#*WHEEZE* Can you imagine if the kids ever ask how they were born | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wondernimbus · 4 years ago

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meet the weasleys — george weasley

pairing: george weasley x female!reader

summary: george takes reader to meet his family.

requests are closed for now. please refrain from plagiarizing my work!

"I’m nervous."

"Well, don't be."

"Thank you, George. That somehow just alleviated all of my worries."

George snickers and squeezes her hand in reassurance. “Just relax. My family doesn't bite—or, well, Ron used to, but that was back when he was, what, five? And besides, you already know him, and he's never bit you before, has he?"

"Not helping."

"And you've met most of my family already."

“I haven't met your mum. Or your dad. Or Bill and Charlie,” she argues, eyes worriedly darting from George’s own to the wooden door in front of them.

George laughs again. His eyes don’t fail to catch onto the way she’s frantically tapping her foot against the ground, how she keeps worrying at her bottom lip. The sight has him grinning widely; he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t horribly endeared.

“Listen,” he says, removing his fingers from her own in favor of turning her around to face him. George’s hands go to her neck, cradling the sides of her cheeks. “They’re going to love you. And if they don’t—well, I can always find a different family.”

”George,” she sighs.

”Only joking,” he grins, and leans in to press a very brief kiss to the tip of her nose. “But I mean it. They’ll adore you. Possibly even more than I do, although that’s up for debate.”

She lets out a long breath, pursing her lips together in a feeble attempt at a smile, but George commends her for trying. He drops his hands back to his sides and laces his fingers through her own again, turning to face the door like they’re about to venture into some sort of grand adventure and not into his family’s living room—and George is about to twist open the knob, until [Y/N] goes, “Wait.”

He glances at her. Her eyes are wide and the look on her face still so uncertain. Sucking in a breath through her teeth, she asks him, “How do I look?”

The grin on George’s face is so impossibly wide. “Like a billion galleons,” he tells her. Just because he can’t resist the urge, he swoops down to press one more chaste kiss to her lips. And then finally, he twists the knob.

The moment George steps foot through the door, he’s immediately enveloped by the wafting scent of something being cooked on the stove. It smells familiar, like he should know what it is, but George has never been much of a chef. But he recognizes the sounds—the voices—coming from the kitchen despite all of them mingling together to form one raucous chorus of chatter. He knows exactly which voice belongs to who—knows that the loud shriek is his mum reprimanding one of them, knows that the sound of someone whining is very likely Ron. That laugh is Bill’s, too, mingled with Fred’s voice. George just knows, automatically, without even having to think about it. George knows, too, without looking down on the “welcome” mat in front of the door, that there are going to be muddy boots on top it—and there they are. He steps around them. George knows that there is going to be a quilt magically knitting itself together on the couch without even having to look at it—and there it is.

And just like that, he knows he’s home.

Something about having [Y/N] in the vicinity of a place so important to him—a place that’s part of him—has his heart feeling full. He pauses for a moment in the doorway, taking it all in, but he’s snapped out of his brief spell of inexplicable happiness when his father comes lumbering out of the door leading to the kitchen.

“George!” his dad exclaims loudly, and just like that all chatter from the room behind him ceases (“They’re here?!” he hears his mother panic). “We didn’t hear you come in!”

”Likely because mum was too busy screaming,” George grins, and walks forward to envelop his father in a hug.

”Ah, yes—Fred arrived half an hour ago and terrified Ron out of his wits with some sort of fake—no, actually, nevermind that! This must be [Y/N].”

Arthur’s eyes have landed on her, and George actually has to give her a little nudge for her to say something. Her eyes widen like she’s surprised at being addressed (as though the entire point of this gathering hadn’t been to get to introduce her), but then her lips break out into a smile and she steps forward to shake his father’s outstretched hand.

”It’s really nice to meet you,” she says, eyes crinkling at the edges. George stands to the side watching the scene unfold, feeling oddly proud.

”Yes, of course!” Arthur nods with remarkable enthusiasm, smiling just as wide. “I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you! You’re Muggle-born, correct?”

She lets out a tinkling laugh. “Yes, that’s right.”

”Brilliant!” he claps his hands together—but George knows exactly where this is going, so he cuts his father off and says, “I think we can address the function of a rubber duck later over dinner, dad.”

Arthur pauses, seemingly dejected, but then gathers himself and nods. “Oh, right, well, I suppose—“

”[Y/N]!”

And there’s George’s mum, Molly, coming from the kitchen, hurriedly pulling off her oven mitts to rush straight towards [Y/N] and envelop her in a big, warm hug. “Oh!” [Y/N] exclaims, obviously taken a bit by surprise given that the two of them have never met before, but eventually she breaks out into light laughs and hugs her back. [Y/N] meets George’s gaze over Molly’s shoulder; he gives her this encouraging sort of smile, and then jokingly complains, ”Blimey. S’pose I’m not missed here anymore.”

”Oh, quiet, you!” Molly frets, waving a dismissive hand in the air (George laughs) and then pulling away from [Y/N] to grip her by the arms and gush, “You’re far prettier than I could have ever imagined!”

[Y/N] flushes a shade of vibrant pink. “Oh, no—but thank you—“

”Have you gotten your vision checked lately, [Y/N]?” It’s Fred, leaning on the kitchen doorframe with a toy snake dangling from his hand. “Or do you really want to be with Georgey despite his baffling similarities to a mountain troll?"

”We’re twins, you prat.” George smacks the back of Fred’s head.

“Ah, right.” Fred is grinning despite having received a blow to the head. “It’s lovely seeing you, future-sister-in-law.”

Fred and [Y/N] have known each other just as long as she and George have, having gone to Hogwarts at the same time all those years ago. All three of them had bonded over their mutual love for pranks, although [Y/N] had always been their babysitter of sorts—the one who made sure none of their jokes went too far out of line. George loved her for it; loved how considerate and gentle she was despite her undeniable mischief. But he’d only really gotten himself to tell her after the war; one brief visit of hers to the joke shop turned into two, and then three, and then suddenly [Y/N] was always hanging around somewhere in Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, helping the business run along. It was Fred who convinced George, only six months ago, to confess his admiration for her after five years of holding himself back.

After the war, George had all the time in the world to take as many risks as he could. So he told her—and now here they are: [Y/N] ruffling Fred’s hair fondly, George trying to fend off his mother’s hands trying to fix his hair (“don’t you think you need a haircut, sweetie?”), and Ron making his grand entrance from behind Fred.

”Ron!” [Y/N] exclaims, catching sight of him, and then jokingly she adds, “I haven’t seen you in ages—last time I saw you you were the size of a Pygmy Puff.”

Ron scoffs out a laugh. “You’re only two years older than me, you know,” he huffs, but lets her hug him, anyway.

Brief introductions are made as Bill and Charlie enter the room. George watches as [Y/N] shakes their hands—Charlie hugs her, as he’s always been big on affection—and just like that George knows that she’s won all of them over, the way she’d done to him. The way she still does to him, after all this time.

Five minutes later they're being ushered into the garden behind the Burrow, where a long wooden table has been set up. There are golden streamers draped all around the bushes and hanging from the branches of trees, but that's hardly what captures George and [Y/N]'s attention first because at the very end of the long table, a large banner is floating in mid-air: one that says "WELCOME TO THE FAMILY!" in glittering silver letters.

George doesn't miss the look on [Y/N]'s face when she sees this; her eyes almost seem to well up with tears, and despite the picture-perfect setting in front of him—despite the golden streamers and the balloons and the faerie lights hanging in mid-air—it's that look on [Y/N]'s face that has his breath catching in his throat and his heart doing odd little double-takes inside his chest.

He loves her, he realizes. It’s nothing new—shouldn't be anything new to him, as he's known it for quite a while now—but still there are moments like this one where he pauses and has to take a while to let it sink in; the fact that the woman next to him, whose smile reminds him of every single happy moment he has ever lived through, loves him just as much as he loves her.

Knowing that is absolutely surreal.

"We didn't expect you to arrive so early!" Molly says, obviously harried as she passes by them bearing a cauldron of steaming soup. “The cookies are still baking—and [Y/N], honey, I sent Ginny upstairs to go fetch your sweater, she should be down any time soon—Ron, Fred, will you stop that!”

The two, who had been wrestling with the toy snake Fred held in his hands earlier, immediately drop their hands to their sides. “T’was Fred who started it,” grumbles Ron.

”And I plan on ending it!” Fred emits some sort of war-cry, but stops when he spots the look on his mother’s face. “Kidding, mum.”

—

It takes a good half-hour or so before the last of the dishes are finally set on the table and everyone is seated. There’s food of all sorts in front of them—treacle tarts, cakes, pudding, pie—and [Y/N], who initially thought she’d feel too nervous to eat anything, eats with ease. Like everyone else around the table, she’s wearing a fuzzy red sweater with her initial sewn in front; a gift to her from Molly. The moment she’d laid eyes on it she knew it was her favorite thing in the entire world.

She tells this to George, who raises his eyebrows and replies snarkily, “I’m gonna have to ask for you to return the necklace I gave you, then.”

”Oh, sod off,” she laughs, rolling her eyes, but she lets him spoon pie into her mouth.

“Gah, get a room!” complains Fred.

”It’s not like they’re snogging,” says Charlie.

”Would you like us to?” grins George, earning him a slap to the shoulder from [Y/N].

”There are children here, George,” she scolds.

”You’re only two years older!” protests Ron.

No one really notices, but the sun has long since sunken below the horizon. Everyone around the table is immersed in chatter; Ron, for example, has been roped into a passionate debate with Fred and George about the true purpose of Pygmy Puffs. (“They only exist to ask for food and jump around and make annoying little noises!” says Ron, to which George responds with, “That sounds like you, Ron.”) [Y/N], meanwhile, is offering an explanation to Arthur about the rubber duck.

“They don’t do much of anything, really. They float and squirt and sometimes they make noises.”

But Arthur looks disappointed, as though he’d been expecting something much more grand. So [Y/N], not wanting to bring down his mood, decides to add, ”I believe they’re also used to keep—um—Grindylows away from your bathwater.”

Mr. Weasley positively beams with joy. “Is that right? I told you, Molly, rubber ducks are magnificent little things!”

Molly gives her husband an exasperated look, but it disappears the moment she turns to [Y/N]. “We’re so glad to have you here, sweetie,” she tells her, reaching over the table to grasp her hand and offering her the most motherly smile [Y/N] has ever seen. “We’ve heard so many good things about you. George speaks so very highly of you—and he was right, you really are perfect for him!"

[Y/N] flushes, smiling. “Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.”

”Oh, no, no, call me Molly,” she laughs, waving a hand in the air. “You’re part of the family now, dear. No need for formalities.”

And [Y/N] does feel like it—like she’s part of this table. This family. Not just the girlfriend of one of their sons but someone who actually belongs.

It’s odd, in a magical sort of way, how all of their random conversations blend together to form one harmonious burst of chatter, how everything and everyone in that table just works. Like puzzle pieces from different sets, she thinks to herself. And they shouldn't fit, but they do.

So this is home for George. This is the place he grew up in. This is where his heart lives.

She can't help the way her eyes stray to him every now and then, noting the sheer joy reflected in his eyes, the way the smile on his lips never really goes away. How, even when Ron flicks a strawberry at his face—even when George threatens to send a whole army of pygmy puffs after him—there's still that joyful glint in his eyes.

With the end of winter right around the corner, surrounded by the family that has welcomed her with open arms, holding the hand of her very favorite person underneath table, fireflies flitting around above them as laughter echoes around the table: [Y/N] feels safe. Happy.

So this is home.

—

The next morning, [Y/N] and George find themselves walking along the edge of the woods where meadow rues grow, a little ways away from the Burrow. They walk unhurried, the soles of their feet swishing against the blades of grass with each step, hands hanging loosely intertwined between them.

They’d woken up before anyone else, when the sun had just barely begun to rise. George had told her to "Get up, I want to take you somewhere" and admittedly she'd whined a little, claiming to need five more minutes of sleep, but George, laughing, threw her over his shoulder and threatened to carry her all the way there if she didn't oblige.

But now, she's glad she came with.

At one point she stops walking, lifts her face to the sky and closes her eyes against the warmth of the sun, taking a deep breath and soaking in everything that the morning wants to bring her. George watches her without question, a fond little smile already tugging on the edges of his lips without him even realizing. [Y/N] is beautiful in the sunlight—or any light at all, actually. George isn't entirely convinced someone like her—someone so breathtakingly beautiful and gentle and patient—would want someone like him. But when he tugs on her hand, turning her around to face him, and when he cups her jaw and guides her closer to press their mouths together, she lets him. She doesn't even think about it. Just melts into him like it's the only thing she knows how to do.

And then she pulls back slightly but stays close, runs a palm down the length of George’s arm and links their fingers together.

"It’s not much," he tells her, voice uncharacteristically quiet. A little unsure. "But it's home." Because, now that the excitement from yesterday has faded, George knows what his house could look like to someone who hasn't lived there all their life—knows that it looks messy, like pieces of it were thrown together haphazardly. It’s not a manor. Nothing like the kind of houses you see featured on Witch Weekly. He knows that [Y/N] isn't the type to care, but still—

"I love it," she pulls away, throwing her head back in an actual laugh—the kind that reminds George of everything good in the world. "I love this place, George. And your brothers and Ginny and your parents. Yesterday was.." she pauses, calming down a little, taking in a deep breath as she squeezes his hand in her own. "It was magical."

Quietly, with her eyes skittering away to look back at the Burrow behind them, she tells him, "I'm really happy, George."

George knows he'll remember this moment forever. The day is just beginning, and he is standing on the edge of a forest-line with a girl who looks at him like in spite of however many weird things he does, whatever dumb things he says, however embarrassing and difficult and painful some days might be, George is still worthy of being hers.

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akitohsworld · 4 years ago

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Disclaimer: I wrote this some time ago, when I was very sleepy. How they could've met before the exchange? I love stupid references don't@ me lol

Warning: slight NSFW at the end (under the cut)

Put a spell on me |Solomon X m!Reader

Saying Solomon was feeling under the weather was an understatement. He felt like absolute shit. His stomach was recoiling, giving him the impression he had to vomit, but couldn't. Resulting in him being wobbly on his feet. Although, he was currently trying to sober up. The lack of water caused his head to hurt, while he walked alongside the river to go back to his apartment. He was in no shape to teleport, not with the sense of orientation he had right now.

A frustrated groan escaped him as he grabbed onto the metal fence beside the river, letting gravity take over as he slouched down onto the floor.

It was a beautiful night, you could see the starry sky reflecting in the river. The silence only being disturbed by some outlandish music in the distance. Somewhere, there was another party raving besides the witches sabbath he had successfully escaped.

He knew he shouldn't have accepted that many drinks from the witches. But it had been a successful year, he was only going back to the Devildom next week... And, probably, going to meet that other exchange student by then.

"Hey fam, you okay?" A voice slurred above him, blocking the blinding streetlights before him.

"Yeah yeah, thank you for your concern-," Solomon looked up surprised. He thought he was the only one here-

"Here ," a handsome guy, probably not a sorcerer, held out a bottle of water to him, grinning friendly. "You gotta stay hydrated when drunk."

"Uhm.. thanks?" Solomon chuckled. "That's nice, but I hear I shouldn't accept drinks from kind strangers"

Their hair reflected in the warm light, along with unfocused eyes glistening in the dark, when he shot Solomon a kind smile.

Solomon suspected he was from where the music was coming from. Another rave or party or whatever, since he was wearing flashy attire and sweat was glistening on his smooth skin.

From dancing, maybe? It wasn't that warm. Rather fresh, if Solomon would say so himself.

"Hmmm", the stranger put a hand on his chin. "I guess, I'm feelin' a biiiiit brave tonight haha. Here, I'll take a sip from it first."

He chucked down a bit of water. "There."

Solomon just stared at him for a solid second. Maybe, probably, surely, this was the alcohol. But this stranger had something alluring about him. His glistening lips from the water made Solomon unable to do anything else but stare.

"You going to take it, or not?"

"Ah yes", Solomon grabbed the bottle and took a sip before putting it back down again.

"May I sit with you?" He put a hand on his neck and averted his gaze. "I- uhm came here to get away from all the noise for a bit- I don't wanna be creepy or anything-"

"Oh- Yes of course! Don't worry about it"

The grin returned to his face as he slouched down beside him. "Thank you."

Solomon took another chug of water. He didn't really have anywhere to be, nor did he have the strength to go home anyways. So he figured he might as well sober up, while making some new memories.

"Out of curiosity.. what do you mean by brave?" Solomon smirked at him.

"Well...", the stranger just smiled, a slight tint of colour dusting his cheeks. "You're pretty handsome. And I normally can't ask out guys for the heck of it.. so yeah. I'd say I'm being stupidly brave by talking to someone as hot as you."

The sorcerer laughed. "How very direct"

"Must be the alcohol", he chuckled. "I don't know anyone around here.. and I have a habit of drinking too much when I'm at social gatherings without friends.. What about you? Why are you here all alone?.. If it's okay to ask, at least."

"Ah it's okay~ I'm trying to sober up from drinking too", Solomon sighed. "It was an exhausting night.."

The stranger nodded sighing. "Tell me about it."

"So.. what are you celebrating?"

And so, they proceeded to talk about the reasons why they were here. Their conversation slowly but surely going of its original rails, from politics to religion to light-hearted shows and childhood memories.

Solomon, of course, didn't go into much detail about magic nor anything like that. They were simply trailing off into more and more different topics, running their tongues because of the alcohol.

"Wait, people avoid you when you invite them?" He asked in shock, "Even after you offer to cook for them?! Woah, that's rude after everything you've done..."

Solomon hung his head in disappointment. "I really don't know what the issue is, you know? It's not like they outright avoid me when we nee- want to hang out, but everytime I offer my hospitality they just.. you know?"

"Shiiiit bro... ," he thought for a bit, then joked, "Maybe your cooking sucks?"

Solomon sighed dramatically, proceeding to pout. "Can't blame the tasteless."

"Just kidding kidding!!" he smiled sympathetically, "Maybe it's best if you ask them directly about it. Honesty is always key, no matter where you're from."

Solomon remembered something.

"So, I'm guessing you're not from around here?"

The stranger looked him up and down, seeming to think for a bit and then smirking back at him.

"You tell me, wizard boy. Am I?"

"Oh? How do you know?"

"Know what?"

"That I'm", Solomon gesticulated dramatically, "a wizard."

He became serious and leaned closer to Solomon, putting a hand on his shoulder. Solomon's breath hitched ever so slightly as the stranger's intense gaze held him entranced.

"You're a wizard, Harry."

"Huh?"

The stranger wheezed at his reference, as Solomon finally understood and erupted into laughter himself.

He stopped himself to respond seriously:

"..A wizard?"

"Don't you feel it ," the stranger put their hand over Solomon's heart, making his heart pound a bit harder, which surprised him, "...,Mister Krabs?"

"Huh- What?-"

After a perplexed pause they looked at each other and wheezed and cackled in the cursed manner your friends laugh when someone tells a ridiculous, dumb joke.

As they sat there, next to a river enveloped by the light of street lamps in a park, their laughter erupted through the silent night. Nothing but very faint music could be heard in the distance. Solomon didn't even know why he was laughing so hard. It was a stupid reference. And this stranger was clearly out of it.

There was something about him... Solomon just couldn't put his finger to it.

"S-so haha you're a man of culture as well~", Solomon calmed down, "What's your name?"

" Of course~ (y/N)." The stranger responded smiling, wiping away a tear. "Yours?"

"Solomon.", he answered reciprocating the smile.

"Solomon the wise?"

"Yes." He shot him a knowing glance. "So you do know me~"

"Oh yes~" (y/N)'s fingers slid over Solomon's coat. "You dress like a wizard, you look like a wizard aaaaand your named after King Solomon the wise. Great literature surrounds you: like Ars Goëtia and the lesser keys of, well, you", their gaze turned to look into the sorcerer's grey eyes.

With that, Solomon understood.

This person didn't know him . He knew of his tales, the legends, basically fairy tales.

He was like most humans... Unaware of the magical world he lived in. The realisation stung a bit, but the sorcerer decided to play along anyways as he felt himself sobering up.

"Well, I can't disappoint a fan like yourself now, can I?" Solomon smirked.

"Ohh~ So are you going to show me any tricks?" (y/N) laughed, standing up challengingly. "Come at me with your best shot, wizard boy~"

Solomon didn't know why, but he felt the urge to impress the young man.

"Hmm", he stood up, although a bit wobbly. "Alright. But I'll need an assistant~"

"Oh my oh myyy" (y/N) excitedly clapped their hands together. "I'll sacrifice myself for the greater good then."

Solomon chuckled, shooting him a provocative glance through his lashes at which he thought he saw (y/N) blushing.

"So, (y/N), are you ready?"

"I'm was born ready"

Solomon offered him his hand. "Take my hand, my cute assistant~"

"Oh my, and he has a way with words", (y/N) overdramatically took his hand, "The ladies will die if you do that, you know?"

"Oh will they now?", Solomon pulled him towards himself, "What effect do you think Hecate's power will have on you?"

"I like your funny words, magic man", (y/N) smirked playfully. "Tell me more~"

Solomon scoffed. This guy is a walking reference book.

"Have you ever danced with a sorcerer in the pale moonlight?", he asked, putting another hand on (y/N)'s waist, said man's breath hitching.

"W-well, I'm pretty sure the proverb goes different, Solomon", he put a hand on his counterpart's shoulder as he let Solomon take the lead, "I thought you were going to show me a trick though~"

"Patience is a virtue", he simply said teasingly.

"-and a pain", (y/N) retorted, while taking the first step back.

"So you know how to waltz?", Solomon began to lead.

"School taught me many things", he imitated a rough old man voice, "You youngsters would never understand"

Solomon tried to contain his need to laugh.

"Aha~ Funny, enlighten me?"

"Well, I don't know what they teach in wizard boy-school", they turned, " But back in my day, they tried to teach me calculus"

Solomon quirked a brow. "Tried?" Then he spun (y/N) around.

"Well, I was busy drawing into my notes", his cold hand slipped to Solomon's neck, making the sorcerer tense up.

"And what kind of Mona Lisa-worth drawings were you working on? I bet only of the highest quality~", sarcasm dripped from his voice as he shot (y/N) a teasing smile.

"Oh you can't even imagine~", (y/N) rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner before shooting him a deadpan look, "Penises mostly"

A laugh escaped Solomon. "How refined"

"I am nothing but refined, sir~"

Solomon spun him around again, matching no pace in particular, as he pulled him closer to his chest this time. A small gasp left (y/N)'s mouth.

"H-hey now, be careful there. Or do you want me to fall?"

Solomon's lips pursed up in amusement, but quickly froze as he looked into the man's face.

(y/N)'s expression was contorted in utter joy, like he couldn't contain their grin. He looked stupidly adorable...

