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plant-flwrs · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request a ilvermorny transfer x one of the twins? I think it'll be cool if she wore roller skates to school (charmed by yours truly) since it's the 90s and she's cool but super sweet and caring - maybe when they invite her over to the burrow for the summer or their birthday she can give them a pair? Thanks ily!!!

roller skates // fred weasley

masterlist!

a/n: ok i always feel bad when my fics take so long to set up and theres barely any like actual romance and i am trying to work on it. i think its hard for me to go into a fic where a relationship is already established, so i like writing them coming together and the immersion of it. but i hate reading fics where it takes forever to get to the good parts so just know that i will be trying to work on that flaw in my writing! thanks so much for reading! (i made the reader from florida just because my mind blanked on any other places that don’t have snow lol, but it’s not really relevant in any other situations so ignore it if u please) also just realizing all of my summaries sound scary and ominous also just realizing how i say way too much in these author notes im so sorry bye

summary: The American transfer student draws attention to herself with her accent, but Fred is drawn to something else about her.

(10.4k hehe sorry :D)

-----

Looking around at the students bustling past you, the only word you could think of was “proper”.

Looking down at your muggle clothes, loose and mismatched, your hair resting naturally, the only word you could think to describe yourself with was “improper”.

A boy with a permanent scowl and striking blond hair glanced your way, and the taller adults behind him followed his eye line. The three of them looked you up and down and their mouths all distorted into nasty grimaces. You felt your father’s comforting hand clasp over your shoulder, trying to help you remember everything he had said to you before arriving at King Cross Station.

“They aren’t that different from us,” he repeated, and you could tell he was doubting himself as he glanced at the uptight children and their matching parents.

He guided you forwards, and you pushed your large cart in front of you, navigating through the crowd. It started to separate around you, and even more odd glances were thrown your way. You supposed you should have felt a little insecure- you looked quite out of place- but the feeling could not overwhelm the excitement you felt. You had read all about Hogwarts, its history, its architecture, and you even picked up a few books about muggle London.

You were stood in your father's embrace, about to board. Your things were stored away, and you heard the train roaring louder and louder. You glanced around, the fathers in their dress shirts and ties, mothers in long skirts and blouses. Their children wore sweaters and jeans, or suit jackets and dress pants.

Something caught your eyes, though; a few feet away there was a large family, mingling in embraces. They all had flaming red hair, and their clothes looked like yours. In fact, your clothes resembled the oldest woman’s clothes, mismatched and colorful. Her eyes watered, and she smoothed down the hair on a fidgeting boy.

“Ronald, hold still!” she shouted at him, and he reluctantly allowed his mother to soothe his red hair down into a part on the side.

Once the woman had moved onto another child, Ronald roughed his hair back to the mess it was before. The woman now clutched a smaller boy, who looked like he was Ronald’s age, by the shoulders. She moved a hand to soothe his unruly hair off his forehead. Your eyes widened when you saw the lightning bolt on his forehead.

The books you had bought about the English Wizarding World did not neglect to mention the boy who lived. Elbowing your father, you both cast glances at the family. Your father nodded his head, looking impressed at the sight of Harry Potter.

“Thanks again Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said, and it sounded like he had said it millions of times before.

Mrs. Weasley waved off the two boys, who went to gather a girl with large bushy hair.

“Come on ‘Mione! We’ve got to get a good compartment,” Ronald said impatiently, tugging the girl's arm onto the train.

Mrs. Weasley was left with four other children. One of them looked like all the other proper British people you had seen at the station, a permanent sneer on his face. He shook his head stiffly at his mother and shook his father’s hand. You thought it was quite odd, and two identical boys standing with the family couldn’t contain their laughter.

“Yes,” one of them started, doubling over in a bow, “good day, mother,” he said pompously, imitating his brother.

“May you have a wonderful few months,” the other started, moving to shake his father’s hand as his brother had moments ago, “I’ll be looking for your owl,” he said, sounding incredibly posh.

The younger girl, with the same fiery hair, began to giggle, earning a scowl from the eldest brother as he boarded the train.

The girl pulled her mother in for a hug, and then her father, and waved to them fervently as she followed after her brother.

“You boys, stay out of trouble!” Mrs. Weasley said to the remaining twins, waving a finger at them.

“We always do, mum,” one said, and it was obvious by his tone that they didn’t often stay out of trouble.

They waved to their parents at the same time, stepping onto the train with a certain enthusiasm.

You averted your gaze, looking anywhere but at the family you had been staring at. You looked up at your father, hugging him one last time. When you pulled back, you heard his name being called.

“Mr. Y/n?” the voice called out, approaching the two of you.

It was Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Mr. Weasley already had his hand stuck out to your father.

“I’m Arthur Weasley, I’ve been the one to hire you at the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry. This is my wife, Molly. Funny to meet you here,” he said politely, looking at you and your father in a nicer way than any other wizard had during your time at the station. His eyes didn’t wander down to your brightly colored shoes, or your patterned pants, and he didn’t even cast a second glance at your oversized, offensively colored sweater. You beamed at him.

“Oh! Yes, it’s great to meet you,” your father said, shaking his hand. He squeezed your shoulder, jostling you a bit, “This is my daughter, Y/n.”

“Oh, would you hear that accent, Arthur!” Molly gasped, smiling as if she was astonished. Your father chuckled at her reaction. You supposed it would happen to you a lot at Hogwarts.

They both smiled at you, and Arthur offered you his hand to shake. You held your hand out, but the sleeve of your sweater swallowed the limb. You shook the extra clothing away, and Molly chuckled. Finally shaking his hand, you held it out to Molly. She bypassed your hand and began to roll up the sleeves of your sweater.

“Thank you,” you said, and she nodded, accomplished, at you.

“Better get her going,” your father said, and the Weasleys nodded at you.

“Have a good term, dear,” Molly said to you, patting your shoulders the way she had done to Harry.

“Thank you,” you repeated, moving past them and heading onto the train.

You waved one last time at your father, and the door closed behind you.

You wandered down the isles, looking for an empty place to sit. You pretended to look like you knew where you were going, hoping fewer people would stare at you if you did. Your plan didn’t work, and you caught the eyes of almost everyone you passed.

You had made it to the end of the train, and your eyes peered into the last cabin. It was empty except for a girl and a boy. They seemed friendly enough, so you slid open the door.

“Mind if I sit with you guys?” you asked, and the boy looked at you quizzically when he heard your voice.

“Not at all,” the girl said.

She had strikingly blonde hair and gray eyes that poured deeply into you. She had a faint smile on her lips, and her head was cocked to the side.

“I’m Luna Lovegood,” she said, and her voice was light and airy, “This is Neville Longbottom.”

The boy shifted in his seat, casting a shy glance at you. He raised a shaky hand and gave you a curt wave.

You smiled widely at the two of them, glad you seemed to have picked the right place to sit.

The train ride went fast enough. Luna asked you all sorts of questions about America, and you asked her all sorts of questions about England. When Neville warmed up to you, he asked some questions about Ilvermorny. They asked what house you had been in there, and you told him you were a Thunderbird, the soul of the witch.

“Where do you reckon she’ll be sorted into here?” Neville asked Luna. You leaned forwards, curious for the answer.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, peering into a magazine she had balanced into her lap, “but if I’m lucky, it’ll be Ravenclaw.”

“Which one is Ravenclaw?” you asked, trying to remember what you had read.

“The wise and witty,” Luna said, moving her robes to show the crest on it. It was blue with a bird over it.

“A raven, clever,” you said, looking closer at Neville’s red-trimmed robes.

“You’d think,” he said, “but it’s an eagle. I’m a Gryffindor, we’re meant to be brave but,” he trailed off, and Luna placed a comforting hand on his arm.

“Oh, stop it, Neville,” she said gently, her gaze back onto you, “there's Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.”

You nodded, recalling what little you read.

“My dad said he figured I would be a Hufflepuff. The Ministry told him he was a Ravenclaw, he had to do the silly sorting hat and everything,” you said, and Neville smiled at you.

“Hufflepuff? They’re quite nice, I suppose,” he said, sounding disappointed that you weren’t in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw.

“Well, we won’t know for sure,” Luna said, closing her magazine, “until-” but the train’s brakes began to screech.

Her smiled widened, and you looked down at your robes you had changed into. Maybe now people would be less inclined to stare, you thought.

You were right, but only briefly. Once you had gotten to the Great Hall, you were shuffled in with the first years. Your face burned a slight red the whole time, your larger and older stature standing out amongst the sea of younger students. Your name was called, and you heard a faint whooping coming from the table of red.

You glanced at it, seeing Neville lowering a cheering fist from the air. He looked around nervously, and you saw one of the Weasley twins glancing at his quizzically. You smiled at Neville’s support and sat in the stool.

An old and tattered hat was lowered onto your head, and suddenly it began speaking in your ear.

“Hm, very interesting. You’re not from here, that’s obvious,” it spoke quickly, echoing in your skull, “but I think the choice is simple. I’d say,”

Suddenly the voice left your skull and boomed into the room, for everyone to hear.

“Hufflepuff!”

Cheers from a table full of yellow sounded off, some raising from their seats and clapping for you. You beamed, moving off the stool and skipping cheerfully towards the table. You walked down the aisle between the red and yellow, and Neville’s hand stuck out at you.

“Congratulations!” he said excitedly, holding his hand up for a high five.

You hit his hand, and he waved you off.

A girl with a yellow tie and dark hair waved you over. She inched over, giving you room to sit with her.

“I’m Sarah, happy to have you in Hufflepuff!” she beamed, and you didn’t think you would ever get used to the British accents.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you watched her eyes widen at the sound of your voice, “I’m Y/n.”

“You’re American! You must have come from that American school, what’s it called, Ilmorny?” she asked, ducking her head and whispering as the sorting continued.

“Ilvemorny,” you corrected her, still smiling.

Sarah asked you a lot of the same questions Neville and Luna had asked, but you didn’t mind answering them. She had even offered to give you a tour of the school tomorrow, with the promise that you would choose the bed next to her’s in the dorm.

Sarah had lived up to her promise. You walked with your head permanently tilted upwards, admiring the greatness of the castle. Sarah ate with you at every meal and even insisted on walking you to your classes until you knew the way on your own. She had been so nice to you, and when Luna told you about the upcoming Hogsmeade trip, you knew you had to ask her to go with you.

The two of you walked through the snow, wrapped up in matching yellow and black scarves. She had linked her arm with yours and pulled along to all her favorite shops.

The two of you ducked into The Three Broomsticks, sick of the ice sticking to your face.

You saw a red scarf and a blue scarf sitting at a table, and when you saw the flow of blonde hair peeking from the blue one, you knew who it was. You pulled Sarah over to Luna and Neville, and Neville told you to pull up two chairs. You introduced Sarah to Luna and Neville.

“We’re just waiting for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to meet us,” Neville said, smiling cheerfully.

“Oh, should we go?” you asked, offering to free up your chair.

“No, no, stay,” Luna urged you, pulling your arm back down, “I’ll introduce you.”

This was how you were going to meet Harry Potter, you thought, huddled up at a small table, drinking a foamy beverage that left a little white mustache on your upper lip.

Harry was just like every other kid, and he was with the people you had seen at the station that day.

“What did you say your last name was?” Ron asked, leaning over the table so you could hear him.

“Y/l/n,” you said.

“Does your dad work for the Ministry?” he asked, and you nodded, “Our dads work together!” he said, elbowing Harry.

“Her dad is the bloke my dad was raving about all summer, the guy from America,” Ron said to Harry, and Harry nodded at you.

“What a coincidence,” you said, dipping your head to take another sip of the drink Sarah had ordered you.

You all fell into a natural conversation, and Hermione asked to switch seats with Sarah at one point. Sarah had no protests, filing easily into the seat next to Harry, glancing at him dreamily.

“Will you tell me about America? I’ve been to other parts of Europe for holidays, but never America. What’s it like? How different are the wizards?" Hermione sounded off questions like she had them rehearsed, but you were happy to answer them.

You and she were in a fit of laughter after she had told you about her parents’ reaction to her letter. Your eyes were shut, brimming with tears, as Hermione recounted her mother’s jumping up and down.

You were so involved with your conversation with Hermione, you hadn’t noticed Ron’s brothers come into the restaurant.

“Hello, Ickle Ronniekins,” one of them teased, messing a hand through Ron’s overgrown hair, “when are you gettin’ a hair cut?”

“Mum’s gonna cut it all off the second you get home,” the other said, pulling a chair in between Luna and Ron. The other pulled a chair in between Harry and Sarah, and you didn’t miss Sarah’s annoyed sigh at the interruption.

You and Hermione were recovering from your laughter, clutching your stomachs and breathing heavily.

“What’s so funny ladies?” one of them said, shoving Ron aside so he could rest his elbows on the table.

“Just telling Y/n about how my parents reacted to my letter from Hogwarts,” Hermione sighed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

“You’re the famous Y/n?”

“The American?”

Ron elbowed each of his brothers in their sides, frowning at them.

“That’s me,” you answered cheerfully, smiling at them, “Are you Ron’s brothers?”

“More like,” one of them started.

“Best friends,” the other finished.

“He really would be nowhere if it weren’t for us,” they said at the same time.

A smile slid across your face; it was easy to smile around your new friends, you found.

Hogwarts was better than you could have ever hoped. You wrote to your father nearly every week, recounting the amazing things you had done with Sarah, Luna, Neville, Harry, Hermione, and Ron. The seven of you were becoming inseparable.

Luna’s blue tie dangled over your face as you lay on her lap, she was trying this odd head charm she had read about in the Quibbler. Your head rested in between her legs, back on the ground. Her skinny fingers were pressed to your temple, and they hesitantly pressed into your skin.

“Is that right?” she asked, consulting the cartoon pictures that moved on the Quibbler laying next to her.

“I don’t reckon, it doesn’t feel like anything’s happening,” you said, sitting up and rubbing where Luna’s fingers had been.

“Neville,” Luna said, motioning him over. His face grew white as she pulled him into him, moving to where you had been. Luna’s fingers pressed against Neville’s head, and his eyes fluttered closed. Luna began to hum to herself, and Neville smiled.

You crawled over to sit by Ron under the tree. Sarah was talking to Harry, her eyes dazed over as he gently brushed off a leaf that had fallen on her shoulder. Hermione was near, her head resting on her bag, laying on her back with his legs crossed. She was deep into a muggle book you recognized, and you couldn’t blame her for not wanting to put it down.

“Hi, Ron,” you snapped him out of his thoughts, ending his obvious staring at Hermione, “enjoying the weather?”

“Yeah, it’s just about my favorite time of year,” he said, twisting a blade of grass in his fingers.

The snow had melted, winter break had ended. Ron was able to shed his mother's heavy knitted sweaters and wear some of his more comfortable shirts.

“I quite liked the winter,” you said, your head leaning against the tree, “it was my first time seeing snow.”

“Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell us that?” Ron asked, seeming bewildered.

“Don’t know,” you shrugged, smiling at him.

“Hermione! Oi, Hermione! Y/n had never seen snow before she came here,” Ron said, calling out to Hermione.

“I know, she’s from Florida,” Hermione said, uninterested, head still buried in her book.

“Florida? Why didn’t I know that?” Ron asked, feeling out of the loop.

“Don’t know,” you repeated, shrugging again.

“Because you don’t ask, Ron,” Hermione said, sounding unpleased with Ron’s loud volume.

You stifled a laugh, but Ron looked at you, feeling guilty.

“Hermione’s right, I guess,” Ron said, casting a sad glance at you.

“It’s alight, Ron, I won’t hold it against you,” you reassured, and Ron perked up a little.

“Tell me one thing no one else here knows about you,” Ron said urgently. To this, Hermione closed her book and lay it on her chest, interested in what you were going to say.

You thought about it. You didn’t have anything to hide from your friends, but you felt yourself blanking on even the littlest fact about yourself. You tried to think of any special abilities you had, besides being a wizard, or any life events that were significant. The only thing you thought of was the hesitance you had when packing your trunk for school, debating on whether or not to bring your roller skates with you. Ilvermorny had allowed them, and you skated to nearly all your classes. The school's cold granite floors were just begging to be skated across, you had thought, and it was ten times faster than walking.

You thought about your skates, you missed them more than you thought you would. The white boots with slick, black wheels and rainbow laces were one of your most prized possessions. You wondered now, again, if you would have gotten in trouble for bringing your roller skates to school.

“Oh, alright, I’ve thought of something,” you began, and Hermione sat up a little, resting on her elbows.

“I really like to roller skate,” you said proudly.

“Roller skate?” Hermione and Ron repeated at the same time. Ron sounded confused, but Hermione sounded entertained.

“Yeah.”

“Like from the 80′s?” Hermione asked, still sounding entertained.

“They’re making a comeback,” you defended.

“What’s roller skate?” Ron asked, looking between you and Hermione.

“It’s like shoes with wheels on them,” Hermione said, used to having to explain muggle inventions her friend, “You tie them up and you skate around.”

“What do you do that for? Do they go really fast?” Ron asked.

“They can,” you said, “but it’s really just for fun. I used to take them with me to Ilvermorny and go to my classes on them, but I didn't know if Hogwarts allowed them.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Ron asked, “Are they dangerous?”

“They're not dangerous, I suppose you could fall on them, but it’s not as bad as that Quidditch game you guys play,” you explained, “I just didn’t know if Hogwarts allowed those kinds of muggle things.”

Ron and Hermione nodded, and Hermione looked to be in deep thought.

“I’m sure they would,” she said, returning back to her book.

“What do you reckon they’re doing down there?” Fred asked, looming over George’s shoulder as he held the Marauder’s Map in his hands.

“Do you think Ron’s finally gonna get a girlfriend?” George teased, looking at you and Ron sitting together under the tree.

