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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 3 years ago

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Ikevamp Act 2.5

【 A Welcome Party One Month Later 】

Due to an anomaly in the door that transcends time and space, Mitsuki is unable to return to her original world.

Then one day, sometime later...

Napoleon: "Mitsuki is shopping right now. You guys know the plan, right?"

The residents gathered in the dining room nodded their heads in agreement.

Mozart: "It's already been a month since Mitsuki arrived at the mansion, why are we throwing her a welcome party now?"

Arthur: "That's why Mitsuki would be surprised."

Mitsuki might act cheerfully, but at times she would appear to be troubled, perhaps anxious about not being able to return to her world and not knowing what the future holds.

That's why to encourage Mitsuki, the idea of a welcome party suddenly popped out.

Leonardo: "You better finish getting the party ready by the time Cara mia gets back."

Dazai: "Toshiko-san works fast, so it's a race against time."

Napoleon: "All right, then, let's get started."

While each of them is fired up and ready to go with gusto...

Sebastian catches the two of them in the act.

Sebastian: "Wait a minute, Jean!"

Sebastian: "You two were not supposed to be in charge of cooking. Why are you guys going to the kitchen?"

Vincent: "We're cooking our local cuisine today, right?"

Vincent: "I wanted to help, not just give recipes."

Jean: "I've already prepped the ingredients. Don't hesitate to rely on us, Sebas."

Sebastian: "Ugh, your pure eyes of wanting to help are so precious..."

Sebastian: "*sigh* No. I need to turn my heart into a demon here!!"

After agonizing inwardly, Sebastian pushes them both away from the kitchen.

Sebastian: "I'm sorry, but the kitchen is already packed with Monsieur Napoleon, Isaac, and me."

Jean: "But the kitchen in the mansion is spacious. It could easily fit two more people."

Sebastian: "No! I have to swirl the pot and cut the ingredients, so it takes up a lot of space, like a thousand hands!"

Vincent and Jean asked, "A thousand hands?" and tilted their heads together.

Theo: "Broer. I think Hondje would be happy just with your angelic kindness."

Vincent: "Hm, you think...?"

Dazai: "Come on, Jeanie, let's go pick up Toshiko-san. It's a great job too, you know."

Jean: "True, it's also important to protect Mitsuki."

Theo and Dazai's assistance kept the mansion's top two culinary IDIOTS away from the kitchen, and everyone present, not just Sebastian, felt relieved.

Mozart: "Jean, if Mitsuki is going to be back earlier than expected, please stop by or do whatever you can to stall her."

Jean: "Understood. I'll take care of it."

Mozart: "Dazai, don't bring Jean and Mitsuki to weird places. Okay?"

Dazai: "Ahaha, I've been warned."

With that, Dazai and Jean, the welcoming staff, left the mansion side by side.

After a while...

Mozart and le Comte exchange glances and mischievous smiles.

Mozart: "It's been a long time since I've played in front of other people. I don't think I can match up with you, Comte."

Comte: "I don't mind. I'm not going to drag you down."

With their bows ready and their breaths in sync...

A melody flowed out, competitive and incomparably beautiful.

Leonardo: "We should avoid strongly scented flowers at the table. Maybe something like this?"

Leonardo and Arthur went to the garden to look for flowers to decorate the dining room.

Arthur: "Hmm, yeah. I think Mitsuki likes this flower."

Leonardo: "Damn... You're really a womanizer, huh? How did you even find out what kind of flowers Mitsuki likes?"

Arthur: "I prefer to be called clever."

Arthur: "And I don't have to ask. I can guess just by watching Mitsuki when she's tending the garden."

Leonardo: "Well, I'm no match for a mystery writer."

Arthur: "Oh, come on, mate. You, yourself already knew about that anyway."

Arthur: "You only pick the colors that Mitsuki likes."

Leonardo: "It's just a hunch, a HUNCH."

Arthur: "Heh. You're pretty clever yourself."

Arthur shrugged his shoulders as he assessed the man in front of him.

Meanwhile...

Theo nodded in satisfaction as he decorated the walls with ribbons and balloons.

Theo: "I'm glad you're the decorator, Broer. Your taste in color palettes is spot on."

Vincent: "Fwoo~!"

Theo: "But it's a little lacking. Maybe I should hang your paintings in the vacant spaces."

Vincent: "Fwoo~~!"

Theo: "Even Hondje looks forward to seeing your new paintings. All right, hey broer, I'll put your painting here―"

Vincent: "Fwoo~~~! *pant* *pant*"

Theo: "B-Broer!? What's the matter? You look like you can't breathe!"

When Theo looks at him, Vincent is bright red and breathing heavily.

Vincent: "I can't seem to get the balloons to inflate... Fwoo~"

Theo: "I can't let you suffer. Here, let me help you."

And so, the two siblings kept puffing their cheeks to inflate the balloons for a while.

In the kitchen, dishes are being prepared one after another for Mitsuki.

Sebastian: "I'm so glad we managed to prevent the kitchen from exploding..."

Napoleon: "Vincent and Jean work so hard for everything because they're so pure."

Napoleon: "Especially when it comes to Mitsuki."

While conversing, Napoleon continues to cook with a deft hand, and Isaac gazes at his hand with admiration.

Isaac: "It smells good. You really are a good cook."

Isaac: "My apple pie, on the other hand, is a little burnt..."

Sebastian: "It's not that big a deal, Isaac."

Napoleon: "Yeah. And what's important is―well, as they say, the 'feelings' in it."

Napoleon: "If you want people to enjoy the food, you'll naturally get better at the craft and the workmanship."

Isaac: "There are exceptions, though."

The subtle remark reminded them of the two certain people, and the three of them chuckled.

Isaac: "Hmm... But I'm sure they just want Mitsuki to be happy."

Sebastian & Napoleon: "..............."

Isaac: "Um, then, I'll take this apple pie."

Isaac notices Napoleon and Sebastian's eyes on him and leaves the kitchen with a slight blush on his cheeks.

Sebastian: "This welcome party is filled with everyone's thoughts and feelings. I hope we can dispel some of Mitsuki's worries."

Napoleon: "You're right. Because we want Mitsuki to keep smiling."

Even though the preparations are still in progress, they can hardly wait for Mitsuki's return now.

As they picture her smiling face when she sees the welcome party―

Isaac: "Ehh? Mitsuki!? You're back already?"

Isaac's curt voice came from the dining room, and the feelings of the entire mansion were delivered to Mitsuki, one step ahead of schedule...

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Ikevamp Masterlist

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp theo #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp jean #ikevamp jp #ikevamp #ikevamp translation #cybird #ikemen series #ikevamp act 2.5

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mayihavethisdanse · 4 years ago

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“What is this, the Dark Ages?”

Or, Arthurian themes and allusions in the Brotherhood of Steel mythos as seen in Fallout 4. (But that’s a lot of words.)

Yep. We're doing this.

First, some obligatory caveats: there is no single Arthurian canon, just 1500 years of assorted fanfic based on the whims of whoever was writing at the time. For this extremely highbrow Tumblr meta, I have ignored most of it and drawn on my favorites. Also Wikipedia.

Also, I am not an expert in Arthurian literature (or Fallout lore, come to that), and I preemptively beg the pardon of anyone who is.

Finally, in no way am I claiming that all these parallels and thematic echoes are deliberate or even significant. In fact, I'd break it down into:

Clearly deliberate allusions, whether in or out of universe;

Probably coincidence, but could be someone deliberately capitalizing on a coincidental similarity;

Almost certainly coincidence, but fun to speculate about; annnnd

Blatant Monty Python references. (Because of course there are.)

I'll start with the big one.

Arthur Maxson, boy king and unifier

(source)

So across all the retellings and variations of King Arthur’s life story, there are a few consistent elements, particularly in his early life and rise to power. Some of these threads are echoed in the Fallout universe, specifically (and unsurprisingly) in the person of Arthur Maxson.

Both the legendary King Arthur and Arthur Maxson were born with a claim to power lying in their ancestry, both were fostered away from their families, and both proved themselves in combat at a young age.

King Arthur united the warring kingdoms of Britain into a single entity, making them stronger against outsiders and receiving general admiration and acclaim. Arthur Maxson united the divided factions of the BoS after the events of Fallout 3 and is held in similarly high regard by his men.

The name Prydwen is a reference to the ship of the original King Arthur. Presumably, Arthur Maxson (or someone in the BoS who anticipated his promotion) christened the airship in a deliberate homage to the Arthurian myth.

King Arthur is associated with his legendary sword. I think it’s notable that Maxson’s legend is associated with a bladed weapon, too. ("He killed a DEATHCLAW with a COMBAT KNIFE!”)

Probably coincidence, but fun: the historical emperor Magnus Maximus, who pops up a lot in early Arthurian legend, was known in Welsh as... Macsen. (⌐■_■)

Round Table, but make it dieselpunk

(Continued under the cut.)

Moving away from obvious allusions and into some looser parallels:

Like the Round Table, the Brotherhood is an exclusive knightly order with its leader being the one able to open it up to his chosen few.

Like the Round Table, the BoS sees itself as defending human civilization against forces of chaos. (I’ll touch on their tech-hoarding tendencies when I get to the Grail stuff.) This idea of civilization in the face of chaos goes back to the BoS’s founding, even though the level of isolationism we see in most of the Fallout franchise is not exactly what founder Roger Maxson had in mind: “Notably, Maxson's ultimate intention was to establish the Brotherhood as an organization that works closely with people outside of the Brotherhood, as guardians of civilizations, not its gatekeepers.” (source) In a lot of ways, Arthur Maxson represents a return to his ancestor’s original ideals.

Renegade knights? Internal politics? Traitors within? We gotchu.

In both the medieval legends and in all chapters of the BoS we’ve seen, there’s a big focus on bloodlines (ew). Ironically, it’s probably Arthur Maxson’s unquestionable ancestry that allows him to be more progressive than either of his East Coast predecessors when it comes to boosting Brotherhood numbers by recruitment (even though you can still see a clear division between “born Brotherhood” and recruited soldiers, but that’s a topic for another day). Maxson sees himself as an Elder who "cares for the people"—however misguided and patronizing that attitude might be—and whatever else you might say about the guy, you can't say he doesn't believe he has a duty. Which brings us to…

Know Your Enemy: Danse as Gawain

Before I start this section, an acknowledgement of authorial bias:

Gawain, as portrayed in the Middle English poem Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, is my very favorite of King Arthur’s knights. (Other stories aren't always as flattering, but like I said at the outset: I'm sticking to the ones I like.)

That poem is my very favorite piece of medieval Arthurian literature. In this section, I'll refer to the modern English translation by Simon Armitage.

...that’s it, I have no other biases to disclose.

What? 👀

(Art: Clive Hicks-Jenkins)

All right. So in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, you’ve got this himbo loyal knight of Arthur’s who finds himself caught up in... you know what, let me just paste in the Wikipedia summary. (The Toast, RIP, also did a pretty entertaining and more-or-less accurate recap.)

It describes how Sir Gawain, a knight of King Arthur's Round Table, accepts a challenge from a mysterious "Green Knight" who dares any knight to strike him with his axe if he will take a return blow in a year and a day. Gawain accepts and beheads him with his blow, at which the Green Knight stands up, picks up his head and reminds Gawain of the appointed time. In his struggles to keep his bargain, Gawain demonstrates chivalry and loyalty until his honour is called into question by a test involving the lord and the lady of the castle where he is a guest.

Don’t worry too much about the plot details, though; for this post, I’m more interested in the thematic parallels. The Green Knight story is full of contrasts: order vs. chaos, civilization vs. wilderness, mortal man vs. Other... but let’s start with Gawain himself.

Some stuff to know about Gawain:

He was "as good as the purest gold, devoid of vices but virtuous and loyal". Gawain took his principles more seriously even than the rest of Arthur’s knights, not out of pride but out of humility: "I would rather drop dead than default from duty," he says.

He’s faithful and honorable and never even tempted to betray an oath, even when offered every variety of seduction and riches, except for a single moment of weakness in a desperate desire not to be executed for random shit by powerful forces for reasons he doesn't understand.

