lower-rank angel?” Dean tries. “I mean, Zachariah pulled off an entire apocalypse world. And that place where we were both corporate drones. Before you know it, this’ll get all Buffy and it’ll be me and you singin’ and dancin’—“

“Dean…I think it’s just fans. Look, as long as they’re not putting another love spell on one of us I couldn’t really care less what they’re doing,” Sam says with some bitterness, clearly not looking back at that particular memory with any fondness. “Just writing some songs? I mean, it’s innocent enough.”

“Oh yeah, so innocent,” he scoffs. “They’re singing about our dead parents, your demon blood bender, the apocalypse, all of it! This is just…it’s make-believe for them! But it’s our lives!”

Sam runs a tired hand through his hair. “Look, I don’t get it either man. I wasn’t exactly thinking about the books’ entertainment value while Chuck was describing my sex life in vivid detail—“

“Don’t remind me,” he says, holding up a hand in disgust.  

“—but I dunno. There’s obviously something about it they connected to, right? Something they related to, something that moved them, inspired them? And I guess…I mean, what’s wrong with that?”

There is so, so much wrong with that.

“I don’t know what story they’re reading and what Sam and Dean they’re ‘connecting’ to here. But it sure as hell ain’t us. I mean…they even made me blonde, dude.”

“It’s a high school play, what can you expect?” Sam laughs. “It was probably the closest wig they could find at Party City.”

Dean ignores him, muttering aloud as he makes his way to the driver’s seat.

“The hair…the singing…the robots… the love story…”

“You really were bothered by that, weren’t you?” Sam gives his brother a curious look.

“SUPERNATURAL ISN’T A ROMANCE!” Dean snaps. “Look, these girls obviously don’t know what they’re talking about—“

“I dunno, Dean,” Sam said in a clearly taunting voice now. “Maybe you’re just jealous of what me and Cas have.”

He flushes. “W-what? I-I’m not—“

“We could give you two a name too, y’know? So you don’t feel left out? What about…Dee-stiel? CasDean?”

And he refuses to entertain this conversation any longer.

“Shut your face! Get in the car!”

Thankfully Sam notices the shift in tone and obliges at once.

Dean, meanwhile, takes a moment outside the car to glance around ��� almost as if checking to see if anyone overheard that comment. Not that it mattered. Who could overhear? No one even knew they were THE Sam and THE Dean. Who cared? He certainly didn’t care. He didn’t care at all...

(to be continued)

[acciomalfoy]

What a beautiful wedding (Fred Weasley x Reader)

Summary: While attending Bill and Fleur’s reception, certain secrets are forced to be revealed.

-

“Isn’t she beautiful?” I whispered in awe as I watched Fleur, the absolute goddess, walk down the aisle. She was breathtaking, and if she wasn’t about to get married maybe I could’ve convinced her to marry me. Fred nudged me.

“Come on, L/n. Don’t tell me you’re the type to go soft over a wedding.” I ignored him in favour of smiling at Fleur, who beamed back.

Fred was on one side of me with George on the other, and bridesmaids and groomsmen were scattered across in front of the guests, while Fleur eventually reached the front. Charlie hastily pulled out her ring and presented it to Bill, who looked like he was on the verge of tears. I would have been too, with a bride like that.

“Be honest. Do you think I could seduce Fleur and convince her to elope with me?” I whispered, and George coughed to disguise his laughter.

“I think you could do anything.” Fred whispered back, and the vows began.

“With this hand I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way into darkness. With this ring I ask you to be mine.” At this point I was seriously beginning to question my sexuality. That was, until I saw the smile on Fred’s face. Then Bill said his vows.

“It was a million tiny little things that, when you added them all up, they meant we were truly supposed to be together, and I knew it. I knew it the very first time I touched you. It was like coming home, only to no home I’d ever known. I was just taking your hand to help you out of a carriage and I knew. It was the most pure form of magic that I’ve ever known.” Everyone, every single witch and wizard in attendance cooed, the witches tearing up and the wizards focussing on doing just the opposite.

“You may now kiss the witch.” The officiant said, and Bill did just that. We began cheering and screaming, and there wasn’t a couple quite as beautiful as this one.

The bridesmaids and groomsmen followed the newlyweds in a seperate carriage, and as I was squished between Ginny and George, I realised that life possibly couldn’t get any better. Ginny kept looking meaningfully between George and I, making me laugh harder and harder each time. She couldn’t have gotten it more wrong.

“I see you flirting.” She whispered in my ear, and I sniggered, patting George on the head.

“I don’t think so, Gin.” She narrowed her eyes and looked pointedly away, and that was just fine by me. Soon enough we reached the reception, Fred falling into step beside me.

“So, my dear Y/n. Were you ever planning on telling me that you want to snog my brothers tonsils out?” I shrieked with laughter, and Fred scowled.

“I’d sooner play tonsil hockey with Malfoy!” I cried out, and George punched my shoulder.

“Bloody tosser.” He mumbled, but his smile afterwards showed me there was no hard feelings.  

When we walked into the tent the sheer size of it shocked me; but then again, there were quite a lot of guests coming to reception that weren’t at the ceremony. Shortly everyone had arrived, and after introducing the bride and groom we took out seats. It was almost instantaneous - as soon as everyone was seated small pieces of paper appeared in front of each person. It seemed to be a checklist.

Find someone who’s patronus is an otter.

Find someone who’s painted their fingernails green.

Find someone who’s older than eighty.

Find someone who took more than four minutes to be sorted into their school house.

Find someone who was retrieved in the triwizards tournament.

Convince someone to confess to their soulmate and the spell they created.

I almost dropped the paper when I saw the last one. A soulmate spell? Those were incredibly tricky to cast, let alone invent.

“Fred! What’d you get?” We compared lists, and he laughed at mine.

“Look, one of yours has already been ticked off!” He said, and I got a horrible flashback to the tri-wizards tournament. Lucky Cedric had saved me relatively quickly, since my claustrophobia had already begun to set in.

“I wonder where Ced’s sitting.” I pondered, and George made a face.

“Why? You don’t like him, do you?” He asked, and I shrugged.

“No, not really. He’s fucking gorgeous, you’d have to be blind to not notice that, but I think he’s gay.” I whispered the last part, just in case the older brunette was somewhere behind me.

“I have to say, I agree.” Fred said gravely, and George rolled his eyes.

“Sometimes I think you’re gay, you dickhead.” Fred clutched his heart and I laughed at the twins - they really were the best.

“Anyway, Bill said that each list is charmed to cater to the person. So the answers to your list are the people you have the most in common with. Apparently you can’t leave until you’ve checked everything off AND you’ve checked what you can for other people. Take Hermione, for instance. She’s obviously the only one with an otter, so she can’t leave until she talks to everyone with that challenge.”

“I think I need a drink.” Fred said, and I agreed.

The night didn’t exactly fly by. Those with difficult lists were all too aware of how long it was taking them, and the only challenge I had left was the last one. I was on the verge of tears, and a drunken Fred was too. I didn’t know what challenge he had left, but the issue still remained. We were stuck here. There was maybe twenty people left, and the groom was one of them.

“Don’t fucking talk to me. I’m ready to throttle my lovely wife for the idea.” Bill warned as I approached him, and I groaned.

“Bill, I just want to go to bed! I’m begging you!” Bill only shook his head.

“I have absolutely zero power over it. I think a divorce is on the cards.” I brightened up at that, until I realised I would be stuck at the reception for the rest of life and wouldn’t be able to elope with the bride.

“What’s yours anyway?” I finally asked, and Bill glared at me.

“Watch someone fall in love. I know. Seriously, even if one person falls in love I have to fucking find them just before they do.” I had a good laugh at that. Bill seemed to be in a slightly worse position than I was, even though I was still fucked. I decided to take action, and stood on a chair before clinking a glass.

“Attention, ladies and gentlemen. If you or someone you know has invented a soulmate tracker spell then please, I beg you, hit me the fuck up and we can have a talk.” I stepped down and almost stumbled. Maybe I shouldn’t have done those fire-whisky shots. When in Rome, however. Mental note: you absolutely cannot keep up with Charlie Weasley when it comes to alcohol. I made my way over to Bill, who had placed an incredibly drunk Fred into a chair and was patting his head. It would have been nice if it wasn’t just weird.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” I said breezily, and Fred grabbed my hand.

“Of course you’re not, sweet cheeks.” Godric Gryffindor, I tried not to blush. I knew he was only saying it because he was drunk, and because he didn’t have a filter, but it still made me smile.

“Control your brother, Bill. Oh! Cedric’s still here!” I let go of Fred’s hand and tried to walk away, but to my dismay Fred yanked me backwards and pulled me onto his lap.

“Look’s like he’s your problem now.” Bill said. “I’ll go see how Cedric’s doing, shall I?” Bill was off without another word, and Fred pulled me even closer.

“Why do you like Cedric so much?” He murmured into my ear, and I involuntarily shivered.

“He’s my best friend, you oaf. Now let me go!” I struggled against his grip, but I just couldn’t escape.

“I thought I was your best friend.” He said, and I gave up trying.

“You are. I can have more than best friend, you realise that right?” Fred shook his head.

“No you can’t. I’m not letting you go until you say I’m your bestest friend ever.” He clutched me tighter than ever, and I tried in vain to get Bill’s attention.

“You’re a child. An actual child, Fred.” When there was no response, I sighed. “Fine. You’re my bestest friend ever.” I said, and Fred cheered, letting go of me. I stood up quickly, and Bill came back with Cedric in tow.

“Look who’s left. How are ya, Fred?” Cedric sat besides Fred, and I leaned on Bill’s shoulder.

“Fucking hell, I might fall asleep standing up.” I murmured, and Bill patted my head in a similar manner to what he had done to Fred.

“I’ll join you. Who do you reckon’s the most likely person to fall in love out of everyone in this room?” Bill asked, and I snorted.

“It’s got to be your grandma, doesn’t it?“ Bill scoffed and rolled his eyes at my laughter.

“Har har. You’re so funny, Y/n. I might just die of laughter.” He said, and I let my gaze wander around the room. I wondered who was going to fall in love tonight.

“Ced! What do you have left?” I asked, and Cedric looked up.

“I’ve got fall in love. I know, and there’s no way it’s with Grandma Weasley, I can tell you that.” He said, and I laughed. A lot. I clutched my stomach as I laughed, and really, it wasn’t even that funny. It was just the thought of Grandma Weasley walking down the aisle to meet Cedric took me out completely. With a soft pop, I watched Cedric and Bill disappear.

“What just happened?” Fred asked slowly, and I wasn’t in the state of mind to know.

“They popped. They’re going to bed now, maybe we should too. We can sleep on the floor.” I sat down on the floor and it was horribly uncomfortable.

“What do you have left?” I asked with a yawn, and Fred sighed heavily.

“I’ve done my challenges.” He said, and I remembered he was the key to someone else’s puzzle.

“That sucks then. Maybe you should try and talk to people and figure out what it is.” I said, and he looked at me sadly.

“I know what it is.” The silence stretched out for a long time.

“Well?” I asked, and he laughed without a trace of humour.

“You really don’t know?” He questioned, and I shook my head.

“Unfortunately my dear, I’m the answer to yours.” I blinked slowly. My crush and best friend of five years had invented a soulmate spell and hadn’t thought to tell me.

“Fred, come on. Just confess to her and we can leave this prison.” I pleaded with him, but the man was being unreasonable.

“Absolutely not. We can live here for the rest of our lives.” Fred smiled award winningly, and I found that I couldn’t smile back.

“At least tell me who she is. Maybe I can try and see if she likes you.” I fiddled with the hem of my dress, and it was hard to look Fred in the eye knowing he belonged to someone else.

“I don’t think so, pretty girl. I don’t think she will be too thrilled to see who she’s mated to.” Fred confessed, and I rolled my eyes.

“Any girl with a heartbeat would kill to be soulmates with you, Fred. Why can’t you see that?”

“Any girl?” He whispered.

“Any girl.” I confirmed. Fred took a deep breath.

“You’re my soulmate.” Fred said eventually, and before I could blink we were standing in the burrow.

I looked at Fred, his brown eyes ever beautiful, and made a split-second decision. I flung myself into his arms, and he caught me with ease.

“You’re a tosser,” I murmured into his ear. “-You should have told me as soon as you knew.” I hugged him tightly, and his grip on me tightened.

“I didn’t know how you’d react.” He confessed, and I pulled my head off his shoulder. Godric, he was beautiful.

“Still.” I leaned in and our lips met, moving in perfect sync. His hair was softer than what I had always thought it would be, and it was perfect.

[iaintyourbro]

The New Red Herrings: Biggs and Zack and How Avalanche Tells Us the LTD is Dead

Biggs and Zack are seemingly alive at the end of FFVII Remake Part 1 - so what does that mean? Will they live throughout the story? Maybe they’ll be like Wedge and escape death initially, only to be forced to face it shortly after?

There’s also interesting similarities on the death scenes of Biggs and Zack, A while ago I took screenshots of the “death” scene of Biggs and thought it was interesting how they had Biggs touch Cloud’s head and also made him promise something. 

And how are all these things connected to the LTD? 

Now, clearly, neither Biggs or Jessie had as dramatic of a death as Zack or Aerith. We actually see the initial injury or incident that causes each of them to die. Cloud comes upon Biggs while he’s already sitting down injured. Cloud and Tifa come to Jessie after she’s under the rubble and try to save her. 

We know Cloud pretty much loses it when Zack dies. He collapses mentally. He’s already been through enough shit to fill a lifetime, and now his only friend, his best friend, and the guy who saved his life, dies trying to get them back to Midgar. 

Why Zack is Important to Cloud

Relationship wise, Cloud obviously had a much deeper connection to Zack. At the point that Biggs dies, he doesn’t know any of that, but I think his death definitely triggers something in him. Biggs saw through Cloud’s front. We know Biggs dealt with the kids at the Leaf House, and most likely acted like a volunteer in the Big Brother program. He tells Cloud he’s got a lot in common with the kids at the Leaf House.

Zack had Cloud take on the responsibility to be his living legacy. Of course we all know he shuts down about five minutes later. Biggs had Cloud promise that this wouldn’t all be for nothing. In both cases, it doesn’t work out. He forgets what Zack told him and the Sector 7 plate still falls. 

Zack’s death has a major impact on Cloud - it’s ultimately what breaks him. It also gives us these really sad moments of somebody who’s already been through so much and is breaking now. 

Cloud is upset about Biggs. He was becoming his friend. The three Avalanche members really did accept Cloud and tried to be his friend. He was included with them - in most cases. Of course there’s the Avalanche party that he’s kicked out of (mind you - he does this to himself by acting like an ass to Barret and them) and then during Chapter 4, he’s separated to go steal Jessie’s dad’s ID. 

Ultimately, though, we know that Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie all like Cloud. They seem to see through the hard exterior pretty easily. So Cloud loses another person in his life.

The ending of FFVII Remake takes an interesting turn. Anybody who played OG or CC knows what is supposed to happen to Biggs and Zack.

But, Remake’s ending seems to imply that they survive the event that was supposed to take them out. 

Did Zack survive the last stand? Is this a case of the Last Stand in CC being combined with OG where as they walk away, Zack ends up getting shot anyway? 

So we also see Biggs.... wait, wrong picture.

That’s the right one. We get a shot of Charlie Sheen Biggs waking up in a bed in what looks like some type of either infirmary or large room. In OG, we know that all three of the Avalanche members die during the Sector 7 plate fall. In Remake, the only one we get confirmation on is Jessie, and that’s only in the Chapter description. 

Wedge we know survives until the Shinra building, where the Whispers ultimately take him out since he defied fate. 

So, what will happen to Biggs?

The biggest thing talked about seems to be the ending. Zack surviving created a lot of buzz. Is there a second timeline? Is he going to just simply walk another 10 feet and get shot in the back? Did her survive in the first place? Why does Stamp look different on that bootleg chip bag?