Fred sneered at his brother. Ever since he had told George he thought you were cute, it seemed George wanted to push his buttons any way he could. He would make jokes about you and Ron flirting, and for some reason it made his blood boil. He hadn’t even spoken to you on more instances than he could count on a hand, but he was enticed by you.

Your eyes were always moving, and they were always wide with excitement. He thought you were beautiful, you were always wearing your muggle clothes when you didn’t have to wear your uniform. You dressed kind of like his mum, he realized one day, but in a cooler way. That’s the word, cool, he thought you were cool. You fit in easily with Ron’s friends, you could talk about anything, and you were always so sweet.

“Where are they going now?” George wondered out loud, watching the names on the map begin to move.

You got up and dusted off your pants, feeling the baggy jean material under your fingers. You helped Ron up, offering him a hand and pulling him off the ground. You, Ron, and Hermione trailed after Harry and Sarah, who trailed after Neville and Luna. You had all been feeling a bit warm outside, so you decided to go to the Gryffindor common room for the rest of the afternoon. You and Sarah were always excited to go to the Gryffindor common room, feeling it was a nice change from yours in the basement.

Fred’s eyes watched as you, Ron, and Hermione walked together towards the Gryffindor common room. He suddenly felt nervous, even though he was up in his dorm with George. He stood, and looked at himself in the mirror. He pulled down at the bottom of his shirt, tugging uncomfortably at the way it clung to his arms. He hadn’t been dressed to impress, and he usually didn’t, but at the sight of your name getting closer to his on the map, he ignored George’s torments and changed into nicer pants and a more flattering shirt.

Harry stepped passed Neville, who had forgotten the password, and held open the portrait for everyone as they stepped through. You, Sarah, Luna, and Hermione occupied the biggest couch in front of the fire, and Neville and Ron took the armchairs on either side of you. Harry sat on the floor in between Ron’s chair and where Sarah had sunk into the corner of the couch.

Sarah beamed at you, taking notice of the small action, and you wiggled your eyebrows back at her. She blushed and leaned over the side of the couch, resting her chin in her hand and starting a conversation with Harry.

Hermione pulled her book from her bag again, reading the pages eagerly. You and Luna sat shoulder to shoulder as Luna began to tell you about her plans for the summer.

“I think I’ll try to learn French,” she said, toying with some sunglasses she pulled from her pocket.

“You’re going to learn French?” you repeated, a smile pulling up your lips.

“I think so, might also help my dad with his plums,” Luna said, turning to you as she slipped on the sunglasses. They overcame her face, entirely oversized and wonderful. They were bright green and had purple lenses that were reflective. You could see your wide and amused smile in them.

“Your father grows plums?” you inquired, always enjoying conversation with Luna.

“Yes, they’re Dirigible Plums.”

“What are those?”

Luna pulled her hair back and showed you a pair of earrings she wore. They looked like little orange balloons, but leaves hung from them.

“Oh, those are very pretty, Luna,” you said, admiring them.

“My dad says they make you wiser,” she explained, “so he grows them in his garden.”

“And you wear them as earrings,” you said, smiling at her.

“Yes,” she nodded and gave you a crooked grin.

“What are your plans for the summer?” Luna asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. My father will be working, so I’ll probably be home all day,” you said, feeling a little lonely already, “I’ll have my roller skates though.”

Luna looked at you, confused, but you were more talking to Ron anyways, who you noticed was listening to your conversation.

“You should come to the Burrow this summer! Everyone does, even for just for a week,” Ron said, standing and moving over to sit on the coffee table in front of you.

“That sounds cool, I’d love to,” you said, grinning at Ron.

You looked around you and felt so lucky, lucky to have found such kind and accepting people at your new school.

Pacing upstairs, Fred smoothed down his hair before ruffling it again and then smoothing it. He knew you were downstairs, and he knew he wanted to talk to you, but you just made him so nervous. He never gets nervous.

George sat with his elbows on his knees, eyebrows raised, watching his brother obviously losing his mind.

“Just go down and talk to her,” he said, a little afraid his brother might explode, “you’re gonna wear a hole in the ground.”

Fred stopped where he stood, near the door. He sighed heavily and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing hard, “I’ll just go talk to her.”

Fred recalled the day he had formally met you at the Three Broomsticks. He was smooth, able to mask the way your curious gaze had made his stomach flutter. He couldn’t very well go down there and make a fool of himself, could he?

“Oi Fred!” he heard Lee call from where he stood near Harry, which was also near you, “Come over here a minute.”

Fred sauntered over, forcing himself not to stare at you.

Hermione had put down her book, and Luna had left to go to her own common room to do some homework. You and Hermione sat cross-legged facing each other, playing a muggle card game.

“Yeah?” he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets and leaning against the banister of the fireplace.

Harry and Lee sat at two wooden chairs near the fireplace, only a few feet away from the couch you were on. This angle allowed him to watch you as your head threw back in laughter as Hermione scowled at her losing the game. His eyes easily flickered back to Lee, who pulled him into the conversation he and Harry were having about Quidditch.

Ginny walked through the portrait hole, returning from some Quidditch training she had been doing. Ginny was taking Quidditch very seriously this year and had taken to exercising on the pitch with Angelina every weekend.

“Ginny!” Ron called out to her, putting down the newspaper he was reading. He waved her over with a hurried hand.

“What?” she said, plopping down on the empty space next to Hermione, “What game are you guys playing?”

You looked up from the deck of cards you had begun to shuffle as Hermione told her.

“Ginny,” Ron said again, pulling his sister’s attention back to him.

“Hm?” she said, and it was very obvious she was tired from her day's activities.

“Have you asked anyone over for the summer yet?” Ron asked, and his eyes flicked to you, “I just invited Y/n, so I don’t want it getting too crowded.”

Ginny looked over to you, her gaze becoming analytical. You raised a hand to wave and cast her a kind smile, and she returned it.

“I don’t have anything planned, it should be fine,” Ginny turned away from Ron and back towards you and Hermione, “When are you lot coming? At the same time?”

You looked towards Hermione, not knowing the answer.

“Oh, I didn’t have any specific ideas yet, Ron’s just asked me. Still have to write to my dad,” you said, and Hermione nodded.

“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be the usual time for me, though,” Hermione said, and Ginny smiled.

“What’s the usual time?” you asked, beginning to deal the cards to you and Hermione.

“A few weeks before school starts, Mrs. Weasley takes us all to Diagon Alley for our school things,” Hermione said, speaking fondly of the memory.

“Should I ask my dad to come then, when Hermione does?” you looked towards Ron, “Unless I should come at a different time,” you said, not trying to intrude.

“That would be perfect! Harry comes ‘round that time too, so we’ll all see each other,” Ron said.

He looked over at Harry, and upon seeing his brother, he called Fred over the way he had done to Ginny.

“Fred, have you invited anyone home for summer yet?”

Fred’s gaze immediately went to you, and he found you looking at him too.

“Yeah,” he said, pushing himself off the wall and over to Ron.

“Who?” Ron said, curious because his brothers usually didn’t have people over to the Burrow during holidays.

“George,” he said, smirking.

“Git,” Ron mumbled under his breath.

“Why do you ask, Ickle Ronniekins?”

“I just wanted to make sure it wouldn’t get too crowded when Hermione, Harry, and Y/n come ‘round,” Ron said, squirming as Fred forced himself into Ron’s seat that was only big enough for one of them.

Fred’s cool demeanor dropped for a moment, his eyes widening. He quickly recovered, wrapping an arm around Ron.

“How considerate of you,” he said, giving his brother an unwanted side hug.

Ron got up from his seat, leaving Fred to sit by himself. He watched you with unblinking eyes as you listened to Ginny talk about her time with Angelina on the pitch.

Looking down at your packed to the brim suitcase, you glance to the corner of your room. Your pristine roller skates sat there, one on their side. They looked sad and forgotten, but you knew that wasn’t true. Ever since you had gotten home from Hogwarts, you had taken to skating around ‘muggle’ London. You had also just gotten used to saying ‘muggle’.

Your father left early and got home late, and part of you was jealous that he got to see a Weasley every day and you didn’t. To ease your envy, you took to your skates.

You weren’t sure if you should pack them with you for Ron’s house. You were leaving when your father got home for work, the two of you setting off just before dark. You shoved a sweater deeper into your bag, making room for the skates.

Your father was to eat dinner with the Weasleys, sleep on the couch, and set off with Mr. Weasley for work in the morning. No point in two trips, they figured.

You were traveling by Flu powder, and your father went first. He heaved your bag into the fireplace with him and erupted in green flames. You carried a backpack on your shoulder, filled with little things that couldn’t fit in your suitcase.

Fred was more nervous and excited than he had ever felt in his whole life. He was determined to chat you up this summer, at least do something to make sure you knew he existed. He had been pacing in he and George’s shared room, but George pulled him down to the kitchen and made him drink some tea, hoping to calm him down.

You twisted your fingers, looking nervously into the fireplace. You were extremely excited to spend the remaining weeks of your summer with the Weasleys, but a small part of you was scared. You were nervous that Ron’s parents wouldn’t like you as much as they did at the train station. You were nervous that Ron, and his siblings, would get sick of having you around. You were nervous that you would become a burden.

You had been writing with Hermione, and she ensured you of how kind the Weasleys were. She told you that you had nothing to worry about, and you felt a little relieved.

You had visited Sarah a couple of times during the summer. She lived fairly close, close enough for you to take muggle transportation. Her family was welcoming and all had wide eyes at your accent. Thinking of their kindness, you felt confident enough to finally step into the fireplace.

Green flames surrounded you, and within seconds, you were stood in a different fireplace. It was a little shorter, and you were glad you had hunched over a little. Mr. Weasley and your father were shaking hands off to the side, over by a large couch. Mrs. Weasley was looking into the fireplace and waving you out. Ron was trudging your suitcase upstairs already, and Hermione and Ginny stood by Mrs. Weasley smiling widely. You noticed Fred and George sat at a large wooden table near the kitchen both drinking some tea and eating.

You took a step from the fireplace, making sure to wipe off any ash that may have stained your clothes, and allowed Mrs. Weasley to pull you into a hug.

“Oh, so good to see you again, dear!” she said, rocking you back and forth in the suffocating hug.

You didn’t care if you couldn’t breathe, you decided at that moment that Molly Weasley gave the absolute best hugs. She released you, patting your shoulders and running a loving hand through your hair, tucking it behind your ear. You beamed at her, and she smiled back at you.

When she moved away, Hermione quickly replaced her. Hermione’s arms pulled you close, wrapping around your backpack.

“I missed you!” she said, smiling at you.

“I missed you too!” you said, nearly ‘awing’ at everyone’s kindness.

Ginny hugged you too, and when you stepped away, Ron had come back downstairs. You hugged him, and then Harry, and finally you were left to be able to breathe your own air.

The house around you was adorable. It was better than you could have ever imagined. Magic was everywhere, and everything just felt like home.

“You’ll be staying with me and Ginny,” Hermione said to you from her spot next to you at the table.

“Perfect,” you replied, the same awestruck smile plastered on your face since you had arrived.

Fred looked at you from across the table. He felt like his dinner was moving in his stomach, and his hands were sweating. He’d nearly dropped his fork three times. He breathed deep, and when the conversation lulled, he took his chance.

“How has your summer been, Y/n?” he asked, and you looked up from your plate to him.

He nearly died, your happy eyes looking at him.

“Great!” you said, wiping your hands on your napkin in your lap, “I’m glad to finally be here.”

He smiled back at you, and it took him a moment to realize he’d been staring for a little too long, and that you had asked him a question.

“My summer? Oh, my summer’s been good too,” he replied, nodding.

You looked to George, who was next to him and raised your eyebrows, inviting his answer.

“It’s been good,” he said casually, and then an evil grin spread across his face, “but I think Fred’s just about worn my ear off talking about you.”

Fred coughed, choking on his mashed potatoes. His face went red, and he looked at his twin with an anger George had never seen before. Fred quickly looked back at you, as if to gauge your reaction. Your head was tilted down, but a shy smile was on your face and a blush crept on your cheeks.

Fred’s anger subsided at the sight of it, but when George kicked him from under the table, he was reminded.

“What is wrong with you?” Fred asked, nearly yelling at his brother in the privacy of their own room.

“I gave you a push,” George answered, not looking up from the Zonko’s catalog in his hands.

Fred simmered, coming to the realization that George was right. He fell onto his bed, thinking back to the pink on your cheeks and the bashful curl of your lips.

He didn’t know how he was meant to sleep, painfully aware of the fact that you were asleep just a room away.

“Did you hear what George said to Y/n at dinner?” Hermione asked, pulling Ginny into the argument you were having once she got out of the shower.

Ginny shook her head, removing the towel from her hair, “No, what’d he say?”

You rolled your eyes at Hermione as she divulged into every little detail of what George had said.

“And Fred could not stop staring!” she finished, and you let out an exaggerated breath.

“He was not staring!”

“Yes, he was,” Ginny said cheekily, sitting down on her bed.

“Ginny!” you said, giving up hope of having her on your side.

“He totally fancies you,” Hermione said.

Your face twisted for two reasons: the word ‘fancies’, and the fact that she thought Fred Weasley might fancy you.

“He does not!”

Ginny sat on her bed, listening to you and Hermione go back and forth. She knew Fred fancied you, he had since they had been at school. She saw his longing looks, the way he looked at you first after he told a joke, and the pure admiration he had in his eyes any time he looked at you. It especially convinced her when Fred had been talking about you all summer. She came to a decision.

“He does,” she said, watching Hermione’s face change into the proud one she wore when she answered a question right in class. Your mouth hung open.

“What?” Hermione’s gaze turned towards you, and she smiled widely. You liked to think it was her infectious smile that made your mouth turn up, and not the idea of Fred liking you.

“He has been talking about you all summer, I’m surprised Ron didn’t tell you earlier,” Ginny said, bringing the towel to her hair again to catch some dripping water.

“He probably hasn’t even noticed,” Hermione said, the tone of annoyance dripping off her tongue.

Ginny flashed her a sympathetic look, but Hermione ignored it, continuing.

“Do you like him?” she pried, and the whole room felt like it was frozen.

They both looked at you expectantly, waiting for your answer.

You didn’t know. Fred was handsome, and funny, and clever, but you hardly knew him. You knew he was mischievous, and that he tormented Ron, but other than that you might as well have been strangers. You could not deny, however, that he was attractive.

“I don’t know,” you said, honestly.

“You don’t know?” Ginny repeated, confused.

“Yeah, I mean, I barely know him,” you answered, the obvious energy in the room shifting to something of deep thought.

“Do you fancy him, though?” Hermione asked, her eyebrows raised.

“I think he’s cute, yeah, but how can he fancy me? We’ve barely spoken to each other. Are you sure Ginny?” you asked again, still doubtful.

“I’m sure he’s noticed the little things more than you think he would, Fred can be pretty considerate when he wants to be,” Ginny said, and you breathed out loudly. You flopped on your back, the mound of blankets around you and Hermione soothing your landing.

“See? I wouldn’t know that!” you said.

You knew it was a little silly, to focus on something like this. You had an older, attractive, popular boy head over heels for you, but you were harping on the fact that you didn’t know whether or not he was considerate.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Hermione said harshly, “I mean it’s not like you’re forced to marry him. You go on dates with people to get to know them, after all.”

You were nearly offended by Hermione’s tone, but you figured she was just getting irritated on the subject of crushes.

“I know, ‘Mione, I’m just confused by it,” you reassured her.

“Well, test the waters tomorrow,” Ginny said suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows.

You cringed away from her, and swells of giggles were coming from Ginny’s room nearly all night.

The three of you slept late into the morning. The Burrow’s eventful noises were nothing compared to the sounds of muggle London, so you slept peacefully. It wasn’t until something began tapping on Ginny’s window, did the three of you wake up.

“What the-?” Ginny started but soon fell silent at the sound of a loud crashing noise. Shards of glass scattered around the room and Hermione was lucky that she had rolled away from the window in her sleep. You put your hand up, flinching at the noise, and when you dropped it, the warm summer air flooded into the room.

A small golden snitch was soaring around the room, averting every swipe of Ginny’s hands, and ducking behind her dresser.

Ginny slipped on some shoes, and carefully navigated through the glass. She leaned cautiously out of the window, and that's when the screaming started.

“Harry! Are you mental?! What on Earth-” her screams divulged into threats and insults, and you looked over her shoulder, watching Harry hover many feet away on his broom, his face looking quite guilty.

You found your shoes and moved over to the window. You then realized that Fred and George were hovering closer to Ginny’s window, silencing the snickers and amazed faces they wore. At the sight of Fred, your eyes widened, and his eyes met yours. He smiled kindly at you, and before you knew what you were doing, you ducked behind the window, crouching by Ginny’s feet.

You heard George’s laughter, and Ginny’s ramblings stilled.

“What are you doing on the floor?” she asked you, lowering herself to crouch with you.

“I don’t know,” you answered, whispering. Your cheeks were red and your eyes were wide. Ginny’s threatening look turned into a smile.

She began to giggle, and soon enough, Fred and George hovered just above the window, peering into Ginny’s room.

“What are you girls doing down there?” George asked, resting a hand on the part of the windowsill with no glass on it, peering into the room.

Ginny looked at you, her smile wide. You looked around and began to pick up large shards of glass.

“Cleaning up the glass,” you said casually, although you could still feel the distinct burn of blush on your cheeks.

You could only safely pick up two large shards of glass without cutting your hands, so you raised yourself from the ground, meeting Fred and George’s eyes. Ginny followed you, crossing her arms and smirking.

The boys wore their practice robes, their names and numbers on the backs. They both had discarded goggles hanging from their necks, and their hair was wild. You looked between the both of them, swallowing thickly.