Solomon felt his heart clench at the sight. But he quickly snapped out of it as he shot (y/N) another charming smile.

"So, about 'the ladies dying' at my charm.."

"You're still on about that?" (y/N) chuckled amused, "Give it a rest wizard boy. We get it, you're handsome-"

"What about you?" his cheeks burned as he felt himself getting... Nervous? That's new.

Solomon hoped the darkness wouldn't give him away, "How do you feel about my 'charm'?"

For a second everything stood still and they both came to a stop. Their eyes locked and silence engulfed them. Tension began to claw at both man's braveness, as realisation struck them. This encounter had progressively turned into something more. Not some random thing.

It felt like..

(y/N) averted his gaze, face flushing a bright red as he chuckled nervously. "It... It takes a bit more for me to die, Sol.."

Fate.

"Is that so?", Solomon's fingers interlaced with his as he slowly inched closer.

"I mean.. you could find out..." (y/N)'s eyes slowly closed when-

Strings of colourful magic sparked around them.

"Huh?!" His eyes shot wide open, grip tightening on Solomon's hands, "What-"

(y/N) looked around stunned and extremely surprised.

"So? How was that for a 'magic trick'?"

(y/N)'s gaze returned to face him. "Y-you.. How?"

The sorcerer just hummed. "Who knows?"

"This... Must be a dream then..", he sighed disappointed, a tinge of sadness in his voice, "That's a bummer.. I really like you."

Now it was Solomon's turn to blush.

"I- I understand the confusion, but- mph?!"

With that his lips pressed onto Solomon's.

The sorcerer froze, while (y/N)'s mouth opened a little, slipping his tongue through Solomon's mouth. He tasted like sweet liquor, further entrancing the sorcerer in a passionate kiss.

Solomon got over his shock quickly as his hands found the other's waist, pulling him towards himself. When (y/N) sighed into the kiss, hands burying into his white locks, excitement shot through his spine.

Solomon pressed him against a nearby tree. He grew hot as (y/N)'s soft, wet lips brushed against his, the passion growing with each passing second.

"Mnh hah", (y/N) parted for a second, a string of saliva connecting them, lips barely brushing against his, "This.. feels too real though.."

"Because it is- ", Solomon panted against his mouth, connecting their lips again with more of his own vigor this time. His tongue eagerly brushing over the other's.

God, what was he doing?

What was he doing??

But fuck it felt so good.

He couldn't resist the desire to touch (y/N) more and more. He wanted him closer and it showed.

As if on cue, (y/N)'s hand slid over Solomon's pants, suddenly palming his half hard erection and making him moan into the other's mouth longingly.

"Mnn- (y/N) wait.."

"Mnh? Oh sorry-!", he stopped abruptly.

"N-no I mean... Let's.. let's go to my place-"

"Oh~" (y/N) smiled and kissed him again, teeth pulling at his bottom lip as he parted panting.

"Alright then. Show me the way, wizard-boy~"

#obey me #fluff #solomon #solomon x reader #m!mc #m!reader #smut

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beginagainunsolved · 3 years ago

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RYAN: This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved, we’ll be talking about the mysterious “death” of Jason Todd.

SHANE: Why is death in air quotes there?

RYAN: You’ll see.

SHANE: I love it when you get all mysterious. Really draws me in. You’ve got me on the edge of my seat here, Ryan!

RYAN: Oh, it gets edgier.

SHANE: Don’t think that works in this context, buddy.

RYAN: It does. You’ll see. This guy’s a real edgelord.

SHANE: Gross.

RYAN: Shut up. Anyway, this is actually one of our most highly requested cases. We get comments to do this one every time we post a new video, so —

SHANE: You guys can SHUT UP now. We’re DOING IT. Get off our BACKS.

RYAN: Okay, maybe don’t — maybe don’t yell at them.

SHANE: Hey, I’ll yell if I want to yell.

RYAN: Okay.

RYAN, NARRATION: Jason Peter Todd was the second ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne, adopted shortly after his first ward, Dick Grayson, was emancipated and moved away from Gotham city.

SHANE: Why is this guy always adopting kids? Can that be the next episode?

RYAN: That would be so boring. “This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved: A Billionaire is Lonely.”

SHANE: There are better ways to deal with loneliness, Ryan.

RYAN: I don’t know. He seems to like his way.

SHANE: I guess.

RYAN, NARRATION: Not much is known about Jason’s life prior to his adoption. Unlike Wayne’s previous ward, Dick Grayson, it doesn’t appear that Todd had any sort of public persona. Most reports claim he was born to a poor family and largely grew up on the streets, but it’s difficult to confirm.

SHANE: You mean you couldn’t find it on Google?

RYAN: Yeah, I couldn’t find it on Google. I typed in “Jason Todd - Street Youth?” And nothing came up, so I called it a day and got a smoothie.

SHANE: (wheeze)

RYAN, NARRATION: Most accounts of Jason’s life begin shortly after his adoption. During this time, it appears that Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne weren’t on speaking terms, at least to the general public. Shortly before Jason’s adoption, Dick stopped making public appearances and attending galas with Wayne. Many speculate that Jason’s adoption was Wayne’s attempt to fill the void left by his first ward’s departure.

SHANE: Oof.

RYAN: Yeah, oof.

SHANE: And I thought my family had drama!

RYAN: Your family has you. That’s enough drama.

SHANE: Didn’t your dad cut someone’s head off once?

RYAN: Please stop telling people that. Someone’s gonna believe you! The FBI are going to show up at his door!

SHANE: I hope they do. I hope SHIELD interrogates him.

RYAN: NO!

RYAN, NARRATION: People who knew Jason Todd in the years immediately following his adoption into the Wayne family paint the tale of a troubled young man vying for the attention of his newfound father. After his supposed death, many of Wayne’s high status acquaintances who had met the boy at galas and public events were quick to come forward with their own accounts of his demeanor and personality.

SHANE: Ryan, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again…

RYAN AND SHANE, IN UNISON: Rich people fucking suck.

SHANE: Rich people fucking suck!

RYAN: On this, we absolutely agree.

SHANE: This one thing!

RYAN: This one thing, yeah.

SHANE: Anyway. Eat the rich!

RYAN: Okay.

RYAN, NARRATION: The real mystery of Jason Todd, of course, doesn’t lie in how he became associated with Bruce Wayne. The real mystery comes from how this association ended.

SHANE: Here we go!

RYAN: Here we go.

RYAN, NARRATION: Then, in 2010, not long after his adoption into the Wayne family, Jason suddenly disappeared from the public eye. Much like Dick Grayson before him, he stopped attending galas and public events. Unlike Dick Grayson, no one seemed to know where he ended up at all.

SHANE: So this wasn’t a “I’m mad at my dad so I’m gonna crash on my buddy’s couch” type situation.

RYAN: Oh, no, definitely not. This kid seemingly vanished into thin air.

SHANE: Like Amelia Earhart! We all remember her!

RYAN: Don’t say anything about the —

SHANE: She was eaten by crabs.

RYAN: Jesus Christ.

RYAN, NARRATION: This went on for some time, with Jason out of the public eye and Bruce largely dodging questions about him when asked. Then, one day, Bruce Wayne called a press conference and made a startling revelation: Jason Todd was dead.

SHANE: Not a fun press conference.

RYAN: Not really, no. It’s — You can still watch it on YouTube. It’s bleak, man.

SHANE: Well, he’s announcing his son’s untimely death, Ryan. There’s not gonna be confetti.

RYAN: Yeah, but I mean — he pretty much just gets up on stage, makes a depressing ass announcement, and leaves right away.

SHANE: Imagine being a reporter there. Just standing out in the rain. Was it raining? I bet it was raining.

RYAN: I think it’s just, like, perpetually raining in Gotham. It’s got those kind of vibes.

SHANE: Depressing noir detective vibes, yeah. That’s why all those people dress up like bats and clowns. Nobody does that in L.A.

RYAN: No, we don’t get a lot of bats or clowns in L.A.

SHANE: We had the flame head guy! Miss him.

RYAN: He comes up in this.

SHANE: HE DOES?!?

RYAN: Spoiler alert!

SHANE: No, she lives in Gotham, too.

RYAN: Shut up.

RYAN, NARRATION: Life seemed to move on for the Wayne family after this. Jason was buried in a Gotham cemetery following a private funeral. Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne seemingly reunited. Some time down the line, Wayne adopted Tim Drake, a boy whose recently deceased parents ran in his social circles. Jason continued to be a rarely mentioned subject in any public appearances made by the Wayne family and their close associates, and any time he was brought up in interviews, journalists were categorically shut down.

SHANE: This is getting depressing, but I want to circle back around to this guy’s kid adopting addiction. Nobody should have this many orphans, Ryan.

RYAN: I mean, he’s helping them, right?

SHANE: Is he? He’s just replacing one with the next! Like a congo line!

RYAN: A congo line of — You know, I say this a lot, but this time I really mean it. You are going to get us so sued.

SHANE: It’s like the Macarena. You put an orphan in and take an orphan out.

RYAN: That’s the Hokey Pokey.

SHANE: And shake ‘em all about.

RYAN: Please stop.

RYAN, NARRATION: With most cases, this would be the end of it. A bleak end to a bleak story. But instead, this is where things get weird.

SHANE: Hooo boy. This is where the air quotes come in.

RYAN: This is where the air quotes come in!

RYAN, NARRATION: A few years after his death, Jason Todd seemingly reemerged. He was spotted leaving Wayne Manor, a few inches taller and with a new hair do.

SHANE: I’m just gonna put this out there, like, as an unofficial theory.

RYAN: Oh god.

SHANE: Are we sure this wasn’t just some other random orphan? The guy likes orphans, Ryan. He has an orphan problem.

RYAN: If it was another random orphan, it was a random orphan that looked exactly like Jason Todd.

SHANE: Wouldn’t put it past him!

RYAN: How would he even manage that?

SHANE: I don’t know! He’s rich!

RYAN: That can’t be your answer to everything shady you accuse someone of doing.

SHANE: It can, and it is.

RYAN: I really hope Buzzfeed has lawyer lined up for us. We’re gonna need so many lawyers.

SHANE: I’m sure we’ll be fine.

RYAN: (long sigh)

RYAN, NARRATION: When asked about Todd’s sudden reappearance, members of the Wayne family dodged the question just as thoroughly as they once dodged questions regarding his death. Their excuses, typically flimsy, varied from person to person with some saying the man who appeared to be Jason was actually someone else, and others saying said man didn’t exist at all.

SHANE: Pfffft. “Oh, no, there’s no man here! No man at all!”

RYAN: I actually looked up a lot of the denials, and some of them get… wild. Dick Grayson once claimed that no one ever said Jason Todd died at all.

SHANE: The press conference is on YouTube!

RYAN: He said it was a prank.

SHANE: A prank? Man, fuck this guy!

RYAN: I think he just panicked.

SHANE: He can panic more smoothly than that, at least! Have a little respect!

RYAN: (wheeze) You’re telling people about respect now?

SHANE: I’m very respectful, Ryan.

RYAN: You told a ghost to eat your ass last week!

SHANE: We’ve been over this. I don’t respect ghosts because they aren’t real. I told an empty room to eat my ass. And it did not comply.

RYAN: You accused Bruce Wayne of stealing orphans three minutes ago!

SHANE: I don’t respect rich people, either, because fuck ‘em.

RYAN: (wheeze)

RYAN, NARRATION: So, what ever happened to Jason Todd? Let’s get into the theories.

SHANE: I’m sure they’re all perfectly reasonable.

RYAN: As always.

SHANE: Oh, no.

RYAN, NARRATION: The first theory is that Jason Todd’s “death” was a coverup for a ransom attempt.

SHANE: That kind of makes sense.

RYAN: Yeah! Like, obviously Wayne wouldn’t want people to know his kid was abducted for ransom. Especially if he was going to plan on paying it.

SHANE: Well. I don’t think he’d say “yeah that kid’s dead” if he was planning on paying the ransom.

RYAN: You think he left him to die?

SHANE: RICH PEOPLE SUCK!

RYAN: God. I can taste the lawsuit.

RYAN, NARRATION: This theory is a rather straightforward one: After receiving a ransom note for his son some time after his disappearance, Wayne announced Jason’s death to cover it up and prevent the kidnappers from getting the publicity that would have made them infamous.

SHANE: Like a big ole fuck you!

RYAN: Yeah, I mean, you’d get a lot of clout for kidnapping a famous billionaire’s son. Especially in Gotham, right? Out there, it’s like… Crime is currency, almost. You build up a reputation like that, you can rule the city.

SHANE: Exactly! So by taking that away… Kind of ruins their whole thing.

RYAN: Right! And then they’ve got no use for Jason anymore and, you know, killing somebody’s a lot harder than kidnapping them, so…

SHANE: Oh, I don’t think they let him go. That kid was scrappy. He probably gave ‘em all rabies and ran.

CAMERAMAN, IN BACKGROUND: Guys. Defamation —

SHANE: Yeah, yeah, we know. Let’s move on!

RYAN, NARRATION: The next theory ties back to Jason’s alleged life before his adoption as a street kid. This theory states that Jason, like many young people in Gotham, got tangled up with some of the neighborhood’s local gangs and got in over his head.

SHANE: His sordid past as an eight year old came back to haunt him?

RYAN: Well, presumably he stayed in contact with people he knew at the time and got pulled into the gangs later.

SHANE: Nah, I want an eight year old with a shiv. He’ll shank you… but only from the waist down. Can’t reach any higher.

RYAN: (wheeze)

SHANE: Except for on you! You’re, like, the size of an eight year old. Man, he’d crush you.

RYAN: Yeah, well, you’d be fine, Gumbo. He wouldn’t be able to reach anything above your foot. You’d be like a giraffe stepping on a thumbtack.

SHANE: I keep telling you, Ryan, I am average height. You’re just abnormally short.

RYAN: Fuck you, buddy.

SHANE: Ouch.

RYAN, NARRATION: According to this theory, Jason’s death was faked in order to save his life from mobsters associated with famed Gotham gang leader Oswald Cobblepot, otherwise known as the Penguin.

SHANE: Why does everybody in Gotham have a stupid name?

RYAN: You don’t like the Penguin?

SHANE: I don’t care for it, no, but I also don’t love the name ‘Oswald Cobblepot.’ Like, that sounds ridiculous.

RYAN: Maybe that’s why he chooses to go by the Penguin.

SHANE: He should choose to go by Stan.

RYAN: Stan?

SHANE: Stan.

RYAN: No clarification there?

SHANE: I don’t believe it needs any.

RYAN: Okay.

RYAN, NARRATION: Our third theory is by far the most simple: Tired of the life of a billionaire’s son, Jason asked Bruce to fake his death in order to allow him to disappear from the public eye.

SHANE: (wheeze)

RYAN: I will admit… There are probably better ways to duck out of the public eye.

SHANE: YOU THINK?

RYAN: Like, faking my death might not be my first resort.

SHANE, IN AN EXAGGERATED IMITATION OF A CHILD’S VOICE: Oh, I’m tired of people taking my picture. Papa, will you tell them all I died a gruesome death? I’m going to Fiji!

RYAN: (wheeze)

SHANE: And then Wayne, what, just went along with it?

RYAN: Well, I guess he was due for another orphan soon anyway.

SHANE: I’m so glad you’ve warmed up to these jokes.

RYAN: I’m getting sued anyway, I might as well have fun with it.

SHANE: I am loving this development for you, Ryan!

RYAN, NARRATION: The next theory ties into a legend that some of our viewers from the Los Angeles area may be familiar with, —

SHANE: OH HELL YEAH! HERE IT COMES!

RYAN, NARRATION: — the Ghost Rider.

SHANE: (cheering)

RYAN, NARRATION: This theory states that Jason Todd’s anonymity exists to cover up his identity, and that the initial ‘death’ occured when he took up the mantle. Some believers of this theory claim that Wayne may have actually believed Todd was dead at the time, as he may have dropped off the radar entirely in order to pursue work as the Ghost Rider.

SHANE: This is my favorite one.

RYAN: I don’t think there’s any merit to it.

SHANE: Oh, absolutely not. But you’ve gotta love the theater of it!

RYAN: It does have a certain level of aesthetic appeal, yeah.

SHANE: Just some random rich kid out here with his head on fire, killing guys with crowbars.

RYAN: (wheeze) Why crowbars?

SHANE: I don’t know. Crowbars feel right here.

RYAN: That doesn’t make any sense.

SHANE: And the rest of this does?

RYAN: Good point.

RYAN, NARRATION: Perhaps supporting this theory is the fact that Ghost Rider tends to go after gangsters much like the ones Todd would have been dodging as a young man in Gotham. It also seems to tie into the rash, angry personality that many people claim he displayed. According to this theory’s supporters, Todd became fed up with the state of the city.

SHANE: And… what? Decided to light his head on fire?

RYAN: Well, maybe he was a metahuman.

SHANE: I guess that’s why he didn’t stay in Gotham. Doesn’t Batman kick them all out?

RYAN: That’s what people say, yeah.

SHANE: Man. Dick move of Batman to kick Bruce Wayne’s kid out of the city. (chuckles.) Get it? Dick?

RYAN: Oh my god.

RYAN, NARRATION: Our fifth and final theory is that Jason Todd was abducted by aliens.

SHANE: Nope.

RYAN: Don’t you at least want to hear the full theory?

SHANE: Absolutely not.

RYAN: Well, they do.

SHANE: Who is ‘they’ ?

RYAN: The people!

SHANE: They don’t want to hear your alien theories, Ryan. No one does.

RYAN: Well, it’s my video. And I’m going to tell the alien theory.

SHANE: (long sigh)

RYAN, NARRATION: This theory states that aliens, in an attempt to gain power and intel in preparation for an invasion, targeted Jason because of his close relationship with one of the richest and most prominent men in Gotham.

SHANE: So they interrogated him and then just spat him back out?

RYAN: Let me finish!

RYAN, NARRATION: According to this theory, the Jason Todd who returned after his ‘death’ was not Jason Todd at all but, rather, was an alien clone.

SHANE: I regret letting you finish.

RYAN: (wheeze) I knew you would!

RYAN, NARRATION: Believers of this theory claim it’s supported by the physical differences between the Jason Todd who disappeared and the one who lives in Gotham now, including his hair and his height.

SHANE: Or, hear me out. He grew. And he dyed his hair.

RYAN: Aliens seems more plausible to me.

SHANE: I hate you.

RYAN: (wheeze)

RYAN, NARRATION: So, what really happened to Jason Todd? Did he fall in deep with the wrong crowds and have to give up his life to find his way out? Was he kidnapped in an attempt to get money and influence from his wealthy adoptive family? Or is there something otherworldly about his disappearance and reappearance into the world? With the Wayne family refusing comments and no other sources to consult, it looks like the truth behind the scenes of Gotham’s most prestigious family will have to remain… unsolved.

WHAT UNSOLVED MYSTERY DO YOU WANT TO SEE NEXT?

#beginagainunsolved #episode: jason todd #true crime

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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years ago

Text

True Love - George Weasley

Title: True Love Pairing: George Weasley x Fem!Reader Summary: George may have married a girl his dead twin brother may have been in love with at some point but it’s really not what it looks like. A/N: this fic is born out of my hatred for a post I saw a few days ago that said George and Angelina only got together as a way to mourn Fred, and that they would eventually get divorced. Requests are open and feedback is always appreciated!

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George is tiptoeing past Roxanne’s partially opened door to get a glass of water when he hears the little girl call out to him.

“Daddy?”

George stops in his tracks and shuffles over to her door, peeking in the crack. The only light in the room comes from a pink everlasting fire Y/N had produced in a jar for their daughter to use as a night light a few weeks ago. Roxanne is curled up in a ball in her bed, drowning in her fluffy comforter. George and Y/N had tucked her in and kissed her goodnight a few hours ago, so he frowns when he notices that her deep brown eyes are open and blinking up at him.

“What’s wrong, pumpkin?” George asks as he pushes her door open.

Roxanne sits up a little, reaching out to him. “Can’t sleep.”

George smiles at her grumbly voice, sounding so much like her mother does when she’s tired. He enters her room with a small laugh and takes a seat on the edge of her bed. He strokes her mess of curls they call hair and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Well that’s no good, pumpkin. How can Daddy fix that?”

Roxanne, smiles up at him, leaning back into her pillows. “Can I get a story? Please?” she begs.

George lets out a chuckle. “Of course.” He starts to reach for the copy of The Tales of Beadle the Bard that Y/N had placed on Roxanne’s night stand a few hours ago after she had fallen asleep. But he stops in his tracks when Roxanne grabs his forearm.

“Noo,” she coos quietly. “A story from your head, Daddy.”

George raises his eyebrows and chuckles at her demanding tone. Yep, there is no denying that she is Y/N’s daughter.

“Of course, pumpkin, how silly of me.” He brings his hand that had been reaching for the book back and places it on her cheek. “Any requests, darling? I could always whip out the one about the brave knight who lost an ear in battle.” George winks at his daughter while gesturing towards his missing ear, causing her to giggle.

“No, not that one. You always tell that one,” she teases.

George laughs again, tapping Roxanne on her nose. “Well sorry,” he drawls. “How about the one where the three brave knights rescue the King from the dungeon using their flying stead?” George frowns slightly at the memory of his twin, a pang of sadness in his chest. George gives Roxanne a questioning look when she shakes her head. “What do you wanna hear then, pumpkin?”

“Tell me the story about how you and Mummy fell in love,” she asks, looking up at him hopefully.

George bites his lip, contemplating the idea. Y/N and George had never really told their kids the full story of how they met, considering that it was pretty questionable. All they had told Roxanne and Fred ii is that they had been friends while at school, and a few years after graduation they met again and fell in love. They never mentioned the fact that Y/N used to date Fred.

“Well sweetie you know that story. Mummy and I went to school at Hogwarts together, and went our separate ways after graduation and then we got together a few years after,” George explains, trying to dodge the question.

Roxanne rolls her eyes. “That’s the short version. I wanna hear the whole thing. Please Daddy?”

George sighs, he can’t resist her pleas. “Alright, pumpkin. I guess our story begins on the morning of May 3rd, 1998.”

George is sitting on the ground next to Fred’s body, mostly alone. There are groups of people scattered around the Great Hall, some mourning the loss of their loved ones, others waiting for Madam Pomfrey and the other Healers that arrived from St. Mungo’s to help them. Everyone seems to be leaving George alone, allowing him to spend a few more fleeting moments with his twin.

He’s looking down at his hands, tears streaming down his face, so he doesn’t realize that someone has joined him until she speaks.

“Hey, George,” Y/N speaks quietly, voice shaking.

George looks up at the sound of her voice. Y/N is sitting on the ground too, on Fred’s other side, tears streaming down her face. She’s covered in dirt and blood and George can’t imagine that he looks any better.