Even though he doesn’t really understand why he needs to die, he sticks to his oath. Gawain's one weakness is a moment of desperate, private, human desire for survival. He'll submit to the headsman’s axe if he has to, but he'd still rather live.

Above all, Gawain is the ideal of a human man: he might be the bravest and loyal man there is, but he’s still fundamentally human.

You can probably see where I'm going with this.

A few more fun facts about Gawain that resonate with Paladin Danse’s story:

He’s got a bunch of really shitty brothers. (No comment.)

Gawain (SPOILERS!) doesn't actually end up beheaded, but he does willingly kneel for his execution and gets a cut on the throat as a reminder of his sin. And, uh, Danse can also get his throat cut! It doesn’t end as nicely but it’s, you know, a thing that can happen.

Gawain might be a really good guy, and he tries really hard to be one, but in the end he’s nothing more than that: there’s nothing supernatural about him, he has no special powers beyond his own principles and devotion. He’s just a dude doing his Best.

Wait, why not Danselot?

Oh, that guy? Here’s the thing.

Lancelot personifies the continental ideals of courtly love that became popular in the High Middle Ages. Central to his story is the prioritization of personal relationships and romantic feelings in a way that you don’t really see in Gawain's, at least in the Green Knight tale. (Later stories hook Gawain up with an extremely delightful lady, but even that is a different flavor of romance than Lancelot's and has more to do with Gawain honoring his word and his egalitarian treatment of women (hell yeah). In the poem, Gawain is impressed by Bertilak's wife but resists her temptation; in fact, the biggest risk is not that he'll yield to her advances but that he'll be discourteous to her, i.e., violate his principles and cause dishonor to his king and his host.)

Lancelot is driven by passions over principles in a way that Gawain never really is (at least in the stories I’m talking about; later writers have committed character assassination to various degrees). Yes, you could argue that both Gawain and Lancelot betray their oaths, but Lancelot’s betrayal is never, um, blind. He knows what he’s doing and makes a deliberate choice to prioritize his love for the queen over his love for the king. It doesn’t make him a bad guy—he too is an ideal knight with one fatal flaw—but his character isn’t as comparable to Paladin Danse.

Yeah, Gawain is (in most stories) a prince and a kinsman of Arthur’s, but he’s ultimately a native boy who doesn’t break the mold of a Knight of the Round Table. Likewise, Danse is portrayed as competent and valuable to the BoS, but not exceptional or breaking the mold of what a BoS soldier should be: he simply represents the ideal. Meanwhile, Lancelot is a foreign prince who was marked from childhood as special and fancy, and his storyline goes alllll over the place. (Much like this post.)

For example, Lancelot goes to absolutely absurd extremes to prove his devotion for no other reason than to prove it. (“I’ll do any useless humiliating thing you want. I’ll betray every oath except the one I made to you. That’s what love is!”) Gawain would never. Danse would never.

Ultimately, Gawain's tests are of his character and not of his love. And like Gawain, Danse’s devotion is to service and his principles, not to another person—even Arthur Maxson.

All that said, there are some similarities: both are beloved by Arthur, both are held up as the ideal of what a knight should be. And even if their fatal flaws are different, both make the point that no matter how good and brave and loyal they might be, no human being can be perfect.

(Except Galahad. Who is, as a result, very boring.)

I’ll conclude this section with a quote from someone else’s take on the Greek Knight poem:

I like Gawain. He’s not perfect, but he’s trying his best which is all any of us can do. He’s not like the other knights in the Arthurian legends who occasionally ‘accidentally’ kill women on their little adventures and then feel hard done by when they have to deal with the consequences of that. Gawain holds himself to a high standard – higher, it seems, than Arthur and his knights hold him to considering how hard they laugh when Gawain tells them how bad he feels about the whole thing.

I think Gawain is very relatable in this story. We all want to be better than we actually are.

And that, more than anything else, is Danse.

The Grail myth

What’s that? Lost relics of power? Better send some large armed men after ‘em!

The parallels to the BoS’s tech-hoarding ways are obvious enough that the games themselves lampshade them (albeit by way of Monty Python). But it also ties into the larger themes of “purity” versus “corruption” and the BoS’s self-image as a bastion between civilization and chaos. (See Maxson's line in response to the Sole Survivor’s quip about the Dark Ages: “Judging from the state of the world, it wouldn't be a stretch to say we're living in that era again.”)

But the ultimate futility of the Grail mission is also worthy of note. The BoS might want the power of prewar tech on their side, but they’re no more to be trusted with it than any other group of human beings. No matter how they try, the “corruption” of humanity can’t be overcome as long as they’re striving to harness power for their own ends. You can only achieve power by surrendering control of it.

The death of Arthur

The nature of gameplay being what it is, it's not guaranteed that the Arthur figure will be fatally betrayed, bringing Camelot down with him—but it's not unlikely, either.

Awkward.

Some final spitballing:

Outside the Brotherhood, there are some fun parallels of the Arthur myth with the rest of Fallout 4. Betrayal by one’s own son, for example.

The key difference between the BoS and the legendary Round Table: King Arthur’s knights, for all their flaws and human weaknesses, are usually presented as unambiguous Good Guys. The BoS is... a little more ambiguous...

...but damn if they don’t think they're the good guys.

A-ad victoriam, fellas!

#fallout #fallout 4 #brotherhood of steel #arthur maxson #paladin danse #sir gawain and the green knight #sir gawain #gawain #knights of the round table #king arthur #elder maxson #fallout 3 #fallout lore #maxson #roger maxson #look mom I did a meta

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

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Could we please have a prequel to the praise kink fic? Because i really want to know why were Sirius and Remus not together and what did Remus send him. I really need context

I was hoping somebody would ask for this!! The aforementioned fic is here for any curious souls (18+ please) and SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for spicy texts (not exactly nudes), and smutty feelings with nothing explicit

The bus went over a bump and Sirius winced as his shins knocked against the back of the seat in front of him, connecting with the metal brace inside. “Fuck.”

“You sure you don’t want to switch?” James asked next to him. Sirius glanced down at the veritable wall of gear and empty snack bags between them, then back to James in disbelief. He shrugged, then set his headphones back over his ears. “Worth a shot.”

“Merde,” Sirius hissed as a pothole nearly took off his kneecap. He gritted his teeth and readjusted, drawing his legs closer to his chest. I want to be home, he thought, allowing himself an internal moment to whine.

He checked his phone—not even ten in the morning. It was a Saturday, so Remus would probably just be rolling out of bed, still sleepy and soft with his hair sticking up like a disgruntled cat’s. Sirius sighed heavily and stared out the window at the small town rolling past in the distance; there was little he wouldn’t give to be back with him instead of on the way to a full week of conferences.

“Why did we have to win the Cup?” he grumbled.

James lifted one side of his headphones. “What?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t like they had had much time to themselves before that, either—Sirius’ schedule was packed with interviews that felt more like interrogations, and Remus had been running the PT department mostly by himself while Moody took a well-deserved vacation. They were dead on their feet every night, worked to the bone with little energy left to do more than cuddle and fall asleep. Still, Sirius was grateful for every second of it.

He waited ten more minutes before giving in.

New Message To: Re

Bonjour mon loup <3

There was no immediate response, which made sense, though he was a little bit disappointed. Sirius closed his eyes and tried to make himself relax; it would be at least another six hours before they arrived at their destination, and the bad weather gathering overhead didn’t bode well for quick travel.

His phone buzzed gently and he scrambled to answer. Don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg—

New Message From: Re

Morning love!

Thanks for the bagels <3

“Fuck yes,” Sirius said under his breath. The bagels had been a last-minute decision as he crept through the house in the early hours of the morning after carefully detaching himself from Remus with a final half-asleep farewell kiss. There was no guarantee he would remember breakfast with everything going on, so Sirius figured it was a safe bet to toast them and leave them on the countertop before heading out.

Message To: Re

Pas de problem

Sleep well?

Message From: Re

Decent

Missed you :(

Sirius rested his temple against the cold window with a soft sound. He hated leaving at different times, but that was just how their life worked at the moment.

Message To: Re

Missed you too <3

Three small dots appeared for a long moment before vanishing without a trace just as his heart rate began picking up. Where’d you go? he almost wondered aloud. Something bumped his arm and James raised a quizzical brow. “Loops,” Sirius said by way of explanation.

“I figured. He okay?”

“I think so? He just…disappeared on me.” Sirius was well-aware of how plaintive he sounded—James’ teasing smile was completely unnecessary.

“Aw, Cap,” he laughed, reaching over to mess with his beanie until Sirius slapped his hand away. “It’s alright, buddy, it’s just a couple days.”

Sirius jammed his hat back on his head and flicked James on the unprotected bit of his ear, making him yelp. “Fuck off, I know you’ll be a mess as soon as Lily FaceTimes with my godson.”

“He has a name, you know.”

“Sorry. You’ll be a mess as soon as she FaceTimes with Pocket Pots, who happens to be my godson.”

James rolled his eyes. “I regret giving you that title.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

As if on cue, his phone lit up again; Sirius ignored James’ snickering as he quickly unlocked it.

New Message From: Re

When will you be at the hotel?

“That’s it?” he muttered.

Message To: Re

That was a lot of typing for one sentence

6-7 hrs, if the weather holds

Why?

Message From: Re

Sorry lmao Reg came in for a bit

Just curious :) Keep me updated?

Message To: Re

Will do <3

Tell Reg he needs to wash his sheets. It’s been over a month.

A small thumbs-up emoji was his only answer, and he tried not to be too bummed. Remus liked having things to do; sitting there and texting Sirius while he slowly got further and further away was probably not his preferred way to spend a morning. With a sigh that was likely a bit too dramatic for the situation he was in, Sirius faced the window once more and buckled in for a long ride.

He chatted off and on with the others when they stopped for lunch, but everyone was exhausted from the combination of a packed week and an early morning. Even Talker stayed fairly quiet, and James kept his headphones on for most of the trip.

Sirius finally succumbed to his tiredness and put some music on, then dozed for an hour or three while they traveled through yet another field. A few halfhearted calls of “cows” made their way around the bus, though nobody seemed particularly enthused about being packed in with double the gear due to a broken storage compartment. Donuts and gas station coffee could only do so much.

“Just crossed the state border,” Arthur called from the front of the bus as Sirius tried to ignore the cramping in his thighs. Three hours. Just three more.

His music was interrupted by a soft jingle alert and he pulled his phone out, hoping against hope that Regulus hadn’t caused a fire anywhere. It was unlikely given the…well, everything about him, but with Sirius’ luck it could happen.

New Message From: Re

How far?

Message To: Re

About 3 hrs. Ran into some detours

Good day?

Remus remained silent on the other end and Sirius frowned. That was rather rude, and highly unusual. Between the two of them, Remus was the one who kept conversations going past the initial question to be answered.

Message From: Re

Attachment: 1 Image

Love you! Call me when you get there : )

Sirius opened the attachment and almost threw his phone in utter shock. Skin. Bare skin everywhere, its smooth edges broken up only by tight black fabric that may as well have been painted onto the curve of Remus’ ass. “Oh my god,” he whimpered, voice barely audible even to his own ears. It had been taken in their bedroom mirror; Remus looked over his shoulder, and Sirius caught the corner of a devious smirk on his lips. “Oh, you fucker.”

Message From: Re

Thoughts? They’re cozy

Message To: Re

Did you miss the part where I said three (3) hours

Message From: Re

Nope

Second one is a guessing game and u get a prize if u get it right : )

The second photograph was more zoomed-in than the first and Sirius wracked his brain, running through his mental catalogue of Remus’ body to figure out the answer. It did absolutely nothing to calm the situation in his pants.

He had no idea what the promised prize was, but anticipation made his hands shake slightly as he carefully scanned the picture. The shadows caught it at an odd angle—it wasn’t the steady slopes of his face or neck, nor was it the strong curve of a shoulder. Not enough freckles, either, he thought.

A lightbulb lit in the back of his mind.

Message To: Re

Right hip

Another thought connected half a second later.

Holy fuck you took them off

Is that my prize?

Re?

Remus Lupin I swear to god

TEXT ME BACK

Message From: Re

Bingo!

Christ you’re impatient, I was gone for like 2 mins

He chanced a look toward Pots, whose head lolled to the side as he snored.