Will we have a beautiful Zerith reunion? 

In the OG, the Love Triangle illusion was the red herring. This was mostly to trick and distract the player to focus on something, so later they can destroy you with major twists. It also was used to get the player to like Aerith so her death would be more impactful. In addition, it makes the whole Northern Crater confession from Cloud about Tifa’s opinion being the only one that matters a slam in your face of holy shit what is going on?!

At this point, everybody and their mother knows Aerith dies. It’s not something that was kept a secret. It’s referenced in various materials. The one thing not openly referenced is what’s going on with Cloud. They never reference the Lifestream, the fake persona, or anything outside of the OG and Ultimanias. I think this is a shame since it’s such an important part of his character arc, but I get that they want to try and leave the element of surprise in play.

I think everybody would agree that the moment you find out Cloud was just a grunt that was WITH Zack during the Nibelheim incident is super powerful. I still get chills all these years later. Letting this be a well known thing would take away the element of surprise from new fans. Of course, people can go online and read blogs like this one and know all of this, but for somebody - especially future generations - who may just be looking for a new game to play, you’d want this element of surprise to stay in tact. 

We can’t use Aerith as the only red herring anymore, and we can’t use the love triangle. For many reasons. Everybody knows about it and the love triangle was a poor choice for something like this because some people missed the point completely.

Now, FFVII Twitter is always on fire. 

Also, even though the Lifestream and Cloud’s true identity are pretty well kept secrets in terms of printed media, most of the people who played FFVII Remake played the original game, they know what happens. People who were new and played Remake first most likely went and bought OG and played it. So now they know what happens. 

They knew this, or they probably wouldn’t have shown Cloud in this state, but even for those who don’t, the alternate timeline theory is born. Biggs enhances this theory because he’s alive too. How can Cloud walk past them AND be carried by Zack in some catatonic state?

It keeps us distracted. They want us to think that fate can be changed. In the case of Zack, they’re even saying that the past can be changed. 

Ultimately, whatever they do, it’ll be shocking to most players. I do trust that the devs aren’t being deceitful when they say they are going to keep the major plot points the same and FFVII will be FFVII going forward. Part 1 keeps major plot points but adds substance to a lot of things. They took out unnecessary parts and enhanced others. They also removed a lot of the love triangle stuff. 

Another striking thing with all of this is the Jessie factor. The Chapter screen tells us she died - it only says Biggs was seriously injured. That hasn’t stopped speculation.

The ending shows gloves on the table next to Biggs’ bed and a lot people said oh it’s Jessie’s left glove! And it does appear that it is. There’s only one glove. To me, this seems like they recovered her body and were able to pull of some personal affects of hers to leave with Biggs. Both articles look damaged or faded. 

Faded could mean they’ve been sitting in the sun for a while. The incident happened a few days ago, though we don’t have a definitive time on when we’re shown Biggs. This could be a future look.

They also could simply be damaged and full of dust from the plate collapse. 

It is implied in Chapter 4 if you listen to the conversation between Jessie’s mom and the gang that Biggs and Jessie have a different relationship than Wedge and Jessie. 

I have some thoughts on what this may mean:

Biggs is Jessie’s BFF and her mom likes him.

Jessie and Biggs dated at one point and decided to not tell her mom that they no longer are or that its casual.

Jessie’s mom was hounding Jessie about finding a man so she picked Biggs to be her pretend boyfriend and he agreed.

Biggs and Jessie are secretly dating and only her mom knows.

Which one do I think it is? Well, knowing Jessie, I can definitely see her doing #3. I can absolutely see her acting like Biggs is her boyfriend to get her mom off her back. I think #1 and #2 are also huge possibilities. #4 is far fetched, but they could cover it up by having Jessie flirt relentlessly with Cloud and appear to be single. 

Some people think that Jessie will end up at the Gold Saucer singing. Personally, I really hope not. If they keep a bunch of people alive (even if it’s for a short amount of time), it really takes away one of the major themes of FFVII which is death and moving on. In addition, I think it’s too many people they’d need to kill off later. Jessie is a very popular character, so I hope they don’t take that as an incentive to change that aspect of the story. 

Aerith’s funeral and Jessie’s death are similar as well, so I think it is foreshadowing some things. 

We get a princess style carry here. Aerith and Jessie both get these in Remake. Jessie’s second one ends in her death. Will Aerith get a second princess carry by Cloud? Will it be to take her to her final resting place?

Maybe she won’t even go to the lake - maybe to the sky?

We know Tifa was super upset in OG, and they really don’t touch on it much. We only see her run away crying after this moment. You learn in Case of Tifa that she’s really upset about, but a lot of people don’t read Case of Tifa, so they only know this scene. 

We know that she gets very upset over Jessie’s death.

I think Aerith’s death will be much worse. 

It seems Jessie’s death is a reference to how Aerith’s death was handled in the OG.

Will it be handled the same? Maybe. I think they’re going to make it seem like she’s going to be okay, and then boom.

So the ending gives us hope that we have two friends that are alive. It makes us think that we can save Aerith. I do think Wedge’s death towards the end and comments that Red XIII made in Chapter 17 may also be hinting towards the fact that you cannot change the past and you cannot change fate. 

Over on Discord, @anesuna​ brought up a good point about Wedge’s cats. Biggums survives the plate collapse along with Wedge. The other two cats - Reggie and Smalls - sadly perish (::cries a lot::). This could also be a reference that Biggs survived while Jessie and Wedge do not. 

So what about the LTD?

I think this is a heavy reference to the old OG love triangle. Don’t fall for it! They’re warning players now instead of wanting them to fall for it. 

Why do I say this? Aerith seemed to think the love triangle was fun. Thing is, Cloud wasn’t all there at this point, so it was just an illusion. Since players didn’t seem to get that the first time, they’re going to make it clear now. There were a lot of aspects they seemed to take from Aerith and give to Jessie. Overly flirty (with Jessie they added thirsty) and being overly childish at times. Aerith in remake is still somewhat childish, but not completely.

Oblivious Cloud is Oblivious. Yeah, he was oblivious in OG that Aerith and Tifa had feelings for him. He has no idea what Wedge is talking about now. Earlier in this same conversation he thinks that Wedge is telling him not to come around because people will gossip about Jessie being in Avalanche, but the player knows really what he’s referring to...

I think this is probably a reference to the Gold Saucer date because of the stage part. I take things at face value and don’t really dig too deep, but I think this exchange with Wedge is supposed to tell the player not to fall for these false loves early in the game.

It’s brought up again during Aerith’s resolution scene.

Earlier Wedge said not to fall for Jessie’s trick, because it was a game to her. It wasn’t real love. Aerith is now telling her that if Cloud thinks he falls in love with her, it’s not real. 

We have two separate instances in the game where they’re telling you to beware of the false love. It’s two times the word love is used. 

After all of this, the ending presents us with two guys who should be dead that appear to be alive. One of them is directly connected to Aerith.

This was their way of trying to shut down the LTD and replace it with different red herrings. Will it work as well as the LTD? Well, it seems that the majority of FFVII Remake fans have talked about the ending.

Yes, a lot of people talk about the LTD, but I think the majority of players are more interested overall in what happens next and what’s up with Zack. I think the majority of the fandom is also ready for the LTD to officially be dead so we can actually focus on everything else and stop the madness. 

It’ll never fully stop, but at least it’ll be clear for anybody who plays the game and alleviate the bulk of the chaos. 

Say hello to your new red herrings: Biggs and Zack. 

Say bye to the LTD.

[fandomlovingfreak]

Mrs. Weasley, Dear (6/?)

George Weasley/Reader

Sequel to You Can’t Marry a Malfoy

Rating: E for everyone. Triggers include pregnancy, talk of pregnancy. Please do not read if these subjects make you uncomfortable! I wouldn’t want to trigger anyone<3

Word Count: 1296

Masterlist Link I AO3 Link

Summary: Reader and George Weasley have been married for six months now. After their whirlwind romance, including a Pureblood Marriage Contract with a special clause, confessions of love from both, and a quick wedding, everything seems right in their world. Domestic life seems like it was meant for them.

Notes: Sorry for the delay (three whole days yikes). I promise it’s because of my midterm schedule and I will finish this fic!! Big love to anyone who’s liked, commented, reblogged, followed...etc! All of it! Thank you so very much.

Enjoy

"What do you want for dinner?" George looks over his shoulder to where his wife is sitting. He had volunteered to make dinner this week as she has felt under the weather. 

"I dunno...Do you want anything in particular?" She's wrapped in a blue blanket, drinking lemon water from a glass. She looks tired, like she hasn't slept in ages. He's never seen her this sick before, and truthfully, it's freaking him out a bit. "Maybe...chicken?" (y/n) scrunches her nose. "--or not. Does anything sound good?" "I'm sorry. I think I'm coming down with something--Nothing sounds appetizing." He gives her a sympathetic look, "What about broth? Do you think you could handle that?" "George, you have to eat too." She takes another sip of her water. "I can live off broth tonight," he insists, leaning against the countertop to look at her. "Are you sure? Tonight is the fourth time this week I haven't been able to stomach much more--I'm afraid you're not eating enough." "I eat a large lunch to combat the little you can eat for dinner. Plus, you haven't been able to stand the things I tried to make for dinner. I want you to be comfortable, especially if you're not feeling well." (y/n) smiles at him, "thank you." "Of course, darling. I'll warm you up a bowl, and then I'll rub your feet in front of the fireplace." "How'd I get so lucky?" she grins. *** She's able to stomach the little broth he warms up for her, sipping it as they lay on the couch. (y/n)'s feet are in his lap as he massages the instep of her right foot. "You have no idea how good this feels," she closes her eyes as his thumb rubs up the arch to the ball of her foot. "I'm glad I can help." She hums in the back of her throat, "You're so good to me, Georgie." "Well, I love you. I'd do anything for you." He sees the tears in her eyes before they spill. "What's wrong, darling?" "Nothing. I'm so--I'm just so happy." He leans over to wipe away a tear from her cheek, "No need to cry over it." He chuckles. "I can't help it. I don't know what's wrong with me right now." He rolls his eyes, "Getting all emotional on me over a foot rub." *** He kisses her goodbye in the morning. She's in her pink bathrobe and soft white slippers. She looks so tired as she kisses him back. "Feeling sick again today?" "I feel awful." She shuffles over to get her mug. He watches her for a second, "maybe you should see a healer?" (y/n) turns to face him, "Maybe this morning I'll pop by. Maybe they'll have a draught for nausea or something. I feel just awful." He kisses her temple, "I can come back around lunch if you want?" "No," she smiles weakly at him, "I'll be fine. Don't worry."

Unfortunately, that's not how he's built. He finds himself assuming the worse multiple times the first hour he's in the shop. What if she's got some awful disease? What if the healer can't help her? What if he loses her? Merlin, he can not lose her. He finally got her-- "Is something wrong?" Oswald looks at him. His employee looks concerned and confused by this sudden change in George. He's never jittery like this, and he looks so sickly himself. All the color in his face drained from nerves. George attempts to look at ease, but his brown eyes give away how distracted he is by (y/n)'s health. "Nothing--Well (y/n) is going to the healer. I'm just nervous that she's sick." "I can watch over the shop if you want to take the day," Oswald suggests. "Are you sure? I don't want to overstep. You already work so hard--" "Mate," Oswald laughs, "you're no help like this. You should go home and take it easy. I can handle the store on my own. Besides, we've been pretty slow today." George contemplates this for a moment before agreeing. "Fine. I'll take the day. But just this once."

George hurries into the house the moment it appears in front of him. (y/n) must've already left because the house is empty. "Great." he paces the kitchen for a moment before deciding to see if Charlie is around. Apparating to the Burrow, he finds his brother messing with something in their dad's shed. "What are you up to?" he asks, peaking over Charlie's shoulder to get a better view. "Messing with this muggle radio, dad got awhile back." It's practically ancient, scuffed up a lot more than it seems like it should, and it keeps making a god awful noise. "What the hell for?" "Bored. Hey Georgie, what would you think about me traveling again? I don't know what I should do." George knew this day would come, eventually. Charlie wasn't one to stick around in one place for too long. He had only returned home because of Fred, probably stuck around because of how distraught George was over the whole situation. But, now that he has (y/n), he supposes Charlie's main job here is over. He can't help but feel suddenly sad, thinking of Charlie being so damn far away again. "I--I think you should do what you want to. You have been here a while now..." Charlie grins, "I know you're in good hands now. And it's not like I won't be back eventually." Charlie had struck up a small romance with (y/n)'s friend Amelia after the wedding, but it had been shortlived. Charlie was wild, something that couldn't be tamed and domesticated easily. It hadn't been surprising to find out it hadn't worked out. For a moment, though, he thought maybe Charlie would settle down. It had been wishful thinking. "You gotta do what makes ya happy, H," he nods. Yes. If Charlie felt like this was the right thing for him, George had to believe it. *** He wastes a few hours with Charlie messing with the radio before remembering why he took the day off. (y/n) had to be home by now. "Why did you come here, anyway?" Charlie had asked before he left. "(y/n) went to the healer today. I was a nervous wreck at work, and Oswald had insisted I take the day off." Charlie had grinned, shook his head but said Nothing. His wife is sitting on the living room couch when he arrives home. She looks nervous, which in turn makes all the anxiety he felt this morning return instantly. "What's wrong?" he asks. His hands feel clammy, and his throat tight as he waits for the worst news. (y/n) stands up, facing him. "I'm pregnant," she looks at him wide-eyed. The words don't register for a moment like his brain's stopped working. He stares back at her for a beat trying to make sure he's actually heard her right. "You're--" His eyes widen before his smile reaches from ear to well--where his other ear should be, "You're pregnant?" He picks her up off the ground, twirling her around their living room. (y/n) is giggling wildly, clinging to him. She wraps her arms around his neck. He sets her down on the ground. "I'm honestly surprised. I--" "Merlin. I wasn't even trying. I'm good." He grins goofily at her. (y/n) rolls her eyes, "Anyways...The healer said I'm two months along." "We have to tell our families! Mum can start making clothing--" (y/n)'s laughter pulls him out of his thoughts, "There's plenty of time for that. Right now, can you make me something to eat?" He cocks his head slightly, "of course I can. What do you and the baby want?" Shaking her head fondly, (y/n) says, "broth is fine."

[lifeofkaze]

An Art of Balance #27

Orion Amari x MC

A/N: Greatest thanks to @carewyncromwell for being the best beta reader ever and knowing my characters better than I do! <3 Also, please don't be mad with me, okay? *ducks from angry Charlie fans*

Word Count: ~ 3.100

_________________________________________________

Chapter 26: Skewed Perceptions

To distract herself from her mind crushing thoughts, Lizzie wandered the sunny grounds for some time. She had no particular destination in mind but it was still too early to meet Charlie at the Reserve and the thought of returning to the castle made her feel positively sick. All that was waiting for her there were Rowan, the nasty rumours and the judging stares of her peers. The thought alone had her throat tightening; out here, under the open sky, she at least felt like she could breathe more freely.

The fresh air and sunshine helped restore her physical energy, but Lizzie didn’t feel better at all. She had no eye for the budding flowers lining the pathways or the blinking of the sun on the surface of the Black Lake. All she could focus on was keeping the broken pieces of her heart together. Orion had looked so resigned when she had informed him of her decision, and even though he had been quick to keep himself in check, the flash of disappointment shining in his eyes hadn’t been lost on her.

Every time she thought of him, the longing for his company grew almost unbearable. The realisation of what she had thrown away before it could even have a chance to begin threatened to suffocate her.

Lizzie was blinking back the tears that just didn’t want to stop welling up in her eyes, but she refused to cry any more of them. She had brought this upon herself after all and had done the right thing in the end. Maybe the pain tearing at her insides was the just punishment for all the lies she had told to the ones she supposedly held so dear.