“Hey, Y/N,” he mutters after he clears his throat. His throat feels raw, probably from a mixture of the crying and the fact that he hadn’t spoken in a few hours.

George watches as Y/N stares intently at Fred’s face, her hand coming up to stroke his cheek. They’re quiet for so long that George jumps slightly when Y/N speaks up.

“It’s been years since anything has happened between us and yet I still feel,” she cuts off abruptly to let out a few sobs.

Y/N begins to cry harder and George places a hand over the one she has placed on Fred’s chest. He squeezes her hand tightly, wishing there was more he could do to make her feel better.

“Mummy used to be with Uncle Fred?” Roxanne asks, pulling George out of his thoughts. Roxanne and Fred ii had heard many stories about their dear Uncle Fred from both of their parents and various other family members throughout their lives. But George and Y/N made a point to make sure that no one ever mentioned her past with Fred. Not because she was ashamed at the fact that she had once been with Fred, but because she didn’t want to confuse them.

George nods, blinking away the tears in his eyes. “Many, many years ago, they were together. Back when we were at Hogwarts. Your Uncle Fred and I met your Mum when we were all in our first year at Hogwarts. You know we were all in the same house and played on the Quidditch team together. You’ve heard Uncle Harry talk about the Triwizard tournament, right?” George waits for Roxanne to nod before continuing. “We were all in our sixth year when that happened and there was this great huge ball on Christmas called the Yule Ball. Uncle Fred asked your Mum to be his date, and they dated for a few months afterwards.”

Roxanne purses her lips, thinking about what her father has just said. “And when Uncle Fred died, Mummy still loved him?”

“Not exactly,” he answers.

Roxanne groans and rolls her eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

George rolls his eyes playfully. “Maybe if you hadn’t interrupted my story you would know by now,” he teases.

Roxanne sticks out her tongue playfully but doesn’t say anything else.

“So, I guess our story continues in June of 1999.”

“Hey George. The store looks great,” Y/N speaks, shocking George. He turns around from where he had been stocking a shelf, a smile appearing on his face when he sees the familiar girl standing in front of him.

George hasn’t seen Y/N since the day they cried together over Fred’s body. He heard that she came by his funeral briefly, but he hadn’t seen her himself. Now, a little over a year later here she is, and George can’t help but think how beautiful she is. Her hair frames her face perfectly, and she is smiling warmly at him.

“Hey, Y/N. Thanks, it’s definitely getting there. Not quite back at its prime but, it definitely will be soon,” he says wistfully, looking around the shop.

After Fred’s death he hadn’t been able to step back into the store he had started with his brother. It hurt too much, and it almost felt wrong to go back to work without his partner in crime. The store had always been their dream, and George didn’t think he could carry on without Fred. He spent the first six months after Fred’s death moping around The Burrow, spending most of his time in bed, alone.

Everyone in the family had been patient with him, all of them taking time to grieve as well. Until one night, Molly sat him down and with as much love as possible told him that enough was enough. She had reminded him that Fred wouldn’t want George to throw away their dream just because he couldn’t be there with him. That the best way to honor his brother would be to carry on making their dream a reality. George, realizing his mother was right, had started planning new products that very evening.

He spent the next 5 months after that developing new products and perfecting them. 2 months ago, he finally plucked up the courage to enter the abandoned shop for the first time and started to put it back together. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes had officially been open again for 2 weeks and running the store has made George the happiest he’s been in months.

“Every time I would come to Diagon Alley I’d check to see if the store was open again, and I’m glad it is. If there’s anything people need these days it’s some Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes,” Y/N says with a laugh.

There had been mass celebrations after Voldemort’s defeat, but so many lives had been lost that they were short lived, and the wizarding community had needed to slowly heal. Things had been getting back to normal, Diagon Alley was just as busy as it had been before, and George could hear happy voices and laughter every time the door to the shop opened.

George chuckles. “A bit of mischief makes everyone feel better. Things have been crazy since I reopened, I can barely keep up on my own.” He gestures towards the shelf he had been restocking when she came in, and the other various shelves that were missing products. “I never realized how much work it was, it was way easier when there was two of us. Between selling the products, making them and stocking them I’m exhausted,” he admits with a small laugh.

“I didn’t want to say it but, you look exhausted,” she teases, smiling at him playfully. “That’s um, kinda why I came in. I mean I obviously came in so I could see you,” she admits, blushing. “But also, I was wondering if you were hiring? I’ve been working freelance for The Daily Prophet but it’s not enough to keep me busy.”

George tries not to let his surprise show on his face. Y/N had always been supportive of George and Fred’s antics, but had never wanted to actively participate. George scratches the back of his head like he’s thinking about her offer, not wanting to seem too eager. “Yeah actually, that would be great. I could really use the help. I’ll have to get some references of course. Make sure you’re not too difficult to work with,” he teases.

Y/N rolls her eyes, playfully shoving George’s shoulder. “We got paired together in potions one-time years ago and you’re still giving me shit about it, Weasley? Unbelievable.”

“Mummy used to work with you? Before Uncle Ron did?” Roxanne asks, interrupting the story again.

George hums as he nods. Once Ron quit the Aurors office and came to work with George Y/N had left. Her and George were beginning to start their family, and she wanted to be a stay at home mum. She started writing again as well and had become a pretty successful children’s book author in the wizarding world.

“Yup. Uncle Ron used to work with Uncle Harry at the ministry, before you and your brother were born. So, your Mummy helped out at the shop, and then me and Mummy got married and decided to have your brother, so Uncle Ron decided to quit his job and work with me,” George explains.

Roxanne has a bewildered look on her face, like she had never thought about the fact that all the people she loves had lives before she was born. “So how did you and Mummy get together then? Fall in love?”

George chuckles. “I’m getting there, missy, don’t you worry about it.”

Y/N had only been working for George for a few weeks when he realized he had a huge problem. He was developing feelings for her. He had always found her attractive, but when Fred expressed interest in her during their fourth year he pushed those thoughts away. He was always the more reserved twin and doubted that he would ever act on those feelings anyway.

But now that they’ve been spending so much time together and working together so closely he can’t help but feel those things again. She’s just as beautiful has she had been back at school but there was so many other things too.

Her smile was so bright that it could light up the whole shop. She was always there to offer him a warm smile and a helping hand, staying late into the night to help him restock shelves or coming in on the weekends to help make a new stock for the upcoming week. She was always sending him little winks too throughout the day as they worked. While she was upselling a product to someone, or when he just seemed down and needed a pick me up, all he had to do was look over to her and she’d give him a reassuring wink.

And it certainly didn’t help that she was so damn good at her job. She was always helping him to arrange the store in the best way possible, moving around displays and finding new, exciting ways to showcase their range of products. She was so good with the customers too, always able to help someone, their customers always raved to George about how amazing she was as they checked out.

And her touch, it sent electric waves shooting down his spine. Whether it was a reassuring squeeze on his shoulders as he stirred a new potion late at night, or a hand on his back as she passed behind him his brain seemed to short circuit whenever they came in contact with each other.

It didn’t help that her presence had begun to creep into other parts of his life as well. She had only been working there a few days when Molly popped in to see how things were going. His mum had been so excited to see Y/N and invited her to dinner at The Burrow that night; since then it has become a weekly occurrence. He’s bumped into her at The Burrow more than once during the weekends as well, her and Ginny flying around each other and passing a Quaffle back and forth.

“Morning, George!” Y/N calls as she pushes through the shop door.

George jumps at the sound of her voice, not expecting to see her. It’s early on a Sunday morning, and George figured he’d be alone in the shop all day to catch up on the things they hadn’t finished the night before.

George stands up from where he had been kneeling behind the counter, trying to count out the safe, but mostly thinking of the girl who just entered the store. He smiles as she bounds up to the counter.

“What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you,” he stutters, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “But you were here late last night, I didn’t think you’d come in today.”

Y/N smiles at George, taking off her bag and placing it on the counter. “Well we didn’t finish everything last night, did we? You’ll actually be able to go out and enjoy your day if we’re both here working.” George gives her a look, prompting her to continue. “Besides I don’t mind being here all the time. I like being here.”

George’s smile fades, figuring that Y/n likes being here so much because it reminds her of Fred. They haven’t talked about that morning, when she had practically declared her love for his dead brother as they both cried, and George doesn’t plan on bringing it up.

He’s brought out of his deep thoughts as she passes by him, her hand brushing his arm and sending electric shocks up to his neck. He clears his throat to try and get rid of the lump in it. “Well thanks, I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem! What do you need me to do boss?”

George looks to the to-do list he had made after closing on Friday. Well the to-do list Y/N had made for him; she really was a huge help around the shop. Even if she did distract him from his work from time to time.

“Well looks like the next thing up on the list is,” he pauses, suddenly nervous. “Next thing up is to restock the love potions. But uh, I checked in the back earlier and we’re all out, so you’ll need to brew up a new batch.”

Y/N nods, heading towards the storeroom to grab the needed ingredients. “Yeah I can do that, no problem.” She pokes her head back through the door. “Or are you still hung up on that whole potions thing and don’t trust me?”

George laughs with her, his nervousness melting away at her playful tone. “Just get to work, yeah?”

With Y/N out of sight George is able to get back to work, and he had forgotten that she was there. That was until she interrupted him while he was stocking the shelves, causing him to shout and drop all of the Skiving Snackboxes he had in his arms.

“Bloody hell, Y/N. Forgot you were here,” he says with a nervous laugh, his cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment. He turns to face her, glancing at the cauldron in her hands. “What’s up?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you Georgie,” she says with a laugh, causing George’s knees to quiver at the nickname. “I haven’t made a potion in ages, let alone Amorentia. Just wanted to see if you could check it? Make sure I did it right.”

“Yea, ‘course,” George says quietly, leaning close to look at the potion. He stirs it with the silver spoon, checking to make sure the consistency is right. He’s a little nervous, leaning in so close to Y/N that he momentarily forgets what Amorentia does. “Forgot to mention, but that new perfume you’ve been wearing smells really good.” Y/N gasps, taking a small step back. George looks up at her. “What?”

“Thanks but um. I’m not wearing any perfume today,” she stutters out, refusing to meet George’s eyes.

George is about to question her, since he definitely just smelled her perfume, when it dawns on him. He wasn’t smelling her perse, but the Amorentia smelled like her to him. And he just admitted that.

“Look, Y/N I. I,” but he trails off, unsure of what to say. He opens his mouth to say something else but is stopped by Y/N stepping close to him and pressing a hard kiss to his lips. It lasts just long enough for George to grip her waist and for Y/N’s hands to tangle in his hair. Just as quickly as she had kissed him her lips were gone and they were just staring at each other.

She opens her mouth to speak, but when nothing comes out she closes it again. And before George knows it she’s rushing towards the counter to grab her bag. “I should go. Yeah I should go. I’ll see you later,” she rambles. And before George can blink again the door is shutting behind her.

“So, Mummy kissed you first!” Roxanne says excitedly when George stops talking.

“What? Like it’s surprising?” George scoffs with a chuckle.

Roxanne shrugs her shoulders, playfully smiling at him. “I mean have you seen how pretty Mummy is? And you’re, well you’re alright I guess.”

George can tell that she’s teasing him, and as payback he tickles her sides, causing her to shriek with laughter.

“Shhh,” he whispers, realizing just how late it is. “We don’t want to wake your brother up, or your Mummy.”

Roxanne nods, taking a few deep breaths to settle down. “So, what happens next? You and Mummy kiss and then what?”

George is still horrified about what happened the next morning as he opens the shop. He’s exhausted, having stayed up most of the night finishing everything on his list. It shouldn’t have taken him that long, but he kept getting distracted, thinking of how Y/N’s lips felt on his.

He’s about to grab the door handle so he can unlock it and officially open up when the door swings open and Y/N is walking through it. They collide, and George instinctively reaches out and grabs her around the waist so she doesn’t fall to the ground.

A moment later he realizes what he did and he lets go, stepping back. His cheeks are red and he rubs his neck sheepishly. “Sorry! Sorry. I didn’t think you’d come in today so I was just. Sorry, sorry.”

Once he finishes his rambling he turns on his heel and practically runs towards the counter, not even daring to glance at Y/N. But he can hear her footsteps following behind him and when he turns around she’s standing at the counter, an apologetic look on her face.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing to you, Georgie. I shouldn’t have ran out on you like that. And I shouldn’t have kissed you that was… well anyway, I’m sorry,” she says quickly.

George opens his mouth to respond, but the door to the shop swings open and Y/N is off to help the few customers who came in.

“You need help with anything?”

George looks up from the papers on his desk to see Y/N poking her head into his office. They haven’t spoken since their weird moment this morning, and after the afternoon rush George excused himself to his office to work on paperwork while Y/N stocked some shelves and made up a new display. But that must have been hours ago now, as the sliver of shop George can see over Y/N’s head looks dark.

“Just been going over the books. Well trying to at least,” he admits, running a hand through his hair. “I let Fred do it the last time. Well no, I didn’t let him, he insisted on it. Some crap about how he needed to know how to do it. But boy was listening to him a mistake,” he admits with a sad chuckle. “I can’t make out half of what he wrote and the half I can is completely wrong.”

Y/N doesn’t say anything, but gives him a sad look. George feels awkward in the silence, so he continues to ramble on.

“And I wanna be mad at him, for not taking it seriously but. Then I get mad at myself for feeling that way. And then I feel sad because he’s not here for me to just ask him what the hell it says and then I try and figure it out and get mad when I can’t and it’s just a vicious cycle.”

Y/N doesn’t say anything right away, trying to choose her words carefully. She comes into his office and takes a seat at one of the chairs across from George’s desk. George runs his hands through his hair again, silently pleading that she says something. A few more quiet moments pass before Y/N speaks.

“That sounds. Well frankly that sounds like hell. But it’s okay to feel like that, you know. It’s okay to be mad at Fred. It’s okay to feel whatever you want towards Fred, that’s a normal part of grieving, George,” she explains, leaning forward in her chair.

“So, years will go by and I’ll still feel,” George mumbles almost without thinking. He casts his eyes downward, not wanting to look Y/N in the eyes or see the expression on her face.

A pink blush flushes Y/N’s face. “You, um, remember that then? You never mentioned it, so I figured you forgot about it, or maybe never even heard it. I was kinda hoping that you never even heard it.”

George looks up at her then, staring deeply into her eyes. “Is that why you came into the shop that day? Why you started working here? So, you could feel closer to Fred? Is that why you kissed me?” His last question is quieter, practically a whisper. He feels ashamed as soon as he asks, he wants to take it back.

But then Y/N lets out a laugh, shocking George. He looks at her quizzically. “What? Are you laughing at me?”

Y/N shakes her head no, but continues to laugh, almost as if she can’t stop herself. It takes what feels like an eternity for her laughter to die down, and once it does she scoots closer to George, reaching out to touch his hand.

“That day, when we were sitting there in the Great Hall, I wasn’t talking about still feeling love for Fred. I never really loved Fred. Not in that way at least.”

George is taken aback by that. “What do you mean?”

“Georgie, Fred and I dated for like 4 months when we were 16. It was nice to have someone to go to Hogsmeade with or carry my books and it was fun spending time with Fred but I wasn’t in love with him. And Fred knew that, that’s why we broke things off.”

George looks at Y/N. He’s trying not to get his hopes up, but he’s still so confused about everything. “So, what the hell were you talking about that day? Because I sure as hell thought you were talking about still being in love with Fred.”

Y/N bites her lip, dropping her gaze to the floor. “I was talking about feeling guilty, George.”

George suddenly pushes away from his desk, beginning to pace back and forth. “Feeling guilty for what, then?”

“Feeling guilty for being in love with his twin brother!” Y/N admits suddenly, causing George to stop in his tracks.

“Come again?” he asks, looking down at Y/N. His eyes follow her as she stands up and walks over to him.

“I was never in love with Fred. And after we broke up I started to fall in love with you. But I never acted on it because I felt guilty. I knew Fred had strong feelings for me, so I never tried to act on my feelings for you. And that day, when I saw you in the Great Hall, even though it had been years all of those feelings came rushing back. How I felt for you, how guilty I felt for feeling those things. That’s why I came over there that day, because I wanted to see you, make sure you were okay. And I hoped that saying goodbye to Fred would make me feel okay to try and approach you.”

Suddenly it dawns on George. “That’s why you came to his funeral, then? To put those guilty feelings to rest once and for all.”

Y/N nods, taking one of George’s hands in hers. “That’s why I didn’t stay long. The second I saw you I wanted to run into your arms and kiss you. But I figured that was probably not the right time or place to fling myself at you.”

George laughs, trying to imagine what he would have done if Y/N had done that. He uses his free hand to reach up and cup Y/N’s cheek. “So that day you came into the shop, it was to see me?”

Y/N rolls her eyes but nods. “I said that, didn’t I dummy? That I came into the shop to see you. I would make excuses to head to Diagon Alley nearly every day to check to see if the shop was open. It took me two weeks to get the courage to actually walk in once you opened back up. And truth be told-“ she stops, letting her gaze drop to the floor. “I didn’t really need a job. I just wanted an excuse to spend more time with you.”

Suddenly so many things started making sense to George. “So that’s why you would stay in late? Come in on days off?”

Y/N nods. “And why I agreed to come to dinner at The Burrow every week, and why I agreed to help Ginny with her Quidditch training.”

“Not to keep the memory of my dead brother alive?” George asks, almost unable to believe everything he’s heard. Y/N shakes her head. “But to be close to me, because you’re in love with me?”

Instead of nodding Y/N grabs George’s face and brings their lips together in a heated kiss. George is frozen for a moment, his brain trying to catch up with what’s going on. Once it does he kisses Y/N back hungrily, his hands gripping her hips tightly. They kiss for a few moments before Y/N pulls away breathless.

“And that was that. Your Mum and I got together and the rest is history.”

George stops with his story, waiting for Roxanne to say something. When she doesn’t he looks down, a smile spreading across his face when he notices her eyes have fluttered closed and she’s breathing slowly. He presses a kiss to her forehead and tucks her blanket around her tighter.

He’s closing her door behind him quietly when he runs into his wife, nearly shouting at the scare she gave him.

“Bloody hell, how long have you been standing there, love?” he asks, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist.

“Long enough to hear you spill all of our dark secrets,” she responds with a quiet laugh.

George frowns. “Are you mad? I know we said we wouldn’t tell them, but you know I can’t resist her puppy eyes, just like how I can’t resist yours.”

Y/N doesn’t answer him, choosing to press a kiss to his lips instead. Y/N buries her hands in George’s hair as he deepens their kiss, his hands squeezing her hips tightly. They both can’t help but be reminded of the kiss they shared all those years ago that George had just finished recounting.

“Why did you get out of bed anyway, hm? You were sound asleep when I went to get my water,” George asks a few minutes later when they’re back in bed.

Y/N shrugs, snuggling up into George’s side. “You were gone for ages. Thought maybe you were sneaking some of those chocolate chip cookies I made, wanted to catch you in the act. ”George laughs, throwing an arm around his wife and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“So, you weren’t lying in bed awake, thinking of my dead brother?” he jokes with a chuckle.

Y/N smacks him on the chest lightly, laughing along with him. “You’re lucky I love you, Weasley.”

“You’re right, my love. I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

#george weasley #George Weasley imagine #George Weasley fic #George Weasley x reader #harry potter #Harry Potter imagine #Harry Potter fic #gw #golden

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another-cancer · 3 years ago

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Chapter Twelve: To be fair this city is already pretty shit

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Masterlist ao3

Notes:

I am back, finally!

///

Damian called an emergency meeting. Everyone was there except Damian.

“I haven’t seen him sleep in a while, maybe he’s taking after replacement and called it in a delirious state right before passing out,” Jason offered.

“He’ll be here,” Bruce insisted.

“Yeah Damian’s responsible, he wouldn’t just call an emergency meeting,” Dick encouraged.

Steph was losing patients, “If he doesn’t show in the next five minutes I’m leaving.”

“You can all relax,” Damian’s voice said startling him.

He was there. And he wasn’t alone. That’s when Jason started dying from laughter.

“Yeah Dick, totally responsible,” he spits out while wheezing, “I’ve been the family fuck up for years but never have I dragged in the girl I swore was the enemy into the cave with no blindfold on.”

“Quiet Todd,” Damian commanded, “I have reassessed. She is not the enemy. I was wrong.”

The room was dead quiet, no one knew what to say. Damian never admitted to being wrong. At least not publicly, in front of everyone.

“I thought you hated her?” Tim asked.

A couple of emotions briefly possessed Damian’s face before he replied, “I do.”

A small part of Marinette was hurt, she had thought maybe after everything things could change. But there were larger issues to address, more pressing matters. She had to keep moving forward.

“But she needs our help,” Damian continued, “and that’s what we do, help people.”

Damian was uncomfortable, he wasn’t sure what exactly he was supposed to be saying to his family and Marinette. However, he was trying his best.

“Yeah little D is right, we help people,” Dick helped out, “Okay Marinette, what do you need our help with?”

All eyes were on her.

“I don’t know how much Damian has told you about me, I was born into a rival assassin organization of the league. I went by the name Ladybug, it was the name I was raised with. I killed a lot of people, lots of bad people. Some innocent ones. The people who gave birth to me, at some point. I was considered the best killer out there. And then when I was nine, I was asked to kill Damian. But I didn’t, clearly, he’s still alive. Instead, I let him take credit for the death of Ladybug. After all these years, it never worked. I’m being trailed by someone from The Order. A girl maybe a year older than me. They know I’m alive and if they’re after me they will never stop. If they wanted me dead, I’d be dead. But I’m not dead, so they want me alive. I don’t know what to do.”

They let her speak uninterrupted. They listened to the brief version of her story with their full attention. They listened to her admit she didn’t know what to do. It was a sign of desperation, only a few in the room had resorted to prior.

Jason was the first to speak, “We can help you kid.”

“I can’t imagine how though, Damian said that and all I’ve been doing is running possible outcomes. And I think leaving is the only thing I can do. But I’ve been running for five years. I can’t keep leaving.”

“We all do things to survive and if leaving is the only thing that keeps you alive, then maybe it’s the best option,” Tim suggested.

“This was the first city I’ve ever called home,” she looked at her feet.

It was selfish, but she didn’t want to leave. She created a life in Gotham. But Tim was right, maybe there was no other option.

“There are kids that depend on me,” Marinette continued.

“You don’t want to leave,” Bruce stated.

It felt wrong to feel so conflicted when the answer was so clear. She needed to leave. She needed to make up her mind.

“I need to.”

“But you don’t want to, and we can find another way,” Bruce shared.

Marinette sighed, “What other way though? They’ll come back continuously. I don’t want to drag this city down with me.”

“To be fair this city is already pretty shit,” Jason commented, warranting looks from the rest of his family.