Message To: Re

Hey quick question why are you like this

It’s a good thing Pots is out cold bc this bus is too small to hide anything

Message From: Re

Haha sux to be you

Sirius’ cheeks heated with a whole cocktail of different emotions as he furiously typed a response.

Message To: Re

‘Sux to be you’???

Are you 13 yrs old????

Message From: Re

Do you want your prize or not u horndog

Message To: Re

YOU MADE ME THIS WAY

He took a deep breath through his nose and flexed his fingers.

Yes please

A simple smiley face—Sirius would never see those things the same—popped up, followed by an audio file. He triple-checked that his headphones were plugged in before tapping ‘play’ with an unsteady thumb.

His face went very, very hot before all the blood went straight to his groin and he closed his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand. Breathy sounds came through the heavy earphones, a little more crackly than they would be in-person; he heard Remus’ gasp catch in his throat and crossed his legs as best he could in the too-small seat, torn between thanking and cursing any higher power. He could practically see Remus’ face in his mind’s eye as the noises continued, intermixed with fragments of desperate words.

The file came to an end after what felt like the blink of an eye and a hundred years, and Sirius did not look away from the violently red seat cushion in front of him for a long moment as his brain came back online. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so turned on.

He took a few deep breaths, though it did nothing to erase the poorly-muffled whines that still rang between his ears like church bells. Sirius huffed and turned to grab his waterbottle out of his duffel, only to make direct eye contact with Finn across the aisle.

Sirius froze.

Finn grinned.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed, too low to wake James but just loud enough to carry over the four feet separating them. Finn’s smile widened. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“How’s Loops?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“That good, huh?”

“O’Hara, I swear to god—”

“Oh, is Cap spilling secrets?” Kasey asked, poking his head over the back of the seat.

Finn opened his mouth, but the force of Sirius’ glare must have been enough to at least intimidate him a little, because he shook his head. The smug Cheshire grin remained. “Nah, just having a chat about our plans when we get home.”

Kasey groaned. “You’re a lucky man, O’Hara. Both your people get to come with you. Nat sent me a promise, like, twenty minutes ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. I won’t be available tonight from six to eight if anyone was wondering.”

“Did she really?” Finn looked back to Sirius, who bit the inside of his cheek and tried to keep his cool. Two and a half hours, and then he would be safe. Just two and a half more hours.

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weasleylangs · 4 years ago

Text

bunny rabbits & a clover patch - g.w

Pairing: George x Fem!Reader Summary: All the times Y/N and George spent their days in the clover patch next to her house. Warnings: Minor character death (Y/N’s mother, it’s in the second paragraph), I guess a mention of the war but it’s like one or two lines and it’s super brief like blink and you’ll miss it. Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: A huge thank you to @whiz-bangs78 who sent me this ask for a made up title game that inspired his entire fic (although I changed the title a smidge)! Requests are open and constructive criticism is always appreciated! This is my new baby, my most favourite thing I’ve ever written so please be nice

Please let me know if you’re interested in being added to a tag list!

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Y/N is five years old when she moves from the bustling city of Bristol to the quaint, little magical village of Ottery St. Catchpole. She’s just now starting to get her magic, little spurts here and there. Recently she dropped a ball down the stairs of the townhouse she and her dad live in and she somehow levitated it for two seconds before it slammed into a mirror and broke it.

Y/N’s dad is a muggle, her mother was a witch and unfortunately passed shortly after she was born. Being a single dad is hard, and being the single dad to a witch when you’re a muggle is even harder, so her dad did the only logical thing he could think of.

He knew his late wife dreamed of raising Y/N surrounded by magic, to give her the childhood she never had. Y/N’s mother was an extremely gifted muggle-born witch and she wanted nothing more than to raise her children with magic in tow. So when Y/N started to exhibit magical symptoms, he reached out to some of his late wife’s friends to find the best magical village in England. If it was magic she wanted, it was magic she was going to get.

That’s how he ends up here, in a tiny cottage for two on the outskirts of the village.

He looks down at the piece of paper in his hand. It’s the address of the ‘nicest wizarding family you will ever meet’ and it turns out it’s the house on the plot of land next to his own. Scrawled in messy handwriting is the name Arthur and Molly Weasley.

He’d gotten the note from a friend, someone who works at the ministry with Arthur. He can’t provide a magical childhood for his daughter, but he hopes the lovely family that resides next to him in Ottery St. Catchpole can.

They’ve only just moved in when there’s a knock at the door. Y/N screams in excitement as her dad opens the door and she’s met with a pudgy looking woman with fiery red hair and two identically looking boys next to her. One of the boys is missing his two front teeth in the bottom row, grinning widely and the other boy is clinging to his mother’s leg, clearly more cautious than his exuberant sibling.

Y/N immediately decides they’re going to be her best friends. Even if boys have cooties and are sometimes gross.

“I’m Y/N!” she exclaims loudly, much to the dismay of her father who reminds her to use her inside voice. This makes her pout unhappily and in turn, makes the boy clinging to his mother’s leg smile.

“I’m George!” He replies, equally loud in fashion hoping to cheer the girl up. This was not George’s best idea, however, as it then causes the missing-toothed child to declare himself as Fred so loud, Molly and Y/N’s father sends them outside.

They sit themselves down on the clover patch to the right of the house and start getting to know each other. Y/N learns there're five other Weasley siblings, their youngest being their only sister named Ginny, she's a mere two years old and their oldest is William, who they both affectionately call Billy, and Y/N learns he's almost thirteen.

“Wow,” Y/N says, suddenly feeling extremely jealous. She’s an only child and while she’s only five, she has a child’s intuition that her dad isn’t ready to meet someone and bring more siblings into her life. “I’m jealous. I wish I had brothers and sisters.”

Fred puffs up his chest and grins, “We’ll be your brothers!” The grin on his face is 100% sincere and he looks so happy to gain another sister.

“Really?” Y/N questions looking at George for approval. “Of course. Are we best friends now?” He questions and Y/N eagerly nods her head.

The three of them spend their time playing tag or showing each other their ‘accidental magic’. Molly at one point calls out the window at the twins telling them they know better than to encourage underage magic but when George winks at Y/N as he somehow manages to turn her hair blue for two seconds it’s clear he doesn’t care about his mother’s warning.

“It’s okay,” he starts when he sees the look of fear rise in Y/N’s eyes, “we’re only five. If someone comes they’ll just see three magical kids and leave.”

Soon enough, Molly is muttering apologies about staying so late and trying to round up the boys to go back to their own home. Fred ends up in a tree, saying he wants to stay and poking his tongue out at his mother.

George however, is timidly looking at the clover patch they were all sitting in and plucks one, handing it to Y/N. When she examines it, she notices it’s almost a four-leaf clover, the stem is there if you look close enough, but the leaf itself is missing. “Almost luck, for you!”

He runs away at that, looking almost borderline shy and when Fred chases him all the way home, Y/N is convinced these boys will be her friends for life.

They’re eight now, and it’s a regular occurrence for Y/N and the twins to be seen together. Their parents have started referring to them as the ‘mischief trio’ because whenever the three of them are together, no one can turn their back for a second without something happening.

Y/N’s currently at The Burrow, convincing the twins to come to see her new pet bunny rabbits. Fred is reluctant, wanting to stay and play on his toy broom and trying to convince George he wants to do the same.

Fred, as usual, has an evil plan that involves the beater’s bat in their quidditch kit and Percy’s head after he told their mum that Fred was trying to fly Charlie’s broom yesterday. This resulted in Fred getting no dessert after dinner and the eight-year-old boy wants revenge.

“I don’t know, Freddie,” George starts, looking at the small girl to his left. They might only be children, but the twins are already growing taller and Y/N can barely keep up anymore, “I kind of want to meet the bunnies.”

“Come on, Georgie! Percy’s a prat and we need to get him back!” Fred dramatically exclaims as he flops his body onto the couch in the living room. As usual, it’s we, Y/N is always roped into the twins’ plans, and while she usually doesn’t mind, today isn’t the day for it. Fred never really knows when it’s time to be quiet, always wanting to be on the go and this pops an idea into Y/N’s head.

“Daddy got cows recently,” she begins and she notices how that immediately grabs Fred’s attention. He loves cows, whenever he’s in the car with Y/N and her father he points them out every time they see one, “you sure you don’t want to come to meet them?”

Fred is out the door quicker than you can say pranks, running towards the fence that divides their two properties. Y/N and George have to stop and tell Molly where they’re going because Fred left so hastily, that he didn’t even tell anyone before. After Molly sighs and gives them permission that the twins don't really care if they get, George grabs Y/N’s hand and runs out the door after his brother.

When they finally catch up to him, Fred's face is bright red from exertion, almost matching his hair and his eyes are bright and wide. Y/N’s dad only got two cows at first, testing the waters with how he’d feel looking after them but Fred is in absolute awe.

George pushes him over the fence as he’s laughing, telling him to hurry up so they can get out of the blasting summer sun. George and Y/N slowly make their way back over to the clover patch and Fred stays near the cows. He’s watching them shyly and Y/N thinks this is the only time he’s ever seen him calm and quiet- not wanting to scare the cows.

“This is Ruby,” Y/N says as she places the small, white rabbit on George’s lap. He looks nervous like he’s worried about dropping or squeezing the bunny rabbit too hard but when he settles, the bunny is content sitting in his lap.

“This is Cutiepie, I named him!” Y/N says proudly about the black bunny rabbit in her hands, “he’s my best friend.”

George looks up at Y/N at that and before he can say anything, Y/N is giggling, “Don’t look so worried, Georgie. You’ll always be my number one...” she pauses for a moment, and looks between Fred and the bunny rabbit in her hand before giggling, “just don’t tell Freddie.”

The two of them sit in comfortable silence, admiring the two bunnies as they eventually clamper down their laps and start hopping around. George is mesmerised- the only pets he’s ever had have been the chickens, an owl and the gnomes if you count them and he hopes Y/N will have him over every day to play with the bunnies. And hang out with her of course.

“Why did you want to come to hang out with the bunnies?” Y/N soon questions, curious as to why George chose the calmness over chaos. They both look over at Fred, who’s now bent at the knees looking like he’s going to run at a cow.

“I don’t know,” George shrugs, he didn’t know why he wanted to spend time sitting in one spot instead of pranking his older brother with Fred, “Bunnies are cool, I’ve never met a bunny before.”

Y/N hums in agreement, she thinks bunnies are the coolest pets someone could have and she’s glad George agrees. If George didn’t like bunnies, she thinks she’d have to demote him to number two best friend and while she loves Fred, she doesn’t want to do that.

It’s the day the three of them have been waiting for as long as they can remember. They’re on Platform 9 ¾, trying to get away from their parents and onto the train.

“I’ll miss you so much, sweetie,” her dad says, and Y/N thinks she might cry. She’s never been far away from her dad for long periods of time. The longest she’s ever been away from him was two days and even then, she was just at The Burrow.

But now she’s leaving for school and it’s all the way in Scotland, which to an 11-year-old moving away for magical boarding school, is forever away from her family. Tears well up in her eyes and her dad pulls her into a hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says pulling away and wiping the tears that have fallen from his daughter’s eyes, “your mother would be proud too. Now remember, stick with Percy and Charlie, Molly told me they’ll look after you.” Bill had graduated earlier in the year, leaving the 2nd and 3rd oldest Weasley brothers to mentor ‘mischief trio’ as they navigated Hogwarts.

“Please make sure the twins don’t get into too much trouble,” Molly says, pulling the small girl into a hug, but she knows it’s useless. Where Fred and George go, Y/N goes too and detention is included.

They eventually make it onto the train, Y/N noticing the tears in her dad’s eyes as he waves to her. They look around for a few moments, trying to find an empty compartment.

They eventually find one with just one boy in it who looks around their age. He’s got dreadlocks in his hair and he already looks bored. When he notices the doors open, he smiles widely and ushers the three of them to come sit with him.

“I’m Lee,” he introduces himself and after the introductions are done they find out he’s also in their year and convinced he’s going to be in Gryffindor.

“Us too!” The twins shout at the same time. Their entire family are in Gryffindor and while the Weasley’s are by no means a strict wizarding family, the twins would feel quite odd if they weren’t sorted into Gryffindor.