“Could you keep it down?” Ginny finally said, trying to ease the situation, “We’re trying to sleep.”

George removed a hand from his broom and glanced at his watch, “It’s nearly 12 in the afternoon,” he said sarcastically.

“Really? Well, we need our beauty sleep,” Ginny said, and you noticed she nearly reached out to close the window.

George rolled his eyes and zipped away on his broom, leaving Fred.

“I’m gonna go get a broom, clean this up,” Ginny said, huffing as she navigated her way back through the glass on the floor.

You and Fred were left there, staring at anything but each other. Fred moved slightly up and down on his broom as he hovered. He finally cleared his throat and looked at you.

“Sleep well?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

You nodded and smiled, rocking back and forth on your feet, “You?”

He nodded too and looked away quickly.

“Oh, I think George, is calling me,” he said, and it was obvious George was not calling him. He flew away on his broom, and you closed your eyes, letting out a restrained breath.

You groaned and threw yourself on Ginny’s bed. Hermione rolled over, a large and entertained grin on her face. You covered your face with a pillow and ignored Ginny and Hermione’s imitations of the incident while they swept up the glass.

Mrs. Weasley was furious to see Ginny’s window. She had come in later in the day, a basket full of laundry on her hip.

“Hello girls,” she said pleasantly, “Do you have- what the bloody hell is that?”

Ginny’s eyes widened at the sound of her mother’s deep and serious tone.

“Mum! It wasn’t us,” Ginny leaped from her bed and ran to her dresser, she quickly caught the snitch from where it had been hiding behind her dresser, “It came through the window this morning when the boys were playing.”

Mrs. Weasley looked at you and Hermione, and you both nodded your heads furiously. She huffed out a breath and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers.

Finally looking up, she set the laundry down and stood in Ginny’s doorway.

“BOYS!” she shouted, and you heard the sudden halting of George and Fred’s laughter, and Harry and Ron’s footsteps upstairs silenced.

The sound of four hesitant feet walking to Ginny’s room was the last thing you heard before Mrs. Weasley’s screams burst your eardrums.

The Burrow was crowded now that the boys had been banned from leaving the house. They had only briefly been allowed out of the house to de-gnome the garden, but Mrs. Weasley stood at the door, making sure they had absolutely no fun.

Your suitcase lay open in Ginny’s room, the three of you dressed and having absolutely no ideas as to what to do. You had all already ran through your spending money going to Diagon Alley on your first days there, and without the boys offering some entertainment, the three of you were idle.

Ginny paced, looking through her own things with interest. She twisted her broom in her hands, offering the idea of Quidditch, but Hermione wasn’t interested. Ginny was scanning her room, and her eyes fell on your bag. A pair of white shoes with wheels on them lay tucked away in the bag. She walked over to them and pulled them out hesitantly.

“What the bloody hell are those?” George said from the doorway.

The three of you girls turned, looking to the door. The four boys crowded in the hall, all peering into the room with interest. It seemed they were bored too.

“Are those the roll skates?” Ron asked, mispronouncing the word and shoving past George and taking the roller skate from Ginny.

“Yeah,” you said, your eyes flicking up over the top of your magazine.

The rest of the boys filed into the tiny room, nearly all of them shoulder to shoulder. Hermione rose from her spot next to you, picking up the other one from your bag.

“I remember seeing commercials for these things when I was a kid,” Hermione said, spinning the wheel in her hand.

“Commercials? What are you on about?” Ron said, and Harry caught your baffled look and smiled.

“What are they?” Fred asked, taking Hermione’s seat next to you on Ginny’s bed.

You lowered your magazine and looked at him, only to find him already looking at you. He gave you a crooked smile and nodded in greeting. You successfully fought a blush and smiled back at him.

“They’re roller skates. They’re like shoes with wheels,” you explained, taking the skate from Ron.

You rolled up your jeans a little and slipped on the skate. Fred watched your delicate fingers lacing up the shoe, noticing the way your hair fell into your face as you looked down at them.

Hermione handed you the other one, and you did the same to the other foot. You stood easily from the bed and nearly lost your balance. It was lucky that Fred’s strong shoulder was there for your hand to clasp onto, or else your feet would have slipped from under you.

You looked down at your hand still on Fred’s shoulder, even though you were standing fine. He slipped your hand off but kept it in his hand. You then became aware that you were just holding hands at this point. He stood with you and turned to face you. He pulled your other hand into his, and pushed you away from him, smiling widely as you rolled easily on the hardwood floors.

Everyone knew then that they had found their entertainment for the day.

The sound of joyful laughter flooded your ears as Fred pulled you around the limited space in Ginny’s room. Your hands fit together perfectly, and he walked backward as he pulled you, keeping his smiling eyes on you the whole time. Soon he was pulling you into the hallway, and everyone trailed after. You felt Ginny’s small hands pushing your back, and you began to gain speed. Fred hadn’t caught up, and you were coming closer and closer to him. You looked down but didn’t want to put your toes down to brake, in fear of scuffing up the floor. So, you let yourself fall into Fred’s arms.

The two of you stayed upright, but his long arms were wrapped around your waist. Your hands fell to his chest, and his chin pressed against his neck as he looked down at you. His hair fell into his eyes, and yours fell gracefully in its natural place. You smiled, and he smiled, and soon you erupted into giggles at the silence behind you. George catcalled, and you stuffed your giggles into Fred’s chest, tucking your head under his chin. You felt him take a sharp inhale, and his arms became a little tighter around you.

When Mr. Weasley got home, he was accosted by his children.

“Dad!” They said in unison, all waiting for him by the door.

He jumped at the sight of them all, then began taking off his coat.

“Look at these!” Ginny said, pointing to your feet.

You did a little spin, careful not to make any marks on the floor. Fred watched you spin elegantly, your arms coming out a little like a ballerina.

“Remarkable!” Mr. Wealsey cried, moving to look at them.

Questions came from his mouth faster then you could answer them, and you slid the wheels against the floor under the table while you ate dinner.

“We had an idea, Dad,” Fred said, looking at you proudly.

“Yeah, think you’ll like it,” George added, glancing at you with a smirk and then looking back at his dad.

“We need you to conjure some sort of track outside,” Ron finished, talking with his mouth full.

“A track! That’s brilliant!” Mr. Weasley exclaimed, missing the worried look from his wife.

“It was Y/n’s idea, she’s brilliant,” Fred said, looking across the table at you.

You giggled as George made a gagging noise.

“With what? Stone?” Mrs. Weasley inquired, placing a hand on her hip.

“Oh no, they’re usually made of wood or asphalt,” you explained, “they have a whole building of them in the muggle world. People rent the skates and pay to skate on a big rink.”

Mr. Weasley's eyes widened with excitement, and Mrs. Weasley’s worry tamed.

“Let’s do it tonight.”

The eight of you walked to a clearing on the side of the house. It was where the boys usually played Quidditch, but it hadn’t been in use for days. Mrs. Weasley hadn’t stopped the boys from helping with the track, and you were grateful.

“Hold it higher, Ron!” Mr. Weasley called out, and Ron raised his father's wand with a bright orb of light coming from it.

The track was nearly done. It was huge, a large hoop secured to the ground. There was an enchanted orb of light in the center of the circle, and it illuminated the entire rink.

Your friends watched you blaze around the track, your hair whipping around behind your face, the sides of your cardigan flapping in the wind. You heard loud cheers when you successfully began skating backward.

The rest of your trip to The Burrow was spent out there. The boys were lifted from their punishments, and the rink became the one place you all went to when you woke up, and the last place you were before bed. Soon enough, though, your father appeared in the fireplace with your school trunk by his side. He quickly took back the bag you had been keeping at the Weasley's, and you went through your trunk one last time, making sure you had everything.

This year, walking through the train station, you were still stared at. But you didn’t care because an entire family surrounding you, and they all looked like you.

Your father gave you a lasting embrace before Fred followed you onto the train. He had waited for you, watching as you hugged your dad. He waved to your father, and his hand grazed your lower back as he walked behind you. The two of you found the compartment that had to be the most crowded of the lot.

Lee, Luna, Neville, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Sarah, George, and now you and Fred, packed into a compartment, the entire room filled with busy conversation the entire ride.

It was weird to be in the Hufflepuff common room, your bedroom devoid of Ginny’s huffs as she rolled over to get comfortable, or Hermione’s anxious mumbles she said in her sleep. You pulled your blankets off of you, your legs feeling sore from the constant skating you had been doing for weeks.

Speaking of, you had made the decision to bring your skates to Hogwarts. You slipped them on, tightening the rainbow laces. You pointed your wand at the wheels and cast a silencing charm, so the turn of the wheels would be silent.

You carefully climbed the stairs from the Hufflepuff basement and looked both ways before you skated towards your destination.

Fred had been sitting under his covers, looking over the map as he usually did before he snuck to the kitchens. Out of habit, he looked at the Hufflepuff common room for your familiar name. He was shocked to see you across the castle, in a long-abandoned classroom. He suddenly lost his appetite and slid into some slippers.

He rested his forearm in the crook of the door, leaning against it. He watched you illuminated by the candles lit on the wall. You easily glided between the desks, twisting and turning, spinning, and navigating between them. His eyes followed you, your body moving naturally. He watched the sway of your hips as your wait transferred from foot to foot, the skates rolling against the smooth stone. You moved to the open space in the room, skating backward, your back to him. You turned just a few feet in front of him, and when you saw Fred, your surprise ran through your body. Your feet faltered and you bumped into a desk, making a loud crash.

He jumped from his spot in the doorway, closing the door behind him. He moved to you in two long strides, crouching to reach you on the floor.

“Are you alright?”

“You scared the shit out of me, Fred!” you said, smiling up at him.

“Couldn’t help it, I had to come see you,” he said smoothly, bringing the map from his back pocket.

“What? How did you know I was here?”

He unfolded a piece of paper and held it out to you. You took it in your hands and realized what it was. Before you could look at it for long, Fred took it back, a worried expression on his face.

“Filch is coming, he must have heard the noise,” Fred folded the map and put it back in his pocket.

Suddenly, his hands were on your waist, and he was guiding you to your feet. He looked around the room and saw the door to the supply closet.

With a wave of his wand, the flames of the candles were extinguished and he was pulling your gliding figure to the closet. The door closed just in time, and Filch burst in. You and Fred were pressed together, his hands still on your waist. You opened your mouth to ask him about the map, and one of his hands covered your mouth. He felt your soft lips, and his eyes locked onto yours. You heard Filch’s heavy feet stomping around the room and the screech of the desk against the floor.

Your mind was occupied by the lack of space between you, your back pressed to the door, and Fred’s warm hand on your face. He looked deeply at you, and his face was inches from yours.

You thought back to the day Ginny told you about how Fred felt, and you realized that you no longer had any hesitations about Fred. Standing this close to him, his leg slid between yours, his chest against yours, you felt what he felt. You fancied Fred.

Fred felt your lips curl into a smile beneath his hand. It was dark, so he couldn’t see your face, but he wished more than anything that he could. He heard the door close, and Filch was gone, but neither of you moved. Fred’s hand retracted from your mouth, moving to your neck. His fingers slipped under your hair, and his thumb rested in your jaw.

“Why did you come here?” you whispered.

“I like to watch you skate,” he answered, his voice devoid of any laughter.

“You’ve watched me skate for weeks,” you said quickly, inching your face closer to his, craning your neck to look up at him.

“I like to watch you,” he said without thinking, “I like you.”

You closed the space between you two. His lips were slow, and so were yours. You arched your back against the door, anything to get closer to him. His face was warm, and yours was cold. His lips pressed hard against yours, and the kiss held everything he had felt since he talked to you in the Three Broomsticks. It was all the nights he had ranted to George about you, all the times he had mentioned what little time it was until you’d finally be at The Burrow, all the times he looked at the map just to see your name, all the times his stomach had flipped just at the thought of you.

You pulled away, breathless, and he lowered his head to rest on your shoulder. His breathing was heavy, and your eyes had fluttered closed. He reached for his wand and said “Lumos,” just so he could see your pretty face and swollen lips.

He walked you back to the basement, and you shared another slow kiss. He had almost followed you down the stairs, watching you leave with your skates hanging from around your neck.

The next morning in the courtyard, Ginny was the first to notice.

“What happened?” she said, skeptical of your dazed face and the constant flush you had from just being near Fred.

He sat a few feet away in his own world, avoiding George and Lee’s conversation about the upcoming Hogsmeade trip.

You smiled at Ginny, and she furrowed her brows at you. You were about to tell her, but Ron fell with a thud onto the ground next to you.

“It’s been three bloody weeks and Snape’s already assigned 100 pages of reading,” Ron groaned, pulling a heavy textbook from under his arm. Hermione and Harry trailed behind him, sitting with much more grace than Ron had.

Hermione also noticed your at peace look and looked at you analytically.

You were finally able to tell them in the hall, during an extended period between classes.

“He kissed me last night,” you said with a blush.

“I told you!”

“Finally!”

You hushed them, a bashful smile coming to your lips. Fred passed the three of you, his eyes locked on yours as he walked. Over his shoulder, he sent you a flirty wink. You felt weak at the knees and was glad that you were leaning against a wall.

“Maybe he’ll ask you to Hogsmeade,” Hermione said, tugging you off the wall and in the opposite way Fred was walking. You looked over your shoulder to see him walking backward, watching you walk away.

“Knowing Fred, he’ll probably pull some elaborate prank or get fireworks to spell your name out,” Ginny said, watching you look at her brother.

Fred did something like that, the two of you in the courtyard, laying in the grass. He had pulled you from dinner just after you were dismissed, and he led you to the courtyard. You both stared at the sky, and he looked at you. You met his gaze and then he pointed at the sky.

In huge, shining, red words read “Y/n, Hogsmeade this weekend?”.

You smiled at him and nodded. His hand snaked to cup your cheek still laying down. He pulled you towards him, and you moved to look down at him, propped up on your elbow. His lips met yours, and the sound of more bursting fireworks flooded the air around you.

It was nearly Christmas now. You and Fred have been dating for a few weeks, and he invited you back to the Burrow for the holidays.

You accepted, and you trudged your heavy bag into the fireplace. It was filled with gifts for the Weasley’s, and you were feeling quite confident about it.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione stayed at school for the holidays, leaving you, George, Fred, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat in front of a fire on Christmas eve.

You had called your father on your flip phone he had given you as an early Christmas present. He was coming over tomorrow for Christmas morning, and you felt incredibly content.

Coming back to the couch, tucking your phone into your pocket, you slipped back under Fred’s arm, curling into his side. Mr. Wealsey had already had a go at the device, and he just watched amazed at it fitting into your pocket so easily.

The next morning you were woken up by the sound of your father’s booming voice downstairs. You sat up, stretching, and looked over to Ginny’s bed. It was empty, the covers were thrown aside. You slipped on a large cardigan, pulling it around your cold arms and going downstairs.

You were met with what felt like a dream. All the Weasley’s sat around the table, eating a huge Christmas breakfast and drinking tea. They each wore matching sweaters with their initials on them, and your father was standing with Mr. Weasley by the couch.

“Happy Christmas!” they all beamed at you.

Ginny tugged you over to the couch, sitting on one side of you while Fred sat on the other. Your father stood behind you on the couch, and a pile of presents were stacked in the room. You had brought your presents for the Weasley’s down last night, and you saw them on the ground.

Wrapping paper was everywhere, and the sound of happiness flooded the room. It finally came time for everyone to open what you had gotten them, and Fred went first. He tore away the red paper and held the plain box in his hands. He shook it, holding it up to his ear and smiling at you.

“Careful!” you told him, and he tore away the tape holding the box shut.

Inside, a brand new pair of garnet roller skates. He gasped, his large hands holding a skate up.

“Oh, my-” Mrs. Weasley said, already thinking of the awful thing he and George could do with those.

“It’s amazing!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around you.

You returned the hug, and whispered in his ear, “Merry Christmas, Fred.”

Soon, all the Weasley’s were holding different colored skates, even Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

#fred weasley #fred #weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley request #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fanfiction #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #hogwarts #hufflepuff #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you

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moostaronce · 4 years ago

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Sisterly Love

Request: Hello! Can I request a cute, fluff scenario where fem reader is Yoohyeon's younger sister and is dating Jiu? Yooh is known to be fun so it surprised Jiu a little when she got all serious to have "the talk". Then fem reader comes in and saves Jiu, asking Yoohyeon not to scare her or something. I hope that made sense lol thank you!

Pairing: Jiu x Fem!Reader

A/N Thank you for the request! I made it a college!au because it felt fitting to me and I used their actual Korean ages as well. I hope you like it. 💛

It's late when Yoohyeon walks past your room and hears you giggling on the phone. The two of you live together and attend the same university so you figured it would be smart to stay together. Though, she's never heard you sound this excited on the phone.

"Minji stop, you're making me embarrassed." Your voice is playful through the door and your sister can't help but take notice of the name. Minji. She knows a Minji. They aren't the closest but definitely friendly classmates. She couldn't help but wonder why you knew her at all. Even then, why you were speaking informally, knowing full well that the older girl was 4 years your senior. Sure, her own girlfriend was the same age as Minji but Yoohyeon still used honorifics with her most of the time. She shoves her suspicions down and wanders off to her own room but she can't help but wonder what's going on with you two.

The next morning your older sister wouldn't stop staring holes through you. Your body shifts uncomfortably as you work up the nerve to speak first.

"Um Unnie, is there something you need?" Yoohyeon looks at you blankly.

"Yes, but I'd like it if you told me first."

You're put off by your sister's demeanor. Yoohyeon was never this serious with you even when she probably should be. Her eyes are void of any of her usual playful emotions and you find yourself wracking your brain from anything you may need to tell her but you just can't think of anything. She must be able to see your confusion because she sighs in annoyance before she finally huffs out a response.