After some more aimless wandering, Lizzie directed her steps towards the Creatures Reserve. She had just passed Hagrid’s hut, when the faint sound of her name had her stop and turn around.

Skye was jogging down the steps that led back to the castle. Apparently, Penny’s Pepper-Up Potion had finally kicked in; Skye was looking a lot fresher than before; her face had a healthy colour from running and her movements were full of her typical vigour, a stark contrast to Lizzie’s sorry state. But she highly doubted any potion in the world would have helped her feel better anyway.

“Jameson,” she shouted again as soon as she was within earshot. She quickly caught up with Lizzie, her breath not even unsteady. “There you are, I’ve been looking for you.”

“Well, now you found me,” Lizzie answered wryly, not really in the mood for a conversation. She hadn’t seen Skye since that morning, when she had shut a door in her face to keep her from prying.

Skye put her hands to her hips and looked her up and down. “We need to have a word.”

Lizzie couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Seems like I’m doing nothing but talking today.”

“You’re going to tell me what the hell’s going on right now,” Skye huffed, bluntly ignoring Lizzie’s sarcasm. “Rowan and Penny are acting all weird and I heard that moron Everett talking shit about you in the Common Room.”

Her green eyes flashed angrily. “Gave him a bloody piece of my mind. He’s been badmouthing you all over the school, it seems.”

Relief washed over Lizzie at hearing Skye’s words. Of course, having a teammate spreading stories about her was awful, but at least it hadn’t been Rowan’s work after all. Lizzie felt yet another pang of guilt at having suspected her in the first place.

“What did he say?” she sighed. She did have a good guess, but wanted to hear it from Skye herself.

“He said you’ve been messing with Weasley and the captain at the same time.” She snorted in disgust as she continued. “Called you a few very nasty things as well, but I’m pretty sure he won’t repeat those anymore.”

Lizzie rubbed her temples; the pain hammering behind them was starting to come back at her words, spreading down into her jaw and neck. “Do I even want to know what you did?”

Skye’s expression didn’t even flinch. “Probably not; so please tell me risking eternal detention was justified and he’s deranged and made everything up.”

Lizzie felt like she was being caught in a continuous loop when she replied with a vague “Well, kind of.”

Skye’s eyes went wide and her face quickly changed colour. ”What do you mean, kind of?!” she gasped incredulously and gripped Lizzie’s shoulders. Her headache was intensifying quickly as Skye started shaking her.

“Relax; not like you think,” she hurriedly replied to calm Skye’s panic. “There’s nothing going on between Charlie and me. No meddling outside of the team, don’t worry,” she couldn’t help but add sardonically.

Skye was silent for a moment as she let the information sink in. Her eyes narrowed. “So that was Orion’s coat this morning?”

Lizzie bit her lip and as she wound herself out of Skye’s grasp. “Do you really need an answer?”

But Skye wasn’t having any of it and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You bet.”

With a sigh, Lizzie started recounting what had happened after she had left her and Penny at the party yesterday for the second time. With how often the scenes had played in her mind, it felt like close to the hundredth time, though.

Skye’s jaw dropped at the same rate that Lizzie grew more miserable. It felt like poking into an open wound that had just stopped bleeding again and again.

When Lizzie reached the point where Rowan had caught her and Orion kissing – the thought alone sent her emotions into overdrive again and had her cheeks blush dark red even now – the sympathy on Skye’s face quickly turned to worry, flowing seamlessly into something resembling a mild panic. It was only then, when she felt the tears trickling down her face, that Lizzie realised she was crying again.

She wiped at her eyes angrily but it was no use; the tears were spilling down her cheeks and she couldn’t help the sobs shaking her body.

Lizzie didn’t recall having cried in front of Skye ever before; up until when Skye had opened up to her about her father, they had never gotten so personal before. They would have rather cheered each other up straight away, than ride out their breakdowns together. It felt like crossing an invisible line; neither of them was used to comforting the other through some serious heartache.

“Blimey, Liz…” Her tone was unnaturally uncertain. She laid her hand on Lizzie’s back in an awkward motion and started patting it clumsily.

Lizzie had cried so much already, she was honestly sick of it; Skye’s crude attempts at cheering her up made her smile despite herself. She straightened her shoulders and wiped her eyes; Skye was visibly relieved to see her regain her composure.

“I’m alright, don’t worry. Thank you for standing up for me to Everett, in any case.”

Skye grinned and elbowed her into her side. “We’re mates after all, I’ll always have your back.”

Her smile faded a little as she continued cautiously. “So, what’s the deal with you and the captain now? It’ll rattle the team like hell, you know.”

“No, it won’t, whatever happened between him and me isn’t going anywhere; I had to promise Rowan.”

“Oh,” was all Skye managed as a reply, the wind taken out of her speech on team ethics before she had even begun. She was clearly looking for the right words to say but didn’t find any.

“Perhaps it’s better for all of us that way,” she finally said.

When Lizzie raised her eyebrows doubtingly, she quickly clarified, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m really, truly sorry for you guys, but I told you there’s a reason the Pro League wants their players to stay on friendly terms. Getting involved messes with the head.”

Another grin formed on her face, looking maybe a bit too jaunty, but Lizzie knew she was doing her best to cheer her up.

“Look on the bright side, Jameson; now that that’s out of the way, we all can completely focus on smashing Gryffindor and finally get our hands on that bloody Cup. You’ll see, no feelings, no distractions.”

*

Lizzie’s head was still spinning from Skye’s words as she finally made her way to the Creatures Reserve. Usually, she would have dismissed Skye’s attitude with an eyeroll or a snarky comment, but she couldn’t help the thought that perhaps this time Skye was right.

It was not like her situation could get any worse, so why not put her focus on something that she could actually control for a change?

She found Charlie right at the edge of the Forbidden Forest; he was sitting on the ground surrounded by an assortment of Wiggentrees, several Bowtruckles climbing up and down his back, shoulders and outstretched arms.

When he saw her approach, he gently placed them back onto their branches and got up with a warm smile.

“Hey Shortcake, how did it go?”

Her mind was still preoccupied with processing everything that had gone down since she had last seen him, so Lizzie didn’t immediately catch on with Charlie’s meaning. “What?”

“You said you wanted to get to the root of the talking, remember?”

“Oh yeah, right,” she mumbled absentmindedly. She had totally forgotten about what had made her seek out Rowan in the first place. “According to Skye, it was Everett, our moron of a Beater.”

Confused, Charlie tilted his head. “Why would he do that?”

Lizzie could only shrug; to be perfectly honest, she was past caring at this point. “He’s jealous, I guess; he couldn’t land with me when tried, so that’s probably his comeback now.”

“But why tell you’re with me?”

“Because it’s the best way to get back at me and Orion at the same time,” she sighed. “He can’t stand the fact that I prefer someone else to him.” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “As if he had ever been an option.”

“I know he’s your teammate and all but, damn, what a bloody jerk,” Charlie huffed. “He’d better learn to live with his injured pride now that you and Amari are finally going places.”

Much to his surprise, Lizzie’s face fell at his words. “No, we aren’t,” she declared with a defeated voice. “I called things off with him for Rowan,” she explained at Charlie’s astonished expression.

“I’m really sorry to hear that.” His face softened with sympathy at Lizzie’s apparent distress. “How do you feel now? Do you want to talk about it?”

Lizzie knew she would start crying again if she had to dissect her feelings one more time, even if she knew Charlie genuinely cared. So she swallowed the lump building in her throat, straightened her shoulders and put on the most light-hearted smile she could muster.

“I’m alright; it was the right thing to do in the end,” she stated with a firm voice.

Charlie’s eyes didn’t leave her face for a second. “Are you sure? You know you can always talk to me, I’m here for you.”

When she shook her head, he offered her a tentative smile. “What are you going to do now? Things are bound to get really weird, aren’t they?”

Lizzie groaned; she hadn’t even thought that far ahead. “I don’t even know how to look Orion in the face at the moment; just imagine how awkward Quidditch practise is going to be from now on.”

“Well, I can’t complain too much about that tight-knit team of yours getting rattled,” Charlie winked jokingly in an attempt to cheer her up; he couldn’t stand Lizzie looking so miserable. “Maybe that’s exactly the advantage we need against you in the final.”

He knew immediately his joke had been misplaced when he saw the incredulity forming on Lizzie’s face.

“Good to hear at least someone knows how profit from my heartache,” she hissed at him. Her eyes had narrowed dangerously and her whole posture was suddenly tense. Where she had been downcast but still relaxed before, she now radiated an angry, aggressive energy.

“Woah, hold on, it was only a joke.” Charlie raised his hands defensively but Lizzie continued glaring at him.

“It’s not a joke to me!” she exclaimed, her raised voice scaring the Bowtruckles further into their trees in a scurry. Her eyes were flashing furiously; all the frustration and suppressed anger at herself, Rowan and the whole situation was breaking it’s way at Charlie’s expense.

Charlie’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s even going on? I thought you said you were alright?”

“I am alright!” she shot back immediately. “The only thing not alright is you being perfectly happy about this shipwreck of a situation.”

Before he could stop himself, a disbelieving laugh escaped his mouth; Lizzie’s accusation was too absurd. “What in Godric’s name are you talking about? Have you lost your mind?”

But Lizzie was working herself into a rage. “Oh, come on Charlie,” she huffed, “both of us know you don’t like Orion and never have. But now you don’t have to worry anymore, nothing is going change any time soon; you’ll have me all to yourself.”

“Stop being so full of yourself, girl; arrogance doesn’t suit you much. This is not true and you know it.”

He had never seen Lizzie so livid before. He regretted having made his joke in the first place, but her aggressive tone was starting to make him angry as well.

“Is it?” she sneered. “That’s exactly the reason why I didn’t tell you anything in the first place. I knew you’d never understand, all you care about is us playing with magical creatures for the rest of our school years. But that’s not how it goes, Charlie; things are changing, people are changing!”

Her words hurt him more than she could possibly know. “All I ever did was support you and set your head straight when you needed it,” he responded through clenched teeth.

“Yes, tell that to yourself,” she snorted dismissively. “I thought you were my friend, but instead of showing a bit of compassion, you have nothing better to do than to make fun of me, while everything actually suits you perfectly!”

He felt his face go red at her accusation. “I can’t believe you’re saying that! As if I’d ever be capable of playing you like that; you’re my best friend!”

His voice had grown considerably louder as well; they were facing each other now, both of their eyes shooting daggers. Charlie couldn’t remember a single time he and Lizzie had screamed at each other.

Now, as she was looking him up and down, her beautiful face twisted into an angry sneer, he almost shuddered at the coldness in her eyes. “Your best friend, huh? I’m not so sure about that one right now.”

Charlie had heard enough. “You know what, Lizzie? Maybe you’re right, maybe people are changing. I feel like I don’t know you anymore these days.”

She flinched at hearing her actual name out of his mouth; Charlie almost never called her anything but affectionate nicknames.

He gathered his bag from the ground and slung it over his shoulder in a furious motion, not even trying to conceal his hurt and disappointment anymore.

“You have changed a lot this year, but certainly not for the better. You want to get rid of these rumours?” He barked a humourless laugh that echoed back from the dark trees. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure people won’t see us together anymore.”

With that, he pushed past her and left her standing alone amongst the scared looking Bowtruckles.

Lizzie immediately regretted lashing out at him, all of her anger blowing out in an instant. The hurt in Charlie’s voice was palpable, every word feeling like a slap to her face. It was bringing her back to her senses.

“Charlie, wait!”

But he was already rounding the corner of the path leading back to the castle without so much as looking back at her.

She wanted to run after him and apologise, but she knew it would have been pointless. There was no use in arguing with Charlie when he was angry; he needed time to cool off first before she had a chance to get through to him again.

Lizzie stared at the bend in the path where he had vanished out of her sight. Charlie had been the only one of her friends who had stuck with her all the time, not even judging her once, and she had nothing better to do than let her frustration out on him.

Feeling suddenly deflated, Lizzie leaned against the nearest Wiggentree and closed her eyes. If it wasn’t for the pain still gnawing at her head, she would have been convinced all of this was nothing but a nightmare. But she knew she wouldn’t wake up out of this one.

When she felt a slight tickling against her cheek, she opened her eyes again and looked down to find one of the Bowtruckles had climbed from his branch onto her shoulder. It was raking its long, spindly fingers against her face and looked at her curiously, probably hoping for a little snack.

Lizzie held her hand out and the little creature started climbing it, wandering up her arm onto her other shoulder. She watched it absentmindedly as she thought about how many of her friends she had managed to disappoint in less than a full day.

She had betrayed Rowan’s trust; she had turned away from Orion without even giving him a say in the matter; she had ignored all of Skye’s warnings and probably plunged their team into disarray; and now she had deeply hurt Charlie by unfairly questioning his motives.

Lizzie buried her hand deep in her pockets after she had set the Bowtruckle back onto its branch and reluctantly turned her steps back towards the school.

Her eyes being firmly fixed onto the ground, she tried to ignore the scattered groups of students enjoying the beautiful weather as she was nearing the castle gates. On a normal day, she would have been among them, enjoying some downtime with her friends, eagerly looking forward to their final match in pursuit of the Cup. She couldn’t have felt further from this normality she craved like nothing else.

All of a sudden, she felt very alone.

[atmilliways]

I was channeling exhausted Charles a little hard, because gd is moving tiring... I know I have some messages I should really get to answering, and I promise that will happen soon. 

Anyway, happy belated birthday, @insomniac-pens!

Charles is couch surfing against his will; Emeto mention; Implied/Referenced Drug Use; Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism; Early klok

C'mon, Charlie, Stay

There was, for a brief period, a time when Charles was between apartments due to an unfortunate infestation problem that had allowed him to break his lease early. It allowed him to lease a much better place, closer to both his office and the new band he was managing, but with one catch: it wouldn’t be available for him to move in for another six weeks.

To his surprise, once the band found out about this they flat out refused to leave him alone until he agreed to crash on their couch. No amount of pointing out that he had the money to just stay in a hotel until his move-in date seemed to sway them. So, he dutifully shelled out his hotel money to pay for Dethklok’s apartment to be professionally cleaned and the couch reupholstered, and that was that. 

Except, dear god, when did these men sleep. 

Charles tried to think of them as men, but frankly it got harder the longer he stayed with them. Murderface had only recently turned twenty-one, and Nathan and Toki were still technically underage; that didn’t stop them or Skwisgaar or Pickles from constantly partying themselves stupid. 

In the very living room (which they also used for band practices) where he was trying to sleep. 

The last straw was when they gave Toki shrooms for the first time and he puked all over the coffee table, including the glasses that Charles had carefully folded and placed there before settling in for the night. Without a word of complaint or reprimand, he was simply up and packed and dressed enough to drive to the nearest hotel, because this was clearly not working.

“Dood dood dood, where’re ya going?” Pickles gabbled, dragging on the manager’s arm as he tried to head out of the front door. 

“To get a hotel room, a hot shower, and a good night’s sleep,” Charles replied, although personally he felt that this should have been obvious. 

“But you can do all that here!”

Charles sighed, resettling his duffle bag on his shoulder. “Thank you, Pickles, but we both know it’s, ah, only a matter of time before I get vomited on, and cleaning my glasses off was unpleasant enough.”

As if on cue, there were more retching sounds from further inside the apartment, followed by shouts and whoops of “He got the couch,” “That’sch twenty points,” and “Directs hits, everiesones does to takes the drink-shots!”

Pickles grimaced. “Okay, so maybe the kid wasn’t ready for caps. That’s my bad, I’m sahrry. But dood, you should still stay. . . .” He trailed off, looking around with a kind of urgent disappointment that Charles had only previously seen when the drummer was trying to find a misplaced stash. Then, with an uncertain grin, he added, “You can, uh, you can stay in my room if ya want.” 