Y/N however, did not know what house she’d be sorted into. Her mother had been in Ravenclaw but she didn’t believe she had any of the Ravenclaw attributes. Lost in her thoughts, she doesn’t notice George shuffling closer to her and tapping her gently.

“Are you okay?” He asks and Y/N nods her head, contemplating if she should express her worry to George. She knows it’s silly, but now she’s starting to get a bit worked up. Worried that after all these years, her and George will drift apart, especially if they’re in different houses and definitely if she’s in Slytherin. “Just worried. What if… What if we drift apart, Georgie?” she whispers.

George hates to admit he’s had the same worry and the look on Y/N’s face tells George this is the first time she’s even considered this and it’s killing him. He’s grown quite affectionate for Y/N over their six years of friendship. Molly and Y/N’s dad have jokingly asked when’s the wedding numerous times and while they both yell about cooties, George’s face gets the tiniest bit red every single time the joke is mentioned.

“I promise we won’t. Remember what I said the day we became friends? Best friends, and best friends are a forever kind of thing,” he promises, holding out his pinky for Y/N to wrap her own around and they stamp each other’s thumb with their own. Their way of promising each other.

“Remember, if you break the promise, Georgie, your thumb breaks,” she says with full sincerity and George remembers the one time he gave her this exact threat. She had cried for 20 minutes thinking that she’d accidentally made an Unbreakable Vow over getting ice-cream with him at Diagon Alley and poor nine-year-old George was forced into comforting Y/N and apologised profusely.

Fred and Lee are talking animatedly about quidditch (Fred can’t wait to be a beater and while Lee isn’t big on sports, he thinks he’d be a great commentator) when Y/N spots George rifling through his bag.

He pulls out a photograph and smiles as he looks down at it. It’s the last picture they took together before summer ended. Y/N’s dad took it on his muggle camera so it’s not moving, but George doesn’t mind. They’re smiling widely, bigger than they’ve ever smiled before and holding their wands they just got at Diagon Alley. They, of course, are standing in their clover patch, Y/N trying to hold the black bunny rabbit and wand at the same time and her dad clicked the capture button just as Cutiepie tried to jump out of Y/N’s arms.

It makes him laugh every time he looks at it, but seeing the worry still in Y/N’s brow, he thinks she needs the photo more than he does. “Here,” he says, nudging her briefly and handing her the photo. “When you’re worried we’re drifting, look at this and remember you’re stuck with me forever.”

Y/N’s eyes well with tears, this is the sweetest gesture anyone has ever done for her. “Thanks, Georgie. You’re stuck with me as well,” she says, tucking the picture into her robe pocket that rests over her heart.

Summer of ‘92 arrives fast and once again, Y/N spends most of her time at The Burrow causing mayhem. Today, her dad’s at work and while he 100% trusts his daughter to be home alone, he does not trust her best friends, so she waltzes over to The Burrow, walking in like she’s lived there her whole life, kisses Molly hello on the cheek and runs around, trying to find her boys.

It’s scorching, way too hot for summer in Devon and all the Weasley siblings who still live at home have decided to go swimming in the pond. They started playing Marco Polo until Fred started cheating by running outside of the pond so he wouldn’t get caught and then tried to play Chicken fight until Ginny fell off of George’s shoulders and almost hit her head.

Now, everyone’s calmed down and just relaxing. George and Y/N are cuddled up and floating around and it’s making her heart race. In the last year, her feelings for George have developed from platonic to romantic and being this close to him, while not unusual, is making her heart race. But it doesn’t last long, and soon enough Fred splashes them to get their attention.

“I’m tired and I need a nap, I’m going inside,” Fred says, eyeing his best friends. He’s had the assumption that something is going on with them for a while, and while he’d love to meddle, this is George and Y/N and there’s an unspoken rule between the three of them that involves not messing with each other.

So George and Y/N decide to get out of the pond and make their way over to Y/N’s house. They sit themselves down in their clover patch and quickly get the bunnies out. It’s a tradition at this point, and this is their spot. This is the place they tell each other everything, almost everything in Y/N’s case and the place nothing else matters but each other.

Cutiepie and Ruby are getting older now, but they’ve had babies and now there’s plenty of bunnies surrounding the pair of friends. George picks one of the babies up and nurses it, having gotten over his fear of squishing them long ago. He pulls faces at them that cause Y/N to laugh and George loves it.

He loves making her laugh.

“How weird is it that we had You-Know-Who on the back of Quirrell's head, teaching us all year?” George says. They both heard the stories first hand from Harry, Ron and Hermione. The school year they just finished being ridiculous for the three first years, but Y/N can’t help the anxious bubble forming in her throat.

“I’m scared, Georgie,” she says, turning to face him and the fear in her eyes is obvious, “We’re only young but whatever’s happening seems like it’s going to be happening fast now Harry’s at school.” She sniffles, and George thinks he’s put his foot in his mouth. So he does the only thing he knows how to do.

He shuffles closer to Y/N and wraps his arms around her, difficult because of the two bunnies in their laps but he makes it work. “I’m always going to protect you, don’t worry,” he says confidently. He doesn’t know how or when he’d need to protect her, but she must know just how much she means to him.

They sit in silence, just listening to each other breathing and patting the bunnies in their lap. The silence between them is always comfortable, nine years of friendship does that to you. But George is itching to ask something, ask something that could change everything. He’s noticed, recently, that while himself and Fred are at quidditch practice, Y/N and Lee are getting closer.

Sometimes, when Oliver sets quidditch practice on the weekends, Y/N and Lee go to Hogsmeade together and George wonders why he has an icky feeling in his stomach when he hears about their days when that happens.

“Can I ask you something?” George asks and there’s no backing out now. He has no plans to confess, not at age 14 when he doesn’t think he needs a relationship, but he needs to know or he might, as Fred would say dramatically, die. When Y/N hums in agreement and turns to remove herself from his arms, his heart starts beating faster and before he can even stop himself, he’s blurting out the question-

“Are you dating Lee?”

Y/N stares at him in shock, not entirely convinced he hasn’t picked up her feelings for him and then she laughs. She laughs hard. And George is so confused that he starts laughing as well.

“Me and Lee?” She questions between giggles, “There’s no way, he’s like,” she laughs again at the thought of her and Lee dating, “he’s like in love with Angelina. It’s ridiculous.”

George realises how dumb he sounds. Lee’s feelings for Angelina have been so obvious, especially when he decides to comment on how good-looking she is during matches now that he’s the quidditch commentator. But George always thought he was joking and from his perspective, it always seemed like Lee had a small thing for Y/N.

“Lee and I are a no go,” she says when George doesn’t say anything besides his awkward laughter, “I.. I think I like someone else, but I don’t know. I’m 14 for crying out loud,” she laughs, “I don’t know what love is.”

She’s lying, she’s 100% sure love is what she feels with George Weasley. The way she feels with the twins is different. Fred is chaos personified and she knows if she’s ever hurt, Fred will be the first person to go after whoever hurt her, no matter who it is. But George is comforting, like home-cooked meals and Molly’s sweaters personified and she’s sure this is what love is.

George pretends to agree, they’re both as clueless as each other in regards to their feelings. George knows what love is, and it’s what he feels for his best friend who’s sitting with him in their tiny clover patch.

Y/N’s heart is aching. She hasn’t seen the twins in weeks and without seeing George every day, her days are a little bit duller. She understands he’s been busy, after all, opening the most anticipated joke shop in Diagon Alley is bound to take up most of your time, but Y/N misses the days when she could yell for her best friend and he’d come running, no questions asked.

Y/N’s short term boyfriend has just broken up with her and she longs for the comfort she knows the lanky, 18-year-old ginger could give her. They weren’t together long and she knows she should never have tried to date someone while she thinks she’s still in love with George, but it still hurts.

So, she’s sitting in the clover patch as usual. She still lives at home, her father being accommodating while there’s a war raging in the Wizarding World and he understands it’s hard to get a job these days.

She always sits there when she needs the comfort of George and he’s nowhere near. Today is one of those days. Everything is building up and she needs him but she doesn’t want to be a bother. They owl back and forth most days and he’s always talking about how much work he has to do.

She’s been laying in the clover patch, their clover patch, for so long the sun is starting to set and when she sits up she sees him.

George doesn’t miss the red-rimmed eyes and the messy hair that’s covered in grass. He notices the confused look on her face and he picks up a clover and conjures it into a bouquet of wildflowers as he walks over to her.

“Hi, darling,” he says, sitting down and passing her the bouquet. Y/N is trying her hardest to pretend like her heart isn’t swooning but it is, and it’s all George’s fault. “Your dad owled me. Said you needed some George time,” he chuckles quietly and Y/N lets out a groan.

Of course, her dad decided to meddle.

“Hey, don’t stress,” George says as he sees the look of annoyance on her face, “I don’t mind. I told you I’m always here for you, didn’t I?” She hates that he’s right.

“You did,” she starts, “but you’ve been so busy. You don’t deserve to be forced into listening to my boy troubles.” She’s mocking herself now and George lightly pushes her and shakes his head. Anything upsetting Y/N is worth listening too and he’d listen to her drone on about a broken muggle device if it meant she wasn’t bottling her emotions up.

“Sean broke up with me, said I wasn’t in it enough for him, which…” She trails off, debating whether she should continue, “he wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t in it enough for him but it still sucks,” she mutters.

George is well aware she just got out of a relationship and he’s also well aware they’ve been friends, for now, thirteen years and if anything was going to happen between them, it would have happened by now. But he can’t help but feel the slightest bit happy when he hears they’ve broken up.

“Do you want to talk about why?” He enquires trying to be a good friend. Y/N falls flat on her back and sighs as she looks up at the sky above her, “I’ve been in love with the same person since I was 14 and I think I was trying to get over him? Or is that too specific?” she laughs but George knows she isn’t joking.

“Why… Why haven’t you told them?” He asks, hoping to all four founders of Hogwarts that Y/N is talking about him. She looks at him, a glint in her eye and she decides she needs answers. She needs to know if her feelings for George Weasley are ever going to be reciprocated or if she needs to get over him.

“Scared. We’ve been friends for so long…” She hints and she hopes to Godric he gets the hint and doesn’t think she’s talking about Fred, but decides to say more just in case, “He’s tall, funny, ginger, an incredible quidditch player, great with animals…”

“You like Charlie?” He teases to hide the excitement bubbling in his chest and she has to resist the urge to slap him. But she caught the glint of happiness in her eyes and he doesn’t even have to speak for her to know her feelings are reciprocated.

She launches herself into his lap, almost pressing him into a bunny when he falls backwards and she straddles his waist, pressing kisses over his cheeks, “No! I love you, George Fabian Weasley!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he exclaims, swatting her away, “What if I didn’t love you back?” He teases, eyebrows raised and Y/N lets out a cackle of laughter, “I know you, George Weasley, the look in your eye made it obvious you were excited I love you.”

It’s George’s turn to smile like an idiot as he rolls them over and presses his lips to hers, finally. Thirteen years of friendship, four years of loving her and he was not prepared for this kiss to knock the wind out of his lungs. All the love he feels for her is reciprocated and he feels like the happiest man in the entire world.

When they pull apart, George’s eyes are transfixed on hers. The redness disappearing and being replaced by what he can only assume is absolute pure joy. She blushes and turns her head, not being able to handle the attention he’s giving her and when George tries to follow her eyes, his own eye catches something.

He reaches up above her head and plucks something out of the ground before showing it to her. “A four-leaf clover,” he whispers and George can’t help but think it’s fate. The day they became friends he’d found almost a four-leaf clover and the day they became more, he found a real one.

“Your lucky day, boyfriend,” she winks as she pulls him into another kiss, but he stops her and she gives him a pout, “Who said I was your boyfriend?” He teases and the look of fear that flickers across Y/N’s face is reminiscent of the day he threatened her with a broken thumb.

“I- I- Sorry, I assum-” He cuts her off with a kiss, laughing against her lips, “You just didn’t give me a chance to ask you, darling,” he says as he pulls away and Y/N’s face is as red as a tomato in embarrassment and he kisses both her cheeks in reassurance.