"Are you seeing Kim Minji sunbaenim behind my back?" You look at her like she has twelve heads.

"Yes Yooh, I told you that 3 weeks ago when we got together."

Yoohyeon's face grows so red you can't help but cackle at her. Of course, now she remembers, you mentioned it while she was spacing out but she pretended to hear everything. She feels so silly but tries to recover quickly.

"Oh. So you did. Well, I want you to invite her for dinner tonight. I'd like to get to know her better outside of our literature class."

"For sure unnie! I'll text her right after breakfast." You kiss on her cheek and head out to your first class of the day. She rests her head in her hands, still embarrassed that she forgot something so important to her.

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

Later that day during Yoohyeon's afternoon class, she walks in to see none other than Kim Minji in her usual spot in front of Yoohyeon. She observes the older girl and hums at how pretty she is, mentally giving her younger sister props. Right now it's just the two of them in the room waiting for everyone else so Yoohyeon takes the opportunity

"Sunbae!" Minji looks up at the girl she's always known to be rather carefree.

"Oh, Yoohyeon-ah. Y/N told me you invited me for dinner tonight, I'm excited to finally spend some time with both of you." Yoohyeon's smile grows even brighter at her words before she remembers a question she had.

"Ah! Before I forget, why is it that Y/N just calls you Minji? You don't find that rude?"

"Oh no, I told her to drop the honorifics whenever she feels like it, though that's only really when we're on the phone most of the time she calls me Unnie. Which reminds me, please call feel free to call me that instead of sunbae. I'd like for us to be closer." Minji's infectious smile almost blinds Yoohyeon with its brightness.

Yoohyeon nods at her and smiles before taking her seat as the rest of the class arrives. It's clear to her that Minji's personality is pretty much a perfect match to your ideal type. She's sure that if you had to draw your perfect person even before meeting Minji, you still would've drawn her in detail. That doesn't stop the protective cloud that takes over her mind. She can't help the feeling of needing to know Minji's long-term intentions, especially because your relationship is so new.

------------------------ Yoohyeon convinces her girlfriend Bora to make the dinner with the promise of pretty much an at-home double date. It also helps that Bora is Minji's best friend so there would be a sense of comfort for everyone.

When Minji arrives at the door Yoohyeon lets you answer it while she peeks from around the corner. She watches Minji take your hands and lean in to kiss you so she loudly enters the room before your lips can meet.

"Minji unnie! I'm so glad you could join us! Bora unnie is just putting the finishing touches on dinner so I hope you're hungry."

Contrary to your scrunched-up annoyed face, Minji looks up and gives Yoohyeon a warm smile before nodding her head in excitement.

"Oh! Let me go see if she needs anything." You wait until Minji is completely out of the room before speaking up in a hushed tone

"Unnie, please be nice. I really like her." It's practically a whine to Yoohyeon's ears but she just pats your shoulder with a reassuring smile.

"Look, I love you but if you think I'm going to make this easy for you, you're mistaken kiddo."

"We're only one year apart!"

"Exactly one more year I've been alive than you." Yoohyeon sticks her tongue out at you before dodging your swatting hand and running into the kitchen where Bora would hopefully keep her safe.

Once the food is finished you all sit at the dinner table. You joke and laugh together so much you can't help but be proud of how well Yoohyeon and your girlfriend seem to be getting along. Yoohyeon herself is surprised how much she likes Minji as a person but also how much she likes her for you. But the nagging never leaves her mind so she decides to go forward with her plans to talk to her one on one.

With that in mind, when dinner is over Minji offers to do the dishes since Bora cooked. Yoohyeon takes the opportunity to help her while you and Bora go talk in the living room.

"Dinner was wonderful, thanks so much for inviting me Yoohyeon. I appreciate you giving me a chance." Minji smiles at her but it falters slightly when she sees the serious look on the younger girl's face.

"Yeah. About that, we need to talk." Yoohyeon's voice is steady and oddly nerve-wracking, compared to her usual playfulness. Minji's voice struggles to escape so she just nods.

"Look I can see you're a good person. But I need you to know that Y/N is important to me, so if you're serious about her I need to know right now," she takes a breath and Minji holds hers as she waits for her turn to respond. "She's my little sister and she can be fragile sometimes. Sometimes she can be a bit of a whiny brat but I love her for it. So if you are just playing with her emotions I suggest you seriously rethink it because if there's one thing I don't play around with, it's my baby sister."

Minji gulps and gives her a nervous smile, but before she can speak you enter the room with your arms crossed and tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you look admiringly at your older sister.

"Yoohyeon unnie, leave Minji alone. I appreciate your concern but she's not that kind of person, I swear!" Yoohyeon laughs nervously at being caught by you.

"No, it's okay Y/N. She's your big sister and she's just looking out for you." Minji turns to Yoohyeon and puts her hands on the younger girl's shoulders.

"Yoohyeon, I understand everything you said. I want you to know that I am serious about Y/N and I'd never betray either of your trust by playing around with her emotions. I see her and me together for a really long time and I hope that you could honor me with your blessing."

Yoohyeon looks into her eyes and she's met with nothing but sincerity so she looks to you and nods. Minji releases her shoulders with a sigh of relief and she takes a step back when you rush her with a big hug. Yoohyeon decides to go sit with Bora but on her way out of the kitchen, she's hit with a back hug from who she can only assume to be you.

"Thank you for what you said. You're the most important to me too. I love you Unnie."

Yoohyeon pats your hands and turns to give you a proper hug and kiss on your forehead.

"I love you too, stupid."

#girl group scenarios #Dreamcatcher scenarios #Jiu scenarios #Kim Minji scenarios #Yoohyeon scenarios #Kim Yoohyeon scenarios #fluff

137 notes · View notes

kerikaaria · 4 years ago

Text

Smile

(Hoseok x gn!Reader) Oneshot, Coffee shop!au

Genre: (PG13) Hurt/comfort, fluff, angst

WC: 4.6k

Warnings: None, unless you count a stereotypical Kdrama trope or two offensive haha

Summary: At 28 years old, you suddenly felt like your life was resetting. One of the few things that brought you comfort was keeping the routine of stopping by the local coffee shop, and the barista behind the counter had definitely noticed the recent change in you. All he wanted was to see you smile again.

Breath of Sunshine is a sequel to this fic.

A/N – This fic is my submission for the January prompt with @thebtswritersclub for Beginnings/New Beginnings.

I'm a horrendous human being and absolutely forgot to tag @moccahobi for beta reading this fic for me! Thank you for your suggestions Lillia! And please excuse me being big dumb lol. I love yoouuu!

Pushing the door open, the familiar jingle of the bell sounded and warmth started to envelope your chilled body.

"Good afternoon, Y/n," the barista said as he made another customer's drink, pausing for a moment to throw a smile in your direction.

"Good afternoon, Hoseok," you replied, attempting to smile in return but could feel how stiff and forced it was.

He quickly finished the drink he had been working on, properly saying goodbye to the customer as he always did. He grabbed a new cup as he asked, “Are you having the usual?”

“Yes, please,” you said.

Hoseok gave you another smile before getting your drink started while you approached the register. You got your payment out, ready to go as he approached the counter. After swiping your card, you watched as he resumed making your drink. Hoseok had been working here for at least as long as you had been a regular customer and it was obvious he knew what he was doing.

"The weather isn't that bad today," Hoseok made small talk while he finished putting your drink together.

"Yeah, it's not quite as cold as the rest of the week had been,” you responded. If this were a month ago, you would have continued back and forth, encouraging conversation between the two of you. You could only just muster up enough energy to respond right now, much less continue a conversation.

Especially not today.

Preferring to stare at the counter rather than make eye contact, you didn’t notice the worried glance Hoseok threw your way. He had definitely recognized the change in your demeanor over the past weeks. He really missed your smile—the real one and not the forced one that sat on your face nowadays.

When he finished your drink and handed it to you, you attempted a smile once more as you thanked him before sitting at one of the tables in the café to relax.

It was a Saturday and you had a standard Monday to Friday job so you didn’t have anything to do today. But this was one of your favorite places to go, and after all the changes that happened the past month you needed a familiar routine to help keep you feeling sane.

One of the few comforts that came with moving back to your childhood home was that this coffee shop was within walking distance again. When you had moved away over a year ago, you would have to leave for work sooner to catch an earlier bus, getting off only to stop here before getting back on to finish going to work. You adored this quaint little shop and the bright faces behind the counter and didn’t want to sacrifice your patronage just because you had moved.

So needless to say, your weekend visits had stopped at that point since there was no need to catch the bus then. But now that you were back here, you had resumed your Saturday morning walks which led you here. Even though it was winter, you found the crisp air refreshing and found it easy to let your troubles escape your mind during the 20 minute venture.

You sat by a window, mindlessly watching the cars drive down the street. You had made a fair amount of progress this month, but today was particularly difficult. It was January 23, what would have been your 6 year anniversary. That wasn’t a thing anymore, of course.

At 28 years old, you suddenly felt like your life was resetting. Things that you wanted in life that had seemed so close to coming into fruition merely a month ago suddenly felt so far away, you weren’t sure they were possible anymore.

As you let your mind wander, you were unsure how much time had passed. Your drink sat empty in front of you for a while, but you didn’t feel ready to leave just yet. When you got back home you’d be reminded of how different things were now, and that wasn’t something you were looking forward to today.

Suddenly, your attention was drawn to a new cup being placed on your table. You turned to see Hoseok standing next to the table, smiling brightly as ever.

“It’s a good day for a drink like this, don’t you think?” he asked.

“I didn’t order this,” was the only thing that could escape your mouth. He was definitely known for throwing in a free drink here and there, but you most certainly didn’t want to take advantage of it.

“It’s my treat,” he insisted, “I’m actually done with my shift. Do you mind if I sit here with you?”

You glanced back at the bar, and sure enough Namjoon was now manning the station while the owner, Seokjin, took orders from the customers in line.

Looking back to Hoseok who had been waiting patiently for your response, you decide to give a nod.

He sat across from you, taking a sip from his own drink that he had no doubt made himself. A silence hung between you but it wasn't uncomfortable. Hoseok never made you feel uncomfortable. When you reached for the new cup and realized what drink he had made you, it only reminded you of how kind he was.

It wasn't your usual, but was something you had most definitely ordered here before. You could still remember the first day you had ordered this particular drink.

Hoseok looked at you, amused. "Not getting the usual today, then?"

"No, not today," you confirmed. "I really need this today."

"Oh?" he asked as he rang it into the register. "Is it some kind of special occasion thing? I know some people do that."

"Not exactly," you said, handing him your card. "It's more of a comfort drink."

Hoseok hesitated to swipe your card through the reader. "Oh. Not having a great day?" A frown sat on his face.

"You could say that," you sighed.

He looked to be in thought for a moment before he handed your card back to you and moved away to start on your drink.

Your brows furrowed. "You didn't swipe my card, did you?"

"It's on me today."

"You don't have to do that," you said, staying parked at the register.

Hoseok hadn't said anything else while he whipped up the drink. When he brought it over to you, you tried making him take your card one more time, but he just shook his head.

"I don't like seeing my customers upset," he said. "It's not much, but I want to do anything I can to try to make your day at least a little brighter. Please, I insist."

The smile on his face and earnest look in his eyes made you pause, before ultimately accepting his kind offer.

His smile grew even bigger when he watched you put your card away and take the drink he offered you. It was a size larger than what you had ordered.

"Thank you, Hoseok," you said. You were still unsure about taking a drink for free, but definitely were in no way going to leave without showing him some gratitude.

Holding the cup of hot chocolate between your hands made you feel warm in more ways than one. He was telling you that he noticed you weren't as happy as usual and he even remembered the significance of the drink to you.

Knowing that someone cared, even a little, was something you really needed these days and, though a little silly, it almost made you want to cry. You held it back though, offering a smile to the man sitting across from you. It was small, but still genuine.

You waited for the inevitable question of what was wrong. The sweet gesture of the hot chocolate made you feel like you may not actually mind if he asked, despite having been tired of explaining what happened 50 times over already. Just as long as he wouldn't start asking you the loaded, 'How are you?' which translated to 'How are you after him?'

He didn't ask. Instead he said, "You know, I was really relieved when I saw it was you who came in earlier."

You looked at him curiously. "Why is that?"

"That customer that was here when you walked in? He's a real charmer." He was clearly being sarcastic. "The guy wants like 10 very specific customizations to his latte, and was backseat driving the whole time I made his drink. Despite the fact that he's a regular and I know his order to the T by this point. But nope, he can never let me just handle making the drink in peace. It's so annoying."

"Oh gosh, that does sound super annoying," you replied. A pretty generic reply sure, but you already felt more engaged in this conversation than you had in most others recently.

"But then customers like you come in and you're always so kind and friendly," Hoseok continued. "Even if the day hadn't been that great, it always feels a little better when you come in. You're definitely one of our favorite regulars. It's also nice now that I've noticed you're coming in on the weekends again."

"Oh yeah, I moved back into my last house," you explained. "So I can just walk here again."

"And out of all the things you could be doing on the weekend, you choose to hang out here in this tiny little place."

You took the first sip of your hot chocolate while Hoseok spoke. It may have been basically just hot milk and chocolate, but it was really delicious. You closed your eyes for a moment to savor the flavor before answering him. “I really like it here. It’s nice and cozy, the drinks are amazing and not super expensive, and you guys are all really nice.”

“It’s hard not to be when we have wonderful customers like you,” Hoseok said.

The compliment made you feel flustered and on top of feeling relaxed and warm from the drink, you found a genuine smile that reached your eyes spread across your face.

You felt that out of all the good qualities of this coffee shop, Hoseok was definitely the most comforting thing here.

After that day, you began to have longer conversations with the barista. It wasn’t that you didn’t chat before, but him taking the time to sit and talk with you seemed to have opened up a door to a deeper friendship between you. While coming to the coffee shop had always been one of your favorite parts of the day, it started to become something you looked forward to even more than before.

You even found yourself leaving your house a bit earlier than before just to make sure you had some time to sit and chat with him for an extra little bit before needing to make your way to work. Your encounters were limited to the shop, not having met outside of the café or exchanged phone numbers yet. Despite that, you felt like your interactions were some of the most genuine you had lately.

As for Hoseok, he could see the gradual change in you. While he had no idea what had suddenly made you so upset back in December, he knew it had to be pretty substantial with how long you’ve been affected. He never wanted to ask though. He figured if you wanted to talk to him about it you would, and he would of course listen.

That being said, ever since he decided to sit down and chat with you, he felt like you’ve slowly started becoming more like yourself—more like the Y/n he remembered. He couldn’t say for sure, but he dared to hope that maybe it had something to do with him.

So the weeks went by, most days highlighted by Hoseok’s smiling face as you started going to the cafe more. On Saturdays it basically became a routine for you to arrive shortly before he’d be done with his shift, and then he’d once again sit and chat with you when it was over.

Saturdays quickly became your favorite day of the week.

You were trying to figure out how to nonchalantly ask Hoseok if you could exchange phone numbers, or meet up outside of the café, or something. And really, it shouldn’t have been hard. Easy to slip in a ‘Hey, can I text you?' or ‘Let’s hang out sometime,’ during a chat and it would have been natural. But you felt oddly nervous about asking.

What if he didn’t want that? What if he just wanted your little budding friendship to stay as a thing just at the café? What if you were reading too far into it and he was just a nice barista chatting with his customer to make them happy? Knowing you, you very well could have been reading into it too much. Even though you really, really hoped you weren’t.

You walked down the sidewalk heading home from the bus stop after work when your phone rang.

You didn’t bat an eye when it was his name that came up on the caller ID. It wasn’t frequent but also not entirely unusual for him to contact you. His calls often had something to do with tying up loose ends, or he was just wanting to chat. Afterall, you both had agreed to remain friends after the breakup. But it was still a bit awkward, both of you needing a bit more time to come to terms with all the changes that were occurring in the aftermath and, at least for you, figuring out how to move on still.

You picked up easily, swiping the green button across the screen and putting it back in your pocket, earbuds in your ears to listen and talk through. The call was absolutely standard, him needing someone to talk to in his boredom. Usually it wouldn’t bother you, but he was having one of his moments where he didn’t realize he talked about something he really probably shouldn’t have.

He started mentioning how he’d finally gotten used to you not being around. That it was normal now.

You knew why he was telling you. The changes were hard on him as well, to the point where he couldn’t sleep in the house after you moved out and he realized just how lonely it felt with no one there. So he was telling you because he wanted you to know that he was doing better.

But at the same time, when you were still in the process of getting used to not having him around, it hurt to hear. You had been having far more good—or at least better—days than bad ones lately, but you could feel your heart rip a bit as he talked. You tried not to let him hear it in your voice when the tears started. As soon as you could, you ended the conversation, making up some excuse that you couldn’t really recall but it seemed to work well enough for him and he ended the call.

You couldn’t stop the tears from continuously falling, and you felt so stupid for crying in public like that. The street was a more residential one and not very busy so there were few people around, but you felt as though anyone nearby would instantly have their eyes on you and be judging you.

You stopped at a corner to cross the street, looking both ways before starting on your way. Your gaze was glued to the ground, trying to keep your head down as much as you could to try to keep others from seeing how stupid you must have looked.

It all happened so quickly that you had no time to register what was going on. You saw a car approaching out of the corner of your eye, looking up to see it very close and going dangerously fast. And then you felt a tug, someone grabbing your arm and quickly pulling you the rest of the way to the sidewalk, making you stumble in your step.

You felt the wind from the car passing so closely behind you just a second later. The reality of how close you had been to getting flattened suddenly hit you. Still in the grip of this person who had pulled you out of harm’s way, you started shaking from the shock of it.

“Y/n, are you okay?” a very familiar voice asked, just loud enough for you to hear him past the music in your earbuds.