Marinette carried on, “It’s selfish, but I rather have somewhere I care about less infested by the order than Gotham. There are people I care about in this city.”

A small part of Damian wanted her to mean him. After all, years ago she cared enough about him to spare him, but that was before. He knew she was talking about the kids. But one could only hope.

“We can protect the street kids,” Damian said, “Either as vigilantes or as ourselves.”

Marinette considered it. She stared right into his eyes trying to determine how likely he would be to keep that promise. And she couldn’t find a reason to doubt him. The bats dedicate their lives to helping the city. The Waynes donate money to organizations that better the city. Damian had been helpful and honest this whole time.

“Promise me,” she said.

In a room full of people she was only staring at him.

“I promise.”

Damian’s face looked softer. Less stoic, less cold. In Marinette’s eyes, sincerity was reflected. She could leave. This promise would give her the chance to continue the fight. Just elsewhere.

“I want to say bye to the street kids. And then I think I’ll be ready to leave,” this time directed towards no one in particular.

Nothing felt resolved, but this chapter was nearing an end. Marinette was going to leave Gotham.

Bruce spoke up, “We can escort you to the children, I’d offer more, but I assume you think it’s better if no one knows where you go.”

“You actually do a remarkable job of staying off cameras,” Tim brought up.

“It’s the perks of being a trained assassin,” Marinette responded.

For a second the banter felt normal. She wished it could just stay this way.

“Thank you for treating me so kindly,” Marinette remarked, “It means a lot, I haven’t been the easiest person for you guys to handle.”

It killed the mood, but it felt correct.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Jason said as he approached the girl.

Feet started to shuffle around the room and the group began splitting up. Damian, Jason, Tim, and Bruce left with Marinette. And the group left. This was it. This was the end of Marinette in Gotham. Oh, but it would never be that easy.

#living among the regular people of the world trying to blend in #damienette #ml x dc #enemies to lovers #ml marinette

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merakiclosed · 4 years ago

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Yoongi - Exhausted

》 Pairing: Poor Single mum reader x Rich CEO Yoongi

》 Summary: Living in a rundown apartment, trying to raise a 7 year old and balancing one full time job and part time job on Saturdays was hard and tiring. What happens when you discover your crush on your boss, Yoongi. What if he happens to like you back.

Genre: Fluff

》 Word count: 3k

》 Notes/ Warnings: One swearword used, She/her pronouns used, reader faints, talk of over working

Masterlist | Requests & messages are open

Its 8pm on a Sunday evening when Yuna trudges into your room, yawning. You put the book you was reading down and chuckle when Yuna flops down onto the bed, headfirst and move a hand to stoke her messy hair.

“Mumma, the machine in the kitchen is making a funny sound again” she mumbles into the duvet. The machine that she was talking about was the washing machine, you know its not been doing well over the past few days, but your trying to make it last as long as it can. You might have just enough to buy a second hand one again if you’re lucky.

You sighed, “It’s okay, Mumma will sort it”

She dramatically throws herself so that she is now facing the ceiling, her eyes fluttering from tiredness. Her yellow pyjamas already on ready for bed, her hair a fluffy mess and her chubby cheeks slightly pink from the summer heat.

“Let’s get you to bed” you whisper to her, picking her up and walking towards her room.

You set her down in bed and tuck her in, brushing some hair out of her face. Kissing her forehead, you mumble “I love you sweet pea”

“M, love you” Yuna whispers so quietly, you almost miss it.

You get up and close the door with a low click. Turning around, you are faced with the poor excuse of an open plan apartment. The wallpaper was an odd, faded shade of grey, some of it bubbling off in the corner next to the front door from it being damp. It was a small apartment, the kitchen, living room and dining room squashed into one room. Yuna had the biggest room in the apartment and you tried to decorate the best you could. Her walls were pink, and her room was scattered with toys.

You was 18 when you had Yuna and your life turned upside down. Cliché but true. There were a lot of comments on how stupid you were to get pregnant and how irresponsible you were for not being careful enough at such a crucial point in your life. I mean, you saved up to go to university but all of that went down hill when you found yourself with Yuna, all of the money you saved went to her. Your parents kicked you out because they disapproved, after all, they always tried to plan your life. You never did live for yourself, it was always their plan, their way of living.

The worst of it was that the boy that got you pregnant. The boy you thought you would live forever with. Left. Once he heard you were pregnant, he fled and just wanted you so that he had someone he could bang ever now and then. He left, changing his phone number and even moved house. He was your everything, you thought he loved you, but clearly it was a lie. You rolled your eyes at the whole ordeal, you weren’t sad, but you were slightly angry, mainly at yourself at believing in something like love.

You shook your head, not wanting to think about this, you had to get ready for tomorrow. In the next 3 hours, you cleaned the house and sorted some emails before tomorrow, cooking some food for lunch and making Yuna’s pack up.

Yawning, you headed to your room, the bed digging into your back as you laid down. Checking to make sure that you set your alarm, you fell into a dreamless sleep.

You wake up to a series of banging on the front door, scaring the living daylights out of you. You stumble out of bed, trying not to fall over from being tangled around the duvet. However, your limbs didn’t cooperate with you and you fell onto the hardwood floor with a loud thud.

“fuck” you wheeze out

Another load of banging had you up and onto your feet, your hands trying to tame your bed hair.

“Happy Monday” An excited voice greets you once you open the door. You stare blankly at Taehyung as he smiles at you brightly. ‘It’s too early for this’, you thought.

“TaeTae” You hear a shout come from behind you as your shoved out of the way by your own daughter so that she can jump into his Taehyung’s arms.

“Hello, my little cuddle bunny” His face seems to light up even more when Yuna places her small hands on his cheeks and leans to kiss his nose.

You close the door behind them when they walk in, heading to the coffee pot.

“I’ll be right back” you mutter to them, though, you doubt that either of them heard you as they talk animatedly about how Yuna is going to write about a unicorn in her writing class today, as the theme was imagination. Gosh, how you wish you could back to that point in your life.

You get ready fairly quickly, your hair now suitable for a work environment. You were dressed in a pencil skirt and blouse, deciding to ditch the blazer as the temperature was supposed to be high today.

You walk out and get a cup of coffee that was already sat on the side; Taehyung must have poured you a cup. You sit on the couch as Tae and Yuna sit in front of you, Tae drinking his coffee and Yuna eating some cereal, both of them fascinated by Strawberry Shortcake on the TV. You wonder if Taehyung is even the same age at you, as you watch him smiling at the kids show.

Checking the time, you realise that you probably set off now so that you are there on time. You lower yourself and kiss Yuna’s head, “Okay, I’m going now. I love you Yuna, make sure that Tae doesn’t forget his phone again” you chuckle.

“Heyyy, I’m the babysitter. Bye have a good day, don’t work too hard” Tae whines.

“Bye Tae” You say as you ruffle his hair. As you close the door, you hear Taehyung yell at you for messing with his hair.

You had a very boring office job from Monday – Friday and a small part-time job on Saturday, leaving Sunday for you and Yuna. You try to spend at much time with her as you can, trying to make up for the loss of another parent as well as the amount of hours that you don’t see her due to work. Sometimes you wonder if she is closer to Taehyung because of this. Taehyung has been with you and Yuna since she was born, as you met him just before you were pregnant. He was the only friend that stayed with you throughout the whole ordeal. He was like your big brother. – He was only a few months older.

The office job you had was boring. Mr Min, the CEO, was weird. He was handsome, but always looked cold, even though you doubt that he is as you often see his gummy smile. However, at least once a day you saw him. He always checked up on you, asking you to go to his office to ask if you’re alright or if you need help. He was amazing, he currently had silver hair that suited him so well, he was extra kind to you, he smiled a little more when with you compared to when he was with someone else. You blinked hard, pausing your steps. ‘Ah, shit. I think I like my boss’, you thought.

‘No, I can’t do that, I have Yuna. She comes first’

You was so caught up in your head that you didn’t notice another voice calling for you as you walked through the office.

“Hello? Ms L/N?” You jumped at the closeness of the voice, turning around to find Mr Min looking at you with an eyebrow raised, an amused smile coating his red, kissable lips. You quickly register that he said something and shake your head, nope we are not going there.

“Oh, Hi, yes hello, sorry” You stumbled over your words, an awkward smile on your face.

“How are you today Ms L/N?” He stares down at you.

“I’m okay thank you Mr Min” You say, stopping yourself from starring at his handsome features. “How are you?”

“I am fine, thank you” He runs a hand through his already messy hair and bids you goodbye as he closes the door to his office.

The only other bad thing about your job, other than it being boring, was the manager of your sector. He was always angry not matter what, you think you did a good job? Wrong. You think you’re done for the day? Wrong, there’s more work on your desk. He was horrible. You always ended up with twice your workload. More often that not, you would be working overtime. You couldn’t even count the amount of times you have had to call Taehyung and ask if he could stay later with Yuna, promising to buy him food.

Sitting down at your desk, you stretched first before logging on, you sigh looking at the photo of you and Yuna on your desk. All you could think about was working hard so that Yuna had a better life than this. A better life than the one that you live. The bad thing was, was that you didn’t even notice that your battery was running out. Quickly.

It was Friday morning when your manager came up to your desk and piled yet another load on your already cramped desk. In an authoritative tone he said “Y/N on my desk by the end of the day”.

You looked at your checklist on the post-it note on your computer, it was going to be a long day. Even though it was only 11am, you rang Tae and asked if he could stay later and that you promise to get him food and pay him extra, seeing as it was a Friday night.

You already felt disoriented this morning, your head throbbing as you lazily gazed at the manila folders on your desk. Realising that you forgot one of the folders in Mr Min’s office from this morning, you get up and head to his office. However, you don’t make it very far as a wave of dizziness crashed over you, you balanced yourself against the wall of the corridor and closed your eyes, breathing deeply for a second, composing yourself. You knocked on the door of his office and bowed once you entered, trying to muster a smile on your face. You just need to make it through today and it will all be fine.

“Hello, Ms L/N. How can I help?” He asks in a husky voice, trying to suppress his anger from his previous meeting. He looks down at his computer for a minute, expecting to hear you say something but when you don’t, he looks up at you. Your eyes seemed unfocused, your body swaying a bit as your whole-body shakes.

The ground beneath you seemed to spin as your eyesight got blurry, the pounding in your head getting worse by the second. With nothing to hold onto, your knees buckle under your weight, fear courses through Yoongi’s body as he catches you, just before you fall, pulling you into his chest. His hands shook as he called an ambulance, his voice wavering a bit. He didn’t know why he was so scared, you only passed out, you weren’t dying. Yet, he couldn’t stop shaking.

He was an idiot, he saw the signs of exhaustion as soon as you walked in on Monday, why didn’t he give you the week off, you was one of the most hard-working employees that he had. For his own selfish reasons, he didn’t want you to be off, he wanted to see you as much as possible. Yoongi admits that he did develop a small crush on, he wanted to know anything and everything about you. However, this was harder than he thought as you were a very closed off person, you hardly ever talked about your personal life and you always tried to keep the conversation topic to work. It wasn’t often when he saw you express your emotions, but when you smiled at him, his heart beat a little faster.

When you open your eyes, you’re greeted with a bright light, causing you to groan as you can faintly hear a little girls voice.

“Mum, Mum”

You blink a few more times as you come face to face with Yuna, her lips trembling and tears already cascading down her face. She pounces on to you, hugging you tightly. You wheeze, your eyes going wide from the hug attack.

“I was so worried when TaeTae came to pick me up” Her voice wavering.

“Aw, Yuna, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just fell asleep at work. Silly mum huh” You wipe away her ears and squish her chubby cheeks together, making her giggle.

“Come on bun, lets get your mum a drink from the vending machine” Taehyung comes to pick her up and bounces her up and down his arms. He looks back at you with a tired smile, concern written over his face. Looks like your going to have a long talk when you get back home.

A cough came from the right of you, turning your head, you find your boss sat that. Mr Min. He got up slowly to pour you a cup of water.

“Here” He have you the plastic cup and you took it with a small thanks.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you was feeling unwell?” He questioned, sitting on the seat next to the bed. It looked like he was going to reach a hand out towards you, but thought better of it as he lowered it, rubbing the back of his neck.

All you could do was shrug to his question, “I didn’t think it was important”. Your voice was so quiet, you didn’t think he heard it, but he did.

“Well, it is important.” He hesitated to say the next sentence “You know that I’m always here, right? I know that I am the big CEO, that I don’t always look friendly. But I want to get to know you. I don’t want to talk about just work, I want to know how you feel, what makes you happy, what makes you sad. I want to know you, Y/N. I want to know all about that little girl that came rushing to your bed in tears. The little girl that questioned why you was asleep. The little girl that resembles you so much”

You were speechless. No one wanted to get to know you, not since him. Although you did have a crush on him, you thought that you could never date, Yuna always being your top priority.

“You know that Taehyung told me everything” You looked up at him with wide eyes. Taehyung did WHAT? He knew about your crush, when you realised it on Monday, you nearly had a full-on melt down once you got home. Taehyung was, of course, there for you, telling you having a crush on someone was normal and it was completely fine. However, you were adamant that this was bad, you couldn’t bring someone else in your life, what happens if he leaves, you don’t think you could go through something like that again. Or what happens if Yuna doesn’t like him? Or he leaves and Yuna is already attached to him? You couldn’t do that to her.

You were so caught up in your head that you didn’t hear Yoongi move to sit next to you on the hospital bed. This time, he didn’t hesitate to bring his hand up to move hair out of you face. You looked up at him with blurry eyes, tears threatening to escape. You were confused, exhausted, and stressed.

“I don’t know how long I can go on for like this” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I’ve taken care of her for 7 years; Tae is her babysitter. He is always there if I need him, but I won’t be able to rely on him forever, he is always on the edge of his seat, waiting for me to call him and ask something else of him. I’m scared that one day, he will walk away, just like everyone else.” You added the last bit on, no longer scared of Yoongi’s reaction. You were just so, so tired.

Yoongi’s heart broke at both the words that you spoke and the tone of your voice. You were such a strong woman. He wanted to take all of the pressure of you, he wanted to give you the world. It’s what you deserved.

“Please let me take care of you now” He whispered, his hand lingering on your cheek.

“How do I know you won’t leave?” Your actions betrayed your words as you leaned into his touch.

“Trust me. Let me prove to you that I’m here and I always will be. Please let me in” he begged, his eyes showing nothing but love and care.

Your body started to shake as you sat up and threw yourself at him, hugging him. His arms went around your waist as he moved the both of you so that you were now sat in his lap. He cooed and whispered soothing words to you as your body wracked with sobs, you couldn’t stop crying.

“I trust you” you whispered into his ear, your breath causing goosebumps to rise on his skin.

When Yuna and Tae walked through the door, laughing loudly, they noticed that you were both passed out. You were on Yoongi’s lap, your head tucked into his chest, whilst his chin rested on top of your head. Both of your arms wrapped around each other.

“Is Mummy safe with that man” Yuna whispers into Taehyung’s ear. Taehyung smiled widely at the both of you, taking his phone out of his pocket to take a picture of the two of you, “Of course she is, Mumma has just found her prince. Now, let’s go and get ice cream”

Next: Mothers day

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ickle-ronniekins · 5 years ago

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in every lifetime, fred x reader

request: from @fredweasleyismyking91: I just read your George soulmate au and I’m obsessed. I love soulmates so much and that one was amazing. I’d love to read a Fred soulmate if you were ever up for it!

prompt: soulmate au in which characters have specific phrases their soulmates will say to them written on their wrists like tattoos—they will now know they are soulmates until the first one speaks the phrase

A/N: literally losing my shit. thank you for this request and for your kind words. reader is american and i made this after the war bc i do not live in a universe where my poor freddie doesn’t survive—I JUST LOVE HIM, ALRIGHT? also, sorry this is insanely long but it’s worth the read, i hope?

You stared blankly at your wrist in the middle of a very crowded, very bustling Diagon Alley. London was not at all what you’d expected. You peered quickly at the words. Won’t cost you a dime.

You thought it was silly, at first, the words your soulmate will speak to you, tattooed on your body. It looked absolutely ridiculous. It looked like the absolute dumbest quote in the history of the world. You found it to be quite annoying, really. When your parents told you what it was, you nearly snorted. You were just a young child. It sounded like the silliest thing in the entire world to you.

But as you grew older and more curious, you searched Ilvermorny for a glimpse—maybe your soulmate was here? It’d make the most sense, of course, for him to be prancing around the American wizarding school somewhere, close by—you weren’t planning on leaving America after graduating, anyway. But there was no one—not a soul—who gave you that feeling of hope, that feeling of… that must be him.

Oh but your friends absolutely loved to play that game. Picking and choosing, glancing anxiously at the phrases on their wrists, peering admiringly at your schoolmates and deciding which ones they’d like to spend the rest of their lives with, how they’d finally find them, when it would happen—at least before the age of twenty four—well, that’s what your parents had said, anyway. Your friends’ phrases were, to your dismay, much more sophisticated and seemingly more exciting and well—a bit more special than yours. Won’t cost you a dime. Absolutely bogus.

This game they were playing was, of course, based mostly on looks and not at all on personalities, but rather just their dreams and what they so desperately wished their lifetime of love would look like. Plus, you were all still so young, all they wanted to do was have a little fun, didn’t they?

So they dated, even though these people hadn’t said the words they yearned for. No reality had seemed to set in yet. Not one of them had found their soulmate. You supposed, watching them, you could do the same thing. But what was the point in dating someone you knew wasn’t the person you’d spend your life with? You opted out. You just wanted to wait for him. He’d say the words when the time was right. It would all be worth it, wouldn’t it?

As the years went on, you did seem to mostly forget about the words on your body, fading lightly. In the bustle of your busy life, it wasn’t something you necessarily tried to focus on, like all of the others around you, searching faces in the crowd, desperately trying to find the ones. When it’s time, it’s time, you kept telling yourself. But the fear that you’d never actually find him did nestle itself in the back of your mind—you never, ever, ever let yourself touch that thought. Not even a little.

You were rapidly approaching the age of twenty two. You’d finished Ilvermorny, began your studying to eventually be able to teach there, and tried to not focus on what everyone else seemed to be so obsessed with.

And on your twenty second birthday, you were offered the position of a teacher—not at Ilvermorny, no, but at the wizarding school across the pond. Yes, you were moving to London.

It was terrifying and exciting and exhilarating at the same time.

And so you packed your things, said farewell to your parents, and ended up in a very tiny, one bedroom apartment in the middle of London, just a few streets down from Diagon Alley—the bustling street where all witches and wizards went for their school supplies—and you supposed, professors, too.

Well, you knew what you needed to do.

Which brings you to now.

Somebody bumped into you while running through the street. “Sorry, love,” they said, and were off in a flash, barely noticing the shift of your body on the middle of the cobblestone. And then, a flash of light, and a ton of rain.

Was London notorious for its rainy days? You didn’t know, this was your first time here, of course. And where on earth was your umbrella?

As you’d dreaded—back at your half unpacked apartment, probably collecting dust at the bottom of one of your many, many boxes that still needed to be unloaded. Brilliant.

You ran into the store nearest you, quickly running through the flash flood, soaked to the core—your long hair dripping along the carpet. You didn’t know what to expect when entering the shop, but it sure as hell wasn’t this.

It was probably the most colorful room you’d ever seen in all your life. Bright hues of orange and green and purple and red made the shop seem even much bigger than it was—loads of toys and supplies were making many sounds that seemed to reverberate off of the walls. Students and children and parents alike were chattering animatedly and peering admiringly at all of the inventions that were stocked very highly on the shelves. It was rather bustling, indeed.

“Looking for anything in particular?” a cool voice asked. When you turned around, a red haired man in a brown suit looked at you with wide eyes. “Bloody hell—get caught in that rain, did you?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” you told him. Was he the owner, perhaps? “Do you have a restroom or something I can wash up in?”

Another man who looked exactly like him sauntered over and asked his twin, “Georgie, I’ve just—lord, you alright, love?”

Love? Does every man in this country call women that? Not quite like America. Still, you couldn’t help but grin a little. “I’m fine—just wondering if you have a place I could dry off, maybe—”

George, the first one, said to you, “We’ve got dry towels—let me go and fetch them for you—”

“Believe there’s a sweatshirt in the pile of clean laundry too, mate, if you want to grab that,” the second one said.

You shook your head and said, “No, no, I’m fine, really—I live just up the way—just a towel will do.”

“Nonsense,” he told you, motioning for you to follow him. “C’mon, we’ll make you a bit of tea to warm you up,”

Okay, so, definitely the owners. They seemed so young to own such a successful shop in the middle of the busiest street in London. They couldn’t be older than twenty two, twenty three? How on earth were they handling all this chaos?

You’d learned a lot in your short time at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. It was a prank shop, basically, run by two boys who, although adults, did seem to love acting like children. Born and raised as two kids who wanted more than anything to continue making people laugh, even in the darkest of times, they’d hatched this plan at the mere age of five, and they’d not once teetered off track. Not very pleasing to their mother, you learned, who’d spent her lifetime watching over seven mischievous children, but she’d softened when she’d realized how well off they were, especially after the war you’d heard all about when you were back home.

As you pulled your still damp hair back into a high ponytail, you said to them both, “Well, thank you both very much—not exactly how I’d imagined my first day in London to be, but—I appreciate you taking me under your wing.”

With a swift goodbye as George was pulled away by customers, he told you, “Visit soon!” The other man stood in front of you with a concerned look in his eyes.

“You’re sure you’re alright?”

You laughed softly. “I promise, yes. Thank you…”

“Fred,” he said, taking your hand in his.

You bit your bottom lip. “Y/N...well, thanks, again—I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“I hope so,” he said and winked. Was he seriously flirting right now? You glanced quickly at your wrist, taking a deep breath in. Was it him? Probably not. There were millions of others in Europe. You were strangely sad at the thought. You barely knew this guy. And who knew? Your soulmate could still be back home. Fred brought you back to reality when he asked, “Visit soon, yeah?”

You scratched the top of your head and grinned at him. “Yeah, soon...have a good night.”

And so your first night in London hadn’t gone exactly as planned. But what did you expect, really? Chaos. Always.

You were met the next morning with sunshine flooding through your apartment and boxes that needed unpacking. You groaned at the thought. Instead, you made your way into Diagon Alley again, this time determined to be able to shop more of the little stores in the sunlight, not having to escape the street due to flash flooding.

It was hot. You were surprised how hot it was. Your pale green sundress swung at your sides, and you pulled your long hair into a side braid to get it off of our neck. And as you’d assumed, the street was incredibly busy. But you didn’t seem to mind. You loved the bustle of the city.

You clumsily tripped over the cobblestone in your sandals, bumping hard into someone next to you. Looking down at their feet and regaining your composure, you said, “I’m so terribly sorry—”

“Back again, are we?”