“Y/N Y/L/N, would you please be my girlfriend?” he asks, but it’s almost phrased like a statement, like she has no other choice and honestly, Y/N doesn’t mind.

When she pretends to think about it, George waggles his eyebrows and waves the four-leaf clover in her face and she pulls him into a kiss again, hoping that a ‘yes, I’ll be yours for the rest of my days’ is obvious.

#george weasley #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagine #george weasley one shot #george weasley x reader

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futurewriter2000 · 3 years ago

Text

Dysfunctional - pt.2

A/N: I forced myself to write and I actually wrote and now I feel accomplished! YAY! Can't wait to write some more.

You had disappeared.

Or that's how James Potter could have seen it like. It was off for him because he had many things on his mind, many people, many stupid ideas but the one thing that constantly popped into his mind was you.

He had never felt more alive just by somebody's presence. He had never felt so much joy, not even by Sirius or Lily or whenever he was in his stag form.

You. You. You. You.

"Potts!" he shot his head to the person who was calling his name.

Oh, my God. YOU!

You had a bright smile plastered on, the one that made his heart jump too many times too much. You swung your arms goofy-like, your legs in those oversized sweatpants stepping large steps until you jumped to sit next to him and grabbed a few toasts in front of him.

"Where had you gone lost?" he asked, smiling at her- not even feeling the need to eat as his stomach was taking turns and somersaults.

"Narnia."

"Narnia?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"No! JAMES!" you gasped, letting the toast fall on your plate. "Don't tell me you don't know what Narnia is?!"

"I don't know, actually."

"Oh- we're totally slamming Narnia book this week. No, not just the book. The whole series."

"I had never heard of it."

"Every Muggle child has been read Narnia at least ONCE in their whole life."

"Oh!" he let out a laugh. "I'm not a Muggle, darling."

"Clearly." you rolled your eyes. "Wouldn't really be in Hogwarts if you were."

He started to laugh again. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm a pureblood."

"OH!" you started to get playfully annoyed. "My apologies, king Arthur. Shall I bow to your toes and polish your boots, you Narnianless wizard."

"Yes." he puffed out his chest and put his foot on your lap. "I expect not a spot on my shoe, if there is, I shall have you beheaded."

The two of you bursted out laughing- loud and constantly shoving each other playfully.

"Oh, mate. I love your energy." you said as the laughter calmed down and you slightly punched his shoulder.

He felt something buzz through his whole body, looking at you with eyes he knew were dangerous to look at somebody.

"Okay- so here's the plan." you leaned forward, watching deeply into his eyes- the ones that made his heart jump to his throat and his head sick from how everything around him blurred out and all he could see was the colour of your eyes; drown in them when you spoke with a voice that was like a melody to him.

"Tell me the master plan."

"You, me..." you bit your lower lip and looked around. "Some weed, some sunset... maybe some chips."

"Alright. Cool." James tried to play it off cooly, though his insides were sweating from anxiety.

"Alright. Meet you in-" you checked your watch and smiled. "Three hours in front of the courtyard?"

"Meet you there."

---

He was there early. Quite early. Thirty minutes early and he doesn't know why but he has been sitting on the stone wall and stargazing, thinking about nobody else but you.

"When it's through! It's through! Fate will twist the both of you!" you started to sing with your entrance. "SO COME ON BABY! COME ON OVER! LET ME BE THE ONE TO SHOW YOU!!" you sang from the top of your lungs, causing him to laugh and jump from the wall.

"SHHHHH!"

"Wait- here comes the best part!" you giggled. "I'm the one who wants to be with youuuuu!" you started to move your body left and right. "Deeep inside I KNOW YOU FEEL IT TOOO!"

"You done?" he laughed.

You pressed yourself against him and dramatically took a hold of yourself, hugging your chest. "Waited on the lines of greens and blues!! Waiiiiited on the liine!" you added the background in a high pitched completely off tone voice. "JUST! TO! BE! THE! NEXT! TO! BE! WITH! YOU!" you pressed your finger at his chest during those pauses.

"Auch!"

"Okay, I'm done now." you laughed, backing away and looking around if anybody was coming. "Bloody hell, that song has been stuck in my head all day long." you smiled mischievously and winked at him.

"Glad you could get it out now."

"Love that song." you laughed again. It was like a breath for you- laughing. Especially when you were with him, everything else seemed so easy. You could let go of all worries around him. You could be yourself around him with no masks worn but at times as this current moment, you remembered that you shouldn't let go of your mask completely. Not yet... maybe not ever. "Come on. Let's go. I know a special place."

---

The two of you had been walking up hill, behind the bleacher of the Quidditch field, going so far that you could almost cross the border. James warned you about it but you only winked back and reassured him that the two of you are staying inside the castle borders.

"You're really fun." he said, almost out of breath.

"Oh." you smiled, looking back at the breathless Gryffindor. "More than a Slytherin should be, right?" you grinned and he let out half-groan, half-laugh.

"I was thinking that, yes." he said breathlessly. "But tell me why are we taking a hike to Merlin-knows-where?"

"Just a little bit." you smiled, finally reaching the top that was surrounded by rubble, fragments of shattered stone; sharp and mysterious. "HERE WE ARE!" you threw your hands in the air as he threw himself on the ground, breathing heavily.

"Fuuuuck!" he groaned. "I think my lungs gave out."

"Aren't you supposed to be a Quidditch player or something?" you sat down next to him and leaned forward.

He looked up at you, observing your eyes, your nose, your eyebrows- every inch of your face.

'So beautiful.' - he thought to himself, smiling gently and wanting to touch your face. So beautiful he could look at you forever and never get tired of it. He knew, he wanted to see this face for the rest of his life- every day- every second, he could watch you and never, not once think anything bad of you.

Before he could move his hand to touch you or his lips to speak to you, you had already moved away, sitting on your bum and pulling out a small container. Not much of a container either. It was a cream box and when you opened it, there was bits of green chunks inside of it. You pulled out rizla paper and started rolling it.

He started to get a bit nervous but he saw how fast you managed to roll it up. "I-" he let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "I had never done it- I mean... I don't know how to- you know..." he started to look at you as you smiled back, knowing exactly what he wanted to say. "Inhale it..."

You giggled a bit and scooted next to him. "It has to be a bit fast... like faster than you would if you'd smoke a cigarette- or something." you started to awkwardly laugh as well. "Just watch me and try to do it."

You inhaled it first, one for the taste and the second for the effect. When it comes to any unhealthy habits, you knew that you had to consume way more than most people to take effect. Strong genetics. Great immune system.

He on the other side had been quite a light-weight but quite a funny one. All he did was talk- talk extremely fast.

"Wonder what happened to these rocks- reckon it could be a giant? Or! OR!" he went on his knees and put his hands on your shoulders. "Or a mammut!"

"A mammut?"you laughed.

"A giant elephant if you want me to simplify."

"I know what a mammut is."

"Your mum. HA!" he joked and then widened his eyes. "Oh, shit- sorry!"

You started to laugh a bit louder. "It's fine." you continued to laugh.

"Oh, thank Merlin, you're not over-sensitive."

"I see a joke when I hear one."

"No but really. Reckon it could be war? Or some famous aurors playing heroes and vilians? Very pretty rocks though- I'd take one rock home- have a boulder in my room- OH! I can totally do it, just let me get my wand." he started to tap his pockets. "Oh, shoot." he started to pout. "I left it at my dorm. Hell." he started to look around until you grabbed his head and held it still.

"Get yourself together, Potts."

"I hate when you call me that." he narrowed his eyes at you.

"We're still house rivals after all."

"No lies spoken." he moved his head from your hold and laid back down, looking at the stars.

You laid right next to him and focused your eyes on the sky as well. "You were stargazing before I came."

"I was... yeah." he smiled. "I was thinking about Sirius."

"The star or the mop hair?" you joked and he laughed.

"The mop hair." his laugh started to fade. "He's like a brother to me, you know?"

"I know."

"But he pisses me off sometimes." he added and you let out a soft laugh.

"Siblings tend to do that."

"I know. I love him still... it's just he's been acting so odd lately." he started to open up and he didn't even realise it yet. "I know he ran away. I know his family was shit and all but since he left- I mean, yeah it's so fun having him around all the time but lately he's just been keeping to himself. When we met on the train-" he started to smile again. "-we talked about how we would both be sorted into Gryffindor and how we would both become Prefects and have the most perfect grades and join Quidditch together and then compete for Head Boy and go for the Auror's job..." he drifted off. "And now he just disappears and he doesn't show up for classes- he's failing Arithmancy and he needs Arithmancy if he ever wants to become an Auror."

"Why? I mean it doesn't even make sense how could Arithmancy be all connected to an Auror's job?"

"I know. We've been wondering about that as well but still. He's smart. He knows all of this... he just gave up on everything..." he finished and continued to look at the stars.

"You know, James." you started, letting him know that this time you were more serious than your usual self. "If I'm frank with you... thinking that he doesn't have ambitions and goals because he's failing classes and not showing up for class, doesn't mean he wants his future to be homeless on the street or something."

"I know and I'm not saying that- or that I'd ever let him go on the street."

"It just means that he is so preoccupied by his own demons, his problems to the point where Arithmancy seems like the least of his problems."

"He tells me everything, (y/n)." he pulled himself up on his elbows.

"I don't doubt but... how do I say this?"

"English."

You smiled and rolled your eyes at him. "I left my family too." you spoke, trying to smile through it. "Because I didn't feel welcomed by them. Because they didn't like having a witch in the family."

"Wait?" he shook his head. "You're a Muggle-born? But you're a Slytherin?"

"I'm a Slytherin because of who I am, not because of my blood status." you scooted a bit away from him. "Anyways... when you leave a household where you don't feel welcomed, you can feel liberated and free... independent and strong for finally doing it but there's also the part of them inside of you, whether you like it or not. When you leave your family, you leave your friends and your cousins that you adored. And you don't know how your parents will explain to your grandparents that you had decided to leave and then there's the part of where to live when school is over? To work, to pay bills,... to do things your family should help you go through. And maybe... just maybe Arithmancy is such a small problem out of many big ones but it's a small one and it makes you think that it's irrelevant."

"I didn't know... about..."

"Oh, nobody does really." you smiled. "I have a friend who's dad own a cafe and I work there through the summer and live on the apartment above. And my mum sometimes comes and visits- rarely though. Once a month or two."

"Shit... I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to be. It's not easy but it's free and I wouldn't change it for the world. My dad and me aren't really on good terms but who doesn't have daddy issues?" you let out a laugh but he only looked at you with eyes that didn't really speak pity to you but something else... something that you weren't quite familiar with.

- Strength. That's what James saw in you this moment. Somebody gone through shit but still standing. Strong. You're strong.

#james potter #james potter imagine #james potter x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #marauders #marauders imagine #marauders imagines #maruaders x reader

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ikeromantic · 4 years ago

Text

Summertime Swim

Written for @cinnamon-hoe as part of my 500 follower celebration

Arthur, Riches, Something Borrowed, and Surprise Me!

Approx. 1900 words - spicy NSFW!

It was a hot afternoon in Paris. The pavement shimmered in the heat and the air felt thick against the skin, too heavy to breathe. Arthur had shed his gentleman’s coat hours ago, and his vest soon after. His shirt was undone, and his tie hung loose at his collar.

Sweat beaded over his chest, the drops swelling until they ran down his slick belly. He couldn’t remember a day in which he wanted to be naked more than this one. Clothes, any clothes, felt unbearably heavy.

Arthur glanced at the woman beside him. She was pink-cheeked from the heat and fanning herself with her hand. He could see how damp her collar was, and imagined she was even more uncomfortable than he in all those layers of clothing.

They were on their way back to the mansion with a wrapped set of books Arthur had borrowed from one of le Comte’s friends in town, and a few items for Sebastian. The errand seemed like a good idea but now that they were halfway through, he was regretting the choice.

“I suppose we might have been cooler at the mansion. Sorry luv.” He squeezed her free hand lightly. “I didn’t realize it would get quite so hot.”

“It’s alright. It will just make us appreciate the cooler air outside the city more.” She smiled over at him.