“Ah. . . .” Charles blinked. He was very, very tired, and not entirely sure he’d heard that correctly. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s got a door’n everything,” Pickles continued, obviously warming to the idea as soon as he saw that Charles wasn’t rejecting it outright. “You can even have the bed, I can ride the floor. Which I can actually see again now, thanks again for hirin’ those cleaners, dood! And I think I can even find ya some clean sheets and stuff. C’mon, Charlie, stay.”

So, soon afterward, Charles found himself back in his pajamas. They were just the t-shirt and boxers that he’d thrown a jacket and slacks over to leave, really, which by his temporary housemates’ standards apparently made him a prude. He was also swaddled in clean sheets and blankets on Pickles’ bed, as promised, and Pickles had receded back out to the party with a vague, Sleep tight, dood. Despite the lumpiness of the mattress Charles was actually quite comfortable and, with the door closed and the lights off, fairly well insulated against the noise of the band’s continued revelry. 

He was asleep within seconds. 

Some time later Charles woke not to loud noise or something landing on him, but because he had to pee. Not bothering to find his glasses or slippers in the dark (though he was wearing socks; he wasn’t an animal), he slipped out of bed and shuffled towards the door—

His foot connected with something warm and soft, possibly a stomach, and someone groaned, “Oof.” 

“Shit,” Charles muttered. He groped along the nearby wall for a light switch. “Ah . . . Pickles, is that you?”

The lights snapped on harsh and bright, and it was indeed Pickles curled up on the floor, red dreads spayed out like fireworks against the dingy carpet, without even a pillow or blanket. “Yeeeeeeah?” Pickles replied blearily, squinting up at him. 

Charles sighed. The last thing they needed was Pickles unable to play gigs because he’d tweaked his back or neck sleeping on the floor—although, in the short time he’d known the man, Charles had seen him passed out in worse positions. Still, couldn’t be too careful while Dethklok was still starting out. 

“Get in bed,” Charles told him. 

“Nnnn.” Pickles rubbed clumsily at his eyes and swiped and the drool that had collected on his goatee. “You get the bed, couch’s fucked fer now. . . .”

It was only a twin-sized mattress. Charles squinted back at it, then gave a mental shrug. “We’ll share. Just get in, I’ll, ah, be right back.”

He stepped over Pickles and headed for the bathroom. Both the toilet and sink were splattered liberally with vomit, enough that he doubted it had all come out of Toki. He hadn’t smelled any on the man he’d just invited to bunk with him, which . . . was all Charles had the energy to care about, at the moment. He sighed again and just pissed in the bathtub, because fuck it, he was still half asleep. 

When he returned, Pickles had already burrowed into the blankets in the dead center of the bed. Not in the mood to be deterred, Charles turned the light off and wedged himself into the available free space on the mattress. 

“Mmmhey,” Pickles mumbled drowsily somewhere near his shoulder. 

“Scoot over,” Charles grumbled back, and when he got no response gave another shove with his hip. That seemed to get the message across because Pickles did scoot, squirming over and turning into him, clinging to Charles’ arm. 

“‘S cold over here,” Pickles offered in explanation. He was pressed close all along the other man’s side, mouth closer to his ear in the darkness; his breath smelled of whiskey, cigarettes, and reefer. “‘Mglad you stayed, Charlie. Hotels fuckin’ suck . . . this is better, isn’t it?”

“Hm,” Charles hummed. All he really wanted to do was settle in and go back to sleep—although the warmth of a body next to his was nice. The hint of smoke was nice too, despite it having been years since he’d given it up himself. Lulling. Like a steady surf washing over him, pulling back, washing over him again. His eyes drifted closed and he felt himself relax, sinking into the mattress as far as the uneven springs would allow. 

Then, a warm press of lips against his, so soft and tentative that at first he thought it was a dream—he often dreamed that way, slipping from real to unreal so quickly the change was imperceptible. And if it was a dream, why not kiss back? Charles let his lips part, turning into it, that warmth, placidly enjoying the gentle scratch of facial hair against his own clean shaven face. 

It was the arm suddenly draped over him that gave him pause. That felt real, a solid palm splayed as near to the small of his back as it could get while he still lay mostly flat. A body leaning flush into his, silently crying out for closeness. Pickles. 

Pickles tasted like a shot of Fireball in a dim, crowded bar. 

Charles blinked his eyes open, breaking the kiss with a hand on the man’s shoulder. A client. A boss, if the band ever made it as big as he was determined to ensure they would. This was a huge breach in his personal code of professionalism. 

“Charlie?” Pickles whispered, and it sounded so much like a plea (I want you, I need you, please don’t stop) that Charles gave his shoulder what hopefully came across as a reassuring squeeze. 

“Pickles,” he murmured gently, “you’re drunk. I’m, ah, not sure this is a good—”

“I’m always drunk,” Pickles interrupted, mumbling petulantly. 

True enough. Charles just hoped the fame and fortune would kick in before lover failure, for all the guys. Boys, really, playing around with their music and drugs and anyone they could get into bed with them. . . . Case in point. 

He just wished he wasn’t so damn tired. Or at least that he was awake enough to handle this situation with the delicacy it deserved, because he hesitated, and sensed instinctively that Pickles noticed. 

Still, he said, “Regardless, I don’t, ah, think this is a good idea.”

“So? Make a bad decision fer once, gahd.” Then Pickles kissed him again, throwing a leg over his manager for good measure and crowding into him once more with an urgent but surprisingly slow rhythm. 

Charles had only known Pickles for several months—personally, anyway, but he wasn’t about to admit to being a Snakes N Barrels fan back in the day now—and had seen his usual approach to getting into someone’s pants. It usually involved lots of smiling, suggestive looks, wandering hands, and friendly offers to share whatever drugs he had on hand at the time. 

Not once had he turned those attempts at charm towards Charles. He’d been insistent, stubbornly helpful, and . . . nervous. Even now, there was a fluttery quality to his grip, as though he expected to be pushed away more than anything else. Charles wasn’t very good at reading this sort of thing, and was only catching up on all this in retrospect, but Pickles seemed to be acting as though this actually  mattered  or something. 

And Charles was tired, and it felt nice. Warm and comfortable. Pickles was drunk; maybe he wouldn’t remember by morning. 

He let himself kiss back, and by the time he fell asleep again it was with an uncharacteristic smile on his face. 

[angstyaches]

first of all, hi! found you today and i’m obsessed! for a christmas or general drabble, what about a character just absolutely overwhelmed by the holiday snafu? i’m imagining charlie, but whoever you think it most fits - on top of an already anxious tummy & mind, the lights are too bright, the chatter too loud, it’s too crowded, it’s too hot and too much. cue overstimulation, a sick belly, and lots of sweet, grounding comfort (of ofc getting whisked out of there). tysm for your stories! 💖

I would have LOVED to write this for Charlie, but Shayne is so much more likely to react like this. And I pushed it to New Year’s, since I ran out of time for the Christmas drabbles. Thank you so much for the adorable prompt 🖤

CW: anxiety, alcohol mention, self-deprecating thoughts, mention of homophobia, overwhelmed character, emeto

_

“Shayne?”

My relatives are noisy, but they’re sweet, for the most part, Charlie had said.

“Hey, Shayne?”

I haven’t even come out to them, so they’re probably not gonna ask if you’re my – well, they’re not gonna ask anything like that, Charlie had said, before getting embarrassed and looking away.

A gentle hand touched Shayne’s arm, making him jump on the spot. Shayne blinked at it, and then at Charlie. His blue eyes were shiny with concern.

The look made Shayne’s stomach feel funny; it was like a hundred weights had just been released from under his ribs, and they were all dropping through his belly at the same time. The more he thought about it, the more he realised this feeling had been lingering for a while, waiting for the right moment to make him feel like the ground was swaying beneath him.

Charlie nodded towards Trevor, who was standing just in front of them. “What do you want to drink?”

Gathering the will with some effort, Shayne looked up at Trevor, who was waiting patiently with a hand over his wallet. Shit. How long had he been spaced out for?

“Sorry, um – can I just get some water, please?”

“’Course,” Trevor nodded. “And a Fanta and rum, Charlie?”

“Yep! Thanks, Dad. We’ll grab a table.”

Shayne pressed a hand to his stomach as he followed Charlie across the room, despairing quietly at the fact that the sinking feeling wasn’t going away. His legs felt a little shaky too, and he couldn’t wait to sit down and try to calm himself.

They passed so many tables – all complete with piles of paper coasters and little “no smoking” plaques – that Shayne couldn’t figure out what Charlie’s criteria could possibly include. The place was empty for now, but soon it would fill up with the members of Charlie’s family – from Trevor’s side, Ingrid’s side, and Trevor’s ex-wife’s side. Shayne couldn’t picture how many people would be there, but there was seating for at least sixty.

Finally, Charlie located a suitable table, and they both sat close to the wall, on the cushioned bench.

Charlie shrugged off his coat, which was light denim on the outside and white fake fur on the inside. There was an artificial heat in the hired function room, but Shayne didn’t want to relinquish the layer of protection that was his own jacket; it was just synthetic leather, but he knew he’d feel even more anxious if he took it off.

What he wanted was to put his head down on the table and wait for the awful feeling in his stomach to pass, but the thought of drawing attention to himself, or making Charlie worry about him, kept him from doing so.

He also resisted the urge to try and work the tension out of his body by cracking his jaw, and settled for slinking a little lower in his seat and putting his hands in his pockets. Charlie’s silence was freaking him out a bit; Shayne wondered if he was dwelling on their earlier conversation as much as he was. Maybe it was just him, but it felt like everything they’d never discussed was hanging around them like a heavy cloud.

His stomach did a little flip as he worked himself up to ask; “You okay?”

Charlie’s gaze diverted across the room, and a sick-looking grimace crossed his face. “I was better about ten seconds ago. My great-aunt Ursula just got rolled in.”

Shayne hesitantly turned his head. At the entrance to the function room, an old lady in a wheelchair was, indeed, being pushed through the pub, surrounded by a group of people ranging from early twenties to mid-fifties.

“Wildly homophobic,” Charlie sighed. There was a hint of resigned humour in his voice, but the statement still made Shayne’s stomach turn over again.

Several groups seemed to have arrived at the same time and were still greeting each other; some were kissing one another on the cheek and hugging, and every one of them was emitting a noise of some kind. A few had small children pulling at their legs, while the older children were glued to phones.

“You wanna meet everyone in one go? Get it over and done with?” Charlie asked. “Baptism of fire?”

Shayne’s stomach dropped so hard that he felt a slight retch pull at the back of his throat. He couldn’t, in that moment, think of anything he wanted to do less, but he couldn’t exactly voice that to Charlie. In the same way, he couldn’t have turned down the invitation to the party, not while he was the Waters’ guest. It seemed he couldn’t do anything without coming across as cold and rude and grumpy and...;

“Or you can stay and guard our table,” Charlie half-laughed.

“Would that be okay?” Shayne knew it was the wrong answer, and he gave it anyway.

“Sure, don’t worry about it.” Charlie slid off the bench and circled around to the front of the table. “I’ll be back in a few. Dad should be over with the drinks soon, too.”

Shayne sank a little lower on the bench as he watched Charlie go. He wanted Charlie to glance back at him on the way, but he didn’t, and anyway, he was being such an asshole he didn’t deserve it. Didn’t even deserve a glance. Probably didn’t deserve the water he’d asked for, or the warm food Ingrid had served up before they’d all left for the party.

Looking like the moodiest, most out-of-place person in a room that suddenly held about forty, Shayne wished he could be in any mindset but the one he was currently in.

Unfortunately, mindsets didn’t quite work like that, and this one kept him on edge for the duration of the party. Although for Shayne, it was less of a party and more like a prolonged, torturous countdown to the new year. He hung out with Charlie when he could, but as the night wore on, he saw less and less of him. Between brief introductions to people whose names went right over his head, and short encounters with energetic little kids who had clearly been given too many fizzy drinks, Shayne was positive that he’d met more people in those few hours than he had in the past entire year of his life.

He was grateful that Charlie didn’t seem to expect him to hang around anyone for too long, but he was also disappointed in himself for taking every escape that was offered to him. Charlie was so bright and happy and social, and his family all seemed to adore him so much; meanwhile, Shayne was his weird friend wearing all black and slinking off to the corner at every opportunity.

He also let Charlie drag him out to dance a couple of times, but it was nothing like the little dancing sessions Felix sometimes held at the townhouse; Shayne could barely bring himself to dance in private, let alone here, in front of so many strangers. In front of Charlie.

Feeling out of place was bad enough, but even worse than that was that his belly had stopped dropping, and had started to hurt quite a lot. The very last thing he wanted was to end up locked in the bathroom throwing up, but between meeting so many people and navigating the now darkened, disco-light-laden function room, it was getting hard to control the nausea. A DJ had set up in the room a few hours ahead of the midnight countdown, and the music was so, so loud. Shayne couldn’t understand why it needed to be so fucking loud –

“Got you a Sprite!”

He looked up from the table to see a blue light cast over Ingrid’s face as she sat in a chair opposite him.

“I’ll get you something stronger, if you want it!” she yelled over the music, leaning over the table a little. “I’m the designated driver, but I’m happy to drink vicariously through you.”

Shayne tried for an amused hum and shook his head as he took the glass of sparkling clear liquid from her. “I’m good, thank you.”

“It’s shit, isn’t it? The party.” Ingrid rolled her eyes at herself as soon as the words were out. “I can’t wait to get out of here, once the countdown is done. If we can both hang in there until then, we’ll grab Charlie and make our escape. How’s that sound?”

Shayne nodded, sipping gratefully on the drink she’d brought him. Leaving right after midnight sounded wonderful. The cold bubbles settling in his stomach felt good, too, and so did knowing that he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t wait to leave.

As Ingrid flashed him a smile over her own glass, he wondered if this was the point where Charlie would tell his mother he was feeling sick, and sad, and overwhelmed. He wanted to tell her. He wanted her to take him home, and let him stay there forever instead of sending him back to the Aldridges.

He was broken out of his thoughts when the woman at the next table, who was holding a baby, reached over and tapped Ingrid on the shoulder. Ingrid turned in her chair and exclaimed the woman’s name – which Shayne immediately forgot – and the two of them started chatting close to each other’s ears.

Shayne finished his drink and sat back in his seat. With nothing else to focus on, the music seemed to blare even harder from the speakers, drumming through his head like something was physically beating against either side of his skull. The heaving sounds seemed to rattle his insides too, and the lyrics he couldn’t quite make out hurtled dizzyingly through his head.

Suddenly, the DJ was speaking too, his voice booming through the microphone; as impossible as it seemed, his words were louder than the music itself.

“Alright, folks, we’ve got ninety seconds until midnight.”

Shayne looked up, instantly needing to close his eyes for a few seconds as coloured lights swung over the table – purple, then red, and then a sickly-bright yellow – before scattering across the small dancefloor area.

The handful of Charlie’s relatives who were dancing ranged from pre-teen cousins attempting to perform a routine in-sync, and aunts and uncles swaying over glasses of alcohol. Everyone else was standing by the bar or lingering near tables, leaning in and tucking hair behind their ears as they tried to have conversations over the music. They all started to gather a little more tightly now that the countdown was imminent, and the excitement in the room was almost electric.

Shayne didn’t feel excited. He felt like he wanted to cry.

Ingrid raised her eyebrows as he got to his feet and got out from behind the table. He paused and leaned back over to tell her;

“I’m going to find Charlie.”

“Alright, hon!” Ingrid winked and gave a little wave. “See you in the new year, eh?”

_

He found Charlie in the lobby, where some of the younger party guests were pulling at his legs and trying to tackle him to the ground. He had a girl of about six years old in his arms, balanced against his hip. Shayne wasn’t sure how Charlie’s relatives had so many children, or how Charlie seemed to have become a babysitter for the duration of the party.

“Hey,” Charlie grinned as he lowered the little girl to the ground, letting her tear away after her brother. Or cousin. Shayne didn’t have a good grasp on how all of these people were related. “Go find your mammy for the countdown, okay?”