You quickly looked up to see Hoseok standing there, eyes wide as looked over you, seemingly looking for any injuries. When you didn’t respond, he called your name again.

You shakily nodded. “Y-yeah, I’m- I’m okay,” you managed to get out, pulling the devices from your ears to hear better.

“That jackass,” Hoseok mumbled. “He just came speeding out of nowhere. What the heck did he think he was doing?”

Feeling like it was difficult to keep steady, you let yourself lean into Hoseok for support. He instantly responded by wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders and tucking your head into his chest with his other hand.

“It’s okay, Y/n. You’re okay. You didn’t get hurt, you’re okay,” he calmly said, rocking you just slightly in an attempt to help you calm down.

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, until you felt your composure return and straightened up a bit, pulling away from Hoseok’s comfort.

“You feeling alright?” he asked, eyes still filled with concern.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you said. “Thank you for saving me, Hoseok.”

“It’s lucky that I even noticed you across the street earlier,” he said. “I don’t want you to think you did something wrong because you really didn’t, but you should really try to pay more attention when you’re crossing the street.”

“Yeah, I really wasn’t paying attention,” you admitted. “I just- I mean I looked both ways first but I’m just not feeling the best and-”

“It’s okay,” Hoseok said. “You don’t need to explain to me. I can see something is upsetting you. I’m just glad that I was here.”

You nodded, a short silence sitting between you.

“Where are you headed?” Hoseok was the next to speak.

“I’m just going home,” you said.

“Let me walk you?” he asked.

“You don’t have somewhere to be?”

“I was just heading home too. I stayed late at the café because Joon was on a date. So no, I have nowhere to be. Can I walk you home? You still seem a bit shocked.”

You contemplated his offer, still feeling a bit shaken up from what just happened. Plus, after the phone call you just had, you could really use some company. “Okay, yeah I’d appreciate that. Thank you.”

He stepped to the side, waiting for you to start walking in the right direction before falling in step next to you.

“I was just on the phone with my ex,” you blurted out.

Hoseok’s gaze snapped to you, but you continued looking forward. He remained silent, knowing you had more to say.

“You know the boyfriend I’d mention before?” you asked, sure that he’d remember since you talked about him quite a bit. He was such a huge part of your life. “He broke up with me back in December. On the 21st.”

Hoseok was silent for a moment before he softly asked, “You guys were together for quite a while weren’t you?”

You nodded. “January 23rd would have been 6 years.”

“That’s why you moved back here?” he asked. “You two moved in together about a year ago right?”

“Yeah, a year and three months at the time that we broke up. I’m just lucky that I still had this place to come back to,” you said.

“Did he say something to hurt you?” Hoseok asked. “On the phone just now, I mean.”

You shook your head. “Not intentionally. He just doesn’t always realize when something is inappropriate or hurtful to say.” You chuckle. “He was always kind of bad at knowing social queues. He didn’t realize that telling me how it’s gotten easy for him without me around would be hurtful for me to hear.”

Hoseok didn’t know what to say, so he waited to see if you had anything else you wanted to tell him.

“It’s really hard. I had really thought he was it, you know?” you said, a sad smile sitting on your face. “But now that we’re not together, even though it’s been hard and I’m still figuring out how to be my own person by myself again, I’m realizing that maybe this really was for the better. He told me he just felt like I was his really good friend more than anything else now, and he clearly hadn’t wanted to work on things between us so there was no way we could last at that point. I am not feeling hopeful about being able to find someone else quite yet, but if I ever do I hope that they’re someone who can understand me better.

“I was by no means unhappy with him, except the issues we started to have last year that I felt like we could work through at the time. But we had different love languages. I wanted things from him that I more or less had to flat out tell him and he’d try but even then he wasn’t always putting his heart into it because it wasn’t really natural for him. I understood it, it wasn’t a huge thing. Just things like that, that were never a huge deal at all, but I realize that I really hope I can find in someone else, you know?”

Hoseok nodded along, understanding what you meant. He had been with more than one partner who was uncomfortable with how he expressed his feelings as well. While they had been much less understanding and accepting than you seemed to have been with your ex, or that he even had done for you.

“It’s just… It’s so many changes all at once,” you said. “I usually question everything. I expect people to not stick around, and wonder if people really want to be around me. But with him, I never really thought that. When I’d think of our potential future, I always thought ‘when,’ not ‘if.’ But now it’s become ‘never.’ At least with him. And it’s still hard to wrap my head around. But I have been doing a lot better. I remember you saying once before that you don’t like your customers to be unhappy and if you can make them feel at least a little better, you want to try. And honestly, you have been a huge help to me lately.”

Hoseok smiled to himself. “I’m happy to help you, Y/n. I know that I can’t help a whole lot, I understand this is all really hard for you, but I do want to be there for you however I can. I promise that the interactions we have, it’s not just me being a barista who is trying to make his customers happy. I did say that yeah, but it genuinely comes from my heart. When you stopped smiling at the end of the year, I immediately noticed. Ever since then, I remember just thinking a lot that I missed seeing your smile and wanted to try to make you smile again.”

“Well, mission accomplished then,” you chuckled. You were silent for a moment while you turned onto your street. “You know, that first day that you sat with me in the café? That was January 23rd. I was feeling worse that day than the others but you really did help me feel better. I completely forgot about what that day had meant while talking to you. And I know what the hot chocolate meant. I can’t tell you how much I appreciated that. Thank you.”

“You make it sound like I’m not going to keep trying to help,” Hoseok said. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, you know.”

“I wouldn’t want to.” You turned to him, a genuine smile on your face.

He smiled in return. “That’s the Y/n that I’ve wanted to see.”

When you were in front of your house, you stopped, letting Hoseok know you arrived.

“Oh, you live here?” he asked, a little surprised. “Really? This is literally just right down the street from my house.”

“Seriously?” you asked. “Since when?”

“For years. I’ve lived there since before I got the job at the café.”

“How come I never realized you lived that close?”

Hoseok laughed. “I have no idea. But hey, at least we know now, right?”

“Right,” you said. “Well, I don’t want to keep you, even if you do live close by.”

“Can I have your number before I go?” Hoseok asked. When you looked at him with widened eyes, he said, “Only if you want to! I just, I feel like the two of us have gotten pretty close and I’ve been meaning to ask but I just wasn’t sure how to bring it up. I want to be there anytime you need me. If you ever need someone to talk to, I want you to be able to contact me anytime.”

Hoseok’s words warmed you, leaving you speechless for just a moment before you smiled once more. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you the same thing. Yeah, I’d like to give you my phone number.”

Hoseok quickly fumbled to fish his phone from his pocket, unlocking it and handing it to you to enter your number.

“And maybe if you have some time, we could hang out one day?” you asked. “Like, outside of the café. As much as I like it there, I think it’d be nice to be able to chat without you having to worry about attending to customers. Or your nosy coworkers listening into our conversations.”

Hoseok laughed, taking a moment to calm down while you handed his phone back to him. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d really like that.”

You both stood there for a moment, unsure of how to say goodbye. Just as you were turning around to enter your door, Hoseok spoke up once more. “Y/n?”

When you turned back around, you were greeted with a really warm smile.

“I know that it’s hard right now and it’s something that you have to work through on your own,” Hoseok continued. “But try not to think of it as an end. It’s a beginning, a new start. And maybe, it won’t be as hard as you think to find someone who will give you what you’re looking for. I, for one, know someone who would be more than willing to do that for you if you ever let him.”

You felt your heart speed up and cheeks redden at the insinuation.

“But don’t feel pressured,” he continued. “Take your time. Do what you need to heal and when you’re ready, I guarantee he’ll still be here for you. He’s ready to start a new story with you whenever you are, if you want.”

With one last smile, Hoseok waved goodbye and walked up the street. It took you a moment before you gathered yourself and unlocked your door.

He hadn’t said it directly, but you understood what he meant. You couldn’t say that you were ready for anything with someone new right now, but if how you felt around him lately was any indication, you were sure that as long as what he said was true, that he was willing to wait until you were ready, you most certainly would eventually be ready to have that new start with him.

And maybe, just maybe, you put a heart next to his name in your contact list. No one needed to know that though.

Breath of Sunshine is a sequel to this fic.

A/N – This fic is HIGHLY self-indulgent. Last month, on December 21st, my long-time boyfriend had broken up with me. A lot of what Y/n feels in this fic, and what they described about their past relationship are very similar to my own experiences. I’m also uploading this on January 23, 2021, which is rather poetic because, just as in the fic, today would have been my 6th year anniversary with my ex. So yes, this is super self-indulgent and somewhat of a coping mechanism for myself. But I hope that it can be enjoyed by others as well <3.

Also, please don’t feel worried for me or anything. I really do appreciate anyone who offers me support, but I promise that I am doing alright and holding up well. Although I do very much wish it were possible for me to find my own Hobi lol (not right away of course).

Also, if you’d like to donate to my Ko-fi, feel free! Absolutely no pressure though :)

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #jhope x reader #hoseok x reader #jung hoseok x reader #thebtswritersclub #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #hurt/comfort #fluff #angst #oneshot

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reinvent-and-believe · 5 years ago

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another taste of heavenly rush

So this was supposed to be a silly little breathplay PWP drabble as a birthday tribute to the lovely @witchertrashbag but then it kind of...evolved??? Mutated??? lol who knows what happened, I sure as hell don’t. Anyway happy late birthday Wine Aunt, you’re a credit to this fandom, I hope you enjoy this belated smutty mess 🖤

Jaskier is utterly bewitched by the sight of a huge, leather-clad hand on the man’s throat.

He should be paying attention to the words being exchanged, seeing as he started the quarrel that led to the aforementioned hand-on-throat situation. Well. Hadn’t started it, per se, but he had certainly escalated it, and gods know Geralt won’t appreciate that particular nuance.

But the red-faced man currently gasping for breath beneath the witcher’s considerable grip had simultaneously insulted Jaskier’s songwriting and Geralt’s honor in one ill-begotten, unoriginal sentence after Jaskier’s performance in the tavern common room, something about “don’t clap for that little prick’s filth, praising freaks and monsters.” The bard had simply smiled sweetly, taken a sip of his ale, and intimated that the man’s wife was something of an expert on the subject of little pricks.

And then the man tried to hit him with a chair, and Jaskier can hardly be blamed for that, although Geralt will, inevitably. He’d scurried away from the onslaught and called out an only vaguely panicked “Geralt!” which led them here, the ugly sour-breathed man pinned to the tavern wall, his feet twitching desperately for solid ground, held up by one huge, bulky hand.

This little misadventure won’t make it into one of his songs. There’s nothing poetic about a prejudiced drunk man being rude and getting choked for his efforts.

Although...Jaskier’s eyes are drawn again to the sharp contrast of the brown leather of the gauntlets against the greasy pink of the man’s skin. Maybe there is something poetic to choking, after all. Choking, choking out, feeling the life drain from your body by a huge, leather-clad hand. Choking as in choking something else, draining something else from...jerking off, choking as in jerking off, and it’s not his best work but he’s fairly distracted at the moment because the thought of a huge, leather clad hand gripping a swollen, leaking cock has burrowed its way into Jaskier’s mind and fuck, how is he supposed to think about anything else now? Slick red head squeezed a little too hard, beading pearlescent drops disappearing into a supple russet fist that’s a little too coarse, too cold, too dry but feels divine nonetheless…

“Jaskier!”

Fuck.

The innkeep is shouting at them to get out, holding a broom as menacingly as one can hold a broom, and Geralt is glowering at him. “Go, bard! Roach!”

Right. He grabs his lute and flies out the door, the cool night air a shock on his overheated skin. He sprints to the stables and sets to work quickly tacking up the mare as he coos at her soothingly. “Deepest apologies, my dear lady, but it seems our plans for the evening have been altered somewhat.”

He’s leading her out and back toward the tavern when the door flies open, Geralt charging out. He fixes Jaskier with an exasperated glare and snatches the reins from him. “Dammit, Jaskier,” he mutters, swinging into the saddle. “If your cock doesn’t get us both killed, your mouth will.”

And if Jaskier’s arousal had flagged in the process of fleeing and fetching their escape horse, all it takes is a reference to cocks and mouths in close proximity to bring it roaring back to life as Geralt drags him up behind him and spurs Roach into a gallop out of the village.

It’s new, this thing with Geralt.

He’d met the witcher just over two years ago, back in Posada. They’d travelled together and parted near half a dozen times since, but this current sprint is by far their longest together, going on four months. They’ve fallen into a routine, found ways of traveling that make both their paths smoother. Jaskier’s songs are more lucrative when he can theatrically proclaim that their hero, his muse, the town’s savior is in their very midst; Geralt’s presence protects him from beasts and monsters and bandits and keeps him fed on fresh game between towns when they make their camps beneath the stars. And though Geralt’s never mentioned it, he can tell he’s come to appreciate Jaskier’s contributions, too: he sets up camp and builds a fire while Geralt hunts when they stay in the country, procures rooms with less humiliation and rarer downright refusals from rude innkeeps and for significantly less coin when they stay in the village. Noticing Jaskier’s penchant for picking wildflowers on the roadside, Geralt’s even started teaching him the herbs, flowers and berries he needs for his potions.

Traveling together does have its drawbacks, of course, particularly Geralt’s reticence to stay within the confines of civilization. He’s perfectly content to go weeks without sleeping in an inn if the town doesn’t have any contracts available, wont to ride away from perfectly good villages where Jaskier would be able to find perfectly good lovers.

This came to a head a few weeks ago. Jaskier tried to settle on the lumpy ground for the night, tried to ignore that prickling restlessness beneath his skin, but he couldn’t will it away, couldn’t force himself into a fitful sleep like he had the past several nights. He tossed again, unable to stifle a sigh, when the witcher rolled onto his side to glare at him.

“Would you stop your fussing?”

“Fussing? I’m not fussing, Geralt, I can’t sleep.”

“Can’t you not sleep quietly?”

He snorted. “What a very stupid question. Weren’t you just saying yesterday that I don’t even think quietly?” Tired and frustrated and horny as all hell, Jaskier opted for the truth. Watching Geralt get that uncomfortable, vaguely constipated look he got when Jaskier talked about sex always provided an amusing distraction, at least. He sighed melodramatically, adopting a most put-upon voice. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve indulged in the wondrous carnalities of a companion, Geralt?”

“Don’t really care.”

“Ages, Geralt, it’s been ages. At least a week. Some may bear the cruelties of celibacy with stoic fortitude, my dear witcher, but alas, some of us simply are not so equipped. We really should stop in the next village. It’d do us both a world of good to sleep in a bed, particularly one that’s warm, if you get my drift.”

The witcher looked at him with that inscrutable expression. “Plenty of chances for you to get your dick wet once we reach Gors Velen.”

Jaskier darted up, horrified, all pretensions forgotten. “Gors Velen?” he whined. “You said yourself we’re still a month away from Gors Velen!”

Geralt shrugged. “You’ve got a hand.” With that, he turned his back to Jaskier.

And well. It had been Geralt’s suggestion, after all, and Jaskier may have many attributes to his credit and otherwise but shyness has never been counted among them. And if perhaps he put on a bit of a show, fucking up into his hand with a little more bitten-lip moaning, a little more breathless panting than was strictly necessary, well, it served Geralt right for brushing off his perfectly legitimate concerns so rudely. And if he came particularly hard with a surprised gasp that was all too genuine when he shot a glance at his companion and saw the witcher facing him again, perfectly still, with an intent, impenetrable expression that Jaskier thought looked almost intrigued, well, that served Geralt right, too.

And that’s how this thing with Geralt started.

The next night, Jaskier made no such fuss when he laid down atop his bedroll, brazenly pulling his cock from his smallclothes and stroking himself languidly as he met that golden stare with something akin to a challenge. “You too?” he asked, breathless, and moaned as he watched Geralt’s hand drift down to palm himself through the rough cotton.

A few nights later Jaskier laid out their bedrolls side by side, not touching but nearly. “It’s not quite fair, is it,” he explained, rolling his balls indulgently with one hand as he set a lazy pace with the other. “You with your extraordinary superhuman witchery senses, you get to hear every little noise I make, see every little expression on my devilishly handsome face from all the way across the fire. Seems like we ought to level the playing field, as it were.”

“Don’t need witcher senses to hear you,” Geralt groused, but the corner of his lip crooked in what could only be the hint of a grin as he settled in beside him without protest, taking himself in hand and echoing Jaskier’s tempo.

(Geralt can maintain his blank expression fairly well while getting off, Jaskier knows now, but he’s slightly less guarded when it comes to sound, to the noises too soft and unintentional to be noticed without such proximity. The little hitch when he twists his wrist just so at the head; the low rumbling of a moan in his chest that never reaches his lips when he’s close, so close; the voiceless exhale when he comes that sometimes, when it’s really good, sounds as though it’s been punched out of him; the abortive, shuddering breaths as his strokes turn into the gentlest trailing of the fingertips down his shaft just past the point of oversensitivity, prolonging that sweet touch until it can no longer be endured.)

The next night, well. A hand’s a hand, and there’s not so very much difference between wanking and assisting your very best friend in the whole wide world wanking, really.

And that’s what this is. Jaskier has no grandiose romantic notions, not about this, not really. It’s not about the passionate heat of bodies entwined, it’s just hands and cocks to aid with sleep and that’s all it has to be. This thing with Geralt is about getting off, not about sex, and he’s not entirely sure he understands this arbitrary boundary he’s constructed but the distinction feels crucial nevertheless. It’s a matter of convenience, not lust. Jaskier is content with this arrangement. It’s more than he ever hoped to experience with his lovely, taciturn friend, and that’s enough. He can enjoy these encounters with Geralt without needing them, without craving something more, without deluding himself into thinking they’re...something else. Paramours. Lovers.