Arthur shook his head. “Always so cheerful, aren’t you? Even when you look like you’re about to melt.” He leaned close and kissed the tip of her ear. “If you melted, I would have to eat you up.”

“Only if I melt?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I never said only!” Arthur leaned close and flicked his tongue across the skin just below her ear. He smiled at the way she shivered. “I’d eat you any time.”

She poked him. “When you say it like that, I can’t even think straight.”

“And that is half the point. The other half is seeing how much you want me.” He nipped her earlobe.

“Hey! It’s entirely too hot for you to be doing that. You’re just making it worse.” She smacked his arm and pretended to pout.

Arthur took a step back. She was right, of course, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to touch her, kiss her, taste her . . . even when it was so hot they were both dripping. What he needed was a way to cool down so he could heat things up in a more pleasant way. And being his smug self, he knew exactly how to do it.

They were better than half way home, with the sweltering Paris streets behind them. In the countryside, the breeze was sweeter and a little cooler, though the fields still shimmered under the bright, afternoon sun. In the haze, just past a field of waist-high wheat, Arthur spotted his only hope. A blue ripple in the golden brown afternoon. It was a small lake, rimmed on the far side by trees.

He tugged his lover’s hand. “Come on, let’s take a little break before we walk the rest of the way.”

“What? But why? Don’t you want to -” her eyes found the lagoon and she stopped mid-sentence. “Oh! Yes, I think a little break would be great. We can splash our feet in the water and enjoy the shade.”

Arthur grinned. “Spot on. You read my mind.”

The lagoon was a perfect spot for a picnic, a rowboat trip, or an afternoon swim. And since it was outside the city, few people ever came this way to enjoy it. The two lovers walked around the water to the far side where the trees were tall and the shade was deep.

Arthur set down the bundle of books and began shrugging off his coat, vest, and shirt.

“Ah, A-arthur? You . . . I think you’ve lost your shirt?” She covered her mouth with her hand and he couldn’t tell if she was serious or just teasing.

“I’m about to lose a lot more than that,” he grinned. And undid his belt.

“Wait! But . . . I thought we’d . . . just put our feet in.” She was blushing now, and Arthur knew this sudden shyness was genuine.

He let his belt drop to the ground and slid his pants off. He was gloriously bare underneath and gods but the air felt good on the bits and pieces. Arthur nearly sighed with the sheer pleasure of the breeze. “Oh, come now, my pretty little skirt. You didn’t really think I was going to sneak you off to a secluded pond just to splash our feet in the shallows, hm?”

“But someone will see!”

“Oh yes, there are crowds hiding in the wheat,” he chuckled. Then he took a step toward her. “Don’t you want to take a swim, luv? Aren’t you achingly hot?” He ran his hand up her arm, tracing the droplets of sweat with his fingertips.

“I . . . I can get cool enough . . .”

Arthur tugged at her skirt with his other hand, pulling it up and up until the fabric rested at her hip. “Doesn’t the air feel good on your skin? Now imagine the water . . . look at it. It’s cool and blue and perfect.” He smiled as her eyelids closed and she took a long, slow breath.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he grinned. His skillful fingers found the buttons of her gown and he popped them open one after another. With each little bit of exposed skin, he found himself more and more excited. He’d seen her nude so many times before that he expected the novelty to wear off, but with her . . . it never did. Just seeing the curve of her breast, the lines of her bare shoulder - it was hard to go slow. To be patient.

“W-what if there are snakes or - or -”

Arthur laughed. “Luv, the only snake here is the trouser variety.”

“You’re so wicked,” she giggled, and peeked at him from one half-opened eye. “I can’t believe you just stripped down like that!”

“I don’t know how you can even tell, with your eyes shut. Why don’t you open them and see if you enjoy the view?”

She blushed a deep crimson, but her eyes fluttered open. They traveled from his damp brow and messy hair to his eyes, and his lip. Past his shoulders to his bare chest. A pearl of sweat trickled past his nipple to the dimple of his bellybutton. She licked her lips.

“Ah, Arthur, oh . . . you . . .” she coughed. “You -”

“Now you see what you’ve done to me, hm? Naughty girl.” He popped another button open, revealing even more of the inner curve of her breast.

“You can’t blame that on me,” she said breathily.

“I can. I do.” The last few buttons came loose. He pushed her top open. “Come on luv. Come swim with me.”

The last bit of resistance in her broke as the cool breeze sighed across her breasts. She slid her clothes to the ground.

“Mmmm, that’s the way.” He lifted her up, sweat slicked-skin to skin, and carried her into the water. The pond’s bottom was soft and he stirred the silt with each step as he walked them deep enough to be covered to the shoulder. Then he let her down.

“I hate it when you’re right,” she sighed.

Arthur laughed. “Is that so?”

“It is!” She splashed him. The water drops fell in a splatter over his face and shoulders.

He sent a little wave of water at her in revenge. In seconds they were shouting and laughing, turning the lagoon into a warzone of water weapons. It was all fun and games until Arthur went under. He swam out past her and then turned. She was watching for him to surface, but that wasn’t the plan.

Instead, he moved slowly until he was close enough to touch. And pinched her. Just a light one, enough to startle.

She let out a shriek and leapt up, half out of the water like a startled mermaid.

Arthur surfaced, laughing so hard he was almost in tears.

“That isn’t funny!”

“It is,” he grinned.

She crossed her arms. “I thought for a second that something bit me!” Her lips were set in a frown, half annoyed and half amused.

Arthur sidled close. “But luv, something did bite you . . .” He lowered his head to her neck and kissed her. His teeth grazed her skin lightly, enough to pull a sigh of longing from her lips.

Her legs wrapped around his hips, and her arms went around his shoulders. “You’re an awful tease.”

“Pot, kettle,” he muttered. With her snug against him like this, his need became a physical ache. No more play. No games. He just wanted her.

She smiled. “I never said I wasn’t . . .” She leaned down and bit his neck where at the join with his shoulder. Her little teeth were sharp for a human, but what made him gasp was the way she suckled at the bite, and licked the skin.

“Wicked,” he gasped. His wit was nowhere to be found. Gone along with all sense. He could hear the pulse of her blood. It matched his own heartbeat. Fast. Desperate.

Her smooth fingers circled his shaft under the water. Playful fingertips danced along that so-sensitive skin from root to tip and he felt - he felt as if he might burst just from that light caress. “Mmm, I guess I am . . .”

Arthur felt helpless in her grip. The water and the way she’d entwined him . . . “Is this payback,” he asked hoarsely.

“For all the times you teased me? Absolutely.” Her laugh was crystal chimes and silver bells. Sweet and saucy. “But especially for that pinch!”

She laid bare his need with her soft hands, taunted him with her lips. She used him, rubbing the head of his cock against her hard little pearl until she climaxed. And worse, slid just the tip - the tip - inside to let him feel her heat, and the shuddering pleasure he brought her.

Arthur was almost begging to be released. Every brush of her skin on his was torture, bliss, a fire in his heart and his groin. “L-luv . . . I’m . . . please . . .” He gasped as she let his shaft slide against her clit again.

She drew back and for a moment, he thought she would only tease him again but this time she sank onto him. A slow descent. The cool water replaced by her searing, tight heat.

He might have tried to draw it out, but he was savage with need. Arthur grabbed her hips and plunged deep into her, again and again. It was heaven. The silken slide of their flesh, the gasps and sighs and shivered cries, the way her nails dug into the skin on his back.

Arthur felt himself almost peak. He lowered his head to her neck and bit. The sound she made pushed him over the edge, and he knew he’d brought her there too - again. He came hard, with the sweet-copper taste of her on his lips. He would give all the riches in the world to stretch this moment into forever. Their breath mingled, joined at heart and hip, and the pure ecstasy of making love.

They got back to the mansion near dark. Hair dripping wet, both smelling of pond-water and sex. Sebastian didn’t ask any questions. Just pointed them to the baths. Arthur set his borrowed books down along with Sebastian’s bag of sundries. There would be time for reading later. Right now, he was ready for some payback of his own in the shower.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp arthur #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic #follower celebration #smut and fluff #ikevamp smut

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ketchupqueenboiiii · 4 years ago

Text

Black Cat and Desert Flower

'Kaldur, what are we doing in Paris? We finished the mission, we should be heading back home.' Said Robin, via mind-link.

'Patience, my friends, I arranged for us to have a day in the city. A vacation, if you will.' Aqualad said to the team.

'Kaldur, I don't know if you noticed but it's night.' Kid Flash was also getting impatient.

'Why are we standing under a bridge with a bunch of locks on it?' Superboy asked. He hated not knowing things.

After busting a minor league drug ring in Versailles they expected to relax in the Bioship until the arrived back in the US, not stand under a bridge.

'Can you at least tell what we need 'patience' for-' Kid Flash whined until he was interrupted by a voice.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my city?" The voice was like steel. In a way it sounded like Batman's. Not in sound, but in its tone of command. It sounded young and feminine.

'Brace your selves.' Said Robin, hands inching towards his tool belt.

'There are 6 of them. Should we attack?' Superboy adds.

'No. These are friends.' Aqualad sounded completely at ease. It would have calmed them if he wasn't always calm and collected.

Before they could refute he walked into the moonlight. They heard the voice take in a sharp breathe. So they recognized them, maybe it will prevent a fight.

"I am no less than a black cat." What? The team had no idea how this conversation took such a turn. What was she saying?

"And I am no more than a desert flower." What was their leader saying? It must have meant something because the voice squealed and a figure clad in red and black polka dots came barreling at him.

'Stand down.' He sound completely unbothered. How could he be so whelmed?

'But she's-' One tried to reason.

'Stand down, she is a friend.' He sounded, breathless? Something was going on, maybe M'gann should do a scan of his mind when they get back.

The force of the girl's impact knocked them both over. They were both smiling, eyes never straying from each others. They got a clear view to analyze the girl. She look developed and fit, but still pretty small. She shouldn't have been able to knock down a door, let alone a military trained Atlantean. Was this a secret Kryptonian?

"You're, you're here," she sounded out of breath, though clearly out of amazement rather than the run. "Oh kwami, it's been to long. Is Roy here too?" How did she know Roy? Did she know all of their civilian I.D.s?

"Sadly no, Speedy is not here. But my team and I are." He said as they stood up. They could see exactly what she was wearing. A red and black skin tight body suit with a open black leather jacket and a hood. The bodysuit was red down to her navel and black the rest of the way. Each of her palms had a black circle with a unknown ideogram in red on them. Her shoes were black army boots with red laces. So she has a theme.

She moved her gaze behind Aqualad to look at the team. They took note of her mask. Her hood covered her forehead and her eyebrows, and she wore a mask connected to her body suit that cover everything nose and down. Leaving only her eyes exposed.

"Aqualad, who is she?" Artemis asked, hands already itching towards her arrows.

"Team, this is Ladybug. Ladybug, this is the team." He introduced, stepping away to allow them to assess each other.

"It's an honor to meet you all, Aqualad has spoken fondly of all of you. Welcome to Paris." She greeted professionally.

No one returned her greeting. They looked to Aqualad for more context.

He then gestured to Ladybug to speak. "You're probably confused as to who I am. I'm Ladybug, one of the heroes of Paris. We surfaced to reclaim a misused ancient magic artifact."

"Who is we?" Robin asked.

"Well, I realized that one city to one hero wasn't an equal ratio. So I formed a team to take some of the responsibility. Bunnix, Carapace, would you like to introduce yourselves?" A woman with an umbrella jumped from the top of the bridge and a man walked out from the shadow behind Ladybug. Both taller than her. Based on their themes, the man was Carapace and the woman was Bunnix.

"Sure thing, Boss." They said in unison and with exaggerated bows and salutes.

"Good Kwami, don't call me that." She said, pinching her nose.

"Our deepest apologies, Master. We beg your forgiveness." They spoke in unison again and with straight faces, too.

"God damn it, I'm not even fully trained-" She was interrupted by poorly muffled laughter behind her.

"Singe, you've been doing this for 3 years, and you still manage to reveal your presence in almost every situation-" Robin felt like he should interrupt before this escalates.

"Is that an umbrella?" He genuinely wanted to know.