The kids pushed at each other and laughed as they ran back towards the function room, shoes slapping hollowly on the carpeted floor. They didn’t even glance at Shayne as they rounded him, as though he was just a statue.

“Sorry, I was going to come and find you, but I completely lost track of the time,” Charlie laughed. He gave a deep sigh and his smile faltered. “You been doing okay?”

The hollow, sick feeling in his stomach made Shayne hesitate. Even here, where the air was a little cooler and everything was a little quieter, nothing was calming down in his head or in his belly.

Charlie’s face was falling, and he was coming closer. Shayne had to decide if he was going to lean in or pull back, and all of the possibilities of how each of these options would play out went hurtling through his head.

“I…”

Voices began chanting from the function room.

Ten, nine –

A sharp pull of some dark, twisting emotion in his tummy made him wince, and in a last-bid attempt to escape everything, to just disappear, to cease existing, he lifted his hands to his face and just covered his eyes.

Eight –

He didn’t disappear.

Instead, he felt Charlie embrace him gently, without wrapping his arms all the way around. He held him through seven, six, five –

“Charlie?” Shayne whispered, nausea and tearfulness causing his voice to come out sounding deep and slightly hoarse.

Four –

“I - I can’t.”

Three –

Charlie nodded. “Let’s go outside.”

Shayne was pretty sure he had never gripped Charlie’s hand as hard as he did now. He was definitely sure that he’d never wished harder that he could be someone else. Someone who wouldn’t get completely overwhelmed by a roomful of people who were literally just yelling out numbers.

Two –

Someone who wouldn’t have burst into tears by the time they got to the front entrance of the hotel, where glass doors opened out into a streetlight-hazed carpark. Where the chaos from inside seemed to fade away into nothingness, as though the party – as though New Year’s Eve itself – had suddenly been cancelled.

Charlie let out a small noise of confusion as Shayne’s hand slipped free of his. He let out a slightly louder noise as Shayne turned towards one of the prickly, waxy-leaved bushes and doubled over, coughing up water and Sprite and whatever he’d eaten of Ingrid’s casserole before they’d left home.

He cried harder the more he retched, and he began to choke on the sobs as the heaving stopped and the crying continued.

He was shivering and hugging himself by the time Charlie took him by the arm and guided him to the edge of the curb by the taxi pick-up point. Even after being sick, he still had that dreadful feeling, like he was falling from a hundred stories high. He buried his head under his arms as they sat down, pulling his knees up to his chin.

“Shayne.” Charlie moved a little closer, so that their shoulders brushed slightly against one another. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

The sound of Charlie’s voice should have been soothing, but it only seemed to add guilt on top of everything bad he was already feeling.

“I promise, everything is fine,” Charlie whispered. His fingertips began to work their way through Shayne’s hair, searching for the warmth of the nape of his neck.

The touch was light, but made it a little easier to focus. Shayne managed to close his eyes without frowning.

“Everything’s fine,” Charlie said again, tracing tiny circles just above the collar of Shayne’s jacket. “Did - did you just start feeling sick all of a sudden?”

“Mmm, no.” Shayne shivered as Charlie stroked his neck, hating himself for enjoying something he didn’t deserve. “My stomach’s been feeling weird since we got here. Nervous.”

Charlie gave a light sigh. “It’s okay. A lot of people don’t do well with crowds and noise.”

“It’s not just that, though. I’m not –” The swirling emptiness was creeping up into Shayne’s chest now, and his arms and legs felt impossibly heavy. “I’m not… I’m not enough for you, Charlie.”

“For me?” Charlie chuckled softly, resting his forehead against Shayne’s shoulder. “Lovely, I – I think about this all the time. I always think that I’m never going to be strong enough, or brave enough, to be worthy of you.”

Shayne gulped back a sob and picked up his head, even though Charlie’s face was still hidden against his shoulder.

“That’s –” Shayne sniffed and blinked tears from his eyelashes. The sobs in his throat melted into something that felt like low, wobbly laughter. “That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

Charlie was grinning when he lifted his face, tiny creases outlining the corners of his eyes. A light blush coloured his cheeks. “See what I mean?”

Shayne shrugged as he brushed tears away with his sleeves. His brain was firing all the wrong things in all the wrong directions. The epiphany wasn’t happening, and he felt that somehow, he was letting Charlie down yet again.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I even made us miss the fucking countdown.”

“That’s okay. It’s not important.” Charlie shrugged, fingertips tracing down Shayne’s forearm before gliding into the palm of his hand. “We can have our own countdown, if you want.”

Shayne glanced away, at nothing in particular. “What, now?”

Charlie nodded. “From three, okay? Three.”

He looked at Charlie again, noticing how intensely he was watching him. He tightened his fingers around Charlie’s, brushing his thumb back and forth across a knuckle. “Two?”

Charlie’s eyes darted downwards before his lips parted. “One.”

“Happy New Year, Charlie.” Shayne was just thinking how he wished he hadn’t just thrown up; otherwise he might have maybe considered thinking about –

Charlie’s lips closed over Shayne’s, the movement careful and slow. Each of their breaths pulled sharply, and then Shayne jerked back, covering his mouth with the back of his hand that wasn’t tangled up with Charlie’s. He looked at Charlie’s shy smile and realised the new feeling rising up in him wasn’t quite nausea or anxiety, but something a lot softer. Fluttery. Happy.

“Happy New Year, lovely,” Charlie whispered.

[ickle-ronniekins]

protection

request from anon: Hey, can I have some protective Freddie please? I could really use some in my life right about now 💕

request from anon: Hi! This is my first time requesting! I absolutely love your writing it’s so cute 🥺 and makes me blush 🥺 could you possibly write a protective!fred x reader? I loved the one you wrote. Maybe where Draco tries flirting and is quite persistent with the reader or sum. Doesn’t have to be Draco but he was the first character that came to mind. Please 👉👈🥺 Ty! Have a lovely day

request from anon: Hey! Your stories are amazing! Any chance I could request some Freddie fluff at bill and fleurs wedding please?! And maybe some protective Freddie when it gets to the death eaters bit…

word count: 2k

A/N: okay so we’ve got a lot going on here—we’ve got protective fred, jealous fred, wants-to-get-his-fiancé-alone-asap fred, we’re a mess of emotions here pals lol. i have so. many. requests. and i had a bunch asking for protective!fred plus also some fluff at the wedding. i did make the persistent male someone @ the wedding instead of draco but i hope you guys still love it!

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @semmelsemi @cottageoflove @laneygthememequeen @snakesonaplane-7 @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @bobduncanlover @dreamer821 | message me if you’d like to be added, loves!

“Think we could just.. skip the wedding, perhaps.. stay up here for the evening, run away tomorrow morning, find a little cottage somewhere and grow old together?”

You laugh softly and push playfully on his chest. “Freddie—”

“Doubt mum would even notice,” he replies, gently running his thumb across your cheek and down your neck, across your shoulder blades, over the goosebumps rising on your arms, “she’ll be crying the entire time, anyway. C’mon—” he jokes, pulling you closer to him, “we won’t be missing much, will we?”

“Don’t let your future sister-in-law hear you,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. “Promise we’ll have some alone time later. You’ve to help the guests when they arrive. Also—you, sir, promised me a few dances, don’t you remember?”

Fred pauses and considers this for a moment. “You sure you want me to embarrass you like that? In front of all these people, no less?”

You laugh again, letting him twirl you on the spot in the middle of Ginny’s bedroom. He tightens his grip around your waist and begins to slowly lean from side to side, careful not to step on your feet. He stifles a bit of a giggle when he notices you watching. “Yes, my love, I want you to embarrass me—for the rest of our lives.”

— -

George, Bill, and Charlie are a few drinks for the worse at this point. The summer heat is dying down, the sun has completely set behind the hills in front of the Burrow. Fred, dancing horrendously next to his twin in the middle of the dance floor but doing his best to pace himself, holds out his hand to you and pulls you into him.

“I love dancing with you,” he says against your ear.

You hum appreciatively as he squeezes your hips and spins you on the spot, and you both glance at Mrs. Weasley in the corner grinning emotionally at all of her sons and their dates on the dance floor. You turn back to Fred and shake your empty drink at him. “In need of a refill, are we?” He grins lazily at you and you say after placing a hand softly to his cheek, “Be back in a jiff, darling.”

You feel a body appear next to you as you approach the table. You turn; a strapping young man in dark colored robes grins at you and sticks out his hand to introduce himself. It’s firm; his smile brightens more when you take his hand in yours and tell him your name.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you reply, turning back to pour yourself another drink.

He takes you by surprise and asks, “Care to dance?”

“Oh, I’m flattered—” you’re nearly tripping over your words now, a bit stunned at how forward he is. You nod to Fred in the middle of the crowd again, “I’ve actually, erm, got to get back to my fiancé.”

“Fiancé?” he asks with wide eyes, but still—there’s something rather flirtatious in the way he’s eyeing you; it doesn’t seem as though he cares at all that you’re engaged. He inches a bit closer. “Young girl like you, already tied up? Shame, really.”

It’s as if this comment alone calls out to Fred like a signal of some sorts, because before you know it, you feel a hand snake itself around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Fred is there; his eyes have darkened slightly, something you’ve noticed happens in bouts of jealousy. His lips form a thin line; it’s always odd to you when Fred becomes irritable, jealous, angry, when normally, he’s the one who’s always having a laugh.

“Can I help you?” he asks, squaring up the man across from him. You can feel his fingers tighten around your hips and it’s hard for you not to laugh at the tickle it’s causing. You clear your throat in an attempt to suppress your laughter.

“You must be the fiancé.”

“Right I am,” Fred says proudly, taking a swig of his drink. He nods in the direction of a few tables on the other end of the tent, “believe there are a few veela looking for a bloke to have a dance with if that’s what you’re interested in; but this beautiful woman,” he turns to you and grins, “is taken. Or have you chosen to ignore the ring, mate?” You peer down quickly at the sparkling ring on your left hand, and back up at the men in front of you.

“You speak for her?”

You place yourself in between the two of them, now both looking like they’re ready to duel, or worse—kill one another; you squeeze Fred’s hand and say to the other, “No, he doesn’t. Once again, I’m flattered, but I really think it’s time you leave. Wouldn’t want to cause a scene in front of the bride and groom,” you say through gritted teeth, “right?”

A bit embarrassed, but mostly a little on edge, he backs away and heads toward the other end of the tent, sipping rather moodily on his drink. You suck in a deep breath and turn back to Fred, whose eyes are still dark.

“I don’t like him.”

You smile cheekily at him. “You don’t say. Ever met him before?”

“N-no,” Fred replies, taken aback by your teasing, “but it doesn’t matter. Did you hear him? ‘You speak for her?’ What a complete git.”

You pull him close to you and whisper against his neck, “You jealous, love?”

“I’m not jealous,” he replies tersely. He swallows thickly when your grin grows larger before continuing, “I just don’t like the way he was looking at you.”

“Yeah?” you ask, “like how?”

“Like he’ll fall in love.” Fred replies, moving your hair gently out of your face.

“Yeah, well, he can fall in love all he wants,” you tell Fred now, pulling gently on his tie, “but he’s not the one who gets to take me home, is he?”

You know you’ve said the right thing; Fred’s lips curl into a sensual smile and he bites down on his bottom lip, probably to keep himself from jumping on you right then and there. He hums appreciatively before nipping at your neck, “Oh no he isn’t.”

— -

You’re both gently gliding along the dance floor, the soft sounds of harps and piano floating through the air between the guests. Then suddenly, there are a few audible gasps coming from outside the tent where the aurors are standing guard; Fred is tightening his hold around you, a bluish white ball of light shoots through the tent, landing right in the middle of the crowd, only to take the form of a lynx.

And Fred is grabbing your hand tightly, pulling you toward his brothers, and aurors are shouting directions at everyone, and Lupin is rushing the tent when suddenly, black hooded figures enter unannounced and uninvited, the screams of guests and the quick whipping sounds of others Disapparating are filling your ears.

You grab your wand from the pocket of your dress, watching as Harry, Ron, and Hermione Disapparate as Lupin shouts, Bill rushing to protect Fleur at all costs, Fred and George back to back as they shield you and Ginny from any spells or curses headed your direction.

Someone’s shouting angrily about the whereabouts of Harry Potter, Mrs. Weasley is yelling in horror, Lupin is firing spells left and right. Ginny hoists herself on top of a table, Mr. Weasley is dragging her down, George grabs your arm and screams “no!” as Fred closely misses a stunning spell by mere centimeters. Fred pulls you and Ginny together and moves you in the direction of a table. “Under here!” he screams, the force of his weight bearing down on you both.

“No!” Ginny yells, tears streaking her face as, undoubtedly, thinks of the safety of her loved ones. This time, it’s Charlie who’s pushing her down, attempting to shield her yet again, from any spells or curses aimed for you both.

“Let me out!” you scream and push passed Charlie and into the arms of Fred, whose eyes are darker than usual, concern plastered across his face.

“It’s too dangerous!” he yells before wrapping his arms around you and forcing you behind him, only to hit another Death Eater with a stunning spell. It’s as if his words alone are enough to sober him up. “You need to get back—now! Where’s Ginny?”

“No!” you yell over the screams of the guests, “I’m not leaving you!”

Your words are drowned out by the sounds of cries, mock laughter, explosive balls of light, and the crumbling of debris around you as a spell hits you and sends you flying backward, slamming into chairs and tables and nearly knocking you out cold.

And in a half conscious, half awake, barely breathing, horrendous state, you catch glimpses of George shielding his sister, Death Eaters being knocked back by the others, Fred’s tear soaked face as he slings an arm around you and pulls you up from the floor, until before you know it, you’re Apparating Merlin only knows where.

— -

You’re watching from the entrance of Shell Cottage as the sun begins to rise, Fred next to you, asleep on your shoulder, the sound of his breathing like a soothing balm to your soul. Suddenly you feel a blanket wrap around your shoulders and peer up at George, who smiles softly and places a gentle kiss to your forehead before retreating back into the house. “Breakfast should be ready soon.”

“Thanks, Georgie,” you say. Your voice is hoarse in your ears; it sounds strange. Like it’s not even yours. Fred stirs for a moment before fully waking, his eyes bloodshot and tired and weak, only having slept for maybe twenty or so minutes.

There’s silence hanging in the air between you both. You swallow a few times—your throat is extremely dry, it feels like you haven’t eaten or had anything to drink in days. It’s scary that it’s only been a few long hours since the wedding.

“It’s really happening now, isn’t it?” you ask suddenly. The words sound foreign in your mouth. Fred lifts his head in surprise, peers at you solemnly for a moment before squeezing your hand.

He watches a few tears escape your eyes. “Yes,” he replies, and still, it seems so strange to see him in such a serious, stoic state. It makes you feel off balance. You don’t like it. You shudder for a moment and wiggle your way closer to him under the blanket. “But I promise to do everything I can to protect you.”

You wonder, selfishly now, if maybe you should take up Fred’s offer from the day before. Run away, find a small house somewhere far away, grow old together. You wipe a few tears away with your sleeves before turning to face him. You can see tears welling up in his eyes, to. But it’s not long before he’s making you smile and you’re letting laughs escape your lips with no effort. “But we’ve just got to finish this, haven’t we? Reckon those slimy Death Eaters don’t stand a chance—”

And yes, he’s making you laugh, and he’s grinning broadly at you, but the memory of last evening’s events, and the thoughts of events to come, hover over the both of you like a storm cloud ready to release the rain. His voice is a bit shaky when he tells you softly, “We’ll be okay, you know.”

“I hope so.” you reply.

“Besides,” he continues, taking your hand in his and examining the still sparkling ring, “I promised to embarrass you for the rest of our lives, right? Our wedding being the prime spot for it!”

“You’re ridiculous, you are.”

“Yeah,” he replies, kissing your forehead, “but you still agreed to be my wife, anyway.”