Anyway, this was all going swimmingly until Geralt throttled a man on his behalf and it was the most arousing thing he’d ever witnessed. Now Jaskier is pressed up against him on a horse riding from a town in which they are no longer welcome with what has got to be the most obnoxiously persistent erection of his life because he can’t stop imagining those hands around his throat.

“Whoa, Roach.” Jaskier feels the witcher’s body tense against him as he pulls on the reins, halting as they approach a small copse of trees. “This’ll do.” He dismounts gracefully and Jaskier scrambles behind.

He’d assumed that Geralt would be furious that they’d finally stopped at an inn only for Jaskier’s uncanny ability to find himself in trouble got them ousted, but he doesn’t seem furious as they set up the campsite. Not that he says anything, of course, and not that he would say anything if he were furious, but Jaskier has grown rather accustomed to reading Geralt’s silences. This particular silence doesn’t seem to be perturbed in any way. If anything, it almost seems amused. Surely he’s misreading something.

He’s just finished situating the bedrolls when he turns around and nearly slams into Geralt. “Bloody hell Geralt, are you trying to...oh.”

Geralt unceremoniously tugs the bow fastening Jaskier’s trousers loose, reaching into them and immediately setting to work with a sure, steady hand.

“...oh, you’re trying to...that.” He closes his eyes at the sensation.

Geralt’s hand stills, gripping him lightly. “Will I get some rest if we don’t?” His face remains impassive as ever, but there’s something in his grumble that Jaskier could almost swear sounds teasing, fond. “Rather deal with you now than listen to you toss about and whine for an hour pretending you’re trying to sleep.”

And Jaskier could protest because honestly, he hasn’t since that first night, but he allows it, lets Geralt have his excuse because something’s different tonight. They never touch until they’ve undressed and settled into their bedrolls for the night. It’s just a part of the routine.

Nothing about this feels routine.

He lets out a laugh that’s a bit higher than he intends as Geralt resumes fisting his cock. “My, my, someone’s eager tonight,” he breathes, and all right, he may have no room to talk, but Geralt initiating this is beyond uncharacteristic.

A hum resonates deep in his chest. “Felt you rubbing up on me since we left town. You’re not subtle, bard.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not…subtle? Fuck.”

The witcher rolls his eyes. “Smelled you before that,” and honestly, fuck Geralt for wanting to have a conversation all of a sudden now that Jaskier’s completely incapable of it, “back in the tavern. What was it?” Geralt is shifting them, guiding him carefully, his hand never losing its rhythm, until Jaskier feels the trunk of a sturdy oak at his back. “What got you so hard in the middle of a bar fight?”

A knee slips casually between his legs, and the hard line of Geralt’s still-clothed cock presses against his hip, rutting ever so gently. “Gods, Geralt.” It comes out a whine, and Jaskier’s sure he’ll hate himself later for how easily he’s undone but now there’s just contact, so much touch all over and hot breath against his neck and he lets his eyes flutter closed, lets himself feel.

“Did you actually fuck that man’s wife earlier? While I was at the armourer’s, maybe? Did she leave you with some good memories?”

It takes a second for Jaskier to catch up to the question with Geralt’s hard body leaned against him, a delightful weight. Right. Man in the bar. Implied he’d cuckolded him, that’s what determined the course of this whole bizarre evening.

“Or was it the barmaid? Was she what distracted you in the middle of that scene you caused?” Geralt sounds perfectly unaffected, somehow, that mild, ribbing tone he uses when he pretends to scoff at Jaskier’s antics. “The redhead. The one whose bed you hoped to be in tonight.”

And he’s right, of all the people in the crowded tavern she’d been the one who caught his eye, the one he’d be planning to direct his next song to. Of course Geralt had noticed. Geralt knows what Jaskier wants. Knows what he needs.

And that’s...that’s what this is, that’s what he’s doing. Jaskier had planned to find a lover for the evening, planned to slip into a blissful haze of fucking where he doesn’t have to concentrate on keeping this unwelcome longing at bay and even though it’s Jaskier’s own fault that opportunity slipped through his fingers, Geralt wants to give him some semblance of that release. It’s why he’s talking, why he’s bringing up these women he assumes drove Jaskier to distraction.

And with Geralt’s breath on his skin and hand on his cock and body leaned so heavily against his, Jaskier wants to give him an answer. Wants to give him everything there is.

What got you so hard in the middle of a bar fight?

Jaskier grasps the hand not stroking his cock and brings it to his throat.

The world stops.

His eyes fly open to meet Geralt’s, and he knows he’s made a mistake. The witcher withdraws quickly, stepping away, turning his back.

“Fuck, Geralt, no, I’m—”

“Stop.” Geralt doesn’t face him, but he’s not leaving, at least. “Don’t.”

Jaskier leans back against the tree, trying to catch his breath. He scrubs his hand over his face. Leave it to Jaskier to fuck up something this divine.

He watches those broad shoulders lower, his breathing even out, but the tension is still written in every line of his body. Geralt stands silent for a moment before he quietly asks, “That’s what...at the tavern?”

Wretched, Jaskier nods, but of course Geralt can’t see that, so he stammers out, “Ah, yes. It seems so.”

When he speaks again, his voice remains carefully flat. “You were afraid of me?”

“What?”

“Were you afraid of me? Back at the tavern.” He considers, then adds, “Or now?”

“Geralt, no,” and maybe he shouldn’t, maybe he should give him space, but Jaskier pushes away from the tree, scurrying over to him and clutching his shoulders frantically. “No, listen to me, Geralt, I’m a horny idiot, that’s the thing, it was just...I don’t know, it was sexy! It was sexy, seeing you manhandle him, imagining if you manhandled me, maybe, with your gloves and your hands and your muscles, I don’t know, it was just a fantasy, I suppose, it just happened, but certainly not because I was scared you’d hurt me.” An ugly, desperate laugh rises from his throat unbidden. “If anything it’s because I know you wouldn’t, Geralt, I know you’d keep me safe.”

The witcher looks past him, but Jaskier sees the tension in his jaw release, sees his chest move a little more freely with his breath. After a moment, Geralt nods. “Thought perhaps I’d misread this.” It’s low, almost too low to hear.

“I want you,” Jaskier blurts out, and he should stop talking, he really means to stop talking, “I want you. Quite a lot. The rough, ah, the choking thing, that’s all just...I don’t need that. Don’t want anything you don’t want.”

It’s all a little too raw, a little too genuine, and Jaskier realizes with a sudden sinking feeling that this may actually be worse than his initial blunder, that an unexpected predilection for rough sex is one thing but voicing that longing he’s worked so hard to keep sectioned away is something else entirely.

He’s about to apologize when he hears the low hum.

Geralt is studying him, head tilted to one side. There’s nothing on his face to indicate disgust or excitement, no rejection or acceptance; just those golden eyes meticulously examining him, just like they had that first night. Curious. Intrigued.

Fuck. Jaskier doesn’t need a hand on his throat to make it hard to breathe.

“No gloves.”

“Sorry, what?”

Rough fingertips map his throat lightly, not pressing, not caressing, just exploring. Jaskier recognizes this look, it’s the same studious evaluation he’d seen Geralt give that nekker corpse yesterday before he began harvesting organs from it and that should definitely kill the mood here but it doesn’t. He pauses, wide finger resting over a thunderous artery. “They’re too thick. Wouldn’t be able to feel if it’s too much.”

“Right,” Jaskier rasps out. “Right, yeah, good. No gloves is good.” And if the image of being thrown about like a ragdoll and forced against a wall had seemed erotic, it somehow doesn’t compare to the overwhelming potency of these careful, analytical touches with Geralt monitoring his breath, his heartbeat, his face.

“Do you still want to try?” It’s a low rumble, but Geralt’s eyes are boring into him and all Jaskier can do is nod aggressively, grabbing Geralt’s hand and pulling him back until he’s leaned against the tree again, pausing only to fling off his open doublet.

Geralt shakes his head, quickly disciplining the little entertained smile that flits across his features but not before Jaskier sees it. It sends a reckless, euphoric thrill through his whole body. “Ah Geralt, admit it, you think I’m endearing,” he grins, striking a dramatic pose against the tree.

“You’re a nuisance,” he snorts, but he snakes his hand down the front of the bard’s trousers again, stroking him with just enough pressure to coax him back to hardness.

Jaskier rocks gently into his fist, a small contented sigh morphing into something much more ragged when he feels that solid hand back on his throat.

“Tap my arm if you want to stop.”

Jaskier nods, delighting in the way his flesh shifts under Geralt’s hand at the motion. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, the fingers tighten. “Good?”

“Good.”

“More?”

“Please,” and it’s a whine but he doesn’t care. His eyes drift shut. It feels like the pounding pulse is flowing straight from his throat into Geralt’s hand, or maybe the other way around, it doesn’t matter when all he wants is to lose himself in this swelling, living tattoo.

The pressure lets up and there’s a rush, a bright heady flood of exhilaration and he can feel every cell tingling in his body as his lungs work overtime to compensate and he can’t help thrusting forward faster into the tight fist on his cock.

Geralt’s other hand stays in place, loosely cupping his throat, idly stroking the skin. “Eyes open,” he murmurs, nuzzling into the crook of Jaskier’s neck for just a moment, breathing him in, his own breath labored. When he pulls back he looks a little wrecked. “Eyes on me, yeah?”

Jaskier nods, leaning into both warm hands a little desperately. “More?”

Geralt groans as he applies careful, steady pressure.

It’s good. There’s something soothing about the gentle acceleration of that drumming, far-off and immediate at the same time, the only sound that exists here. Peaceful. Floaty, almost. He wonders vaguely if this is what Geralt feels when he meditates.

“Jaskier.” The voice cuts through the haze, low but firm, the softest command. He focuses on Geralt, that unwavering gaze fixed on him. “Stay with me.”

Where else would he want to be?

And he’s still floating but somehow those golden eyes are a tether, not grounding him entirely but keeping him from drifting away. And when the tension releases and the tidal wave of elation sweeps through him again it’s met with chapped lips on his throat and fingers scratching through the hair at the nape of his neck and a steadying weight against him, and when the dizziness settles and he rests against the reassuring stability of the oak behind him, then there’s shifting, moving, the harsh grinding voice asking a question Jaskier can’t make out but understands anyway, golden eyes full of that question staring up at him and Jaskier answers by threading his fingers through pale locks shining silver in the moonlight and the warm, strong hand stroking him is replaced with the soft heat of Geralt’s mouth.

He won’t last much longer, not with the way Geralt’s thick fingers grip him, digging into the meat of his ass, with the way he chokes a little taking Jaskier all the way down but keeps pulling him in, deeper, and it’s wet and messy and a little too divine.

“Fuck, Geralt, I…” he gasps, the closest to a warning he can formulate, but the witcher’s staring up at him through dark lashes and sucking him down harder and Jaskier surrenders, coming with a keening cry.

Geralt diligently works him through it, swallowing and dissolving into desperate noises around Jaskier as he feverishly strips his own cock. He releases Jaskier and buries his head in the crook of the bard’s hip, shoulders heaving harshly. Jaskier pets him soothingly, long fingers massaging his scalp tenderly through the broken moan, the shuddering aftershocks, the shallow breaths slowly evening out.

They stay that way for a few endless moments, neither willing to break the trance, the intimacy. Jaskier barely notices gentle fingers unlacing his boots, pulling off one then the other. Geralt deftly tucks the bard’s softening cock back into his smallclothes before carefully pulling off his trousers and folding them neatly. He stands slowly, guiding Jaskier to his bedroll and settling him there, crouching beside him moments later with a waterskin he presses to Jaskier’s lips.

“Best take care, witcher,” Jaskier teases softly, “a man could get used to such treatment.”

“Don’t,” Geralt grunts, but there’s no heat to it. He thoroughly inspects Jaskier’s neck, tilting his head one way then the other with two light fingers on his jaw. “Pain anywhere?”

“No pain.”

“Good.” Apparently satisfied, Geralt stands, undressing methodically and lying in his own bedroll. After a few moments of silence, he adds, “Wake me if anything hurts. Or if you have trouble breathing.”

Jaskier huffs a laugh, turning on his side to fix his companion with a rueful smile. “Geralt, have you ever known me to suffer in silence?” Those inscrutable eyes hold him, searching, so Jaskier reaches a tentative hand to his jaw. “Thank you. For your...indulgence.” There’s an entirely different tightness in his throat, suddenly. “For taking such good care of me.”

For a moment, Jaskier thinks Geralt may answer as he watches something unguarded yet still utterly indecipherable flit across the witcher’s scarred, handsome face. When he speaks, there’s something soothing in the low rumble. “Get some sleep, bard.”

And he does.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fic #breathplay cw #choking cw #choking during sex cw #this is just self-indulgent smutty softness i'm so sorry #my fic

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murasaki-murasame · 3 years ago

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Thoughts on Higurashi Sotsu Ep14

Do you ever wanna just watch two little girls who are actually 100+ year old witches beat the absolute SHIT out of each other for 20 minutes straight? :)

Anyway, thoughts under the cut. Plus Umineko spoilers.

Part of this might just be because I’ve been high on painkillers for a few weeks now [long story short, I’ve got a lot of dental work that needs done], but this is perhaps the most entertaining episode of anime I’ve seen all year, lol. Not even in a jokey ironic ‘so bad it’s good’ way.

I feel like this is going to be the most polarizing episode of this whole show, because for better or worse it really crosses the line between Higurashi and Umineko, so whether or not you’re a fan of that whole trajectory the story’s been taking will really change how you feel about this.

Though to be honest I think on one level people are ignoring how Higurashi has always had a lot of these things in it. For one thing, the concept of the fragment space and ‘game boards’ has been a thing since Minagoroshi, and we’ve always had stuff like Hanyuu being a literal god who can manifest in the real world, and the existence of the mythical sword was hinted at in Matsuribayashi and then expanded upon in Kotohogushi. This episode also directly referenced the over the top rooftop fight scene from Tsumihoroboshi, which was just the start of Higurashi having lots of fun and silly fight scenes, like the fights between the club members and the military in Matsuribayashi, or the whole fighting game spin-off arc thing. Even in the VN there was an intentional shift from horror and mystery to high-octane fight scenes fueled by the power of friendship and miracles.

Obviously on the other hand there’s definite Umineko stuff going on here, but in general this feels like a pretty natural progression for this series to take.

Anyway, this was absolutely worth the wait, and it goes a long way toward making up for how bad the pacing in Sotsu has been thus far, lol. I still think they could have cut this down by at least two or three episodes, but still. As a climax to this whole conflict between Rika and Satoko, it was really cool.

Sort of like how Nekodamashi had it’s rollercoaster death montage, I really loved how this whole episode transitioned between fragments in increasingly seamless and surreal ways. The use of transition cuts between scenes was honestly really cool, and made it way more dynamic and engaging than it otherwise would have been to basically have an entire episode spent on one fight scene.

I think a lot of people are hung up on the exact logistics of how the fragment-hopping worked in this episode, but I don’t really think you should read into it too much. It basically operated on dream logic and heightened emotions. In the first few fragments Satoko might have waited a bit before attacking Rika, but it very quickly became one continuous sequence of events for all intents and purposes, with how their back and forth dialogue and their exact movements transitioned from one fragment to the next.

Basically it ended up becoming a fight between voyager witches who have become totally divorced from reality and just hop from one fragment to the next whenever they please.

I was wondering how they’d follow up on the gun scene, since it created this stalemate where they both know what’s going on and thus have no reason to surrender, but I really like how they decided to take this. I know a lot of people have been wanting more of a drawn out battle of wits between them, but the whole concept of them just getting into an endless fight with each other now that everything’s out in the open is extremely entertaining to watch.

It does make me even more convinced that it was a bad idea to have Nekodamashi happen in Gou, though. The immediate resolution to the cliffhanger was more anti-climactic than most people would have wanted after so much time spent leading back up to it, and the whole tone and pacing of Nekodamashi would have flowed very seamlessly into this. It also would have fixed the issue of the last two episodes being almost entirely recaps if this was instead the first time that we saw the Nekodamashi loops.

Anyway, there’s been a lot of debate about whether or not we might get a third season or some other kind of continuation to this, and I think this episode makes me way more convinced that it’s actually just going to end here, whether people like it or not. I think I’ve already said that there’s literally nothing the story needs to do anymore except have Rika and Satoko hash things out with each other, and that’s exactly what they’re focusing on now. Maybe they could spend time recapping Satokowashi, but that’d be extremely pointless. And at this point it’s pretty clear that one way or another the other club members just aren’t going to be very important to this story. There’s a bit of a loose end with their teenage selves showing up in the OP with new outfits, but that might be as simple as an epilogue scene set back in the Matsuribayashi fragment or something, and them looking ominous might be a red herring.

Also, in a more meta sense, there’s certain stuff the staff are doing and saying that make this seem like the finale of the whole series, like how in a couple months they’re going to release a congratulatory book compiling all the official artwork and interviews for Gou/Sotsu, or how they recently released a compilation CD of all of Ayane’s Higurashi-related songs, or how [I think] the artist for the Gou manga said on Twitter that the new chapter that just came out will be the last one to come out while the anime’s airing. We’re also getting two new Higurashi manga arcs starting soon, along with the reveal that the Gou manga will diverge from the anime and go into a new answer arc called Higurashi Jun.

So in general it just comes across like everything’s being wrapped up with Sotsu. I can see why people would be disappointed if we don’t get more, but with how the story’s been going, there’s just not really much material left to work with. Also, we know from TV listings that there at least won’t be a direct continuation in the next season, so if we get anything more it wouldn’t happen until January at earliest, and at this point I’d rather things just wrap up here instead of having to wait even longer to get the actual ending, lol.