"Are you judging? 'Cause, you shouldn't judge since you spent a year or so running around Gotham in green panties and a pole." Robin blushed in embarrassment. The team looked ready to fight these so called heroes.

"Ryu!" Ladybug reprimanded, looking affronted. Wait, Bunnix didn't say it? Then, who did?

"I'm so sorry about her. They're all really defensive about the umbrella." Okay?

"Who spoke then?" Kid Flash asked, still looking all little miffed about the comment.

"You know, Aqualad, there's enough of us for a spar." She said smirking, and ignoring Kid's question.

"If we're sparring, I want a few minutes with who ever said that stuff about Robin." He said glaring in no particular direction.

"Actually, I was thinking we do a group spar. Aqualad's team versus mine." She suggested.

No one seemed to be against it.

"Okay then, prepare yourselves-" Aqualad started.

"Wait! I have to call of Pegasus." She brought her hand up to her ear and looked toward a building.

"Woah-woah-woah, hold up, you have a sniper?!" Kid Flash exclaimed, speedily looking around to see them.

"You have to be prepared for anything." She responded after finishing her comm-call.

"Yeah, but still, you have a sniper-"

A turquois portal appeared and a white-haired man in a brown leather bodysuit stepped out of it. His hair was held back in vertical braids gathered in a ponytail. He also wore pitch black sunglasses, even though it was the middle of the night.

"Hello." He greeted the teams before walking to stand next to Bunnix and Singe.

"Let's get ready to spar." Aqualad announced, walking not-to-subtlety towards Ladybug. The teams both walked of to strategize.

"You sure your ready to fight me again? It's been a couple months since our last spar." She quipped with pop of her hip and challenging smirk.

"If my memory is correct, you were the one with the losing streak." He smiled back with his patented sass.

"We'll see about that." They shared eye contact and a firm hand shake.

With a quick turn of a heel, "Formation!"

Bonus #1

For more context: Mari and Kaldur were not always this touchy feely. Mari spent a year or so out of Paris to train for Guardian purposes. She would have cataclysm herself before leaving Paris alone. But Tikki and Plagg convinced her that she was unstable with all of the guardian power and she would have to learn to control it. Outside of Paris. So they decided to give out the miraculous and have the new team pass around Tikki and she would take Plagg out of Paris (too many billboards and Plagg wasn't good at emotions).

So she was backpacking America, trying to find someone to help her. Unfortunately someone found her. Namely Aquaman and his partner. Interrogating her just left them both offended.

But she did learn that she was now fluent in ancient languages, like the guardian language and Atlantean.

("What are you doing here?"

"That's not your problem."

"You sunk Atlantis! Of course it's our concern!"

"You Atlantean's think you're entitled to everything. That's why Plagg sunk your city."

"{In Atlantean} My King, should we take her to Poseidonis-"

"{in Atlantean} Excuse me, but I'm not going anywhere other than out of this cell."

"{In English} How do you-"

They call in the JL for backup and try to interrogate her, until Diana vetoes and pardons her. She offers to take her to Themyscira and train but Arthur vetoes that so now she's going to train with Roy and Kaldur. [Because they are the oldest and I believe that they worked together most pre-canon YJs1.]

{Whispers and Glares}"Atlantean bitch."

{Whispers and Glares} "Guardian scum.")

5 months and numerous fights later, Roy was tired friendTM of their shit and sat them down to make them talk. They spoke of both versions of the Sinking of Atlantis and came to the agreement that Plagg was sorry for taking things too far and that modern Atlanteans could not be blamed for the mistakes of one of their selfish past monarchs. [king whoever tried to use Plagg's miraculous to conquer and terrorize neighboring kingdoms, so in retaliation Plagg cataclysmed the entire country/city]

After getting over that they both realized, 'Hey, he/she's actually pretty cool."

Everyone kept in touch after she went back to Paris and bitched to each other about teammates and leadership and how it's, quote-unquote, 'unfair that it's legal for Mari to drink but not Roy'

I'm not good with timelines so I'm going to say that, Kaldur still has hopes for him and Tula, Mari's not entertaining anything more than friendship (no distractions), and Roy is too focused on teenaged rebellion.

#maribat #kaldinette #kaldur'ahm x marinette #reposted on ao3 and wattpad

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hb-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Thank you. I can take it from here.

Inspired by my 100+ lovely followers, @love-me-a-good-prompt’s “THANK YOU IDEAS” prompt list, and a suggestion from the lovely @cas-kingdom

Summary: From the Little Lady Blinder Universe. Clara Shelby wants to bake her brother a special treat for his birthday but needs a bit of assistance in gathering ingredients.

Featuring: Tommy Shelby, John Shelby, Clara Shelby, and Nipper (Shelby cousin)

-----

Clara stared at the space between the topmost cupboard and the ceiling, to the spot where Polly set the sugar, far out of her and Finn’s reach, rationing it now that she saw how much the pair were shoveling into their afternoon tea.

Clara had already collected the other ingredients, mixed the dry things together, waiting on the sugar in the hopes that someone taller would pass through, but she could wait no longer.

She didn’t need much, knew that her brother wasn’t particularly fond of sweet things anyway, but the biscuit she chose still called for a small measure of the stuff, so Clara pulled over a chair and climbed onto the counter with a clean wooden spoon, intending to push the small container close enough to the edge for her outstretched fingers to reach.

Clara yelped and the spoon clattered to the floor as a pair of hands on her waist tugged her from the countertop.

Tommy settled her on his hip, an act he nearly regretted when she latched her flour-covered hands around him.

“You’re not meant to be home yet,” Clara said.

“And you’re not meant to be up on the counters.” Tommy shifted her to glance at the mess on the table but Clara quickly pushed his face back to her’s with a flour-covered hand.

“Arthur said you had a meeting.”

“I did,” he answered, the two words coming out slow, with a hint of suspicion. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing.”

Clara tried to pull out of his arms but Tommy held her there, turning them both towards the mess again.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Nothing that concerns you, then,” Clara corrected. “Let me down, Tommy.”

“Let you down so you can climb back up on the counters?”

“Wouldn’t need to if Aunt Polly stopped putting the sugar all the way up there,” Clara answered, pointing towards the canister and reaching towards it from Tommy’s arms.

Tommy chuckled. The sugar had spent a portion of his childhood on that shelf as well thanks to John.

“What do you need the sugar for?”

“Because I need it,” Clara answered, all pouting lips and big shining eyes. “Please, Tommy?”

“Tell me what you need it for,” Tommy said again.

Clara groaned, going a bit limp in his arms. “But it’s none of your business,” she answered.

“None of my business? Not much under this roof that falls under that category.”

Clara knew all about the different types of business to be found in the Shelby household. There was the betting business and family business and women’s business and funny business. In the months since the boys returned home, Clara had learned that her brother seemed to think he was entitled to have a hand in all of it, though he often declined participating in the funny business, more often just accusing her and Finn of it.

“Well, this does,” she answered. “It’s Clara business.”

“Clara business, eh?” he said. “That sounds like something that’ll only end in trouble.”

“No, it won’t. I promise, Tommy.”

“You promise?”

Clara nodded and Tommy let her down, reaching up to grab the sugar from the top shelf and placing it in her hands. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

Clara smiled before skipping away from him to plop the container down on the table. She began scanning through the recipe to find her spot and Tommy lingered, flicking open his cigarette case as he watched her.

“You know you’ve got to clean all this up before Aunt Polly comes back or she’ll be after us both,” he said, waving the cigarette around at the mess.

“I will,” she answered.

Tommy stepped over to her, glancing into the mixing bowl. “An—”

Clara pushed her brother towards the shop doors. “Thank you. I can take it from here.”

Tommy opened his mouth once she had him over the threshold, about to step back into the room, but Clara tugged on the string holding the curtain back and the red velvet fell between them.

“I said I can take it from here, Thomas!”

Tommy didn’t really like biscuits but Clara noticed that he always lifted a savory biscuit from her Hinkley’s bag whenever he found one. It was a special thing Mr. Hinkley made from time to time, the rosemary biscuits, and the baker had given Clara a basic recipe after she promised not to open a competing bake shop down on Watery Lane.

Clara knew her brother didn’t really like birthdays either, not his at least, and there had been a consensus among the family, decided over a month prior, that they’d not be doing anything special for him. There would be no cake, no presents, no acknowledgment whatsoever, but Clara had kept quiet on the subject, not agreeing to a thing the others said but not voicing her own opinion either. The way she saw it, it was none of their business if she chose to make biscuits on a random Tuesday afternoon, even if that Tuesday was the same day Tommy happened to have been born.

While the biscuits were cooling, the smell of fresh rosemary spreading throughout the first floor of the house, Clara stuck her head through the curtains to the shop to see they were full up with business for the afternoon.

She whispered to her cousin Nipper who was sat at the table closest to the door. It was a loose description, calling Nipper and Henry cousins, but they were something close to that, some sort of relation on the Shelby side made closer to her and Finn because they were the only other set of twins in the family.

“That smells good,” he said as he came to stand beside her, his hand moving to push the curtain aside. “What’s Aunt Pol—“

Clara pulled the curtains tight around her head. “Can you send Tommy back?”

“Why don’t you get him yourself?”

“Because I promised I won’t cause any trouble.”

Nipper laughed at that. “Guess you’re out—”

Clara disappeared behind the curtain before he could finish, coming back with a warm biscuit. “I’ll give you one if you send him back. And if you don’t tell John.”

Nipper was just teasing his little cousin, would’ve given in to her without the biscuit offering but he’d not say no to the bribe either. He took it from her outstretched hand before popping it in his mouth and heading across the room to where Tommy and John were talking.

“Clara’s asking for you,” Nipper said, still chewing the bit of biscuit in his mouth.

“Me?” John said.

Nipper shook his head. “No, she wants Tommy.”

Tommy pushed the ledger back into John’s hands. “Keep on the books, John. I’ll be right back.”

John hummed. “What are you chewing on, Nip?”

“Nothing,” Nipper answered, clearing his mouth with a final swallow and a swipe of his sleeve across his lips, both pointless maneuvers as John’s nose had already picked up on the rosemary wafting into the shop.

“Doesn’t smell like nothing,” John said. “It smells like...”

“Clara business, eh?” Tommy said as he came through from the shop, the doors cutting off John’s words as Tommy closed them and turned to his sister, specks of flour across every bit of her.

“It can be Clara and Tommy business now, but we have to keep it a secret.”

“Why’s that?” Tommy asked.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “It’s you that doesn’t like celebrating birthdays.”

Birthdays. Tommy released a light scoff, almost a laugh. He’d forgotten, hadn’t thought about his own birthday since before France, not since he’d spent the miserable day sat at Greta’s bedside. Tommy shook his head as Clara pulled the plate of biscuits out from behind her back.

“They’re not sweet ones,” she said, setting the plate on the table. “I know you don’t like them sweet and I know everyone said we aren’t supposed to talk about your birthday but I just thought if I didn’t make a very big deal and didn’t tell anyone else then maybe you wouldn’t be mad and...”

“I’m not mad,” Tommy said as he took a cookie from the tray, taking a small bite. He was surprised, and a bit touched, but certainly not mad.

Clara smiled, relieved her brother wasn’t upset.

“But we do have a problem, you and me,” Tommy said, swallowing and wiping his hands off as he came down to her height, poking his sister in the shoulder. “You promised me there’d be no trouble at the end of this bit of Clara business but now I’ve got a brother out there in the shop sniffing out these biscuits like a rabid dog,” Tommy said, his eyes going wide. “You know how John is about sweets...almost as bad as you.”

Clara giggled. “I told Nipper not to tell him.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve started quite the commotion out there in the shop, nearly a riot. I think we may have to share these secret biscuits, eh? Just tell the boys they’re a special Clara treat and we’ll keep the birthday bit between you and me?”

Clara nodded and Tommy made to stand up. Clara wrapped her arms around his neck before he could make any progress, her whisper so quiet that Tommy could barely hear it, his understanding of the words more from context than the hushed murmur as Clara wished her brother a happy birthday and placed a kiss on his cheek.