It was Fred, the man from yesterday. He was smirking at you with his hands in his pockets.

“Well hey, Fred.”

His raised his eyebrows at you, seemingly impressed with the fact that after one brief meeting, you could tell him and his twin brother apart. “Impressive, honestly, nobody can really tell us apart except our mum,”

You smiled and glanced down at your shoes, biting your bottom lip.

“Listen, I’m about to grab a bite—and you certainly look like you could use a bit of a break,” he glanced down at the many bags you had in your hands, “care you join me?”

You went against your better judgement. Two days in a row you’d run into this man you barely know, and you’d already managed to have his sweatshirt, towel, and a pair of sweatpants in your apartment, and now he was inviting you for a bite to eat. An adventurous few days you were having, indeed. The field day your friends would be having with this information—

“Okay,” you told him, pushing the thought away and following him across the crowded street where he grabbed your hand and cut through very busy traffic.

“So,” he asked when he finally stopped walking. “Favorite flavor of ice cream?”

“Chocolate chip cookie dough,” you said immediately, not even thinking on it.. “And you?”

“I dunno,” he said truthfully, cocking his head to the side and looking up at the sky. “It changes daily. Ready?”

He pulled you closer towards the shop you were in front of, and when you looked up, you noticed a sign that read: Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour.

Confused, you asked, “This is the bite you meant?”

“Yeah,” he told you matter-of-factly, reading your face for any sign of amusement. “C’mon, America, don’t tell me you’ve never had ice cream for lunch before.”

You smiled at him. America. What the hell—it was adorable, and you were nearly melting into a puddle in front of him. What were you doing? It was the accent, it had to be—and that red hair. God, the things your friends would be saying—

You pushed his arm softly and told him, “I shall have you know that I have definitely had ice cream for lunch.”

“Good,” he smirked, taking your hand in his and pulling you inside. “Let’s go, then.”

And after this second day in Diagon Alley, your afternoon meet up with Fred for ice cream from Florean Fortescue’s became a daily thing. It was addicting, this ice cream—absolutely nothing like you’d had back home, and thank goodness Diagon Alley was so large, because you were able to walk off those calories in a heartbeat.

As the summer dragged on and the impending school year drew nearer, you’d kept returning to the street—of course, for your school supplies, yes, but also to see him. You’d find yourself, every so often, glancing down at your wrist, looking at the silly phrase, wanting to forget about your soulmate altogether. You found yourself covering it with bracelets and watches, hoping that Fred would never see it and never have to ask about it.

You’d spent many afternoons in Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, as well.

It proved to be very difficult to leave every evening, actually.

What were you doing?

You needed to draw yourself back. You needed too. You didn’t want to end up heartbroken, in a foreign city, before starting a new job in a new place with new people. It was a disaster in the making. You needed, more than anything, to protect your heart.

And so just a couple of days before the start of term, you slowly made your way into the shop, ready to tell Fred that you wouldn’t be seeing him for a long time, as term was about to begin, when he met you at the front of the store.

“Y/N! Glad to see you this morning,” he said brightly, coming round the bend of the back end of the store. “Now, when you get to Hogwarts in four days time, remember to tell Minerva McGonagall how fond you are of me and George—I reckon she’ll be so pleased you know us,”

You cocked your head to the side and placed your hand on your hip, smiling sweetly at him. “Why do I have the feeling that she’d actually be less than impressed at that?”

Pretending to fall backwards, Fred told you, “I’m heartbroken you think that, Y/N,”

I’m just heartbroken, you thought dramatically, shaking the thoughts from your head at how absolutely overly emotional you were being. Ridiculous. “Freddie listen, I—”

“Ooh, we’ve got just the thing for your classroom—it’s bloody brilliant, c’mon, you have to take it—it’ll be a good luck present, on us, yeah? C’mon then, won’t cost you a sickle,”

Begrudgingly, you followed him to the back of the store, when your heart stopped.

He laughed then, shaking his head and laughing to himself. “You’re from the other end. Reckon I probably should’ve said, ‘won’t cost you a dime’, is that way they say in America?”

And just like that, your head shot up and muscles tensed. That moment of reality. It was like you‘d gotten the wind knocked out of you, just as your parents told you. “Oh my god, what did you say?”

You watched Fred stop in his tracks, glance down at his wrist, and turn slowly back towards you, in the middle of a crowded store. Your heart and mind were racing, and it took every single ounce of you to restrict yourself from nearly jumping on top of him—

“It’s you,” he said, as if the entire world around the two of you had stopped abruptly.

“Get the wind knocked right out of you?” you asked him, pointing to his wrist and to yours.

He looked down at your hand and then back at you. Did he have tears in his eyes? “Yeah,” he said breathlessly—and then, that silly sarcasm. “I knew it.”

You actually laughed in the surprise of the moment. “You did not!”

“Well, I hoped,” he admitted. “I reckon you did, too?” He smiled sweetly at you. Yes, you’d hoped, too. He knew that. He could see it in your eyes from the moment you met one another, when you were rain soaked and shivering from the cold in his very busy store. He was in love with you right then.

Teasingly, you said aloud, “A British prankster. All my life I never pictured my soulmate as a British prankster.”

“Can’t say I ever pictured my soulmate as an American girl who’d end up working at the school I grew up in,”

You asked him jokingly, “Are you disappointed?”

Beaming at you, he replied, “Definitely not disappointed, America.”

It was really difficult to not turn to complete putty in his hands when he was so goddamn charming. It was inevitable.

You stood there, both peering at one another, wondering—what happens next?

And what kind of soulmate would you be if you didn’t ask him, “So can I kiss you now? I’m dying, here,”

And what kind of soulmate would he be if he didn’t tease you, “Well, yeah, darling, what the bloody hell are you waiting for?”

His lips were soft and warm, and it felt like you’d kissed them a million times before. He was your soulmate—in this life, and in any and every other lifetime there was—it would always be him—this confident, flirtatious, silly red headed boy who loved, more than anything, to bring a smile to people’s faces.

“Well thank bloody Merlin the two of you finally figured it out.”

George came down the steps from upstairs and wrapped his arms around the two of you. Up on the top floor, you saw another red headed boy and girl, who you knew must’ve been Ron and Ginny. Or was it Bill? Or Percy? Or Charlie? Guess you’d have time to figure it out. They both smiled at you.

“You knew?” you and Fred both asked George at the same time.

George chucked, “Yeah—it was really obvious, actually.” To you, he kissed you on the cheek and said, “Well—welcome to the family, officially! So, when’s the wedding? Kids on the way yet? Mate, you know mum is absolutely going to flip her lid when she hears the news—”

You choked back a laugh. Intertwining your fingers in Fred’s, you said to them both, “That’s a lot of steps we’ve skipped, there,”

And as he jokingly pushed his twin away, Fred turned back towards you, wound his arms around your waist and pressed a kiss to your temple as you draped your arms across his shoulders. His lips were pressed to your ear and it sent a shiver down your spine when he said, “I can’t wait to share all of them with you, my love.”

tag list: drop me a message if you’d like to be added: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @fredweasleyismyking91

reblogs + feedback are always appreciated lovelies :)

#fred weasley #george weasley #fred and george weasley #weasley twins #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley reader insert #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fanfic #hp imagine #hp fanfiction #harry potter imagine #fred weasley soulmate au #soulmate au #soulmate aus #bye #pls dont let this flop omg it took me D A Y S

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heysoup · 4 years ago

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Fluffy February Day 1 - Fishing

Howdy folks! I’m taking part in the Fallout Fluffy February prompt list this month, hosted by @fluffyfebruary

Every day of this month I’ll be posting my finished prompts under the community tag #fluffyfebruary and on my own blog as #fluffyfeb. I’ll also be cross posting to Ao3, which I’ll link to in each post - so feel free to follow me over there, too!

Chapter 1: A Fisher of Men

Pairing: Butch/Male Lone Wanderer

Summary: Jamie takes Butch out on the Potomac for a fishing trip in the same spot his father had taken him a year prior. What seems to be an uneventful few hours turns into anything but when they find a monster on the other end of their line. Takes place after the events of Broken Steel.

Ao3 Link

“This is fucking boring.”

Jamie shoots Butch an irritated look from where he’s sitting across from the other man in the canoe, his brows drawn together as he tries his damnedest to untangle his fishing line from the third piece of driftwood he’s ‘caught’ that day.

“No shit,” he grumbles, spitting out some mud as he tries to break the line off the wood with his teeth. He lets out a frustrated huff, gripping his rod in both hands as he raises it up and fights the urge to just chuck the whole damn thing into the Potomac. He hears Butch snicker, and he whips his head up.

“You’re like a goddamn feral,” Butch teases with a laugh, reaching over and snatching the rod from Jamie’s grip. He digs in the pocket of his jeans and pulls out his switchblade, flicking it open and carefully beginning to cut the line away from where it’s tangled in the driftwood to try and save as much of it as he can.

He kicks his boots playfully against Jamie’s sneakers, noticing how the canvas high-tops are completely soaked through from the puddle of water they’d managed to slosh into the canoe earlier as they tried ungracefully to board it from the shore. He just shakes his head, a smile on his face, knowing that if he brings up the topic of appropriate footwear to the younger man it’ll just earn him a bruised shoulder.

“This was supposed to be like… meditative or some shit,” Jamie says with a sigh. He rubs his hands over his freckled face and ruffles some of the dust out of his sun-warmed hair. Butch just gives him an incredulous look.

“Where the hell did you get that idea from?” He finishes cutting the driftwood free and tosses it behind him into their small pile of ‘catches’ – which is really just a collection of junk at this point – before reattaching the hook and bobber and handing the rod back to the other man. He leans over and grabs his own fishing pole, squinting against the reflective ripples in the water to check on his bobber. Still absolutely no bites.

Jamie shrugs, suddenly looking a little bashful. “I dunno,” he admits. He reaches back into the salvaged can of cram they were using as bait, tears a chunk out, and works on preparing his hook again. Not like it matters much, he tells himself. He can continue to go through the motions perfectly and not catch a single thing. A little bit like everything else in his life, he thinks bitterly. His fucking bad luck.

After a moment of silence, Jamie continues. “Apparently my family came from a long line of fishermen on my dad’s side. He passed down some stories about it. Told me they were tradition or something.” Jamie shrugs. “Anyway, he taught me that you were s’posed to reflect on yourself out here. Get some peace and quiet.” Jamie finally says. He sucks the excess cram off his fingers, his tongue burning at the sudden saltiness, and casts his line out again, his bobber floating a few feet from Butch’s. Butch looks up at him, snapped out of his own thoughts.

“Huh… like, Wasteland fisherman?” Butch asks, deliberately choosing not to tell him how he thinks the whole ‘peace and quiet’ schtick is a load of brahmin shit and instead focusing on the first part of what he said. He’s always intrigued whenever Jamie tells him about his family, at least after they’d learned that he wasn’t born in the vault. The idea of generations of Arroyo’s managing to survive out here long enough to pop out the rascally kid he sits across from kind of amazes him. He sets his fishing pole back down against the side of the canoe, sure that it would be fine – he hasn’t gotten a single nibble in the past three hours.

“Nah. I’m sure some of them might’ve been, but we don’t really know much about closer generations of my family. We only really knew about some of my prewar family – something about some records my dad’s dad had kept on his terminals after searching our surname through databases in some place that used to process immigrations, or some shit. The occupation listed there was fisherman, apparently.” Jamie finishes and Butch hums thoughtfully, trying to imagine what Jamie’s granddad might have looked like.

Jamie winces when he thinks of his dad and has to shake the thoughts from his head. As if his face reflecting back at him from the clear surface of the clean water isn’t enough of a reminder of what he’s lost of his family and himself to of Project Purity – he looks like his own father’s ghost and even carries his name.

Butch’s fishing pole snapping against the side of the boat brings him back out of his thoughts, and he flinches back away from the canoe’s edge, the quick motion causing him to almost tumble out the other side as the boat sways dangerously.

“I got one!” Butch practically shouts and lunges for the pole, straddling the seat of the canoe and bracing his legs against the floor as he begins an awkward tug-of-war match with whatever is on the other end of his line. Jamie perks up with a huge grin on his face, all thoughts of his troubles momentarily forgotten, and hovers over Butch nervously.

“Make sure you don’t reel in when he’s pulling on the line! And try to give it some slack!” Jamie parrots what his father had taught him on their one and only fishing trip in the Wastes months back and digs around in their mess of a canoe for the rickety net they brought with them. Butch just gives an annoyed grunt, his face crinkled in concentration as he pulls on the line.

“This bastard is fuckin’ heavy!” He complains, giving the rod a yank that rocks their canoe again. Whatever they have hooked is pulling them ever so slightly to the opposite shore and splashing like crazy beneath the water.

“Scoot,” Jamie orders. He tosses the net aside – it’s obvious that whatever’s on the other side of the line won’t fit in it now - and moves on unsteady legs to sit behind Butch, reaching his arms around the other man’s waist and grabbing the fishing pole to help him pull. What the hell are they dealing with here?

By the time they begin to make some progress in reeling the fish in, they’re about halfway to the shore and completely out of breath. Butch laughs hysterically between pulls, his eyes squeezed shut in glee, and Jamie can’t help but laugh in return. His palms are sweaty, his white-knuckle grip on the fishing pole beginning to slip.

“Is it trying to pull us out of the water?!” Butch says suddenly, elbowing Jamie to look at the swiftly approaching shore. They’re hauling ass at this point, almost as if… whatever they hooked had suddenly caught some footing in the shallower water. Jamie’s eyes widen and he immediately lets go of the pole to root around in their bags. As he does, Butch careens forward from the sudden lack of support and just barely catches himself with his elbows against the edge of the canoe. He curses, “CHRIST, Nosebleed! Some warning next time!”

Jamie has only just gotten his hands on Butch’s shotgun when they finally catch a glimpse of their ‘fish’ as it breaks the surface of the water. At this point, they’ve reeled it in pretty close and the wake left behind the huge creature emerging from the stagnant part of the river capsizes their canoe just as they crash into the sandy shore.

With a chorus of yells both men topple over into the shallows. Jamie squeezes his eyes shut and lands on his back with a thud, his arms stretched up over his head holding the shotgun out of the river. The water feels like a cold slap to his face, and he comes back up gasping for air. He looks over to where Butch has landed hard on his ass, noting that the fishing pole is being tugged out of his hands and quickly away from him. He looks and sees the fruits of their labor – an albino Mirelurk with the fishing line wrapped around one claw.

“MIRELURK!” Butch yells, scrambling to his feet and running over to Jamie. He pulls the other man up and grabs the shotgun from him just as the Mirelurk turns toward them and begins clambering over the old canoe that groans and splinters beneath its weight.

“Shoot it! Shoot it!” Jamie practically shrieks and pushes against Butch’s arm, urging him to hurry when the Mirelurk picks up speed and barrels toward them. Butch nods and fights the urge to run, taking a breath and bracing for the recoil as he lines up his shot. Jamie flinches when he hears the crack! of the rounds exploding from the gun and shattering the vulnerable part of the Mirelurk’s fragile front shell. His ears ring from the close proximity of the shot and he grimaces, about to cover them until he realizes the monster is still running full speed toward them. Shit!

He grabs Butch and tackles him to the ground, shoving them out of the way as the huge, mutated crab stumbles past them at an alarming speed and crashes hard into the shore. It lies there face-first in a mound in the sand and they watch it with wild eyes from their position on the ground, ready to book it at any hint of movement, but it’s motionless and quiet – dead.

Jamie rolls off of Butch and flops down next to him, both of them looking up at the endless expanse of bright blue sky as they struggle to catch their breaths.

“Still think fishing is boring?” Jamie snaps and Butch begins to laugh again, the sound starting as a snort and bubbling slowly from his chest before he’s full-on wheezing with laughter. Jamie sits up and looks down at him like he’s insane.

“What about this was funny?!” He asks, shaking Butch’s shoulder. He can’t help but return the grin, though. Seeing Butch happy always manages to make him smile. Butch wipes his hand down his face as he sits up, slinging the shotgun over his shoulder and hopping to his feet. He reaches down to pull Jamie up with him, a huge shit-eating grin on his face.

Jamie’s ears suddenly feel hot as he watches Butch, noticing the endearing gap between his two front teeth and the splash of sun freckles over his now sand-dusted face. He swallows, his heart racing. “What?” He repeats again, his throat dry.

“I caught a motherfucking fish.” Butch beams even more and looks incredibly proud of himself as they turn and walk over to his ‘catch.’ He kicks it with the toe of his boot a few times just to ease his own worries of it springing back to life.

“It’s not a fish! It’s a crab, they’re different.” Jamie argues and crouches down, grabbing the edge of the Mirelurk’s shell with Butch as they flip it over with a heave. Jamie doesn’t mention that technically he did catch it with a fishing pole, and that technically they are going to have it for dinner. He doesn’t want to give Butch the satisfaction, especially considering the only thing he got out of this trip is his collection of stones and driftwood that was currently crushed under their broken canoe.

“It counts.” Butch says, the grin still plastered on his face. He pulls a combat knife out of a holster on his belt and settles down on his knees in the sand, tapping the sharp edge of it against the shell. “Look at this bad boy. You ever see a white one before?”

“It’s an albino, I guess.” Jamie says, leaning close to inspect it. He lifts the claw that’s tangled in their fishing line. “What a mess, we aren’t salvaging this.” He drops it back into the sand with a thud.

“The fuck’s an albino?” Butch asks as he cuts into their prize, grimacing and holding back a gag as he begins to butcher it. Mirelurk is good meat, but it reeks when it’s fresh.

“You know, like that one story Brotch made us read in like 8th grade, Moby Dick? It was about that sea captain and the giant albino whale.” Jamie snickers and walks the few paces back to their canoe. He flips it right-side-up with some effort and drags their valuables out of the muddy water, clicking his tongue in disappointment when he notices their bags are completely soaked through. “You’re lucky he didn’t eat your leg.” He teases.

Butch looks back at him and pouts, blowing a messy curl of his hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, I never read anything ol’ Brotch assigned. Waste of time. Like it would’ve taught me anything useful out here.” He grumbles.

Jamie laughs and drops their stuff next to a rock outcropping near their canoe. It looks like it would provide some decent shelter against the wind and by the looks of their soaking clothes and supplies, they’ll have to stay the night unless they want to catch hypothermia. “Maybe it could’ve taught ya how to catch a real fish.”

“It still counts as a catch!” Butch whines.

“It’s not a fish.” Jamie shoots back in a sing-song voice, biting his tongue to hold back the huge grin that threatens to break through. Butch jumps up from what he’s doing and turns to him, his face red, but mirroring the same smile that Jamie is trying so hard to hold back.

“It. Counts.” Butch grits between clenched teeth puts his combat knife away, buttoning the sheathe into place against his hip. They stare at each other for a moment, their eyes locked in a staring match. Jamie’s grin finally breaks free.

“Does no-“he cuts himself off with a yelp as Butch lunges for him playfully. He laughs so hard he thinks his chest might burst as he takes off in a run down the beach, Butch hot on his heels as he begins to chase him.

He knows Butch’s legs are much longer than his, but he can hold his own – at least for a little while. And even though the inevitable ending is Butch catching him in a tackle, he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it. It’s something they’ve done since they were boys stumbling around in the grey fluorescence of the vault, constantly finding their way back to each other like it was fate, and it feels like home.

#fluffyfebruary #fallout #fallout 3 #butch deloria #butch/m!lw #fanfiction #jay writes #fluffyfeb

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crystalirises · 4 years ago

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The Final Answer (36 Questions AU 8/13)

Eight part.

A BETTER VERSION

“I’m sorry you had a shitty childhood, Dream. I couldn't even imagine what it was like with... I hoped when he came here, he never found out who you were.” They both had settled onto Dream’s seat, Fundy perched on the edge as he stared down at Dream. His ears were pressed to the top of his head, his tail curled around the blonde as if to give him some semblance of comfort. He didn’t know what to say, his mouth opening and closing as he wondered what he could possibly do to change the situation. Dream murmured a string of incoherent words beneath his breath, words that Fundy couldn't understand. He leaned closer, wishing he could do something, anything to assure the blonde of... Fundy didn't know what. He just knew Dream needed him, needed a moment of his compassion and sympathy. For just this moment, Fundy let his anger ebb away. He understood where Dream was coming from. Sometimes parents manage to fuck up their kids in some form or another.

“Well, it didn’t matter when we moved to the Essempy. I haven’t thought about my first life in ages. Even when he came for the elections. He died never knowing who I was. I haven't let myself remember my old life. It’s been a while.” Dream held onto Fundy’s tail, petting it as if to cement himself to their current reality. He could feel Fundy at his side, his piercing gaze at the back of his head. His green eyes were glazed and vacant, lost to memories he thought he’d long forgotten. He recalls his father's laugh, the sound sending shivers down his spine. His father had a terrifying laugh, even if he was laughing at a miniscule joke it always came out as if he was losing it with every second that passed. He hated the sound, hated it ever since he was a kid. To hear it again... He trembled, the memory of his father's laughter all too recent. “It didn’t matter until... I didn't want it to matter but then… Then he... I tried to avoid the conflict, but it was only a matter of time before I was dragged into another war. For the record, I didn’t switch sides for whatever reason you might be thinking right now. Trust me on that, please.”

“I wouldn’t blame you for that, Dream… even if it was the answer.” Fundy couldn’t shake Dream’s answer, the details of a life far away from where they were now. He reached down, placing a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder. He smiled as Dream turned towards him, his mouth agape as if he was waking up from a nightmare. Fundy moved closer, nearly falling into the blonde’s lap. He let out an awkward laugh, fixing his position on the chair they were both on. “So… you died before? That means you have two lives left…”

“The first time was painful… If I tried hard enough, I can still hear the crack of bones as my body fell against the unforgiving ground.” Dream shivered, tugging Fundy’s bushy tail towards his chest like a lifeline. He leaned his against Fundy’s back, feeling Fundy’s warmth as he tried to keep himself cemented to reality. He let his eyes fall shut, embracing the small moment that the two of them were currently sharing. “You can see why Wilbur’s insistence on the drug van caused me to panic.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah.” Dream nuzzled deeper into the back of Fundy’s shirt, all too aware that he himself was still wearing one of Fundy’s orange sweaters. “But I know that doesn’t change the way I reacted.”

“You blew L’Manburg up twice.”

“I know.” He let out a tired sigh, the sound muffled by the shirt. “It was a horrible mess that devolved terribly over these past few years… Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had just let it go.”

“Do you think we would have met on better terms?” Fundy glanced down, his hands occupying themselves by pulling at a loose string on his shirt. His ears strained to hear Dream’s reply, barely catching the small ‘I don’t know’ that the man muttered underneath his breath. He let out an empty laugh, wondering if they would have ever met at all. “It’s weird to think about… a world where we never knew each other. A world where we never met. You wouldn’t have needed me… and I wouldn’t have needed you. Never fell in love.”