I guess we won’t know how things will end until next week, but we really seem to be barrelling headfirst into this being Bern and Lambda’s origin story. Which has been pretty obvious for ages now, but this episode in particular really cements it. This whole fight is really similar to the one they have in Episode 8, and you can see throughout the episode how they’re embracing their looper/witch personas and becoming divorced from reality. You can even see the foundation for how Bern and Lambda have a twisted love for each other based on the fact that they’re basically the only people who can actually understand each other, and they’re so detached from reality that the violence between them is more like a sign of affection.

I feel like this is also going to end up tying into the miracle that Hanyuu is waiting for. At the moment we’re in a situation where it seems like they’re stuck in an infinite stalemate because they’re in a fight where neither of them wants to lose, but neither of them wants to win if it means permanently killing the other. So it seems like there might not really be any way out of this, but if they’re able to truly forgive each other and embrace their identities as witches, then they can basically step away from this entire conflict and just enjoy being with each other. It seems impossible for this to end with either of them ‘winning’ and things going back to how they used to be, so it could certainly be called a miracle if they both decide that they’re OK with that, and they take a third option where they can both be happy in a way that neither of them would have predicted at first.

This could also lead to a situation where Rika is able to ascend to a higher level by letting go of her human side once and for all, which could give her the ability to appear in the part of the fragment space where Eua and Hanyuu are, so she can save Hanyuu from getting killed by Eua’s spear.

And on that note, the whole bit with Hanyuu at the end actually reminds me a lot of the idea of logic errors in Umineko. I think people kinda over-use that term when it comes to stuff in this series where it doesn’t really fit, but that scene was actually extremely similar to the whole set-up where Battler got stuck in a locked room that he couldn’t come up with an answer to get out of, and he had to wait for the ‘miracle’ of Beatrice awakening so that Kanon could arrive and save him. Hanyuu is in a position where she’s already committed to flying straight at Eua, but the spear is right in front of her face and about to kill her once time starts again, and she has to wait for a ‘miracle’ to happen to change her fate. Which is also a lot like how in Matsuribayashi she almost got shot by Takano, but a miracle happened and Rika was able to divert the bullet. So it’d make a lot of sense in general if in the next episode we see Rika show up there and save Hanyuu.

And considering how Featherine acts in Umineko, I could honestly see Eua sticking to her word and rewarding Hanyuu if a miracle like that actually happens and saves her. So even if it’s anti-climactic, this might end with Eua accepting her loss and backing off, and maybe not even doing anything to punish Satoko for losing in her fight against Rika. Which is part of why I think the whole lingering threat of the ‘world without Rika’ might not even lead to anything and might just be a vague threat towards Satoko that never materializes.

Other than that, I think the last episode will probably also involve us going back to Matsuribayashi and seeing what sort of ending Rika and Satoko’s ‘human selves’ get once their ‘witch selves’ leave them behind once and for all. Which will probably just be along the lines of Rika going to the Saiguden to check up on Satoko, and them heading over to the cafe where the other club members [and probably Satoshi as well] are waiting for them, and it’ll just end on the note of them presumably working things out between each other peacefully.

Along those same lines, I think that the whole story of Gou/Sotsu will also get somewhat recontextualized as being a sort of deranged power fantasy that Satoko came up with in her head while visiting the Saiguden. I don’t think that’d be intended to devalue anything that happened here, but it’d be like how Umineko presents enough narrative framework for a non-magical interpretation of everything, while at the same time still acknowledging the value of the magical interpretation.

While I remember, I’m curious to see how the manga version turns out, since it’s clearly diverging a fair bit from the anime. It might just be an alternate take on the story concept, but at this point I think it might be presented as an ‘earlier loop’ of Gou/Sotsu, with how it’s been implied that Eua and Satoko have met before without Satoko remembering it. So maybe this whole series of events has repeated over and over again, presumably with Satoko ‘losing’ each time so things get reset, and Gou/Sotsu is the final iteration of that loop where they’re finally able to achieve a miracle.

I feel like the manga version is probably gonna end up being closer to what people wanted out of Sotsu, since it seems to be going in the direction of Rika knowing everything without Satoko knowing that, so they can have more of a drawn out conflict between each other as Rika tries to figure out how to win. Which is one way to take the story, but I still like how the anime ended up doing it, even if it could have been paced a lot better. I also think that the manga isn’t exactly a straight improvement over the anime anyway. There’s stuff it does well, but there’s stuff it doesn’t do well, like how the whole Nekodamashi arc feels extremely weird in the context of Rika not remembering her deaths [or at least not being given a clear reason for why she can suddenly remember them], her not deciding to go for five more loops before killing herself, and Satoko apparently not having any idea about Rika remembering her deaths, which seems to defeat the point of Nekodamashi’s rapid-fire death loops.

Either way I’m curious to see how Jun goes. I assume that we’ll still get some version of Satokowashi out of it, but I think that unlike with Sotsu they’ll spend much less time on answering the damashi arcs, and I also think at this point that the answers to them won’t be exactly the same as they were in the anime either.

Also, we recently found out that two entirely new Higurashi manga arcs will start in November, called Oniokoshi and Hoshiwatashi, which seem to be collectively referred to as Higurashi Rei, using the kanji from ‘the Reiwa era’, since it seems like the idea of these new arcs is that they take place in the Reiwa era. Oniokoshi seems to be about Keiichi’s son and a new mysterious character, while Hoshiwatashi seems to be about two entirely new characters, so I’m really curious to see how their stories pan out. I’m particularly excited about Oniokoshi since it’s being drawn by Natsumi Kei, who’s basically the primary artist for the Umineko manga, so that kinda makes me biased towards it, lol. And even though there’s basically nothing to go off of except for one preview image, it looks like it might go in a bit of a gay direction, which would be really neat. But we’ll see how it goes.

So yeah, I guess at this point with where things are going I’m gonna be really disappointed if we don’t get something like an Umineko remake after this, lol. It wouldn’t be very satisfying if it just ends on the note of ‘go and read the Umineko VN’ or something.

#murasaki rambles #higurashi #higurashi sotsu

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daisiesforlacey · 4 years ago

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The Costuming and Coloring of JATP : Part 1 - Julie Molina

I’ve seen so many of these posts and I wanted to make my own! I love costuming and color theory in film and I thought I’d do my own take on jatp! Please keep in mind that I am by no means an expert and this is only my thoughts, and feel free to add your own interpretations and thoughts :)

Heads up this is a super long post (I won’t be coving all of Julie’s outfits, only the ones that have significant meaning)

And none of this could have been possible without Soyon An, the costume designer of jatp! All referenced quotes and information for her can be found here, here, and here

One of the main difficulties of costume design is having the clothing fit the period, tone of the piece, and the character. The characters have to wear the clothes, not the other way around. Who is this person? What are their conflicts? How do they look at the world? What do they value? How do they grow? Just some examples of what good costume designers ask.

They can also be used as a subtle tool to show who each character is; how we dress is a reflection of ourselves.

JULIE MOLINA:

Ok so we all know she is an absolute queen with AMAZING fits, even from the start of the show! I’m going to go chronologically, just to make it easier on all of us!

Julie starts off the series in a baggy yellow sweatshirt over her blue and white shirt, her painted jeans, fluffy slippers, and a set of necklaces! (Actually we first see her at school, where she wearing a flannel instead of the sweatshirt, but the same concepts apply) This already gives us A TON of information on her!!

Her necklaces include a Virgin Mary pendant, a nod to her heritage and religion and one of her own name, which we can assume is a gift from someone special to her

She puts on the sweatshirt after she gets home and bombed playing in front of her class. Idk about you, but I always want to wear sweatshirts and comfy clothes whenever I feel down, so I infer that that is what Julie is doing!

There is also something to be said about the visual irony between bright yellow smiley face on the front and Julie’s own grieving

(Also can I just say that I love that Julie is allowed to be a teen and wear silly slippers because their comfortable clothes. I am so tried of teenagers being over sexualized and as a brown girl myself, it’s wonderful to see these multidimensional non white characters!)

Her own painted jeans, (also pretty baggy) and sneakers as said by Soyon An, are painted by Julie! (We also see her creativity later when drawing a cupcake on her mic for Luke’s bday, but that’s another post)

Her creativity seems to have no bounds, and it’s obvious that from the start that this is how she expresses herself!

If you want to get really analytical, one could say that the bright yellow covering up her blue collar could show how Julie herself is trying to cover up her own sadness

The blue and yellow also come up in another scene of hers with Luke, but that is another post entirely

JUST FROM HER CLOTHES ALONE WE, THE VIEWERS, ALREADY SUBCONCIOUSLY KNOW SOOOO MUCH ABOUT JULIE:

She’s most likely Catholic and cherishes her religion and family

She’s not feeling too confident in herself

She’s crazy creative and talented

She’s trying to mask some sort of sadness

ISN’T THAT INSANE??? A TELL TALE SIGN OF A GOOD COSTUMER!

Julie then moves to plaid pants and a cropped lavender blouse (Which I absolutely adore!!!)

She has just met the boys, and Luke gave her that little pep talk in front of the studio and is now wearing form fitting clothes!

DON’T TWIST THIS: She’s wearing these clothes because she now feels more confident in herself and is ready to sit down and play Wake Up

Julie is wearing more subdued colors; the focus isn’t on her outfit, that’s not where the color is. The color is lighting Julie from behind. The focus of the moment is Julie and her music.

You’ll also notice the lighting behind her shifts from the cold early morning, to the sun rising behind her, again, very poetic. The sun is literally rising on Julie and it is a new dawn for her, and the start of the show itself

Not to mention Wake Up which is literally about moving forward and... waking up lol

This is maybe one of my favorite performance outfits of her! (Who am I kidding, all of them are my favorite)

Julie is wearing a camo jumpsuit with patches and her signature sneakers

The patches, once again, show us that Julie is creative in many ways along with her shoes

I love that all of her outfits seem like the average person could make them and wear them. Yet, these characters are still teenagers and are discovering their own personal style, which can be sort of outlandish. It really works to ground the show in reality with all of the kooky happenings

Julie is once again wearing her necklaces, and we can infer that she wears them all of the time

In this outfit (with an added Double Trouble tshirt underneath), she also sings Flying Solo. The jumpsuit is a reflection of her friendships with the guys and Flynn!

And this outfit with Bright??? Chefs kiss. This is the subtle characterization I live for!

Julie’s actress, Madison Reyes’, mother is in the armed forces. She and Soyon wanted an outfit to pay homage to her, and I think the camo works perfectly

By this time we already have a good grasp on who Julie is

Julie is wearing a neon blue leotard, silver white pants, fishnets, her drawn on white sneakers and a rainbow chunky sequin cloak. She also find a drum major’s cape from the music room. She has her hair in the same cornrowed way as she does in Stand Tall, with pink, red, and blue ribbons.

While I may be jumping the gun this early in the post, I love this detail. This is her fantasy which ends up coming true in the final number and that is just beautiful

Julie’s fantasy outfit in I Got the Music is so extra and wonderful

This is Julie’s idealized self; it is bright and unapologetic and you can’t help but notice her. The outfit is purposefully outlandish and completely unrealistic

This is the first thing that clues you in that this is a fantasy; she does a quick change from her previous outfit. You can also see that her trio of necklaces aren’t there.

She keeps some elements from her actual school outfit, the pants and presumably the leotard, they just get an upgrade

Ok now onto the breakdown:

These are her school colors

This is the first time we see Julie in blue since the first episode. So far, we have seen her in muted tones. This time the blue is vibrant. This signals to the viewers that she is not hiding anymore and has almost reclaimed the color

Soyon specifically said she wanted a hood for Julie such as the Virgin Mary is traditionally depicted with a head covering

Julie is wearing her school colors loud and proud with a cropped LFHS reddish hoodie, underneath is a bright blue leotard, a blue belt, and white distressed jeans and fishnets

Julie is now fully in her element and has formed a band with the boys!!! Woohoo!

If you recall, in this episode, Julie also interacts the most with Carrie and Nick up until now; the two characters rooted in her school life.

Most everything I said in the previous section is here too, just a little toned down.

One thing that I see in this outfit is that she’s wearing a little bit of the boys’ themes; Luke’s blue, Reggie’s red, and Alex’s denim and grey.

This is also the day that she gets into the conflict with the boys, they go to Bobby’s to get revenge, lie to her, and bail on the dance. I see this as them becoming closer and then falling farther apart.

Julie is also wearing fishnets and socks, which mirrors Dirty Candi’s performance of Wow. This is a wonderful detail to show that the two aren’t so different after all.

I love this outfit and I will forever be mad that we never got to see her perform in it

Julie is wearing her mothers mesh tie dye top, a black tank top, and loose black striped pants

THIS IS SUPER IMPORTANT: This is the first time we see her wear her mother’s clothes, a physical representation of her coming to terms with her mother’s death!!!

This is also when Flynn comes up with Julie and the Phantoms, another big milestone. This is when they were supposed to make a mark on her school

(Ofc we all know this is when the boys bail...)

The next day, Julie is wearing a powder blue floral dress, sneakers, with a white t shirt and a cream colored cropped fluffy jacket (this is most aligned with my aesthetic)

Again, this shows that she is experimental with her clothes

It is also worth noting that Soyon does a good job with establishing that she is a sneaker head, I mean have you seen her kicks????

Now is a good time to talk about character colors: good media will establish a color per character. This helps viewers easily distinguish who they are and how they connect to others. Characters may wear these colors a lot or have significant moments in these colors

The colors also have their own meanings which apply (we’ll look more into this in the Stand Tall dress)

Luke is blue, Julie is purple (as we will see later on), Alex is pink, and Reggie is Red

When characters wear another character’s color it signals to us that they will be having a ‘moment’ with the other character (getting along after fighting, learning something new, etc.)

Alternatively, if a character is wearing colors opposite to another, you know they will clash

In this episode, Julie goes to Luke’s house and learns more about him and Emily AND SHES’S WEARING HIS BLUE!!! BIG MOMENT!!!

ONCE YOU NOTICE COLOR IN FILM, YOU CAN LEARN TO PREDICT WHERE THE STORY IS GOING. THESE ARE SOME HELPFUL HINTS:

Notice a character’s colors and when another character wears them, they will be having a ‘moment’

If the color in the scene isn’t on the character, the focus isn’t on them, maybe it’s on the emotions of the scene or other characters

Colors WILL signify emotions; yellow is happy, blue can be sad or calming depending on the shade, red can be passion or anger. If a character wears a lot of one color, you can predict their emotions

Ok no hate, this is definitely not my favorite outfit. It gives me mad Shake It Up vibes, not that that’s bad, just not my thing.

Julie performs Finally Free in a teal and black dress/shirt, silver biker short, a black vest, and arm bands

It has been confirmed by Charlie and Madison that this is when Luke realizes he like Julie, which makes sense as you see that she is wearing blue (She will now start wearing more of these cool tones)

She is also wearing arm bands, something Luke does often

Her vest is also the same one as the girl from the beginning, which we all know by now is Rose, her mother!

She has upcycled the vest and added her own special twists to it! It also helps for us to see connection between Rose and performing

You can also see a dahlia pin, her mother’s favorite flower. These often make an appearance! (They’re also purple)

It’s Edge of Great Time!! This is maybe the most iconic outfit!

Julie performs in a white blouse with butterflies, her hair also with butterfly clips, her pants are constructed beautifully with black and white panels. She finished the outfit with black and white combat boots and more butterflies!

Soyon specifically said that the butterflies represent Julie coming out of her cocoon and coming into herself, like a butterfly would!

This is truly her most powerful and performance worthy outfit and sucks all of the attention to her

Julie’s clean contrast of black and white also make her stand out from the rest of the band! The combination is often a symbol of power and truth! (Think judges robes)

Time to get some tissues, Unsaid Emily, it’s your turn!

This is what I consider Julie’s most average and basic outfit, but there is a lot to analyze here: A magenta sweater and jeans.

This sweater is her mothers; meaning it is probably a comforting item for her, seeing as she is about to have a very emotional moment, calling back to that yellow sweater in the beginning!

Also see how this has blue, pink, and red designs, and I’m sure by now you can tell what I am going to say: These are the guys colors!

She’s going to have a heartfelt moment involving them, and it fits. This is one of the emotional climax’s of the show and this is when she becomes even closer with the Phantoms

You can tell, just from her standing on the steps of Luke’s house what is about to go down (Well maybe not all of the tears, but still)

Julie goes to check on the guys in the studio in a blue floral shirt and blue jeans

These are once again, Luke’s colors, but are slowly becoming THEIR colors. She wears these when she is saying goodbye to her best friends

This is also the outfit that Julie’ wears when she finds them after the performance and they haven’t crossed over.

It makes perfect sense that she is wearing all blue when SHE AND LUKE HUG!!! (And then all of the boys too in the best group hug ever)

Of course we’re gonna end the post with this absolutely ICONIC outfit!

Julie is wearing a purple dress with purple tulle, a bedazzled leather jacket, and her hair IN THE SAME STYLE AS I GOT THE MUSIC!!!

Lets go one by one:

The dress is a Balmain dress that Soyon got for $500, then she completely deconstructed it and made it to fit Madison! that’s incredible

This is the climax of the show: the boy are ‘doing their unfinished business,’ Julie is playing the Orpheum, and what color is she wearing but PURPLE! What color are dahlias? PURPLE! What color has had the most significance? PURPLE! What do red, blue, and pink make up? PURPLE! PURPLE IS JULIE’S CHARACTER COLOR

You’ll also notice that her jacket has pink, red, and blue accents, the colors of Alex, Reggie and, Luke, to show that they have become a part of her and she is now a part of them

That’s the same for her hair

It shows how she has now achieved her dream, her make believe world is now her reality

I really think we’ll see more of Julie in purple in the seasons to come, now that she has found herself

I hope that you all have learned a little about color and costuming in this post! Once you get the hang of it, it becomes really fun, like a puzzle!