And soon, Bill is calling the both of you for breakfast, Ginny is bringing you both steaming cups of morning tea, marking the start of a new, stranger beginning as you both peer in front of you, once more, at the blending of sea and sky.

[benhardypout-archive]

004. thank you, alex

a/n: so this is one of my Wonty "comfort fics" - so it's far from canon or never followed the original plot - which i would probably never publish (unless there's one i would like to share), but this time in this fic which i titled "Dirty Little Secret", I'm just going to post some chapters which I enjoyed writing. So the number is the chapter of this fic, and this is the chapter 4, hence, 004. Enjoy reading! 🙈

Perhaps, my crush on Monty was getting out of hand.

I flipped through the Liberty yearbook which Tyler lent me only to feast my eyes over the photos of the guy in Jersey no. 32 through the weekend, as I sat on the floor with my back against the bed.

Montgomery de la Cruz, I chanted in my head, reading his name printed in bold letters.

I stopped by a certain picture of his, running my fingers over the glossy paper, tracing his face. Tyler was lucky to have taken this rare shot of him smiling beautifully like this; those white teeth showing. He was leaning back and wearing a blue tank top. For once, he looked really happy…

I should probably ask Tyler the story behind this shot.

My phone rang a message.

I,  mindlessly, searched for it, not keeping my eyes away from the image. I could feel my heart expanding by this simple picture of him.

Bringing my phone to my face, there’s a  message from Alex: U free this afternoon?

Basically, I'm free for the whole day.

I typed a quick reply: Yes.

And not long after, Alex texted back asking us to meet up at this mall, only a five minute drive.

I wonder if this hang out thing meant anything or just platonic. Anyway, Alex seemed nice. I would love to get to know him more and perhaps get acquainted.

Looking back to the yearbook, I'm so tempted to cut the picture. Or maybe I could just ask Tyler just give me this specific yearbook, like a gift.

* * *

Alex took me bowling. And I'm not so good with the game but so far I'm having fun.

"You're so good at this," I said as Alex hit another strike.

He smiled. "Nah."

"Now, don't be modest on me," I chuckled lightly and took a bowling ball from the rack and positioned it on my hand, adjusting to its weight. Walking by the lane, I put on a stance and ran my tongue over my lower lip, aiming for a strike. Not that I'm expecting to hit one, which of course didn't happen. I looked at Alex, throwing my hands in defeat. "No, not good at this."

Alex went to hit next and of course, another strike. He raises both his arms dramatically and spun around facing me, smiling victoriously, cocking a brow.

"I give up!" I chuckled and sat down by the bench.

"You're named Winston for a reason," Alex commented, sitting beside me.

"What does that mean?"

"Winston, like Winner. Root word, win."

I laughed, throwing my head back a little. "Damn. I think I'm not doing my name justice, then."

"Practice makes perfect."

"Let's just eat. I'm starving."

"Sure."

We walked aimlessly along the mall in silence, with a few side comments about the boutiques or the shops we passed on. Then we saw and spotted some familiar faces. Well, Alex introduced me to some of them, simply pointing from afar and telling their names, since I barely knew anyone from Liberty yet, who also worked here.

Then my stomach decided to embarrass me and did a growl as we reached the food court.

“Someone’s whining,” Alex retorted.

“I know right.”

Since it’s the afternoon, there’s a lot of tables to choose from, not to mention, stalls without queues. A lot of options for us. But we just settled on some corn dogs.

"We should see some movie some time," Alex suggested. "How about tomorrow?"

"Oh, okay." I thought back if I had plans. Is looking at pictures of Monty in the yearbook counted as one?

He smiled and told me the time and rendezvous. And then added, "I-it's a date,"

I blinked. "A d-date?"

"I meant friendly date," he quickly clarified, faking a smile. I could see dejection in his eyes.

I wanted to apologize but perhaps I’m just overthinking the situation and putting meaning on how Alex was acting the past days. I may try to brush it off and act like I’m not noticing anything, but it’s there. Yet, he said so himself ‘friendly date’, maybe he really just meant us to be friendly.

"So you like someone else?" Alex asked after a moment which of course caught me off guard. I should’ve expected that question to come. I almost coughed my Coke out. Good thing, I had swallowed it down. My heart began to skip.

Should I tell him?

I avoided his gaze, and took another sip on my drink. "Uhm… yes," I said in a low voice.

"Oh…. right. Of course."

"Alex-"

"I-I'm just asking," Alex cut me off. Though, I’m afraid I’m already ruining this budding friendship and it’s the last thing I wanted. But, if he ever decides and calls off our little friendly movie date, I'd understand.

"I… Maybe I just need some company," he went on, resting his arms on the table as if for comfort. "And I… I actually like Zach," he glanced at me.

Zach. Oh. I know him.

"I kissed him," he murmured so low I almost didn’t catch it. Then he snorted, lightly. "But… of course he said he's straight."

"I'm sorry," I said in empathy. I wanted to reach for his hands but then decided against it. Then a scenario flashed in my head where I kissed Monty and then he said the same thing-- Ouch!

"It's all right. Thanks for going out with me, and listening." Alex interrupted, saving me from my disastrous thoughts.

I nodded. But then... he asked the question I’m shit scared to answer.

"May I ask who you like?"

Fuck...

I shifted on my seat. "Oh… uhm…It's..." I looked at him, warily. He was indifferent… yet. Wait till you hear this.

With a deep shaky breath I say, "Monty."

* * *

No words had been spoken since, besides the sensational "What the… fuck?" reaction from Alex who wavered before saying the word. And an awkward "Yep" from me, popping the 'p'.

We just went to our own cars and left after.

I'm sure Alex hated me now, or worse, despised me.

I knew it.

Maybe liking Monty would make you lose some friends-- lose some potential friends, rather. We're not even friends.

Was that what Monty meant when he said I got no friends here, as his own experience? Because people didn't like him?

I received a text from Alex later that night, apologizing from how he reacted. Which relieved me a hundred fold. And then he added…

Alex: But… Monty? I just can't believe it! And I think he's as straight as a ruler.

Winston: It's all right. Still a plastic ruler can be bent.

Alex: Correction. Wooden ruler. It just breaks in half, and he'll just break you.

Okay, I couldn't argue with that.

Winston: I guess. But could you keep a promise not to tell anyone?

Alex: Ok

Winston: Thanks.

Alex: So tomorrow. Same time. Same place. And move on from Monty. There's far better guys than that asshole.

Hope it's  that easy…

* * *

I'm glad that Alex didn't change towards me. He still smiled and spoke to me as if I didn't tell him something, which he found horrible.

After buying two movie tickets, we went to the snack bar to buy some popcorn.

"Oh you gotta be kidding me." I heard Alex mutter under his breath, causing me to turn and follow his gaze, only for my world to stop, seeing Monty by the entrance.

I forgot the ability to move until Alex nudged me. I blinked and turned to him. He has this amused smile.

"Seriously, Winston, close your fucking mouth. Some fly would literally rent in there."

I blushed, and sneaked another glance at Monty, longer than necessary, then to the other jocks he’s with. They’re standing by the ticket booth. I shifted closer to Alex and poked his side. "Zach's among them."

"I know. I hate it." Alex then stepped forward as it's our turn. "Two medium-sized popcorn please. Plain... And two cokes?" He told the guy behind the counter and turned to me.

"Coke," I confirmed.

And he went on ordering. But half of my attention was on the noise from the jocks. God… I couldn't believe I would see Monty here.

Oh, fuck.

I desperately searched for any mirror or any surface where I could see my reflection and fixed my hair as I saw them making their way towards us!!!

"Hi, Alex." Zach said beside me. I, discreetly, give Alex another nudge.

Alex barely glanced. "Hi."

"Zachy, I'm gonna have these Hot Tamales," Monty announced, tapping his fingers on the glass display counters, pointing over the Hot Tamales candy bars wrapped in red.

He caught my gaze and it was too late to retrieve my eyes back. So, I threw a soft smile at him, hoping I wasn’t too obvious about my loud attraction.

"Hey, Winston. You and Alex on a date?" he asked instead, and I swore I felt blood rush through my cheeks.

"N-no," I shook my head at once.

"What about you and Zach, Monty? You guys on a date?" Alex cuts in.

"Yeah. Actually it's the four of us, Scott and Charlie."

Scott and Charlie smiled and waved, making Alex roll his eyes.

Zach cleared his throat and looked at Alex. I guessed that maybe he wanted to speak to him… alone, so being a good friend as I am, I stepped aside and took the chance to stand beside Monty. But I made sure to be discreet and just tapped my fingers against the counter, my eyes fixated at the menu posted in front.

Zach whispered something to Alex and I could only catch a few words like 'mad' and 'me', giving me enough hint of what he's saying.

I tensed feeling Monty moved closer to me. "Never thought I'd see you here."

I blushed and glanced at him. "Yeah. Small world."

Then he asked me if we’re going to watch the same movie. A horror one.

“I think we should just sit together, then." Monty suggested, glancing over to Zach and Alex. "Especially, it looks like Zach and Alex have something to talk about."

I chuckled, "Sure." Would love to sit next to you.

"Winston," I heard Alex called and saw that our popcorn was ready. I took one last glance at Monty and uttered a "See you later," before making my way back to Alex.

"What did Zach tell you?" I whispered as we made our way inside the cinema.

"He wants to talk. I said yes."

I just hummed.

"Dammit, Winston. I still like him and I hate it," Alex whined a moment later, making me smile.

We took the seat in the middle section, since it's not too far and not too close, and we could watch properly. Different trailers were being shown and I noticed that there were only a few cinema-goers or maybe only few wanted to see this movie.

Later, I spotted Monty and the group inside looking for a seat, so I gave a secret wave at them, specifically, at Monty. He called his friends after he saw me. Then they made their way to us. I hid a smile. My heart wouldn't shut up about it, and it literally wanted to jump off my chest when Monty took the seat next to me.

Calm down, Winston. I’m afraid he could hear it from here, screaming his name.

Zach tried and asked Alex if he could sit beside him, only receiving a nod from Alex. But I could practically read his mind regretting taking the middle seats, when we could just take the space on either right or left wing, and have all the spaces on our own.

"Are you following me?" I heard Alex mumble to Zach.

"No. I… Monty pointed us here and…maybe I did, by deciding to sit next to you," Zach admitted.

I decided and just diverted my attention to Monty and his Hot Tamales. "Does that taste good?"

"You wanna taste?" He gestured one to my direction. I swallowed, not expecting his sudden offer. Or maybe it's because his shoulder brushed against mine.

"N-no. Thanks."

"Come on," Monty began tearing one package open and handed it to me, "Have some."

I glanced at him and reluctantly reached, staring intently at his hand, tempting to hold it.

"No, don't taste that." One of the jocks interrupted. I stopped. "You will get addicted," he added, grinning.

"Oh, fuck off, Charlie," Monty waved. "Come on. Gimme your hand."

"You're not trying to poison me, are you?" I tried to joke.

And I blushed seeing his boyish smile. "Oh no. It's a love potion," he winked.

Now that sent me. If I happen to be an ice, I've melted by now.

You don't need to give me any love potion, Monty. I wanted to say.

With a trembling hand, I held my palm out and he poured some on it. I uttered a thanks and put everything in my mouth, letting it melt in my tongue.

Charlie was right, it's kind of addicting.

"So?"

"I think I'm in love," I blurted, not breaking eye contact.

He looked away.

Oh no! Wrong move, Winston.

"I mean your friend's right. It's addicting."

He turned back to me and smiled. "I know right." He, then, handed me the Hot Tamales. “Here, have it.”

It would be a shame to take his offer down, so I just took it, our fingers brushing; enough to send electricity down my body. I wondered if he felt it too.

Wishful thinking, Winston.

"Why are you taking Monty's food? It might be contaminated," Alex whispered.

I shrugged him off and offered it to him. "You should try."

"No thanks."

I couldn't help but find Alex's distaste towards Monty, funny. Even though I shouldn't. But I'm afraid I might continue teasing him about it.

The movie finally started. And it's supposed to be scary as it's a horror film. But I'm not a bit scared. However, I'm tempted to hold Monty's hand that was on the armrest between us. But more tempted to pull the armrest up and just lean onto him. Maybe act scared?

As he took his hand away to get some popcorn - since I decided to share my popcorn with him and his friends, who I now know the names of: Charlie and Scott - I, sneakily, placed my hand on the armrest in hopes to be held by him.

Sadly, after he took a handful of popcorn he didn't put his hand back, but my hand stayed where it was. And I just forgot all my attempts on flirting.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed.

And I tensed not because the scene was scary but because his hand, finally, landed on mine. I hid a smile. And when I thought he would notice and take it away, he didn't, and just stayed there. Though, I wasn't sure if he was ever aware of our hands, or he's too focused on the movie to even notice.

My heart pounded so loud, I could barely hear the show, and could hardly concentrate on it, blocking everything around me but only his presence. I’m only aware of the warmth and the weight of his hand on mine, making my throat dry. I just dreamt of kissing him, or simply lean on him, and embrace more of his scent.

Ugh! Shut it, Winston. Try and hold yourself together.

But how, when he’s close like this? Needless to say, his hand on mine?

The movie just ended without me really understanding everything that happened.

Monty made some comments about it, asking me some of it as soon as we got out to the lobby. I just nodded along, agreeing with everything he said. But Charlie argued with him and they went on, leaving me completely clueless, even though we all watched it together. I should've tried and focused on the show, so I could have a proper conversation with him. But until now, the heat of his hand pricked on my skin.

"Winston," Alex called, and began to walk. I hesitated and followed him outside, not giving me the chance to say goodbye to Monty and his friends.

"Are you alright on your own?" he asked

I frowned, blinking once. "Y-yeah."

"I need to go with Zach," he glanced at Zach, who’s busy chatting or probably saying parting words with his buddies, and rolled his eyes back to me. "Said he wants to talk."

"Oh. Sure."

"Again, beware of Monty. Don't be fooled by his good looks."

"So, you admit he looks good."

Alex stammered but soon gave up, sighing. "Whatever Winston. Don't say, I didn't warn you."

"Okay. Have fun with Zach." I gave his shoulder a pat. "And thanks for inviting me. I really had fun," I smiled.

Alex had to roll his eyes again. "I think I know why."

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 113

Sooo.... I completely did not realize my queue dumped itself again, or that this chapter didn’t post when it should have. So I’m sorry for the slightly-delayed update!

Thanks to @baelpenrose​ for their beta-reading, as always.  This chapter loops back to something that came up previously and I hate loose ends dangling around everywhere. Content warnings for anger issues, trauma, and poor coping mechanisms.

“Dude, I’m making soup,” I jokingly scolded Maverick as I took the bowl of pumpkin seeds away from him.  After the camping trip, I had made the brilliant decision to roast the seeds we had harvested. All of them. Ten pounds of them, it turned out.  How he wasn’t sick of eating them, I had no idea.

 With a pout, he made grabby-hands at the bowl. “What kind?”

 “Potato,” I informed him as I pivoted away and carried the bowl back to the kitchen and put the lid on it.

It didn’t take long for him to join me and start requesting potatoes from the food console.  Even though they were freshly-generated and already clean, he started washing them anyway.  I was pretty sure the action ranked up there with utensils being in exactly-the-right place, because he always washed the vegetables that he got from the console.  It didn’t hurt anything, though, so we generally just let him do it.

About an hour later, we were sitting at the table with two bowls of velvety, off-white soup - his topped with sour cream, bacon, and cheese, mine just topped with scallions - and dug in.  Conor was on Beta-shift at work currently, so we made sure to put the lid on the rest to keep it warm.  Even though the temperature on the Ark never changed beyond a ten-degree variance, the camping trip had triggered something in me that said “Autumn”, and soup was exactly what I needed right then.

I had just finished my first bowl, and Maverick was halfway through his second - with somehow even more bacon - when the door opened and Conor stalked in.  Everything in his body language screamed that he was angry about something, and I subconsciously held my breath.  Glancing at Maverick, I saw him arch an eyebrow at me before turning to our clearly-upset partner.