“I’m not sure I would like that world.” Dream snorted, wheezing a bit as he pulled away from Fundy’s shirt. He shook his head, choosing to lean his head on the back of the seat instead. Fundy’s tail was wagging a bit, not quite happy but at least it wasn’t raised as if he planned to run at any given moment. He hummed underneath his breath, content to spend a few more seconds with his husband like this. But they needed to finish the questions. He cleared his throat, “What’s your answer to the question?”

“The question… The question.” Fundy grinned, leaning against the back of the chair. He placed an arm to support his head, laughing as he thought about his own answer. “Well, the question really should be what wouldn’t I wish to change? I wish my mom didn’t swim off into fuck knows where. I wish my dad didn’t go crazy and blow up the country I was raised in. I wish the ghost of my dad didn’t cling to my every damn fucking second. There’s a lot I wish I could change, Dream. Guess both of our lives suck.”

“No wonder we got along.”

“That’s not very positive of you, Dream. We didn’t fall for each other’s trauma.” Fundy snickered, trying to shake off the hollow feeling in his chest at the mention of his father. “If I could change everything, I would ask to be born in a family that actually cared. A mother that didn’t run away. A father that didn’t prioritize everything but me. An uncle who isn’t exiled and another uncle who didn’t look at me as if he wanted to murder me.” Dream froze at the word ‘exiled’. Fundy didn’t quite hold that issue against him.

“I’m not going to apologize for that. He burnt George’s house to the ground, during a ceasefire.” He didn’t mean for it to come out as harshly as it had, but he couldn’t take it back the moment it escaped his lips. Fundy blinked, a startled look crossing his face before it quickly disappeared. Dream could only thank the deities that Fundy didn’t back away from him immediately. Dream swallowed down the need to defend himself. He had nothing to defend himself. He did what was right. “Do you hold that against me?”

“Dream…” Fundy pursed his lips together, wincing at how he could begin to answer the question. He’d never had the best relationship with Tommy, his uncle who was younger than he was. He couldn’t bring himself to admit the slight sliver of satisfaction he had felt when he heard Tubbo banish Tommy from New L’Manburg. He hated himself for feeling it, but he couldn’t help it. Not that it mattered since his father disappeared just as quickly as Tommy had. Of course. “We should move on to the next question.”

“Of course.” Dream quickly nodded, thinking back towards the list of questions Fundy had asked him on the first date. He groaned, recognizing what the next question was. Well, it wasn’t exactly a question but a command. Fundy straightened up, realizing at the same time what the next question was. A question where Dream’s previous answer would differ from the answer he would be saying now. “Question 11. ‘Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible.’”

Fundy shook his head, turning his nose up in slight disappointment. He hated these questions. “You know everything about me, Dream. I mean, you’ve had a front seat to the ‘Miserable Life of Fundy’ ever since the first war began.” His life beforehand was insignificant, a horrible jumble of memories of the times where Wilbur would carry him from place to place. Wilbur could never bring himself to stay in one area for too long. He probably shouldn’t have settled down because the one time he did, he ended up dying.

“I’d love to hear it again…” Dream internally flinched at his own reply, hoping that Fundy didn’t take that personally― He sputtered, a fluff of fur smacking him on the face. He blinked, realizing that Fundy just… slapped him with his tail. He felt Fundy quivering next to him, a low snicker rising from the fox hybrid. His face must look ridiculously funny right now. Dream scowled halfheartedly, trying not to laugh at his husband’s strange antic. Deities he missed this. “Wha... What was that for?”

“I could see you regretting your words in your eyes, Dream. Pfft…” Fundy shook his head, his sharp teeth showing underneath the grin he wore. “I don’t mind telling it again. I’ve added a new chapter, after all.”

“A new chapter?”

“These past few weeks have been hectic.” They both laughed at that understatement. Fundy breathed in. He could do this again. He could talk about his life again, couldn’t he?

“Where to begin… My earliest memory was a cold wintry day, my arms wrapped around my father’s neck as he scoured through a desolate land of ice and snow. My second memory was of a dark forest filled with all sorts of… aggressive creatures.” Fundy cleared his thoughts, wishing he didn’t have to remember those glowing purple eyes that hunted him and his father down relentlessly. “My father was a traveler and my mother ran off… at least that’s what my father told me… Well, actually he told me fucked a salmon…”

He could almost hear the snap in Dream’s neck as the blonde turned to look at him. Yeah, he may not have added that part in his first answer. “ANYWAY, um… My father and I eventually found our way here to the Essempy where my uncle, Tommy, lived. I then lived in a drug van for a while before the whole war began. Somehow, I managed to get my father’s approval to join the war… not that he ever gave me my own uniform. Then, that thing with Eret and the duel… where you shot Tommy for a bunch of flimsy discs.”

He gave Dream a pointed glare at that, a show of anger on behalf of his uncle. “Then… we met. Had our first date. We started seeing each other in secret. Then the elections came and we made that promise about how our politics would never get in the way of what we had. Yeah, that lasted for a while. Then my father got exiled and I had to play spy for… years? I’ve forgotten how long Schlatt was president for… All I know is, we got married at some point before the recent war. Then… Then… Then…”

He took another breath to calm himself. He could do this. He tried to ignore the way Dream looked at him, as if he would shatter at any moment. “Then… The explosion where I had to watch my home get destroyed before my very eyes. I also had to watch my own dad get killed by the grandfather I didn’t know I had.”

He felt Dream’s hand on his tail, petting it as if to soothe him.

“Then as if the deities wanted to mock me, my dad came back as an amnesiac ghost who refuses to take responsibility for anything he’s done.” Fundy rolled his eyes at that, resentment rising in his chest.

“I’m sorry, Fundy.”

Fundy shook his head, “We began construction on New L’Manburg, hoping that this time nothing goes wrong, but it seems L’manburg is cursed or some shit because guess what happened next?”

Dream gulped, knowing that this was where he came in for the recent time in the story of Fundy’s life. “Imagine my surprise when I woke up one morning, enjoying my walk towards New L’Manburg, only to see an obsidian wall surrounding the country.” Dream didn’t react as Fundy’s tail slapped him on the face again. “One meeting later, my husband declares to the entire land that he only ever cared about a child’s discs. Five days later, my uncle was exiled out of the country he had fought for. Then it all went to shit.”

Fundy had been heartbroken. It wasn’t a random decision he’d done one day. Ever since that declaration… “New L’Manburg continued on, but the only semblance of normalcy in my life began to wilt. My husband stopped coming home, stopped talking to me, stopped looking at me, and the one time I tried to talk to him… he said, ‘Not now, Fundy. Just trust me, okay?’ Ya, like that was supposed to be assuring. Like I didn’t spend my nights on our bed wondering if I’ll catch him coming back home at some point in the night.”

He took in a shaky breath, “The next time I confronted him, he got mad. Telling me that my fears were illogical, that he didn’t mean it literally when he said ‘that’s the only thing I care about’ when talking about the discs. He told me I was being crazy. That I should trust him. Then he left. Just like that. As if he expected me to still be in our cabin when he came back.” Fundy tried to keep the hurt out of his voice but he didn’t think he succeeded, “So before you accuse me of running away, know that you left me first.”

“Fundy…” Dream felt his throat constrict, unable to breathe at the overwhelming guilt he felt. He felt sick, knowing that despite the righteous anger Fundy felt, the fox hybrid didn’t try to move away. His tail was still in Dream’s arms. “I was wrong.”

“You were. You were wrong to leave me at the cabin like that. You were wrong to think I wouldn’t want a single hint that you actually cared for me.” Fundy sighed, too exhausted to move away from the man who had broken his heart too many times. “I just wanted one hint that you cared for me, Dream. I’ve seen you lie before. I’ve seen your hold on everyone here. I didn’t want to be another pawn in your game.”

“You were never a pawn in the game, Fundy.” Dream frowned… maybe before… maybe when he didn’t know the fox hybrid all that well. “You are not a pawn, Fundy. You’re your own man. I’m… sorry… I didn’t expect you to run away because of that.”

“I didn’t expect myself to run away either.” Fundy shook his head, eyes shutting close as he remembered the tears on his cheeks as he ran as far away as he could from the Essempy. At some point, he stopped at the Badlands, a thought entering his mind as he looked upon the desolate desert.

“I’m… also sorry for… threatening Ranboo into telling me where you were.” Dream felt the heat of Fundy’s glare at that admission. Though he can’t say he truly felt guilty for doing it. That action led him to Fundy, didn’t it? “I should probably start with my answer, huh?” Dream knew Fundy wanted to ask him about what he’d done to Ranboo, but he quickly interjected before the fox hybrid could inquire further.

“Well, I grew up an only kid to two loving yet distant parents. You know how my dad was, you worked for him after all. My mom wasn’t around so I spent a lot of time by myself. Ran away after a while. Got into a bit of trouble when I grew older. Met Sapnap and George that way when they thought they could try and hunt me down for some reward.” Dream nearly screamed as Fundy toppled onto him, both of them screeching as Fundy tried to go back to his previous position. “Fundy?!”

“You’re a wanted man?” Fundy blinked, an incredulous look on his face as he managed to clamber back to the way he was sitting before. He knew Dream was a war criminal on a rampage but he didn’t think he was actually wanted somewhere else. Dream wheezed at the question, nodding his head in actual confirmation. Fundy couldn’t help the small noise of surprise that emitted from the back of his throat. “I married a criminal!”

“I married a fox hybrid, Fundy. I’ve gotten furry jokes from George and Sapnap.” They both laughed at that. “I stayed with Sapnap and George after, then I died. We ended up moving to the Essempy and… you know what happened next… but I wouldn’t count any of that as my life. It doesn’t feel like my life.” Dream could feel Fundy’s stare at the back of his head. He patted Fundy’s tail, wishing his voice didn’t strain or crack the moment Fundy asked him to explain.

“What do you mean, Dream?” Fundy winced at how quiet his voice sounded, the small tremble at the end of his voice.

Dream smiled, a bittersweet smile that pulled at Fundy’s heartstrings no matter how much he wished it didn’t. Dream settled back into his seat, cuddling close to Fundy’s tail. He could do this. He needed to do this. For both their sakes.

“My life started when I went for a jog and spotted you in the path…” Dream found a smile climbing to his lips. It had been a sunny day, radiant golden light splashing the world with color. George and Sapnap were busy and he had chosen to head towards L’Manburg, a spring in his step as he ran down the path of Church Prime. His mind was abuzz with memories, pausing as he caught an orange blur clambering up the stairs. His first proper meeting with Fundy. “…walking with a fox. So, I stopped and asked, ‘Can I pet your fox?’”

He didn’t understand what made him stop. Perhaps it was the comedic sight. A fox hybrid tugging a struggling fox behind him. Dream didn’t know why, but he stopped. It was the best choice he’d ever made. “And so there we were, me and this adorable fox, basking in the abundance of sun our land provides. And suddenly, you blurted out ‘This isn't my fox, actually.’” He watches as Fundy’s eyes crease with agony at the memory. At the memory of…, “’It's my friend's fox, Fungi. I'm taking care of him while she's away.’”

Fundy had curled into his arms the day Fungi died, screaming incoherently until he fainted. Dream had yelled at Sapnap, his anger rising with every confused gesture Sapnap had shown him. “’He's a bit of a nuisance, ya know?’ And I laughed, and you laughed.” Fundy had tried to hide the red in his cheeks, flustered. Dream expected fear, he expected anger. He didn’t expect… Fundy… didn’t expect the joy in his eyes. “Saying you didn't wanna be found out when you asked me to a date, that there was no fox.”

He shook his head at what came after, “I said yes and you said, ‘I’m Fundy. And you?’”

It had been a joke. They both knew who the other was, having met countless times on the battlefield. Despite it, Dream had paused. A realization coming into mind of what could be, “Yet I heard the perfect opportunity to be someone else entirely.” A chance to begin anew. A chance to try again. At least for one night. He didn’t see what he could possibly lose from saying yes, but he had everything to gain from that one simple word. “Free from my history. For one single night of a date…”

It had been a foolproof plan at the time. A break from the war they had both gone through. “I would be someone else. Obviously, that's not how it went down. One single date night turned into two days at your house, three more dates and staying up to watch the stars ‘til the morning comes. Too late to backpedal. Too good not to keep going.” He never meant to fall in love… but he did. And he couldn’t let go. He loved what they had. “It felt like my life, but a better version. With you in my life, I was a better person.”

He held onto Fundy’s tail. He missed them. He missed what they had. He felt his throat close up, choking out his words, “I heard music in the words you were saying. Melodies with no band playing.” He glanced up, catching the tears in Fundy’s eyes before Fundy turned to look away. It stung… but Dream knew why. It didn’t change the way he felt. It didn’t change the way he felt about Fundy. He wished that Fundy could see that, could look at him, “For the first time, I was in love, and I loved who I was with you.”

He remembered their short-lived days of peace. The trips they would take as they headed down into uncharted caves. The walks they’d take in the middle of the night when no one was looking. “All the mundane shit I used to hate, like mining for iron and walking every day.” He remembered the sweet life they used to live together, “Making breakfast, paying tax, watering the plants on our window sill…”

Fundy brightened his monochrome world, “…was invigorated with your sense of wonder. Pillow talk, midnight walks.” He missed the secret little walks they took. The risk they took. “Holding hands on the wooden path of the Church Prime. Dealing with inevitable misfortunes that were barely manageable.”

He laughed to himself, “Like that time I accidentally hit your dad with my sword.”

The air turned cold, Fundy turning to look at him with an incredulous look. “That was an unfortunate anecdote. Do you know what I mean?” Dream winced, changing the topic before Fundy could yell at him again. “It felt like my life, but a better version. With you in my life, I was a better person.”

He drew closer, reaching out to hold both Fundy’s hands. They were warm, red scorch marks stained his fingertips. “I heard music in the words you were saying. Melodies with no band playing.” He looked up, and this time Fundy didn’t look away. Their eyes gazed into one another’s. Fundy’s face was devoid of emotion, but a flicker of light danced within his eyes. Dream took a deep breath, willing Fundy to see the truth. His truth. “For the first time I was in love, and I loved who I was with you.”

He had begged every deity for the conflict to be resolved immediately, then Schlatt made him a deal he couldn’t refuse. “But then the war started to grow worse because your L’Manburg has a bad curse.” He tried to keep the panic out of his voice. He couldn’t possibly show the horror he had felt when he realized they’d be on opposite sides. The sleepless nights he endured at the thought of his husband losing a life to a war that should never have happened. “We both changed our sides. You and me, different sides.”

He had forced himself to watch as his husband was ridiculed, unable to step in unless he wanted to set everyone off into thinking Fundy was the traitor. “I only hoped we didn’t fight. Then the world exploded.” He curled into himself, his hands shaking in Fundy’s hold as he remembered the heat of the explosion. Fundy’s eyes widened, a terrified look crossing his face. Dream nodded, confirming his fears. “They say before you die, your whole life flashes before your very eyes.”

He wanted to keep it secret, “Well, it didn't the first time. But this time I heard each and every lie.” Everything changed that day. “I'd ever told you. I tried to cling to the life I'd made together with you.”

He couldn’t let it end like that, “So, I did the only thing I knew how to…”

He remembered the argument they had, “…I denied everything, because I wanted to keep my life.” He told Fundy he wasn’t the villain. But he was. He still is. “But the better version. Your Dream, your husband.”

He sniffled quietly, a bitter smile on his lips. He missed the way he used to be, before everything went to hell. Before he let it all crumble down. “He was a better person. I memorized your voice.” They had fought the day Fundy left. Their usual morning routine was disrupted by furious screaming. He struggled to keep from drowning in his own tears, “And how you say goodbye, but you never said goodbye.”

He felt his hands move to grasp at Fundy’ collar, “You never said goodbye.”

Fundy watched as Dream broke down a second time, “And I held on to our life.”

Their faces were too close, “And who I was with you.”

Fundy couldn’t help himself… “Who I was with you.” He leaned closer.

“Who I was with you.”

Dream felt lips press onto his own.

And for just a moment.

He let himself fall.

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

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#fundywastaken #fundy #dreamwastaken #mcyt

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inessencedevided · 5 years ago

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The Untamed, episode 41 - watching notes

Only 10 episodes left 😭😭😭

And we're now entering Nie Mingjue's memories. I have a feeling there's going to be some serious "oh shit!" and "wtf is happening???" going on

Jgy's backstory still moves me, no matter what he did later

I feel like both his and wwx stories are cautionary tales of what happens when you combine a rigid class-system with a mob mentality and top it all of with a healthy amount of "manners over morals"

I feel like JGY main strategy is "hold your tongue and bite your time". I completely fell for his sweet facade in the first few episodes of the flashback

Jo, did NMJ just ram his saber into a stone wall? 😱

NMJ may have anger issues, but he's a good dude

I think he took the "the more perfectly you should be, to leave them with nothing to say" to heart. Like, he never outwardly complains.

Another perfectly timed screenshot I thought I should share :D

Oh, we've seen that before!

How can this be the same person that I thought would be the designated fandom cinnamon role in ep 2/3?? 🥺

I know I'm praising actors left and right during this commentary,but ALL TGE AWARDS for how smoothly JGY changes his demeanor from humble and sweet quasi-servant to "you're not worthy of breathing the same aor as me"

This

And this

Might as well be two different characters

I wonder if, when the NMJ send him away, he realised and regretted, that he had just lost one of the only people who were truly on his side and if he thought it was worth it

One thing I find very interesting in the scene in the Scorching Sun palace is that, jgy is still wearing his hair in the braided style that is customary for the Nie clan. I think I'll try to spot when he changes it

Okay, scratch my earlier musings about if JGY feels genuine regret over how he had to leave NMJ. He clearly doesn't 😐

Gotta give it to him though, he puts gollum to shame with how he switches his personality

Only it's deliberate

And he's not insane

... don't know where I was going with this

So we're at the point where Nie Mingjue wakes in Lan Xichen's arms. Seen that before

Which leaves me asking: WHAT PART OF THIS IS THE ACT??

I wonder though, how they could convince NMJ to become sworn brothers with him after that while story

He does not seem like a man who forgets a grudge easily ^^

That scene of the three of them meditating and playing the Quin is weirdly domestic :D maybe it's just because, so far, we've only seen wwx and lwj in a similar situation together 😅

Why do I still ship Lan Xichen and JGY after all that happened? Because of scenes like these!!!!

JGY *plays Quin ominously*

Didn't know that was possible :D

The fuck???

Why is he coughing blood?

Lwj is playing "Clarity" in the present time to calm him down! Ten points for parallels!

Poor Lan Xichen. Why do I have a feeling that he's the designated buffer between them? 🙈

Sorry for the lack of intelligent commentary, but I'm trying to wrap my head around how much of a puppeteer JGY is ...

I've already mentioned this, but I appreciate the parallels between jgy and wwx and how they differ. Both operate very much outside the orthodoxy, in large part due to them not being born into it. The crucial difference is their goals. One seeks to gain power to not only find his place within the system, but rise above all those who ever looked down on him, too. The other wants to change the system for all those others who are also hurt by it.

Two characters with very similar backgrounds diverging on very different paths

And I appreciate it that it's spelled out in his rant to NMJ here

This is SO telling. I adore this scene! Before I would have calked him simply selfish (and he is, don't get be wrong). But he also probably grew up in a world where he could never be truly save and never feel equal to anyone. Everything be has, he had to fight for.

I just wrote that he and wwx had the same background? I retract that because there is one huge difference. Wwx was loved. From what I've heard, his parents loved him. Then, of course, he has to endure live as a homeless kid, but he was adopted by a foster-father who loved him and had siblings he shared everything with. Of course, he still never felt as if he quite belonged or was enough (Madam Yu saw to that) and that left it's own scars, culminating in all gbe times he rather took on all burdens himself rather than ask for goddam help once. But he was loved. Loved and appreciated and cared for. It seems, that jgy never knew that, probably until NMJ took him as his Vice General. So he learned to survive in the shadows and bite his time until the opportunity arose, never fully trusting anyone.

Does that excuse anything or rid him of responsibility? Nope. But it makes for a damn interesting character

I AM SHOOK!

That exchange between Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao was such a brilliantly crafted piece of dialogue!!! 😱😱😱

Because, if, and I think by now that that's likely, jgy turns out to be the main villain of this arc, then he is one o can at least partially understand. He's right in saying that NMJ has no right to claim that his actions are all just. He's gained his position by virtue of his birth and he's working within a system that justifies itself through mixture of imagined moral high ground and the virtue of blood heritage. No action to uphold that can be truly just.

At the same time, I believe, jgy turned those believes into a self-fulfilling prophecy. He himself schemes and uses other people's worst impulses and the faults in the cultivation world to his advantage. Proofing to himself, again and again, that he is right about them and thus justified in his actions. Enter wwx who tries, who really tries to shove the error of their ways in their faces. (I think I just answered my question from a few episodes back about why jgy seems to be working specifically against wwx 🤔)

Sorry for going on such a tengant

NMJ, did you have to call him a son of a whore? 🙄

The hell is happening to NMJ?

Oh shit, what did he do with the song of clarity? How could you even use that to harm someone??

So he tweaked it?

Oh no 😥😥😥

Let me get this straight. JGY intentionally brought NMJ to the point of qui deviation? 😳

Oh no Huaisang!! 😭😭😭

Xue Yang??? He worked with JGY? 😱😱😱

So he didn't doe of Qui deviation!!!

Fuck, JGY spotted paperman-wwx 😳

Honestly wwx, maybe it's not the best idea ever to put your conscious into something that can be crushed by accidentally stepping on it 😬

That's his sword!!!

Didn't wwx just reveal who he is???

Maybe don't do that?!?!

HE CAN WIELD HIS SWORD AGAIN!!! 😭😭😭

but jgy definitely figured out who he is ... 😐

Still, I'm weirdly proud of him :')

But wait! Why does jgy have his sword to begin with???

Aww, little exhausted paperman-wwx flopping down into lwj's hand 🖤

This episode liveblog has been far too serious so far. Here, have my favourite lan Wangji mood:

I really appreciate how seamlessly this show moves between serious scenes and comedy

Jin Ling going "what do you want?" followed by 5 beats of silence and then

had me wheezing 😂

Oh no, he's hidden everything already, hasn't he?

Wow, even Xichen is defiant now. I sense drama!!!

@sweetlittlevampire @fandom-glazed @elenirlachlagos @allhailthedramallama @luckymoony @kyrrahbird @i-love-him-on-purpose (this episode was enlightening, but still raised more questions. Feels like we're honestly entering the final arc of this show 😔)

#the untamed #sophie watches the untamed #wei wuxian #wwx #lan wangji #lwj #wangxian #jin guangyao #lan xichen #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #jin ling #the untamed liveblog

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dommexbritt · 4 years ago

Photo

FONDUE FOR TWO W/ SUE SYLVESTER // Fri. Feb 26th release

Hello, and welcome to the first ever and extra special edition of Fondue for Two on the Fondue Pot Podcast. A show where I, your host, Brittany S Pierce will ask the burning cheese melting questions so that you don’t have to. Today we have a line up of parents to shed a little light on their feelings on campus, school policy, and their terrible children...