I hope to do more of these with the rest of the characters as well!

Feel free to add on your own ideas and interpretations!

#Julie and the phantoms #Julie and the himbos #jatp #jatp julie #julie molina #juke #julie x luke #ray molina #Jatp luke #Luke patterson #The Costuming and Coloring of JATP

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ponyguru · 3 years ago

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Tonight I watched all of He-Man: Revelations and most of Centaurworld (I watched the first three episodes like, a week ago?) and I have ... opinions. (And it’s 4:37am, might as well share them while they’re fresh!)

(Warning, this got very long and ranty, sorry for stretching out your dashboards if that’s even still a thing anymore?)

He-Man was entertaining, but it did feel like (as someone with like, less than a passing knowledge of the characters) someone’s super-angsty fanfiction more than like ... a continuing series. They killed off multiple well-known, beloved characters, to drive home the point of how SERIOUS and how HARDCORE this series is, and instead it felt like being a little kid in the 80s watching Optimus Prime get murdered to sell more toys. Like, WHY DID THEY DIE? Oh right, to show the viewer how SERIOUS the bad guys are! And to give the other characters things to angst over, to show you they’re no longer just shallow 80s muscle man stereotypes to sell toys! But then you gotta wonder, where will they go from here? Who’s even left to continue the storyline? Is it still He-Man if half the supporting cast is dead?

Like I said, I’m not a He-Man fan by trade, but aside from the pointless murder, it did seem like it delved into the backstories that a lot of people have probably wanted since the 80s, and it made some very interesting points. So, hey, maybe it’ll be beloved by its fans! And it was very entertaining, especially as someone who wasn’t a childhood fan so I didn’t have a lot of nostalgia that I had to watch die. It doesn’t end on a happy note, there’s definitely the ‘what if the villains WON’ theme going, so maybe my opinion will be less dour when the next part comes out. (I did like that it focused more on the female characters, which was a very unexpected change, and in that aspect I felt it was very well written; that could explain why I’ve heard other screechingly negative feedback elsewhere online, heh. He-Man fans probably don’t appreciate the heavy preference paid to Teela.)

Centaurworld was ... well, I watched the first episode with my mother, which was a Huge Fucking Mistake. I heard that it was a thrilling combination of something akin to Adventure Time and a more serious cartoon like Avatar, and instead I got 10 minutes of that, and then 16 minutes of continuous ass, fart, and poop jokes, combined with a couple of great tunes and a lot of tuneless recitative style “songs”.

If you follow this blog, you probably know toys; you know the Poopsie Surprise toys? The ones which were so obsessed with uncomfortably sexualized poop/fart/barf references that entire scholarly articles were written about the sexualization of children with scatology-themed toys? Yeah, that’s what Centaurworld felt like, almost the whole time. Like just ... an uncomfortable amount of poop/butt/fart “jokes”, to the point where it felt like it had to be one of the writer’s fetishes. Like, it was clearly not funny, and the main character is clearly uncomfortable with it ... and it just keeps going.

I say jokes in scare quotes because jokes are supposed to be funny, and a lot of Centaurworld just wasn’t funny. You could tell it was meant to have jokes, but it was very much dated early-2000s type humor, I want to guess? The kind where it’s not so much ‘setup-punchline’ but the more ‘awkward reference awkward reference awkward reference drawn out wooooord’ type of “jokes”. And most of those “jokes” were just - you guessed it - drawn out references to butts, or farts, or some combination of the two. I felt like an aged boomer watching it. I like to think I’m hip and with the times, but it felt like it should be aimed at a middle schooler - but like, an oversexualized middle schooler? It was uncomfortable to say the least. (One character talks to his farts, claims they talk back to him, and he addresses them as ‘Daddy,’ while another character expresses how uncomfortable that is, and implies he has “issues” to unpack. Because that’s hilarious, I guess?)

Centaurworld did, beneath the heavy layer of scatology, have an intriguing storyline. A warhorse from a LOTR-style world is thrown into a wacky Adventure Time-type land made up of silly centaurs, and has to try and find her way back home. It was thrilling at times, if you could slog through everything else that beleaguered it. There were some really good jokes! But I couldn’t quite muster up a laugh, because I was still wondering when the next butt reference would sneak in. After ten terrible jokes, the one good joke couldn’t manage to lift me from the depth of despair I’d sunken into. It really only felt like the show got ‘tolerable’ around episode 7 (out of ten!!!!), which was an episode heavily focused on cats. (Which, again; wasn’t the internet very much about LOLCats in the early 2000s?)

If six episodes of a ten-episode series is nigh-intolerable, is it a successful show? Should you bother watching something that is 60%+ garbage? (And DON’T FUCKING WORRY, the poop/butt/fart jokes continued UNTIL THE FUCKING FINAL EPISODE.)

I suspect that, if there was a “goal” for all of the fetish stuff (beyond fetish stuff for fetish sake), it would be to illustrate to the viewer how uncomfortable the main character feels in this strange new land, and for us to share in her discomfort. Which, fine, sure! Secondhand embarrassment is definitely a trope. But the sheer uncomfortable volume of the poop/butt/fart jokes clearly went way beyond mere discomfort, and veered into ‘why is this coming up so much, is someone getting off on this?’ territory, at least for me. A couple butt jokes an episode, fine, okay. Entire five minute bits devoted to farts and butts? Entire songs about butts? I start questioning why it’s such a beloved subject for you to write about.

Plus, and I may be reading into this too much, but several of the only Black-coded characters felt racist. I’m talking neck-snapping, tribal body paint type racism, although only one got the exaggerated “soul” type music to sing, which I guess is a relative win? (Waterbaby and Judge Jacket, if you’re wondering who I’m referencing. One of them is a literal hippo centaur, giving us shades of Madagascar.) It wasn’t obvious, but combined with everything else, it felt ... bad. (There are multiple other nonwhite voice actors who aren’t stereotypes, so maybe it was just a bad case of ‘trying to represent different culture while being clueless white people’, who knows?) There was also some classic fatphobia, with one of the villains being shown as a fat neckbeard collector/nerd. Wasn’t that relevant in - wait for it - the early 2000s? They redeem themselves very slightly by having maybe two other characters who are visibly fat, but one of them is also viewed as an antagonist.

Anyway, I was disappointed enough with the show to feel like I should say something, so - there it is. Centaurworld did have some good moments, some lovely songs, and there was some really heartwarming and tender character development that I liked, sandwiched between huge swaths of discomfort. There might be a season 2 (there shouldn’t be, LOL) and hell, I will probably suffer through it because I want to see what happens to them. But I can’t recommend that anyone else do the same, in all good conscience. It’s not good. It’s just not. But if you have 5 hours to kill, there’s worse stuff out there?

If you want to watch one episode to see the best of the series, I recommend episode seven, “Johnny Teatime's Be Best Competition: A Quest for the Sash.” It’s themed after the CATS musical, and the extended number at the end gave me shades of MLP or Fashion Star Fillies. (I found an official clip of the song posted here.) There’s also other lovely songs in the series, but you’d have to suffer through entire bad episodes to see them. The lovely “You’re Okay” shows up in the very first episode, so if you’re curious give that a watch... just be aware it never gets better, only worse.

This series genuinely upset me, because I wanted it to be something much better, and there were glimpses of it; you just had to try and close your eyes to the obsession with butts and farting to see pieces of what it might have been.

One notable fact that I thought was kind of like ‘wow, oof’ was that Meghan McCarthy, of MLP:FiM fame, was a story editor for Centaurworld. And considering how MLP went downhill in later seasons, I gotta say I’m wondering if there’s a commonality there. Maybe her fetish is bad writing? There’s worse fetishes to have, AS CENTAURWORLD CLEARLY DEMONSTRATES.

#ponyguru chat #in which I ramble #in which it's 4am and I ramble lmao #OH GOD I HAVE A 4AM RAMBLE TAG OKAY TIME FOR SLEEP TTYL ALL #long post #VERY long post

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maevelin · 4 years ago

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what is your opinion on how the IC treated nesta in general, but more specifically acofas?

Oh boy...you just had to go there lol

Negative rant ahead. So you’ve been warned.

Truth is I’ve tried so hard to get what happened in acofas out of my mind and view certain things I used to like even out of context so to be able to still enjoy them but it didn’t work. If anything getting some emotional distance from this universe dampened my excitement for any future project from this franchise and writer. Granted I never considered SJM to be a good writer but at least she was able to work through some interesting characters and dynamics. Acofas negated that too.

And honestly I am so done with the whole thing and it even left me with a bitter aftertaste when it comes to Nessian in particular because the foundations set in that book (if one can call it that) are really something I detest. The insight we got into Cassian’s mind made me so angry and I noped out completely.

As for how the IC in general treated Nesta?

I had some time to think about that and I think the problem is that the previous books and ACOFAS more so have set up an environment where Feyre and the Inner Circle are the moral axis of the universe we are in. If they are objectively right or wrong does not matter because they are right no matter what. It is very unsettling for me to have to get into a book that exists on that foundation.

At the beginning the characters in question, Feyre, Rhysand and so on were treading more realistic lines between right and wrong. Some of those lines were blurred. They were morally grey characters too given what the situation demanded from them and that was the allure of their dynamic as characters and as relationships but as we got more books with them they became more and more bland and their perspective was limited to the trope of the perfect shiny hero and they became dogmatic when it came to that. They knew what was the best for everyone. They could do no wrong even when they did. There were no repercussions to their mistakes. They are not to be called out for their behavior because their behavior is always correct (even when it is not and not just concerning Nesta but on many fronts).

We are at a point where their moral code is by default what creates what is right and wrong and the narrative acknowledges that directly and indirectly. So the readers are meant to accept that what Feyre does is morally right and doesn’t get to criticize her actions and the actions of the Inner Circle that many times can be morally ambiguous -at best- but are not acknowledged as such.

I would appreciate it much more if the author allowed the characters (all characters, Nesta included because I am not here to pretend that Nesta is not a hot mess of an abusive asshole too) to be subjected more to objective criticism without the narrative pandering to their moral high ground.

Thing is that situations where you have to face someone’s trauma can be difficult, messy, ugly even. There is no perfect recipe. It doesn’t mean that your way or helping is always right just because you love your family or your loved one. It doesn’t mean that because you have had your own trauma you know how to deal with someone else’s. You can do more damage many times or you can’t reach someone that is struggling and when someone is in pain many times can’t open up or accept their problem or any help regarding their issues and this can create a very dysfunctional situation from all sides concerned. Toxic even.

But here from the start the reader is to accept a fundamental truth. Feyre and the Inner Circle are right and they know what they are doing. Their motives, their actions, their responses are pristine and they are on a pedestal so where does that leave Nesta or even a reader that doesn’t accept that reality because their critical thinking gets in the way?

And where does a character that is not as ‘perfect’ stand? Nowhere. It distorts the picture. Because until that character gets in line with that perfection they can’t be part of it. It gets ostracized even if is in simple things as not being drawn inside a painting.

And what I find even more problematic (especially in the end of ACOFAS) is that this feels very much like a parallel of how Tamlin treated Feyre but most readers ignore that because the former books established that Feyre and the IC are the established moral stance one should admire and anyone opposing that is on the wrong. In reality the moment the writer stopped viewing certain characters under an amoral light and forced them to be the ‘good heroes’ instead of the amoral characters that should have been everything became distorted. The parallels between those characters that are deemed to be doing things wrong and those that are supposedly doing things right are blatantly obvious and the only reason as to why the good guys have the holier than thou attitude and are on the right its because the writer “says so” and that’s not something I can abide with if I use critical thinking.

Yes these books are not meant to be taken seriously and are light entertainment at best but I feel there are limits to that especially since given the direction the author choose to take the characters towards does not personally entertain me anymore.

I am not in favor of taking an unapologetic character and making them less than what they are only to fit them into a romance and way to work into a faux morality code.

Feyre wants to protect Nesta. She is for an intervention. Tamlin acted the same. In the same way Feyre gets to decide how Elain should give Lucien a chance or how Lucien’s attachment with Jurian and Vassa is silly or how Nesta should heal Tamlin also decided how Feyre should work through her trauma, how she should not use her powers, how she should exist in his court because...he knew better, because he loved her, because he wanted to protect her. And he did love her and he did want to protect her and he had his reasons and all that didn’t make him any less abusive. Tamlin was basically ordering or manipulating Feyre into acting in the way he believed was best for her and their life together. Does that sound familiar or what? Including how Tamlin was providing everything financially for Feyre and her sisters too and that was also taken as a given.

And I am not here to say that Feyre doesn’t love her sisters or doesn’t want the best for them. I am here to point out the hypocrisy when it comes to how one should defend another person’s free will and choice. The only reason Feyre was able to escape that suffocating environment was because Rhysand gave her a way out. No one is there to do that for Nesta. If anyone did that for her would she stay? Of course not. Would she follow Cassian to the camp if she had other alternatives? Nope. Surely Nesta is at the lowest of lows and her behavior triggered such reactions because she surely did something bad for even Amren to be set against her that way in the end of ACOFAS but that doesn’t change how the power imbalance is shocking. How Elain had no say to what happens to Nesta because Feyre is in charge. But once more where Tamlin was wrong Feyre is right. Where Tamlin was abusive Feyre is not. Feyre’s trauma was not as destructive as Nesta’s so of course this excuses everything. Not to mention that Tamlin was going through his own trauma too. Not to mention that every despicable thing Tamlin did as a High Lord was no less despicable than what Rhysand did but we saw how the narrative in the end treated Tamlin even after the way he repented in ACOWAR.

But Tamlin is the bad guy who treated Feyre badly so even if objectively he can be as terrible as the characters we are meant to support are and can be we are still not meant to judge him the same as we are meant to judge the ‘heroes’ because different standards are set. The same treatment goes for Nesta, Lucien and so on. And I am not here to defend Tamlin or every wrong thing Nesta or any other character did. But the scales here are not balanced at all so I feel that for certain characters their mistakes weigh more than those of others. It also depends if someone’s trauma is more ‘comfortably accepted’ than others. It is like you can be depressed and damaged and traumatized but only as long as it fits a certain aesthetic kind of thing and that is triggering me in ways I am not comfortable with.

And you can see the insidious writing too. Nesta’s PTSD is used against her.

Characters like Feyre are getting praised for overcoming their trauma and for their heroism and get all those monikers of glory but Nesta for example and even Elain that beheaded the King and ended the war are left into obscurity. Nesta was ready to sacrifice herself to give Feyre a fighting chance and was there to shield Cassian and die along his side but you know okay sure. Feyre is the defender of the rainbow and I don’t know what else title she has these days but when other characters do similar fits of heroism they are sidelined and those acts are quickly forgotten as if they never happened. That is a narrative issue because it chooses to highlight certain moments and ignore others.

People know Nesta as ‘Cassian’s’ for crying out loud and escape her house in fear because of him. Cassian that somehow glorifies the mate bond and the age gap even to legitimate worries Rhysand poses because if he didn’t then all of the sudden he would have to acknowledge how problematic is his attitude towards Nesta and their general dynamic. But hey she looks hot despite her weight loss and what Rhysand and Feyre have, suicide pacts and whatnot, is so pure so why bother with being decent towards a girl that as he sees is traumatized, has been violated and is stuck in a world and species she does not want. He admitted that he had been through the same emotional trauma in his past and it took him time to heal but hey Nesta is a bitch for not conforming to the way he and the IC believe is best for her to act, behave and heal.

Is Nesta right all the time? Hell no. She is an abusive asshole. She spends money she has not worked for and earned. She is all messed up and does not know which way is up and lashes out towards every direction.

But in the same way Feyre did the same with Tamlin’s fortune and Rhysand’s but at least she was grateful and in a relationship with them so I guess it was okay?

And keep in mind that what Nesta is doing is deplorable (taking Rhysand’s money, having a past of not treating Feyre right, not wanting to be with Cassian etc) but when Elain is basically doing the same but Elain is ...Elain. So it is okay. She is not as troublesome I guess and can hide silently in the sidelines so the same mistakes have different gravity and consequences. Again that’s how the narrative is set. It favors certain characters while condemns others because by default it accepts in its core how Feyre and the Inner Circle is the moral axis so the other characters are satellites around that orbit and if they diverge from that then they get crashed until they are taught to gravitate correctly.

I could keep going but I feel like this game is rigged from the start when it comes to Nesta and I am finding it pointless really. The fact that the narrative pushes her trauma in a certain direction so not only to develop Nesta as a character but also pander to certain characters and a certain mentality regarding certain characters. I don’t feel comfortable reading something like that.

If the concern of the author was to push Nesta into an environment where the primary concern would be Cassian, their romance and the acknowledgment of the Inner Circle I am sure there are many more ways to work with that than taking a character’s PTSD and manipulating in a way as to make it less important for their individual narrative and more or less a stepping stool for getting the character to a place that wouldn’t otherwise go and especially more so if they were in their right frame of mind.

And I am not going to even get to other issues like how I am sure how tone deaf the author is still going to be when it comes to PoC cultures (Illyrians) vs White Savior Trope (Nesta entering that culture as a Queen without a crown that will go through the blood rite and into a warring misogynistic tribe where she will give the solution in the end but you know...’yay feminism’...and then adding salt into injury you will have Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian that have been in charge for half a millennia and could have solved certain issues if they truly wanted given their position and power but now that someone else will do it for them they will still get the credit...but you know...dreamers change the world and all that...but only when it is convenient I guess...).

#nesta archeron #nesta #cassian for ts #nessian for ts #anti acofas #fel reads acofas #I am so....#no no nope #I am getting more into anti shipping territory here #and I used to ship Nessian like crazy #Anonymous #anti rhysand #anti feyre

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