“Everything okay?” he ventured slowly.

“Work. Huynh,” he grunted, shoving a hand through his hair as he started pacing into the kitchen, past the table, into the living room, and back.  “Stupid pre-fab structures. We don’t… Stupid!” Grasping for words, he only seemed to get more and more frustrated.  On his next trip into the kitchen, he grabbed a bowl and  thought he was going to try to eat, but instead I saw him start to raise the bowl higher.

Maverick stood, rushed over, and snatched the bowl from him. “We talked about this. If you throw that, you’ll give Sophia the panic attack she is trying not to have right now. I told you before, if you give her a panic attack again, I would knock you out. Please don’t make me keep my word.” Rather than angry, he sounded distressed and sad. “What are you supposed to do when you get frustrated like this?”

“Run,” Conor grunted, rubbing his face briskly before gesturing at his sweat-stained coveralls. “And I did. For miles and miles. It didn’t help. And I’m supposed to try to talk about what I’m angry about, but that’s even more frustrating, because I… I can’t explain it fast enough.”

Nodding, Maverick ladled soup into the bowl before gently pushing Conor to the table and setting the now-full bowl in front of him.  Without even realizing what he was doing, Conor started tearing a roll in half and dipping it in the soup - he ate every soup like that, and it was the weirdest thing I had ever seen. But it meant he was calming down, apparently, because he couldn’t rant and eat at the same time, and the man had priorities.

“I’m frustrated, because Huynh wants us to start prototypes for the pre-fabs that we will be using on Von,” he confessed, angrily dunking another chunk of bread and shoving it in his mouth. “I still think it’s too early.  I talked to Noah, and the last information they have about the planet is a decade old.  We aren’t close enough to drop out of whatever FTL we are using and get fresh scans, and we can’t get communications while we’re travelling, apparently, because… FTL.”

I nodded tentatively, encouraging him to go on, and started putting butter on a roll to keep myself calm.  So far, he wasn’t nearly as angry as it usually took for him to start throwing things, and he hadn’t had an episode in a while, so…. So far, so good.

He saw my nod and kept going. “I just think he’s putting the cart before the horse. We shouldn’t be constructing things based on old data, and major climate change can happen over ten years.” We’d found that out the hard way, unfortunately.

“What does Charly think?” Maverick asked.

“She’s on Gamma shift this week, so I didn’t get a chance to ask her,” he confessed sullenly.  At this point, he was out of soup and still trying to stab a piece of bread through the bottom of his bowl, so Maverick gently took it away and refilled it. “Thanks, love. So, I couldn’t ask Charly her suggestion, Huynh won’t listen, and I just… I feel like I’m barking in the wind.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I tried to do everything I was supposed to do.”

“I don’t think it’s working.” Maverick’s statement wasn’t said unkindly, and Conor shrugged and nodded in response. “What else have you and your therapist discussed?”

“I have an appointment tomorrow,” he answered, rather than answering the question.

“Then you need to talk to them about another way to vent your frustration,” Maverick insisted. “And where these anger issues are coming from.”

Conor mumbled something, prompting us to lean forward to better hear him.  When I made a gesture to repeat himself, he sighed. “We’ve talked about that, and I think I know where it’s coming from, it’s just…. It’s embarrassing.”

“It can’t be any more embarrassing than anything you know about either of us,” Maverick tried to point out, prompting me to scowl at him. “Hey! I literally slept through the end of the world.”

That got a chuckle out of Conor, but he got serious again quickly. “The anger…” he started, clearly reluctant. “So, I was an orphan. Parents died when I was - four? Five?” We nodded - this wasn’t new information so far. They’d died in an accident, and neither had any family. He’d mentioned siblings, but they were his foster siblings throughout the years. “I got bounced around the foster system a bit as a kid, but I think I got lucky.  None of my foster families were bad, necessarily, but I think that made it worse when I got moved from home to home.  Every time I started to let myself get close and open up…. I would get taken and moved to another family for one reason or another.  This family moved, that couple got too old to keep fostering kids, one of my foster mom’s got cancer and her wife couldn’t take care of me and Mum at the same time.  No one’s fault but… I felt so betrayed. So I… I started getting angry and pushing people away, making sure that I wouldn’t get close to them just to lose them again.” That word, betrayed, tickled something in my mind.  It was too familiar. “I got moved from family to family even more after that, but it hurt less, right? Because I wasn’t getting attached, and I was being moved because of anger issues. Because of something I did.”

“So… you’re pushing us away?” I asked, not even trying to hide my hurt feelings.

“I’m getting there, swear.” His response was very firm before he picked up where he left off. “Eventually, I turned eighteen, I was on my own, and now I really felt like I had control over my life.  I started an engineering program, I saw a therapist, and a lot of that anger went away.”

“That’s where the You we normally see came out?” Maverick asked, direct as always.

“Yeah. I was happier, calmer… I wasn’t a scared little boy anymore. I felt more stable.”

“And then…?”

“And then the world went tits up,” Conor laughed sadly. “I didn’t have much control over which people were in my life and which weren’t, but it was the After, right? I did manage to find a group who were pretty peaceful, and I stuck it out there.  Then I woke up here, and I could be happy again. I tried to be the version of myself that I liked, instead of that angry little boy.”

That was when it clicked. Betrayed. “Then Arantxa…”

“Yeah, then Arantxa,” he confirmed quietly.  “And you almost died.”

Tyche’s words from the day she busted my lip came back to me. For three weeks, I had to watch you try to figure out if you were going to live or die! Conor had to watch you… “Three times,” I whispered without realizing it.

“Twice,” Conor corrected, not realizing I was talking about what Tyche had said. “Once after you were attacked, and once when we were trying to figure out what was going on with Else.” Huffing, he shoved his now-empty bowl toward Maverick. “Please take that, I’m getting angry again.”

“Thanks for recognizing that,” Maverick nodded. “But I don’t think you’re mad. I think you just feel out of control again thinking about it.”

“That’s what my therapist says,” he admitted. “But inside, it feels like anger. And after Arantxa, when I started feeling that kind of angry, I… I felt like that scared little boy again. I didn’t realize I was doing it, until I started talking to Josh, but they think I subconsciously started pushing you away more every time something would happen.” He took a deep breath to compose himself. “To… I don’t know, make you show me who you ‘really’ are, to make you leave me before you can decide to leave, or before you actually die one time.”

“So, this is about me,” I ventured slowly. “Not Maverick at all.”

“I don’t mean it’s your fault,” Conor objected quickly. “None of this is your fault, that I react the wrong way when I feel like I need more control over situations.”

It started dawning on me what he was talking about. “PTSD.  You’re talking about PTSD. Not just the kind we all have from the After, but… from moving around so much when you were growing up. From not having a secure situation.”  

My mind started racing, connecting the dots.  Before moving in with me, neither Maverick nor Conor had what would have been considered ‘proper’ quarters - both had essentially chosen personal quarters barely big enough for a bed.  Maverick had admitted early on when we were still only friends, that he had chosen his because he never really had anything and spent his entire life after his dad died wandering from place to place, never really belonging. So he had a habit of being ready to pick up and go at a moment’s notice, and tried to take up as little space as possible in the process.  It was no secret - he did it deliberately and had no shame regarding the situation.  

It had never occurred to me that Conor did the same thing without realizing it.

Maverick shook his head.  I thought he was negating what I had said, but then he sighed. “We’re a mess, you know that?” Leaning back, he stretched and put his hands behind his head. “I think we should have a therapy session or four, together, about all this.”

Both Conor and I turned slowly to stare at him, wide-eyed. “When did you start being the sensible one?”

He pointed a finger at me. “You run headfirst into every dangerous situation you can find.” The finger flicked to point at Conor. “And you are convinced you’re an idiot, which is the only idiotic thing I’ve actually heard you say.”  Smugly, he put his hands back behind his head and smiled. “I’ve always been the sensible one.”

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[allthingsmustfall]

Charthur Love HCs

It’s blisteringly hot and humid, and I’m feeling kind of melancholy, and was thinking about Arthur and Charles and the way they love each other.  I saw a post a while back (this has been living in a gdoc for a while), that accurately pointed out that in so many fics, Arthur puts Charles on a pedestal as some perfect unflawed human, and that that isn’t the best way to treat a character - it makes them one-dimensional if all they are is the Good which you use to measure another character’s Bad.  I fell into that a bit in ‘like thieves in the night’ and so it’s been sticking in my side….Anyway, it got me thinking about WHY they love each other, because if I could define that, then it might make it easier to write their relationship more realistically - so have some completely unrequested head canons from ‘like thieves in the night':

Arthur loves Charles

Arthur doesn’t think much of himself, not with all the things he’s done - if he’s remarkable in any way, it could only be because he’s put so much bad out into the world.  So with that lingering self-loathing, he’s always gonna consider his actions to be worse than similar things done by similar people.  So while he knows that Charles lived most of his life by thieving and killing folk, he doesn’t think of it as ‘bad’ in the same way Arthur regrets some of his own behavior.  Charles is Kind, and the things he’s done that weren’t kind - well, that’s only because there weren’t any other options afforded him; it doesn’t change the fact that Charles is, at the heart of him, good. Arthur is so much more willing to give others the benefit of a doubt.  While he can’t forgive himself for some of the things he’s done, he’s far more likely to forgive others.  Charles in particular.

Outlaws aren’t all chivalrous men who are competent and effective, Arthur knows that all too well.  So when they bring on new blood into the gang, Arthur never expects much.  Far more people fall into outlawing because they’re stupid and lazy than because they’re fighting a war on civilization in general and Washington, DC in particular.  And yet, immediately, Charles is Capable.  He comes into the gang and does more than his fair share of the hunting, the guarding, the chores.  Arthur has made the gang his family; taking care of them is how he shows his love.  Seeing Charles take that on without question or complaint is unusual enough to be startling.  It’s probably what first made Arthur look at Charles with real consideration.  For a long time, he waited for the other shoe to drop, for Charles to reveal himself as untrustworthy, to have some fatal flaw like most men they take on.  But it never comes. 

So many of the folks in the gang are bloviators who can’t shut up about how amazing they are.  But Charles doesn’t slam his ego around like a fucking weapon like the rest of them; it’s not that he’s uncertain about himself or his place in the gang.  He knows without question that he’s good at what he does and lets his actions/results speak for themselves. Many times Arthur has watched Charles smile privately after a job well done, either chopping wood or getting through a robbery without having to kill anybody. He's proud of his work, and rightly so.  It’s...admirable (cue confused soft emotions)

Arthur gets shit from some of the gang about how much time/energy he spends helping out the lost lambs of the world, but Charles does the same sort of thing.  In my fic, I gave Charles the Charlotte mission, but I like to think he picked up some of the other things that would have fallen to Arthur in-game.  So, back to Arthur’s low self-esteem, when Arthur offers that selflessness, makes himself vulnerable for no reason other than it was the right thing to do - whatever, nbd.  But when done with Charles’ hands, Arthur recognizes it as the sort of kindness that changes the world in small and loving ways.

Charles has a sense of humor that Arthur just gets.  It’s not loud or performative like Sean.  It’s quiet and sarcastic and deadpan.  It took him a while to really notice it, but Charles just cocking an eyebrow at the perfect time is enough to make Arthur crack. Charles has amazing eye roll game.  He can’t imagine that anyone thinks of Charles as silent and menacing, not when Arthur has personally heard Charles repeat filthy limericks until Arthur gave up trying to sleep, swung his leg over Charles’ hips, and kissed him quiet. 

I think that Arthur would have spent his whole life holding Charles in High Regard, not examining too closely the tremor in his chest when he makes Charles smile, or how...nice it is to just watch Charles chop wood. I think the love he feels for him is physical, not in a sexual way, but in a tactile, grounded way that's totally different than anything he's felt for a woman. With Mary, that love was ethereal, hard to grasp, but with Charles, Arthur could point to the point on his chest where that love lives. It's as real and alive as his heartbeat.

Charles loves Arthur

I think something bad happened prior to Charles joining the gang; not necessarily terrible or uniquely awful, but something that made him weary of being on his own.  Maybe he had to deal with some local racist troublemakers, got away clean, and was making camp for himself out in the rough only to be happened upon by more racists/bandits/troublemakers, and was forced into yet another fight for his life.  So he’s exhausted, and he wants a place to rest and he hears about Dutch’s gang. Dutch seems honorable, doesn’t mention his race, and almost...shows off the other POC in the gang (look at all the POC I have so generously taken in! Praise me for my open mindedness).  It’s condescending, but it’s better than the overt hatred he gets out on his own.  So he joins up.  He’s not expecting much out of a gang of outlaws, and some of them live up (down?) to expectations, but there’s a good chunk of people who are far more like a family than he was expecting.  They’ve even got a kid with them, who’s protected as fiercely as any child deserves.  And Arthur, for all that he’s introduced as Dutch’s menacing lieutenant, spends most of his energy protecting and caring for that core little family.  Yes, Arthur spends a lot of his time with his hands dirty, but at the end of the day, he wipes them clean and sits quietly at the fire, clear affection in his eyes as everyone talks over one another and laughs and dances.  It’s far more human than he was expecting from a man whose face is plastered from here to New Hanover and back again, drawn hastily above a litany of sins.

Arthur has been on the wrong side of the law his entire life, has probably killed more men than he’s had hot dinners, which makes it all the more amazing that he has any moral compass at all, let alone one which so unerringly brings out that fierce stubbornness when marginalized people are threatened.  Being kind matters all the more when the option to be cruel is so much easier, when it has been nurtured more than kindness ever has.  It’s...amazing, so much so that Charles is appalled that so few others seem to notice.

Charlie's is startled by Arthur’s tenderness; he had worried that Arthur would mistake him for a woman, at first, that this thing of theirs would make Arthur think of him as something delicate in need of protection. But Arthur still relies on Charles in a fight, he doesn’t try to wade in and fight Charles’ battles for him - well, for the most part.  Arthur is protective of the things he loves - so when he picks fights on Charles’ behalf it’s less because he doesn’t think that Charles can fend for himself, and more because he is impatient to kick in the teeth of every bigot in the world (it’s a thin line to walk, and Arthur doesn’t always nail it - it’s been the subject of more than one fight).  But still, Arthur is...soft in a way that surprises Charles.  Even before they admitted to themselves and each other that this was more than an occasional hand beneath a blanket, that love was creeping up around them like a slow tide, Arthur’s hands were gentle on him, reverential.  There was more than one time Charles had feigned sleep just to enjoy the soft way Arthur carded his fingers through his hair, the way the pads of his fingers traced, unasking, over his collection of scars.  The types of trysts Charles had had in his past didn’t involve anything like that - that quiet, naked intimacy that only comes after the sex is done and heart rates are drifting back to normal.  It makes Charles’ throat tight, even as the rest of him goes soft and liquid under Arthur’s hands.

Because Arthur is white, is a man, and now has enough money that he and the rest of the gang are set for life, there are things that he will never experience, and in never experiencing them, will never really understand.  Occasionally, Arthur forgets there are places that won’t serve Charles dinner and he’s enraged when he runs across them, wants to burn down every racist, bigoted piece of shit he runs across.  But he doesn’t expect Charles to comfort or educate him about these inequities. Arthur doesn’t see himself as some sort of uniquely qualified savior who can liberate the oppressed just because he’s white and he cares.  He’s learned that the best person to solve those problems isn’t a white man riding in with a gun and a temper; that the desire to help is most effective when directed by someone who has lived under that oppression.  And so he listens when Charles speaks, and he learns.  