Now, first we have a well known alumni, renowned cheerleading coach, and all around bad guy... according to a whole slew of lawsuits but don't expect her lawyers to say so.

Hello, welcome, I hope your time here this week has been as exciting as it used to be back in your day. Just as a background on you and to start, can you please introduce yourself to our listeners?. Let us know how many children you have attending the school and because you're an alumni, anything about today's campus that looks a little different now than how it used to....

Sue: It's good to be here, Miss Pierce, and thank you for the warm welcome. First off, before I introduce myself, let me just say that none of those allegations were ever proven in a court of law.

To the point, though, if your listeners don't know me then they should. Sue Sylvester, cheerleading icon, one of the most successful coaches in the history of our sport. I have two children attending this school, although whether I acknowledge them as such depends on their grades.

As for this campus...well, Brittany, frankly it's hideous. This used to be a place for the elite. The best of the best. Scholarships? What is this, Communist Venezuela? I'd be willing to accept the kids who can pay for themselves, because why not let them spend their money, that's the American way. But a scholarship? Embarrassing. Those kids drag this entire campus down.

B: You heard that Devereux? Sue Sylvester herself, coming at you.

I know your daughters.

SHOUT OUT TO TEDDY SYLVESTER ON THE TINY ECHO MIC~~

As far as the rest of the campus and scholarships, that seems like a totally weird thing to be bothered by but I know a lot of people in your generation have a lot of anger issues from the prohibition days. I'll try not to ask too many rage inducing questions, to be accommodating.

But while we are on the topic of progressive and dynamic school changes... In regards to the retesting that has been and continues to be issued, do you have a stance on the new tests validity? This has been a hot topic on campus for months since the holidays last year, and I'd love to get some parent perspective on it.

S: Prohibition? How old do you think I am, exactly, Brittany? That was repealed in 1933, and I certainly wasn't around to see it. Tragic day anyway, this country would have been far better off it weren't filled with alcoholic louts.

See, a person might think I'd be against something like that - after all, your mark is your mark and it's as simple as that. But I am in favor of tests. If someone really doesn't have what it takes to be a Dominant? Tell them so. Make them a submissive, slap some cuffs on them, and go on with your life. And those people who show that they're more than just a submissive? Good for them! Upward mobility, Brittany, that's what this country was built on.

B: 1933. Yeah I totally know. This campus must have been, like, an entirely different walk of life back then.

That is really understanding of you. I bet a lot of the students who are listening that might of retested feel pretty reassured that you think so.

Follow up question, if you were still a student and faced with a retest yourself do you suspect it would impact your current role?

S: I...was not here in 1933, Brittany. I wasn't even born.

As they should be. They should understand, like everyone else in this great country, that testing is the backbone of education. If you test well, it means that you're a good student, and simple as that.

Absolutely not. I was born a Dominant, I will die a Dominant, and there is no test on Earth I could take that would ever say otherwise. Sue Sylvester does not fail.

B: Uh-huh. All of that is a totally interesting theory.

It's pretty cool to be secure in your role. Would you like to share a fist bump with me on it?

S: A theory? Brittany, unlike the president I can show you my birth certificate.

Yes, of course - much more hygienic than a handshake, I believe.

[ * muffled fist bump sounds ]

B: Moving on...

Any feelings on the class list not including French courses or modeled under typical French curriculum here at Devereux Academy?

S: It's the best decision they could have made. What was a student in Florida going to need French for? I'm sure if they wanted to say "I surrender," or ask for cheese and a baguette, they can do that just as easily in a proper language. And what did their curriculum ever teach them? How to cut the heads off of women who were only enjoying a delicious piece of cake?

B: OH! Thank you for saying CHEESE.

[ * buzzer sound ]

That is the HOT WORD today and lined up perfectly with the fondue pot being just warm enough. Please help yourself. It's my own cheddar gouda blend and there are plenty of dipper items to dip. I recommend the marshmallows...

The HOT WORD [ * buzzer sound ] brings the focus in on you personally and I have one very burning question for you that I'm sure a ton of our listers who know anything there is to know about you are on the edge of their seats wondering.

Is it true that you are legally married to yourself?

S: I haven't had a proper fondue since the seventies. And now that I think about it, Dick Cheney never did pay for the vegetables.

[ muffled chewing sounds ]

[ loud swallow ]

That is completely true, in fact. I have some lovely pictures from the ceremony here, if you'd like to look them over. Isn't that tracksuit stunning? I mean, it's more me that's stunning than the tracksuit, but still.

B: Wow..it.. it actually is super good looking. Did you save it for any of your daughters to wear at their wedding?

S: Thank you - I'm glad that you can appreciate how tasteful it was. I did save it, but not for them - it's in a glass case on a mannequin of my exact proportions in my office at home.

B: Oh, right of course.

I'd like to also ask, since you're solo-married, would you ever consider entering into a long term claim with yourself as well?

S: Oh god no. I would never wear a collar for anyone, not even myself. I can't even stomach the thought of it.

B: Thank you for answering those. That was the HOT WORD [ * buzzer sound ] and a dip into Sue Sylvester.

Now, we're nearing the end of our time here, there are just a few more things I feel we should cover while I have you here.

As a Legacy I'm sure you're super aware of the type of pressures that can bring but, do you have an idea or a guess of what it might be like for a child of a well known individual like yourself to be wading through gossip and the literal meaning of the word legacy in your wake?

S: Of course - it's been a true pleasure knowing there are talented journalists like yourself on campus, Brittany.

I have no doubt that it's the most difficult thing in the world to follow someone like me. Knowing that everyone who looks at them is constantly comparing them to me, wondering when they'll follow in my footsteps and become more like me, I cannot imagine that sort of pressure. But I trained them, molded them, just like any legacy parent should do, and I believe they're capable.

B: Thank you Sue, I super appreciate you saying that. I'm going to save it as a sound bite to play later.

You heard it here folks, one Sue Sylvester believes her daughters to be trained an capable. It totally sounds like you're super proud, that's amazing. Speaking of when you were attending though, there is one more personal item my assistant has pointed out to me that I have yet to touch on and I think everyone would like to hear your side...

I heard that when you were here at Devereux the then Intro to Dominance teacher reportedly had a public breakdown and resigned. Through the help of school records I have tracked down and reached out to said retired teacher and although they sounded ancient like the skeleton from tales from the crypt. They had this to say about it, and I quote:

"I never thought that the devil walked on Earth, and then I met Sue Sylvester. How Devereux managed to survive her long enough to let her graduate, I'll never know. That woman tried to kill me on at least three occasions, and whether anyone could prove it or not I know the truth. She said on day one that I sounded like a Hippo wheezing in a desert, and from then on she had it in for me."

Do you have a comment?

S: Oh, them being capable doesn't mean that they'll actually put in the effort. Only that I gave them every tool possible to help them on their way. What they do with that is up to them.

[ sound of Sue, laughing uproariously ]

I can't believe that old bat hasn't keeled over in her study, surrounded by her little ceramic figurines and being gnawed on by the eighty seven cats I'm sure she owns. I do have a comment, actually. Now that the statute of limitations has expired, I'll say that I actually tried to kill her on at least seven different occasions, and she must have missed the other four. And with the benefit of hindsight, she sounded less like a hippo wheezing than like the musty specter of death in a Vincent Price movie.

B: Seven. Well. I don't know if legally I should air that but I bet your lawyers will be on it if there is any trouble.

I also want to take a moment and add a disclaimer here, this podcast or any part of Devereux administration does not condone the use of violence or bullying against their employees.

Well, that has been a ride. And I'd really like to thank you for taking the time to talk with me and give us your sizzling take on current goings on of our school.

Before we go, and last of all... off the top you your head, what’s the hottest dish you have to serve up for us? Any context.

S: I, on the other hand, absolutely condone the use of violence. How else do people learn?

It's been a genuine pleasure, Brittany, and thank you for doing the good lord's work and getting the news out to your fellow students.

The hottest dish I've got for you...oh, I've got just the thing. I bet no one who goes here has ever figured this out, so consider this a Sue Sylvester exclusive. If you find just the right brick to press on in the library, you can open a secret door. Inside is a private gym and training facility that I dubbed "the room of pain." The first one to find it will find a one hundred dollar gift card for Bullwinkle's Restaurant hidden somewhere inside.

B: WOAH. Completely unexpected dish!! You heard it here first people, a treasure hunt on our very own campus is now afoot.

That was Sue Sylvester, this is Fondue For Two, and I am Brittany S Pierce.

Signing off.

#; Fondue For Two #fft: Sue Sylvester #Sue Sylvester

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onedayiwillactuallywriteafanfic · 5 years ago

Text

Just A Date

Summary: You are best friends with Fred and George Weasley, and you agree to go on a date with Fred as to not ruin you friendship, but you don’t want to like him in that way.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1700+

It was one date. Only a trip to Hogsmeade. Just a butterbeer. How much could one date hurt? You tried to convince yourself.

It didn’t work.

This was the end of your friendship with Fred. After being best friends for years with him and George, it was coming to an end.

You knew that everyone thought you and Fred were soulmates, and your mother made it abundantly clear that she agreed. But you knew that Fred was only your best friend. It was all he would ever be in your mind, no matter how madly in love with you he was. He might try to hide it, but it was extremely obvious sometimes.

You thought about this in detention, which you had since you were reading in Potions.

So now you sat on the floor of his classroom, organizing files from way back when. It could be worse, you weren’t a newbie to detention. Not after being friends with the Weasley twins for as long as you had. But they hadn’t done this prank with you, so you took the fall alone.

Detention took forever, as it always did with Snape, so you headed back to the Ravenclaw common room late. Of course, Professor McGonagall stopped you.

“Why are you out so late, Y/L/N?” She asked.

“I had detention with Snape,” you answer.

“What, may I ask, did you do this time?”

“Reading in class.”

“Hurry on to your common room, Y/L/N. You wouldn’t want to be caught out of bed.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You said, taking a set of stairs up to Ravenclaw tower.

You were in the corridor where the door to the common room when someone whispered, “Boo!” In your ear from behind you. You immediately send your elbow backwards, hitting your target even without seeing them. “Ow!” said the same voice. Weasley.

“I told you doing that was a bad idea,” the person to your left laughed. George.

That meant Fred was behind you. Merlin, what were they doing here?

��What are you two doing up here?” You ask angrily.

“We just wanted to ask how detention was. That hurt, Y/N.” Fred said from behind you.

You spun around to face him, “That’s your own fault.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll leave.”

“You better, McGonagall stopped me on the way up here for being out of bed.”

“Excuse me, young lady, who are you talking to?” Another professor walked up to you, a different one this time.

You quickly pushed Fred back into the shadows of the corridor, so that he wouldn’t be seen. George was already hidden since you hadn’t seen his face, just heard his voice.

“Hello, Professor Lupin, I was just talking to myself trying to figure out this riddle so I can go inside the common room.”

“Well it’s quite late, might I help you?”

“Uh, sure.” You paused as you heard the twins go back down the stairs. “Can you please repeat the riddle for me?” You asked the door knocker.

“Imagine you are in a room with no windows and no doors. It’s quickly filling with water, and you don’t know how to swim. How do you escape?” The door knockers says, thankfully not bringing up the fact that it hadn’t said the riddle a first time in order to repeat it.

“Oh, I was overthinking it. Obviously, all you have to do is stop imagining.” You said. The door became open, and you said, “Thanks for your help, Professor.”

“Yes. See you in class, Y/N.” Lupin said, walking away.

You shut the door, and went to find a spot on the couch to read your newest book. You had thirty pages left, and the still unresolved plot line was driving you crazy. Not as crazy as your date tomorrow, but it was still taking space in your brain.

The couch was full, so you found a nice corner to curl up in. Before finding the book in your bag, you find your notebook. It was full of pranks you had pulled with the twins, and sometimes you’d find messages in there from then since they’d jinxed a few pens to relay messages from your notebook to theirs and vice versa.

The newest message read: Thanks for helping us not get caught by Lupin, Y/N. Owe you one. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow, if we’re still on for Hogsmeade. Hope we are. It’d be so much more fun with you there. -Fred

You were glad he wasn’t there to see you blush. Oh Merlin’s Pants, you couldn’t be falling for Fred Weasley, could you? No, no. You couldn’t. He was just your best friend. Just your friend. That was all he was, and all he’d ever be.

You didn’t sleep a lot that night. First, you finished your book only to learn the next in the series wasn’t coming out for at least five months, according to one of the Ravenclaw Prefects. That meant five months for wondering what the heck was going to happen to your favorite characters. Then, you realized you might have a slight crush on Fred Weasley. You tried to deny it, but it wasn’t working. You knew that whenever people tried not to do certain things, they had more and more of an urge to do it. In your case, it was true. And you would deny it until you couldn’t anymore.

You got up early, which was five in the morning, to do something to distract yourself. You ended up attempting a puzzle someone had left on one of the common room tables with a sign that said, “Help me finish this. PLEASE!”

You only got a small section done, and you didn’t know how it attached to the border of the puzzle, but you left it alone to go get ready for Hogsmeade after others started to get up. And the kids that had stayed up all night, started to go to bed.

You got a little bit for breakfast, and got in line for the trip to Hogsmeade. Your notebook was open and with you, since you hadn’t seen either Weasley twin to find out where Fred was. He was supposed to meet you in the Great Hall, but you hadn’t spotted him and didn’t want to miss the chance to go in case he was going to meet you there.

You wrote your message a little while ago. It said: Thought we were meeting in the Great Hall? Didn’t see you, about to go to Hogsmeade.

You were all the way into Zonko’s before his message appeared. Got detention this morning. Don’t worry, Georgie’s going for me. Meet me inside Honeydukes in a few minutes. -Fred

What did he do this time? You wondered, paying for some fireworks you wanted to set off when O.W.L.s were over. They were still a month away, but some kids were already studying non-stop. You’d probably wait until the night before, yourself, but you still wanted a good excuse to use fireworks.

Honeydukes was crowded, as normal, but you felt an arm pull you into somewhere you’d never seen before. You heard a familiar voice whisper, “Lumos!” And saw the smiling face of Fred Weasley. It made your heart jump, but you tried to hide it.

“Where in Merlin’s name are we?” You asked.

“You mean we never brought you into the secret tunnels?” he said.

“So that’s where we are?”

“Yeah. It’s also how I got here.”

“So how’d you wind up with detention?”

“Well, somehow the headboy ended up with pink hair, and my hands just coincidentally had a stain the same color on them.”

“You’d think it wouldn’t look too different than the red.” You laughed.

“That’s what I said.”

“You know, you’d look great with pink hair.”

“You mean even better?”

“No I mean it’d make the Easter Bunny jealous.”

He made a confused face, “The what?”

Realization dawned on you, “Oh, right. It’s a muggle thing. The Easter Bunny comes to visit kids on Easter and bring them colored eggs and stuff.”

“That’s weird.” Fred said.

“Oh, like Wizard traditions aren’t.”

The rest of the day was a blast. It didn’t feel like a date to you, and you thought you were just hanging out with your best friend. But when Fred asked, “Do you wanna go on a second date?” It felt all too real.

You said no. It didn’t matter if he was nice, and funny, and super cute, and you had a crush on him. You wanted to be his best friend, not his girlfriend. So you said no. Then regretted it for the rest of your life.

The next few days you avoided any Weasley and as many Gryffindors as possible. George and Fred tried to approach you multiple times, but you went down a different corridor, or left for class quickly. You put your notebook in the bottom of your trunk and left it there.

Days turned into weeks. You read more and more to make up for the loss of your two best friends. Then it was suddenly time for O.W.L.s and you studied for real in an effort to distract yourself. Then it was the end of the year, and you didn’t speak to Fred Weasley the entire summer. Not in person, not in letters. You cut off all communication, and moved on with your life.

Then it was seventh year, and you watched the twins fly out of the school on broomsticks, and you didn’t say anything. You didn’t visit Weasley Wizard Wheezes, no matter how cool the products were, or how much you wanted to check it out.

And when you cleaned out your trunk at the end of seventh year, you found your old notebook, and threw it away. Then you got a job in the muggle world, since the war with Voldemort had become all too real, and you were a muggle born wizard/witch.

But one day an owl from George Weasley came, saying Fred had died in the war.

No matter how much you tried to forget, or how much you told yourself he was just a friend from school, it hurt so much worse than that. The pain never seemed to go away.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #george weasley #hogwarts #Harry Potter #fanfic #fan fiction #hp

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 5 years ago

Text

Burned Part 25

Summary: Alfie Solomons is in need of a secretary. Tommy Shelby mentions a young woman in need of employment. From there the two step into a dangerous dance together.

Part 25: The happy life of a little family together

Teddy Solomons’ first word, thankfully, was not ‘fuck’. Alfie was certain that if that word had slipped out of the baby’s mouth, he wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as his wife ever again. What was more surprising was what he actually did say because Alfie certainly wasn't expecting it.

Alfie was entertaining the baby while Louise peacefully read in the parlor. He held Teddy up on his lap, making faces to make him laugh and shriek with glee. It amazed Alfie how easy it was to make Teddy happy. Sometimes all it took was crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue to make the baby erupt in a fit of giggles.

“Da!” Teddy squealed and reached to tug on Alfie’s beard, one of his favorite past times as of late.

Louise looked over the top of her book. “Did he just say what I think he said?” She perked up in surprise.

“Just gibberish.” Her husband shook his head and wrote it off as nothing. “Babbling on as usual, aye?” He teased and wiggled Teddy’s toes. "Speaking your own little language?"

He giggled and pulled a bit harder on his father's beard. “Dada!” He chirped again.

Louise stood up, setting her book aside, and walked over. “Alfie, he’s saying dada.” She insisted.

Alfie wasn’t sure how old children were when they took certain milestones. Ollie had given him an estimate but all of his kids ranged from early to late bloomers so it was hard to say for sure. Time seemed to pass by so fast as Teddy grew so it seemed far too early for the baby to be saying any intelligent words. “It’s an easy sound for him to make, I’m sure it’s just nonsense.”

“You don’t think he’s smart enough to be speaking yet?” She challenged and put her hands on her hips.

He made a face at her remark. “He’s me son, innit he? That means he’s fucking smart.” He asserted. “Ted, who’s that?” He tested out the theory by pointing at Louise. Teddy giggled and mimicked his father pointing but didn’t say anything.

“Who’s that, love?” Louise pointed back at Alfie.

“Dada!” He responded and beamed as if he knew exactly how substantial his first word was.

She looked smug with herself. “Told you.”

“I stand corrected then.” Alfie chuckled and gently patted Teddy on the back. Pride bloomed in his chest. He was his son's very first word. It made him feel more important than anything else he'd ever done in his life. “Fucking bright as can be, innit he?”

“Hush, you can’t swear around him anymore because he’ll start to pick up on it!” She reminded him. But it was hard to be stern, Louise was also pleased to hear Teddy address Alfie first. She wanted him to know how important he was to the little boy.

“Sorry, love. Right, gotta start biting my tongue.” He couldn’t get the great big smile off his face though and eventually just began to laugh. However, mid-way through, his chest seized and he erupted in a coughing fit.

It was hard to forget about their reality for too long. Although Alfie was in good spirits and was able to stay fairly active, there was always something reminding them of his cancer. The frequent headaches that never seemed to end. The deep ache he felt in his body every morning and every night. He became out of breath often and sometimes became light-headed from how severe his coughing fits were.

Louise picked up Teddy from his lap and sat him down on the rug for a moment. “It’s okay, try to breathe slowly.” She soothed

Alfie’s face turned red and stood up to walk out of the room, staggering a few steps. More often than not, his violent coughing upset Teddy and he couldn’t have that. He wasn't sure what his son would remember of him, but he certainly didn't want his only memories of him to be a coughing bout. Alfie walked into the foyer and put a hand on the stair railing to steady himself. After a painful few moments, he managed to get the coughing under control. He took a few wheezing breaths and looked up.

Louise stood in the doorway with Teddy in her arms. The little boy didn’t seem upset and merely toyed with his mother’s curls. “Okay?” She asked softly.

Alfie nodded and cleared his throat once more. “Sorry, love.”

“Don’t apologize.” She walked over and touched his cheek. “Don’t ever apologize for something beyond your control.” It made her ache knowing there was little to nothing she could do to ease his pain. She felt as if she were failing as a wife.

He smiled weakly and leaned into her touch. “Just wish you didn’t have to see me like that.”

She sat down on the stairs and gestured for him to sit beside her. Setting Teddy on his lap, she gently stroked her husband’s hair back. “Remember when I said I never wanted you to change? I want you just the way you are. This isn’t you but it’s something you’re fighting. You don’t need to try to shield me from the difficult parts. Whatever you’re fighting, I’m right there beside you.”

“Dada.” Teddy cooed and wrapped his little fingers around Alfie’s white shirt.

Alfie kissed the top of his son’s head and then his wife’s cheek. “Can’t imagine going through any of this without you two.” His voice was still ragged from coughing. “You keep me going.”

There was no telling how much time Alfie had left. Doctor Stephens said there was a good chance he’d have a few years but warned him to be wary of his health. But seeing Teddy make such milestones made Alfie happy and just a hint more optimistic than he had been before his birth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, a warm June evening, Alfie and Louise went for a walk. Teddy was fast asleep upstairs and would most likely be asleep a few hours before he woke up for a nappy change or to nurse.

Alfie was in a good deal of pain and tried to cope by walking through it. Most nights it was hard to just stay lying awake in bed. At least when he was walking outside he could forget about the pain and focus on something else other than the ceiling.

They walked along the grounds together, arm in arm with Alfie holding a lantern to light their usual path past the stables and around the pastures.

“Can’t believe it’s already summer,” Louise commented. The night was alive with all sorts of insects beginning their nightly symphony. A warm breeze kicked up the scent of the roses that were just beginning to bloom. It was heavenly and managed to distract them from everything even just for a little while.

“Can’t believe Teddy’ll be one in the fall.” He agreed. The year had passed by far too quickly in his eyes. It seemed only yesterday he was holding his son for the very first time after he was born.

“We’ll have to throw a party for him. Wouldn’t it be nice to have everyone over here? Some could stay for the weekend, his birthday’s on a Friday.” She smiled.

“That would be lovely, yeah. I mean for fuck’s sake, I didn’t think I’d last this long.” He admitted. “On borrowed time, ain’t I?”

“No,” She shook her head and reached for his hand, threading her fingers with his. “You’re here for a reason. We’re together for a reason and we’ve Teddy for a reason.” She murmured softly and squeezed his hand lightly. “I don’t know what the reason is but I won’t question it. You make me happy and I think that’s reason enough.”

He smiled and lifted her hand up to kiss her knuckles. Frankly, he couldn’t imagine going about his life without meeting Louise. He used to have some semblance of a master plan involving the bakery and his other various business ventures. He’d finally put Darby Sabini out of commission and rule a bigger piece of London. But with plans like that, he was sure he would never truly be satisfied. With Louise and Teddy, he had everything he needed. He didn’t need more from them; all he needed was to see their faces each and every day.

“Do you think I’m right?” Louise asked curiously.

“You’re my wife, you’re always right, love.” He grinned and stopped to kiss her.

“One day you’re going to wake up in Inglewood, next to your wife. Your son or daughter will run into the room to wake you up and beg for you to come and play with them.”

Louise was usually right; Alfie had learned that in both positive and negative ways. Alfie liked when she was right because it gave him a sort of comfort for the future. She reassured him that he would continue living and that he would be there to experience his son growing up. He saw Teddy’s first birthday, then his second, and was gearing up to see his third as well. He was there, kneeling on the ground, arms outstretched as Teddy took his first steps. He heard Teddy call Louise ‘mumma’. Heard him call Cyril, Cee-Cee. Watched him grow taller and start to walk and run without falling over.

Alfie felt so blessed and every morning he was reminded how great it was to wake up and find himself where he was. Louise was asleep beside him, her arm outstretched and hand lingering on his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~

That morning, Teddy came toddling into the room, going right for his father’s side of the bed. Alfie was always up before Louise was, mostly because of his previous habits of waking early for work and because of the ache in his body that kept him up. But he was never too tired for Teddy.

“Dada.” The little boy whispered, well aware that his mother was still sleeping.

“There you are, already awake?” Alfie reached over and scooped Teddy up, letting him sit on his chest. “Don’t want to sleep in, aye?”

“No.” He giggled and grabbed at his feet, pressing his heels together and rocking back and forth.

Alfie held him steady. “What’s on the agenda today, then?” He asked softly. “Take a drive somewhere?”

“Ponies!”

“Sh, sh, mumma’s still asleep.” He whispered and motioned for him to be quiet.

Teddy mimicked the finger to his lips and giggled. “Shhhhh…”

Louise turned over and began to stir.

“Uh oh, Ted, we’ve done it now.” Alfie grinned.

“What’ve you done?” She mumbled with her eyes still closed.

“Mummy!” Teddy squealed and wriggled off Alfie to greet her. He burrowed under the quilt and cuddled close to her. “Mumma, ponies.”

Louise yawned and wrapped her arms around her son, pulling him close to her chest like a little teddy bear. “It’s a bit early to see the ponies, love.” She murmured, still half asleep.

“Mumma, sleep,” Teddy whispered and placed a pudgy hand over her eyes.

She laughed softly and took his hand to kiss it. “Just for a little longer. Then we’ll have breakfast before going outside.” She promised.

Alfie leaned on his elbow to watch mother and son cuddle close. Such an undeniable bond that made him relieved. Even after he was gone, they would still have that connection. No matter what happened to him, they would both have each other long after he passed. “C’mere.” He murmured and drew them both close to him, wrapping them up in his arms as a protective cocoon. He could’ve remained in that moment forever and be eternally happy. Hearing both of their soft inhales and exhales, faintly feeling their heartbeats, and enveloped in their warmth. They were just a small speck in the world, a small bit of dust in the grand scheme of things. But at that moment, Alfie felt like he was embracing the entire world, holding it in his arms and keeping it safe. Because they were the only two things that mattered on the planet as far as he was concerned.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434

Tag list: @vehement-care @kimmietea @eleventhdoctorsangel @fire-treasure-iii

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PB Masterlist

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomonsxoc #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #ofc #oc #tom hardy character #fluff

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friendlylocalwhumper · 5 years ago

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“You know that’s against the law,” The cop utters, clearly overjoyed to have caught a warlock. Maybe he hasn’t met his warlocks-detained-or-neutralized quota for the month. But he’s got Lux pinned to the wall by his shoulder, and there’s no getting out of this. “Of course you know. Warlocks-”

“Lux?”

The cop and warlock both turn their heads to see Laura coming over, concern instantly twisting into something darker. Anger. It’s just Lux’s anxiety that tells him it’s his fault, that makes his stomach twist.

“Do you know this warlock?” The cop asks, attention on her now. “Ma’am, I’m taking him in, you’re going to have to-”

“Yes I know this warlock,” She interrupts, scoffs. “This is my warlock son. Was he using magic?” She’s telling the truth, but her tone is sharp with disgust, and it makes Lux panic. Is, is she angry with him? Did he do something so terrible that she ran out of patience with him? Is this what makes her turn on him after too many years spent waiting for him to grow up and get over himself?

“He might’ve been. I had two witnesses chase me down to come handle the situation, said they saw an unnatural light coming from his hands.”

As he explains the situation, Laura glowers at her son. Lux is mortified. “Well,” She says, face flushed with emotion. And she grabs Lux’s wrist, yanks him out from between the cop and the wall, and he can only let it happen as she forces him to face her fully. The cop looks like he wants to argue, but she’s too quick, too loud to speak over.

“You worthless sack of shit.” She squeezes his wrist so he doesn’t think of pulling away. He wouldn’t dare - forget the cop, he wouldn’t dare piss her off worse. It’s his dad, his dad in her words, her hatred. God, he feels small, and he deserves to, he’s, he’s… “How many times do I have to say it, for you to get it through your thick skull? You’re lucky your father and I kept you as long as we did. We were happy before you, you know that? Huh?” She slaps him, and the sting of it takes a few seconds to register. He can only shake his head; she raises her hand again, and he flinches. “Huh?!”

“N-nnh, n-, no I, I didn’t, I-”

He’s slapped again, and his voice cracks into silence.

“Thank you, officer,” She offers drily, hard eyes still trapping Lux where he stands with his shoulders hunched up. “I can handle it from here. My idiot son isn’t gonna be let out of the house until he learns to keep his disgusting magic crushed down, and-” She turns to the cop. “Did he run when you went after him?”

“No, Ma’am, he didn’t give me a hard time about it.”

“Hmph.” She tugs on Lux’s arm to lead him away, only easing up when she hears his whimper at the slight but painful strain it puts on his bad shoulder. “At least he learned something in twenty years.”

Laura marches him away. The cop doesn’t follow, and Lux doesn’t jerk his arm free of her hold, just stumbles along obediently. His legs are like jelly, heart fluttering - it feels just like when he was a kid and he knew he was about to catch a beating. It’s that same feeling of being corralled back home, out of sight where he can be punished and berated and know he’s alone, he’s got nowhere to hide. He’s disgusting, he’s weak, he’s hated.

They’ve made it half a block before it’s started up again, and it startles him again, because he’s not used to the beating starting before they get home. It’s been so long that he almost forgets how it all works. Maybe this is how it goes.

She uses her grip on his arm to fling him into the wall, and he cringes away, only for her to push against his shoulder to keep him in place just like the cop did.

He can see the cop. He’s watching, maybe, to make sure Lux doesn’t use his magic before they get home.

“Look at me,” His mom growls. But Lux can’t, he can’t, he’s trying right now and her eyes are boring through him, the furious glint in them is gonna break his heart. He squeezes his eyes shut.

That only angers her more. “Look at me!” She screeches, and sharp hot pain erupts in his cheek, what - his eyes fly open, a frightened sound escaping him as he sees her lower her clawed hand. She scratched him. He’s had worse, far worse pain, but having a physical reminder of her hatred of him is somehow the most painful thing he’s ever experienced. She takes deep, shaky breaths as if to keep herself from doing worse damage. “If you ever use your magic again…” The cop’s close enough to hear - will she threaten to have Lux arrested? “...I will tell your father.”

Oh, god. Oh, he’s stupid, he - why did he think Dad was dead? Why would he - who could kill him? As if it would be over that easily, as if Lux could be safe. Of course, of course that was some kind of, some kind of dream, or just something he wanted to believe. His mom’s gonna drag him home right now, and if he doesn’t shove his magic down, doesn’t obey, she’s gonna tell his dad what he did, and he’s gonna - Lux doesn’t even know what his dad will do. It’ll be loud and painful and scary. It’ll make him sorry he was ever born.

He wouldn’t dare talk back to her, not when she’s this angry. He whimpers at her threat and nods, silent and compliant. He won’t use his magic, he won’t say a word, he won’t embarrass her in front of the police officer.

“Good,” She mutters, hesitating, looking him over. Then they’re walking again. She’s let go of his wrist. The cop isn’t following anymore, Lux discovers by glancing back after a few minutes of walking, following behind her purposeful stride.

She might tell his dad anyway. She seems angry enough to. Lux will get hit for sure. He resigns himself to it, thoughts grim and helpless like they used to be. Punches, kicks, yelling, maybe even some, some of the belt - yes, he can imagine it. And if he can imagine it, he can prepare himself for it, and it won’t come as a surprise, and it might hurt a little less. Now he just has to, has to imagine his mom telling his dad what happened when they were out today - he has to prepare for that, hearing it, knowing his mom wants him to get hurt for it. It’s for his own good, it’s so he won’t do it again, it’s… every step is taking them closer, closer to him. Closer to the yelling and hitting.

After a few blocks of walking, his mom pulls him off the road, around the back of a building, and his mind is blank with terror. His chest hurts, his head is light, he’s - breathing fast, being annoying, she’s so mad he’s in trouble she’s gonna-

“Lux,” She says, soft and worried, and it makes no sense. He’s trying to follow along, to understand what she’s mad about now. “Lux. Baby, come on, sit down.”

His knees were buckling anyway. She guides him to sit on the ground; every point of contact with her feels like the touch of death itself. His chest burns worse with his hilarious failure at breathing right.

“That was - I was acting. Pretending. That cop, he was listening, I know, I know what cops do, I had to protect you - no matter what, I had to - Lux, breathe, baby.”

The warlock shakes his head once, then again after another quick, desperate wheeze. “Ca-, -an’t, hnn, s, sorry, don’, plea-, hnnn, don’ tell’im, ple-, he-, -ease…” The breaths are almost sobs now, odd hitching gasps interjecting themselves between his shards of words.

She reaches up to his face; he flinches, cries out in fright, startles her into pulling back.

“Baby, I… I wouldn’t… I can’t tell him anything. Your dad, he’s gone, remember? He’s dead.”

Lux laughs, short and humorless. “N-not, wasn’t re-eal, he’s, he’s not, why would he be, I, I’m so, stupid, he’s not…”

“He is, he’s gone. I was lying to get that cop to back off, so I could get you home safe.”

“...’s gonna, gonna be so ang-gry, an-” Lux’s chest hitches, and he makes a confused sound. After a few seconds, another hiccup escapes, and he continues. “An’ I don’t want’im to, to hit you, it’s my fault, I, tell’im, tell’im I - tell him I fought back against the officer, tell him…”

Laura takes his arms, slides her hands up to his shoulders, rubs up and down as she tries to make him focus. “He’s gone, Lux, you’re safe now. Nobody’s angry. No one’s gonna hit me.”

“...I hit the cop,” He mutters, and it sounds like he’s convincing himself, looks like he’s completely lost in the mess of his own head, thoughts scattered and memories drowning out logic.

She lets out a shaky sigh through her nose, falling silent as she watches him let the fear take over, as he accepts whatever terrible punishments he thinks await him when they get home. All she can do is shift forward to hold him, and pull his head down to rest on her shoulder, and give him time to trudge through the thoughts of a scared boy trapped in a place that wants him dead. She can rub his back, and tell him he’s safe, and wait as long as she wants, but she can’t go in his head and sort it out for him. She’s just going to have to get him home lost as he is, hope that some sleep and some time will help him figure it all out.

#whump #drabble #angst #afraid #lux #child abuse tw #abuse tw #past trauma #hyperventilating #breathing #laura #cops #shaking #mine #police brutality tw

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twinklecheeks · 5 years ago

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Friends With Benefits (Jeff Wittek Imagine) Part 1

Summary: Jeff and Y/N have been hooking up for a while. The whole vlog squad assumes they’re dating and Y/N does too but Jeff doesn’t like labels. He eventually starts to express interest in Natalie.

Note: This is my first time writing. Planning on making this a multiple part series, depending on how good it does. Also, I don’t hate Natalie at all! I actually love the idea of Jeff & Nat being a thing. They’d look so cute together. You’re 21 & Latina in this (maybe) series

Warnings! Smut, fluff, nudity, pregnancy?

Word Count: 2.3k

*How you and Jeff met*

You met at Dom’s apartment after David invited you to film a bit. You assumed he was new because you’ve never seen him before. His accent swooned you over but you didn’t want to make it obvious. David wanted to film the bit where he shows new friends Jonah p*nis because it’s so small. You’ve been friends with David for 2 years and you’ve known Jonah a while now, so you decide to join Toddy, Jeff and Brandon in the bathroom too see it.

Jeff: Are these the types of videos he does all the time

Y/N: honestly, it happens way too often. He’d do anything for content.

Jonah pulls down his pants and all of us just bust out laughing. At this point your just wheezing and trying to calm down at what you just saw. All of you walk out of the bathroom and Jeff smiles at you and says “you have a cute laugh.” You just wanted to combust in that moment and all you could respond with was a smile. You keeping your distance from Jeff the rest of the time you’re there cause you were nervous and didn’t want to embarrass yourself by saying something stupid. You have social anxiety so it’s a little hard for you to meet new people but once they get to know you, you’re an open book. After that you had to leave to film your own video. You said goodbye to everyone, including Jeff. Y/n: It was nice meeting you. Hopefully you’ll stick around w/ us. He smiles and says “ I hope so too.” After you left, he asked Todd about you.

Jeff: “Hey, what was up with Y/n”

Todd: what do you mean

Jeff: I feel like she was avoiding me or somethin

Todd: Oh no. Don’t take offense to that. She’s really shy when she meets new people. She’ll warm up to you.

*2ish months after meeting Jeff*

As time went on, Jeff started to hang out more and more w/ the vlog squad and you two started to get to know each other. You learned that he was born and raised in Staten Island, he lived in Miami, got arrested for doing dumb shit and eventually turned his whole life around and moved to LA a couple of years ago. He was surprised to find out that you were born in New York City too; but you were born in Brooklyn.

Jeff: I had a bunch of friends that lived in Brooklyn. We might have seen each other around or something.

Y/n: Haha maybe but my family and I moved away when I was 11 tho. We moved to Seattle cause my parents really struggled to make ends meet in the city. They loved it but had to leave. It’s hard living there, raising 3 kids.

Jeff: Yeah I feel ya. My parents struggled too in Staten Island but they made it work.

Both of you talked the whole night until you both of you guys fell asleep on David’s couch. You forgot where you were when you realized you were still at David’s house. You tried to move but Jeff had his arm around your waist. You smiled at the fact that you two were getting so close. This started to happen a lot. You guys started to have movie nights together and would end up cuddling on the couch or one of y’alls beds.

*Your first kiss/ first time w/ Jeff*

It was New Years Eve. You spent the night partying at David’s house. You and Jeff have basically become best friends in the 2-3 months you’ve known each other. You were hoping that this would finally be the night you kiss him. As everybody started to countdown the final minutes while watching the ball drop on tv, your heart starts to beat like crazy. You’re right by Jeff and he has his arm around you. Both of you look watch the tv and it’s the final ten seconds. Everyone is yelling TEN, NINE, EIGHT, SEVEN, SIX, FIVE… You started to have your doubts that you to would kiss and it’s like everything happened in slow motion. As it counted down the final 4 seconds, Jeff caught you off guard and pulled you in for a kiss. It felt like fireworks were going off when you kissed him. You guys pulled away but this wave of confidence came over you and pulled him in for another kiss but it was more sensual/ needy. Both of you saw the lust in your eyes and you wanted to take him right there but he started to pull you out of David’s house to head to his car. He pushed you against his car and started to ravish you. You grabbed his face and moved his lips from your neck to connect with yours. He bit down on your lip, as you moaned and parted your lips, allowing his tongue to enter. You lightly pushed him away and you guys get into the car, acting like horny teenagers. “Baby if i weren’t driving like a maniac right now, I’d fuck you right in the back seat.” You notice Jeff’s giant bulge and decide to help him out. You start to feel his throbbing member through his pants and Jeff let’s out a moan. You unzip his pants and see his cock spring up. You were excited but also intimidated at how big he was. You unbuckle your seatbelt and move closer to Jeff; the pre-cum oozing at the head. You then stroke his cock for a bit and then you started to give him a blowjob. You tease him by licking the head and Jeff swerves a bit. “Doll, are you trying to kill both of us. Jesus, This is the longest 15 minute drive to my place ever.” Jeff stops at a red light and that’s when you went all in. You hollow your cheeks so you can suck off as much as you can. His cock hit the back out your throat; you started to deepthroat Jeff while he’s still driving. Jeff hearing you choke of his cock is the music to his ears. You guys are about five minutes away and your contemplating whether to suck him until he cums in you mouth or wait until he cums inside you when you get to his place (wrap it before you tap it). You massaged his balls and continue to deepthroat him right before he was about to cum, you guys arrived at his place. You continue to deepthroat him. “Oh shit doll I’m gonna-” He reached his climax and came into your mouth. You look up to see the beads of sweat on his head. He almost cums again just by watching you swallow his cum. He pulls you in for another kiss and you look down to see that his cock is still rock hard. “Someone is still in the mood” you say while smirking. “Babe, you won’t be able to walk in the morning.” Both of you practically run into his building and you can’t keep your hands off each other. He almost takes off your dress in the elevator to take you right there. As he got his door open, all he says is “jump” and the rest of the night felt like a fever dream. And boy he was right on me not being able to walk.

*Current day*

You and Jeff act more and more coupley but he doesn’t want anything serious for right now because he had gotten out of a 3-4 years relationship 6 months before you met. At the moment, you don’t know where you and Jeff stand. You guys fuck multiple times a week and then he leaves your place without explanation. Y/n doesn’t want to say anything because she doesn’t want this to stop. She has such strong feelings for Jeff but is too scared to tell him how she feels. Over the past couple of weeks, you’ve noticed that Jeff has become kind of distant from you. You see in the comments, of several videos that Jeff and Natalie have become a thing. He’s talked about her multiple times on Scott’s podcast, fans make edits, made a joke about having kids with her at coachella and he was being flirty with her at vidcon by asking her who she was dating in front of hundreds of fans on stage during the vlog squad Q&A. You see Jeff’s insta story of Natalie with that pink filter with the romantic music. And to top it all off, the last time you guys went to Vernon Hills to visit David’s family, you were in the car with David, Jason, Ilya, Dom and Jeff is following behind. Dom sees a girl from a far and says “Damn look at that fucking ass.” Everyone is laughing cause they realize it was Natalie and David tattle tales on Dom to Natalie. You hear Jeff say “why do you think I pulled over?” But you still decide to ignore it the fact that he’s crushing on Natalie. You get back to LA and Jeff spends the night at your place. The movie nights don’t happen anymore, so has the cuddling. You both basically fuck until you both orgasm then he leaves right after. “You know you can spend the night if you want” Jeff responds with “Why would I do that?” Damn. That hurt. You play it cool and start to cry yourself to sleep right as he leaves your apartment.

A week passes by and you hear no word from Jeff at all. David texts you to come over so you can film. You enter the house and see that the guys are in the backyard. You were getting closer and you hear Zane ask “whatever happened to you and y/n? I thought y’all were a thing.” Jeff scoffs and says “ugh could never date y/n, she reminds me too much of my ex.” At this point your ears are fuming. “Just because I’m short and Latina like his ex he doesn’t to be with me?” You grab a bottle of tequila that was in David’s cabinet and walk into the backyard and spill it all over Jeff’s head and it was perfect timing because David was recording. “Y/n what the fuck” He grabbed you by the arm and you slap him in the face hard enough to leave a red mark. “Do I still remind you of your ex?” you smile as you walk away. That was the most ballsy thing you’ve done since you kissed him on New Years.

*A month later*

Your life without Jeff has been great. After that night, you blocked his number and all social media accounts. The last you heard was that Jeff asked out Natalie; you don’t hate Natalie, she’s a great person! You still hang out with the vlog squad but you act as if nothing happened. You just started your senior year at USC and can’t wait to graduate next spring. Everything has been a real life changer for you. You were eating healthier, you started going to the gym and you realized how dependent you were on Jeff to make you happy. Just as you thought everything was perfect, it started to go downhill.

Y/n woke up not feeling great. She felt very light headed and very bloated. Y/n assumed she started her period. She checked to see but there was nothing there; then realizes she hasn’t gotten her period in a while but doesn’t think anything of it because she’s never had a regular period. You head out to go jogging on a trail, one that you know Jeff doesn’t go on. It’s normal to feel out of breath but you felt like you were going to pass out. Deciding that you worked yourself too hard, you walk the rest of the way. The last thing you remember was trying walk up the trail. Y/n wakes up in a hospital room extremely confused. The nurse walks in hearing you ask what the hell happened. “Good afternoon Ms. L/n, you fainted on a hiking trail. You were just dehydrated. You should really be drinking more under your condition.” Y/n looked at her dumbfounded “my condition??” The nurse catches on and knows something you don’t. You see her walk outside and speak to the doctor. You try to depict what she’s saying but can’t hear a thing. “Hello Ms. L/N, how are you feeling?” You ignore the question and cut straight to the point “She said I had a condition, what is it.” The nurse and the doctor looked back at each other and looks back at you. “Well, it has come to our attention that you probably had no knowledge of this but we ran some blood tests and…..” “AND WHAT”...... “It has come to our attention that you are 9 weeks pregnant” Out of nowhere, you just start laughing cause you think this is a joke. “You’ve got to be kidding me” “Mam, I can assure you that we’re not.” “Is it too early to ask for an ultrasound?” “We’d thought you’d ask,” They bring the machine from outside and put the cold jelly on your stomach. It takes a minute to find it. In the back of your mind, you’re praying that you’re not pregnant. You’re only 21. This was the time to party, hang out with friends, live your life, graduate college….. Oh shit. College. It’s your SENIOR YEAR. You prayed HARD that you weren’t pregnant and the boom, you see a blob on the screen……. The nurse turns on the doppler to see if you can hear the heartbeat. You then hear “bum bum bum bum.” You already knew who’s it was, you have no idea how you were going to tell him, or if you’re going to tell him.

Is y/n gonna keep it? Is she going to tell Jeff? What the hell is she going to tell her family if she does keep it? Who knows……

Side note: I’m sorry if this is bad! It’s my first time writing fanfiction and I give huge props to people who do this on a daily cause this mess is hard. Oh and I was there at vidcon when Jeff asked who’s Natalie dating.

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