Arthur has been with women, has been in love before Charles.  That doesn’t bother Charles - not exactly.  But Arthur has a road map to love that Charles has never seen; Arthur already contains the spaces within himself in which love can be built and tended to - the sort of thing that only comes from experience.  Charles never had the chance for that, had never expected the opportunity, not when the world was already ready to hang him for so many other things.  He’d never anticipated love, not like this, not the sort of thing which was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.  And so Arthur more easily vocalizes  his adoration.  He has told Charles he loves him plainly, many times, unthinkingly calls him ‘darlin’ when he’s distracted or preoccupied.  He doesn’t even seem bothered that Charles’ own admissions are quieter, hidden within other words and deeds.  There’s no doubt in Charles, now, about how they are together, how deeply this connection runs, but that gentle, unthinking intimacy still steals his breath away, even twenty years down the road when Arthur is walking around the cabin hollering “Darlin’ you seen my new leather hat?  I swear I had it just - ah, never mind, there it is-”

They just - are in awe of each other, each the other’s wonder which holds the stars apart.  

[jksofficialwifey]

Kiss me, Heal me. 3

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: When Jungkook gets injured just before an important game, he sets out to find his soulmate to heal him. In a world where soulmates can heal all kinds of illnesses by kissing, he’s desperate to find his, even if he doesn’t know you yet. What happens if he does find you? Will you kiss a stranger who claims to be your soulmate?

WC: 3k+

Warnings: Smut but it's not who you think it is, Infidelity- but jk has a shitty gf n it's mutual lol, snarky oc at the end.

tags: idiots and enemies to lovers, a lil slowburn, a bit of angst, soulmate culture, smut in the future.

A/N: this is unedited as always so sowee 👅💋 hope ya still like it tho! enjoy loves. :)

pls don’t repost my fic anywhere, if i ever find out you stole my fic idea you’ll regret it. thanks :)

You still couldn't stop thinking about the kiss. Though it was a week ago, and you've been avoiding Jungkook like he had the plague. Also, he went home awkwardly last week after that happened. You wondered if it meant something to him? To you? Of course it meant something to you, you were in-like with him. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, mayhaps you liked him. It really didn't help that you felt like heaven when he kissed you. It kinda makes you think if you were just meant to be healing soulmates and not romantic soulmates. And then there's his girlfriend too, they haven't broken up yet and what if she finds out you kissed his boyfriend? Would that make you a slut? Are you really a slut now? Ugh, maybe you are for Jungkook that is. But no. You should just forget about it, Jungkook doesn't seem like he'll leave his girlfriend for someone like you anyway. Even though you heard they were almost fighting everyday. Your best friend Charlie told you so, of course she asked how last week went and of course you cursed her for making Jungkook scheme with her against you.

But, you also told her about the kiss which she happily squealed when she found out, shipping you both. And then she proceeded to tell you about Jungkook's chaos in paradise. Why did he even kiss you? He's just making you overthink stuff, and it isn't even nighttime yet. Did he just want to help and heal you? Or was it something more? It doesn't matter you kept saying, but maybe you were just trying to convince yourself otherwise.

You went to the library to distract yourself and read some books, and of course like every cliché romance novel- (tho the romance part isn't really true) the person you were avoiding was there. Jungkook and his long curly hair that you hate. Why did he have to be so damn godlike all the time? He was in a casual polo shirt tucked in inside his pants, maybe he didn't have soccer practice today. And he looked so good you were trying not to get wet just staring at him. Maybe he noticed you were ogling him so he decided to stare at you back. But you were still embarrassed and you didn't know how to act around him now, so you went to the back aisle of the library. Not acknowledging that he was calling your name. He didn't let you go though, as he went after you to make your suffering even worse.

"Y/N, hey are you avoiding me?" he suddenly asked. You pretended to be busy reading the book you were holding, just so you didn't have to stare at his handsome face. "Oh. Hey Jungkook, of course I'm not. I'm just busy trying to catch up with school and stuff. Why'd you think so?" you replied indifferently. "You didn't listen to me when I called your name awhile ago, and I haven't seen you around campus so I thought maybe you were avoiding me. Aren't you really?" He said as he moved towards you, making you feel queasy.

"I really am not. I just didn't hear you awhile ago, and besides the whole campus is pretty big maybe we just didn't notice each other." you simply fibbed. "Okay, whatever you say. I just wanted to know how are you feeling btw? Are you feeling better now after we… kissed?" you can't believe his cocky ass would really bring up the kiss. Fck him. "I'm spectacular if you must know. And can we not bring that up ever again please? It doesn't matter anyway." you retorted sarcastically.

"Why not? Are you mad at me because I kissed you? Or are you mad because you loved it?" he said as he moved closer to you trapping you within the shelves. You couldn't breathe but it was also like you didn't care, you wanted him close to you even if you felt like dying inside too. When you finally looked at him in the eye, you weren't surprised that he was staring at you with that playful but concerned look you kinda liked. "Don't be so full of yourself, I only liked it because it healed me. There's no other reason." You tried to shove him off and get away, but he held unto you and placed his hands on your hips. "If that's true, then why can't you look at me more than a minute longer and why are you running away baby?" he whispered into your ear seductively. He then moved to look at your face, and then at your lips. Seemingly wanting to taste them again. And you wanted to taste his too, you remembered how you got almost addicted to his lips the first time you kissed. He leaned in closer and you suddenly remembered you didn't even answer his question yet. But you think you did now as you were kissing him. The kiss didn't last long as you remembered his girlfriend Chaeyoung. It was unfair to her and what if she caught you? You were almost making out with her boyfriend again. The thought was enough to make you pull away from Jungkook, leaving him a little confused.

"Why did you pull away? You can't lie to me, I know you liked kissing me too."

"Yes, maybe I did Jungkook. But it's wrong. You have a girlfriend Jungkook, what are you thinking? What about chaeyoung? Don't you care about what she'd feel?" you reasoned. "I know that, you don't have to remind me. But you're my soulmate Y/N, she's just my girlfriend. And I don't even know what I feel about her anymore, but when I kiss you I don't think about anything or anyone else."

"But we can't do this Jungkook. I can't allow you to cheat on her with me, and I can't allow you to use me while you figure out what you really feel about her. It isn't healthy for the both of us."

"I know baby, I'm sorry. I'm not using you to figure out my feelings for her or forget her, I don't know what it is yet but I feel so good when I'm with you. Can't we just forget about everything for a little while and just let it be?" he said as he cupped your cheeks with his hands. "I don't know Kook, I don't think I can forget that you're with someone else and fool around with you. If things aren't working out for the both of you, why don't you talk it out or break up?"

"It's not that easy to just talk it out with her… and I can't break up with her…" (just yet) Jungkook wanted to add.

"Well what are you planning to do? And what do you want me to do Kook? I don't wanna be the other woman. You surely don't think we'll just mess around while you're still with her?"

"I can't let her go just yet Y/N. I need to think more. But I can't let you go too. You're my soulmate, pls don't give up on me. I just need time to figure things out." Jungkook said dejectedly. "I'll wait for you Kook, I just hope you can make the right decision. Also, It's not like I can avoid you forever. But, maybe it's best if we just stay friends for now. Like friends with no funny business or benefits." You said meaning it seriously but the last part jokingly. Trying to make the mood a little better.

"That's okay with me I guess. Well friend, promise you won't avoid me now?" He looked at you with hopeful eyes.

"Promise. Just don't try to do illegal things to me." You joked. "Okay! Hmm, so you wanna go eat icecream with me at my fave ice cream shop this time?"

"Are you paying for mine? If you are then who am I to say no."

💜💋

"Babe, you feel so good inside me."

"Of course I do, I have the best pussy and you know that."

"Not to ruin the mood, but what about your boyfriend? What if he catches us here? I heard he's built, I'm not saying I'm scared but you know I hate confrontation." The guy said balls deep inside her. "What about him? He doesn't care about me, he's probably fucking someone else too. But I can't break up with him you know? We've gone through a lot, and even if he neglects me I still want & need him. And you can't blame me for wanting someone to fulfill my needs, when he doesn’t anymore. Don't worry about him catching us, he never comes here unless I tell him to. Jungkook is so obedient, but a lousy boyfriend."

After you both finished your ice creams,( you learned his fave was the cookies and cream flavor,) Jungkook didn't want to go home yet. He suggested to go to the bowling alley at the mall, to teach you how to play bowling, because you mentioned you've never played it before.

"You have to hold it like this. Place your middle and ring finger in the top 2 holes and place your thumb into the bottom hole." he instructed, after a while you were almost getting the hang of it, though Jungkook was still the best because he'd made a 'turkey' already. You found out he loved going bowling with his dad, before they fought about his goals and dreams. It's amazing how athletic he is. He's an amazing soccer player, he's good at bowling, he's an exercise muscle pig, he can probably do anything if he puts his mind to it. Maybe the only thing he can't do is leave his girlfriend for you, or like you. But it's not time for your pity party right now.

After a taxing hell week, Jungkook invited you to have a movie marathon with him as a friend at his place, to relax after the horrid week and hangout.

"What movies are we watching this time Kook?" you asked sitting on his bed comfortably, holding a bag of chips to munch on later as you watched movies. "Hmm, I was thinking we could watch all the Iron man movies, and maybe spiderman after."

"Wow you really like Iron man huh?" you teased smirking a little. "Well yeah, only uncultured swines don't." he retorted.

"I really like how pepper stayed by his side through everything. She's a brilliant woman." Jungkook says sometime during the movie. "Yeah, I haven't really seen all the iron man movies till now but I can say they suit each other well. Pun unintended." you laughed at your silly thought, making Jungkook smile too.

You were focusing on the movie when you realized Jungkook's attention wasn't fully on the movie, instead it was at you. He was staring at you and he wasn't even being subtle about it. "Hey creep, why are you staring? You're not planning to murder me are you?" You joked. "I'm not a creep and I'm not planning to murder you, I was just admiring the view." You felt a blush forming in your cheeks at his words. Did he mean he was admiring you? That you were the view? The view isn't even that beautiful though, you thought insecure.

"Stop joking around Kook." you told him shrugging him off. "I'm not though, but I'll stop. Wouldn't want you falling for me even more." He cockily remarked. You knew he was joking but you couldn't help but get pissed a little by his joke. It was like he was trying to rile you up and for what? You couldn't do anything with him. You shouldn't, besides you already had an agreement. "As if Kook, keep dreaming."

"I'll keep dreaming of you then."

"Shut up or I'm really gonna get mad now."

"Okay, okay. I was just teasing babe don't be mad, I'm sorry."

"Let's just continue watching the movie okay?"

"Yeah, of course." he said awkwardly.

💜

You were out buying something at the store when you saw someone familiar passing by. Was that Chaeyoung? Jungkook's girlfriend? After taking the items you bought you followed her, as you were curious if Jungkook was with her at the mall too. But to your surprise she entered a resto, and the guy waiting for her wasn't Jungkook. It was some guy you didn't know but they looked kinda close if you must say. Thinking he was just a friend, you were about to go on your way when you saw at the corner of your eye that they were a little too close to be just friends. She fed him some food and they were sweet with each other. An ugly thought geared in your head. She wasn't cheating on Jungkook wasn't she? But if she were then it would be so unfair to him.

You had the sudden urge to ask her what she was doing when you realized it wasn't your place and your business to butt in. You also remembered that you kissed his boyfriend so you were conflicted. Isn't it hypocritical to hate her for possibly cheating on Jungkook, when Jungkook kinda did the same? Their relationship is kinda fucked up if you think about it, and you don't want to be a part of it. But how can you not be affected when you've already sinned with your soulmate. You decided to go home instead of snitching her to Jungkook, as you thought it wasn't the right time yet. Also, you needed more proof and to know the truth if she really was doing it.

You were back again at Jungkook's place to do a project for school, as the universe decided to make you partners for this class project. Maybe it's the soulmate effect, ew. You should stop being delulu, you thought. You weren't gonna lie and say you don't enjoy spending time with Jungkook though, He was always so adorable and kind. Except for times when his cockiness gets the best of him, he was enjoyable to be around with. "So, which part do you wanna do first?" you asked. "Hmm, maybe the easy one first?" you laughed a little, of course he'd choose the easy part to do. "Okay. You'll do the vocabulary part and I'll do the introduction summary for now." You stated. He agreed and you both proceeded to do the project, chatting occasionally to ask some questions about it. You just finished your tasks for today, when Jungkook decided to make a dad joke and it was actually a good one- or maybe you're just lame that's why you found it so funny that you had tears in the corner of your eyes from laughing so much. Someone decided to knock on his door interrupting your crack fiasco, and you remembered to get yourself together and stop giggling like a crackhead.

"Chaeyoung? Why are you here?" Jungkook said as soon as he opened his door, his girlfriend appearing in front of him. "Because you weren't answering your phone Kook, and now I see why." She retorted, looking at you accusingly. She had put weird extensions on her hair, making her look quite ratchet. But her outfit was kinda nice, it was slutty like her. "Well Y/N's here because we're doing a school project, it's not what you're thinking Chae."

"And what am I thinking Kook? Care to tell me how you know what's on my mind?" she said sarcastically. "I'm just saying the stupid things you're thinking aren't real, babe." Chaeyoung got angry at his statement. "Are you saying I'm stupid Jungkook? How dare you!" she screamed.

"I never said that, you're the one who said it. Are we really gonna fight right now again? Because I don't have the time or energy for it. So can we do it some other time? Not right now when Y/N's here." Instead of being ashamed, the things Jungkook said just seemed to rile up his girlfriend more. "And so fcking what if she's here Kook? I don't care about her, and you shouldn't too. Your business with her is done! You shouldn't be meeting up with her anymore, but look at you hoeing around behind my back." You wanted to defend Jungkook, but you remembered that you did kiss him and that made you feel a little guilty. Though, you agreed to be just friends right now. "I'm not hoeing around Chaeyoung! Stop accusing me of doing things I'm not doing. I care about Y/N because she's my soulmate, and you should respect her as a person if you can't respect us being connected in each other's lives." Jungkook retorted right back at her. "If you're not playing around then why do I feel like you are Kook? A woman's instincts are never wrong. You've been cold to me. And whenever we talk, we just fight. Is it really crazy for me to think that it's because you want something or someone new?" she cried crocodile tears.

"I'm sorry if you feel that way, but It's not wholly my fault. You always seem to find mistakes in me and accuse me of stupid shit I didn't do, that's why we're always fighting. You say I never communicate, but when I try to- you're the one who doesn't listen to me. I don't even know what to do with you anymore Chae. I don't know what to do with us." Jungkook sighed, quite exhausted with the whole conversation they're having. It was so awkward for you to witness them fighting, that you wanted to get out of the room already. So you told Jungkook you were leaving.

"Kook, I'm sorry to butt-in but maybe I should leave now? We're almost done with the project anyway." Jungkook was about to reply and escort you out, but his girlfriend chimed in. "You really only thought to leave now? When you could've done that ages ago? Come to think of it, it's your fault why we're fighting again. You're an annoying little slut." Jungkook was embarrassed and bummed at his girlfriend for insulting you like that, she was being paranoid and a bitch. You decided not to mind her and say anything, even though her bitch ass was really getting into your nerves. "Chaeyoung shut up!" he told her.

"No. Why should I shut up when it's true? It's her fcking fault for being such a flirty whore trying to steal you away from me! You're not even gonna deny it are you?" You couldn't help but answer her as you couldn't take the bullshit she was spouting anymore. "I don't usually respond to background noise and nonsense people, but since you wanted my attention so badly- I'm gonna tell you this. I'm not trying to steal your boyfriend, so please get out of your imagination now, It's not healthy." You retorted snarkily. You were about to get out of the door, but you couldn't help but tell her one last thing before you go,

"And before you call me a whore, make sure you're not one."

And you coolly went out of the door and walked away from them, leaving poor slutty Chaeyoung stunned.

TBC. 💜

If you enjoyed reading this and u wanna help a broke gal buy some food to eat during this pandemic, my kofi is: https://ko-fi.com/neinyajung U can buy me a coffee for $3, only if you want to ofc! I totes understand if u can't. Even just reblogging this chapter would make me happy :)

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