-----

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theshelbyclan · 5 years ago

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Remember

Summary: Requested as: The idea is, there's the shelby sis (older than Finn) and she's taken from the family as a child & they only find her years later when she's around 20. When they find her she doesn't say a word cause she was treated poorly where she was during those years. And they all are overwhelmed with her not speaking. They see her talking to a friend later & ask the friend about her and they explain that. She starts talkin days later and lots of fluff:)

A/N: This was requested by @vikingsxf, thanks so much! Also, this is the first ever story I’ve written on request, please don’t judge me too harshly... I changed it a little, but hope you still like it!

Words: 3574

***

It had been years since you’d last seen Birmingham. Home. There it was, on top of the hill and still at quite a distance, but you could see the smoke was rising and the people were buzzing like flies. It didn’t feel like home, but a part of you knew it had always been home.

For the last few years you’d been traveling alone. This was a dangerous thing to do for a woman on her own. But you’d dressed as a boy and stayed with good people, with traveling people mainly. They didn’t trust you much at first, but when you’d spoken their language, they usually let you it. Still, this life was a lot safer than where you’d come from. You remembered it all. “Y/N!” you spun around to find the old man looking at you, “He wants to talk to you.” Releasing Birmingham once again, you turned away and walked over to the vardo where you’d been summoned. Right now, you were traveling with the Lee’s and they’d been all right. Not great, but no trouble either. The problem now was you were officially grown-up and passing like a boy was getting harder and harder. Johnny Dogs was also travelling with the Lee’s and he’d figured you out straight away. He was gracious enough however to never mention it. “Talk to that horse for me, will ya? He won’t listen to me.” You scoffed, internally laughing at him because he was supposed to have a way with horses.

He winked at you, “It’s the white one, by the river. Wash her for me.” You walked a little with him and admired the white horse. A young boy was washing her in the river, but he had a hard time controlling the horse as well. She didn’t like to be handled, didn’t like to be touched, and you and the horse understood each other at once. “Keep still, sweetheart,” you whispered as you approached the horse gently, “It’s just you and me. We’ll be okay.” The horse followed you meekly. “Huh!” Johnny elbowed the young boy in the side as he pointed at you, “What did I say? Proper gypsy that one, when it comes to horses.” You smiled at them both and walked the horse over to another wagon to get her brushed. Like a ritual you petted and groomed her. Her nose was touching your back every few seconds to let you know she agreed with it. As you worked, thoughts you’d rather kept locked away popped up in your head. Images flashed of dark spaces, doors being locked, children being beaten and pain stinging your back. Your childhood had been rough, taken at a young age and brought to a place of screams. It haunted you, but it also embarrassed you. You never quite trusted yourself to speak after that. The beautiful horse pulled suddenly, spooked by a noise. You looked up and saw some fancy car approaching on the grass. You knew men like that had no business here and your mind was racing at the possible scenarios. What if they came for you, to take you back? Silently, you moved behind the horse and watched as they got out. They were too far away to see, but Johnny seemed to know them. There was no way you were going back. Beckoning the boy and handing him the rag to groom the horse, you edged away invisibly. Walking through the field, hiding behind the wagons, you tried to disappear. You climbed a tree to wait until they’d gone, because strangely enough, people never really look up. The leader of the group talked to Johnny, while the three other brothers stood back. “How’s life, Johnny?” “Not bad, I’m traveling with the Lee’s now.” “So I’ve heard, any news?” You listened to the conversation intently. There was something familiar about it, but you couldn’t quite place it. Suddenly, the speaker looked up and saw one of your bare feet dangling from the sky. Johnny saw him look and explained, “New boy. Joined us recently.” “Where from?” “No idea,” Johnny shrugged, “Doesn’t really speak that one.” You were frozen up that tree. Luckily they had other things on their minds apparently and they flipped a coin for it. The older brother shouted something and the Lee’s by the river were laughing. Before you could even blink, a fight had ensued. Your pretty white horse was now definitely spooked and without thinking about it, you walked over to her to calm her down. “You know horses?” A low voice asked behind you. Your stomach dropped. You didn’t turn around, but just continued to pet the horse, while whispering her own language into her ear. Part of you hoped you could still walk away, without them really seeing you. One of the men took your arm gently and tried to turn you around. But all instincts kicked in and you spun around to punch him square in the nose. His head flew back, he cursed intensely, and you immediately regretted your decision. In panic, you tried to make a run for it. The older brother had now taken hold of your hand. A small smile tugged at his mouth and he tried to calm you down by locking eyes with you. Pale blue eyes, identical to yours, were looking at you. And he felt it too. “What’s your name?” he asked you. You just stared at him. “A girl able to do that to my brother should at least be able to identify herself.” So he knew you weren’t a boy. You still kept silent. He could see you were seriously afraid, so tried a different approach, “My name’s Thomas Shelby and I apologize for the mess we’ve caused here at the camp. I also apologize for my brother’s ways.” “The fuck are you apologizing to her for?” said brother protested, still holding his nose and blood oozing through his fingers, “Think she broke my nose.” You could only suck in your breath and whisper, “Shelby…” Thomas looked at you again, completely ignoring his brother. Alarm bells were going off in his head and some old memory was nagging at his brain, “Y/N? Is that you?” Completely frozen on the spot, you had no way of reacting. You hadn’t been called by your real name in years. This wasn’t what you’d been looking for, you didn’t even want it and here it was: you were looking at your brother. Tommy himself was shocked and he let go of you at once. He took a few steps back and thought about it all for a while. Guilt, anger and sorrow washed over him all at once, but none of it was shown on his face. Walking over to Johnny, he said, “Take her to Small Heath, to Uncle Charlie. Calm her down and take the horse. Then get Ada.” “Tommy, what in the hell is going on here?” He looked back at you for a second, “I’ve found my sister, Johnny.”

*** Uncle Charlie brought back more memories for you, but they were mainly good ones. You remembered the smell of the place, how you used to sleep in the hay and the horses, always, the horses. He too tried to make conversation with you after Johnny had told him what Tommy had said, but quickly found that you simply didn’t speak. Johnny left again and that meant you were on your own with Curly. Curly talked non-stop and you instantly liked him. He didn’t mind that you were different or that you were so quiet, he just talked horses. The sounds of high heels suddenly filled the yard. Ada Shelby rounded the corner and looked at you with big eyes, “Y/N,” she said, “You’re back.” When she pulled you into an embrace, your first instinct was to push her away. But this was your sister and you’d missed her so much. None of it had been her fault, so you just let her. There was very little you remembered from before being taken, you were only three at the time, but you remembered that older sister of eight, always there to hold your hand. And in seconds, you’d lost it all. “Come on,” Ada urged, “let’s get you home.” You shook your head, eyes speaking plainly that you didn’t want to. “Why not, sweetheart? Aunt Polly can’t wait to see you, and your brothers just want to talk to you.” Anger flashed through your eyes now as it bubbled up inside you. If they’d want to talk to you so badly, why didn’t they ever look for you? Ada pulled you down and sat next to you in the hay, “Tell me.” You just couldn’t. Carefully she whispered, “What happened to you?” Too much. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to,” Ada smiled a little at her younger sister, “But is there anything I can do for you? Get someone maybe?” Your eyes immediately shot up and you nodded. There was one person you were dying to talk to and she was still back at the camp by the river. She’d been like a sister to you for many years. Just thinking that was painful now. Ada promptly got to work and ordered Johnny to get the girl from the camp. Thomas was watching Charlie’s yard from a distance. He saw a gypsy girl approaching and moments later his sister and the girl were talking. They were talking. His sister didn’t say a word to him, but she could talk. Tommy beckoned little Finn to come over and ordered him to get John and Arthur to follow that girl. As his youngest brother had left again, he felt the emotion of it all tightening his throat. His sister had been hurt, badly.

*** The two brothers walked silently, but on a mission. John had been only six when you were taken, but Arthur had been 14 already. He remembered it well. They found their sister’s friend down at a pub and Arthur was the first one to approach her, “Y/N. You know her.” “So what if I do?” the girl threw back. “Why won’t she speak to us?” The girl scoffed, “Why would she?” She stood up to walk away, but Arthur grabbed her arm roughly. Seeing this wasn’t working, John pulled Arthur’s hand away and talked more gently to her, “Please. She’s our sister and we haven’t seen her for sixteen years. She was taken from us and we need to know what happened to her.” “Why?” “To kill the bastard that took her,” Arthur replied quickly. The gyspy girl seemed to be sizing up both Shelby’s. One was a brute and ready to kill everyone who’d ever hurt you, with his bare hands if he had to. This was good, let him. The other one was softer, concerned and maybe even a little hurt. “How do you even know she’s your sister?” “Because she has Tommy’s eyes and she broke my nose,” John said. This was good enough for her and she laughed at his answer. They were alright, but she wasn’t sure if you could ever trust them again, “She thinks the family gave her up.” “What?” “And that’s why you never looked for her.” Arthur softened a little too, for the first time, “We never stopped looking.” Seeing the truth in their eyes, the friend started telling them what she knew. She told them of the orphanage you were send to, where you’d refused to obey anyone. How they’d send you to the asylums after that, where you were beaten and imprisoned for years. How you kept on escaping, but was always brought back. How you’d been out for four years now, after an escape attempt had finally been successful. And lastly, how you’d been moving around with travellers now, dressed as a boy.

*** You knew none of this, but were still with the horses at Charlie’s. A few days had passed already and you knew you couldn’t stay there forever. Charlie knew the same thing. “Go on,” he said to you one day, “Go home to your brothers. They may be mad, the lot of them, but they never gave up looking for you, Y/N. Go and talk to them.”

Walking into Small Heath on bare feet felt somehow like a victory to you. Men gave you looks, so you felt for the knife hidden under your trousers. They wouldn’t be the first ones you stabbed. You stepped inside the house and hardly had any time to recognise the small house decorated as a vardo. Immediately Aunt Polly flung herself around your neck. Sobs were coming from her. She sat you down at the table and made you tea. You looked at it for a moment and shook your head. Tommy cocked one eyebrow and poured you a glass of whiskey. In one movement you downed the glass. John smirked, “Welcome home, Shelby…” “Sweetheart, talk to us. Who hurt you?” Aunt Polly urged. “I’ll fix it,” Arthur grumbled, “I’ll kill them all for you, Y/N.” “No need,” you said, speaking for the first time, “The man who took me is dead. I stabbed him in his sleep.” Your voice was more stable than they’d imagined. Thomas sighed, sat down next to you and poured you another drink. Then he slowly rolled another cigarette and lit it. “They said they were from the parish,” Polly said. You laughed coldly, “If he was, why did he take me to an orphanage first, but still came ‘round when I was taken into the asylum. He wanted me for something else.” Polly looked hurt, “We didn’t know.” “Well you fucking should have,” you spat, “Sixteen years you had and I never heard anything from any of you.” “We fucking should have, yes,” Arthur agreed at once, “Dad was no use and I was the eldest. We did try to find you, Y/N, but there were no traces of you anywhere.” “They changed your name,” Polly added softly, “They always do.” “I tried to get mum to talk about it,” Ada said, “But it was too painful for her. All her children were too painful for her after that. Seeing us reminded her of your absence, and it hurt. Hurt so badly she never was the same after that.” Arthur cast his head down at the memory, “Then the war came and all records got lost. We got packed off to France and the whole world went shit…” “We’re not here to make excuses,” Tommy said, “We will find the people responsible and deal with them. You just rest and forget about where you’ve been.” He started to get up from the table. In a sudden outburst of emotion, you grabbed the glass he’d just filled and threw it at him. It spattered apart in small shards on the wall next to his head. A loud roar, a scream coming from deep within, burst from you and Thomas just stared at you, frozen. “How the fuck am I supposed to forget?” you bellowed, “How the fuck am I supposed to sleep? Tell me, big brother who seems to know everything, how do I do that? I am fucking haunted by what happened. I dream of being locked up, of getting whipped and them touching me. I have the scars on my back and the chaos in my mind! And the fucked up part is, that I was always on my own during it all. None of you were fucking there, and now I’m supposed to simply forget?!” You got up and walked over to Tommy, “Tell me, how do I forget?” Your face was now inches from his, and slapping your own temple you shouted, “How do I clear my head and fucking stop remembering?” Then you whispered tortured, “Tell me how.” Thomas cleared his throat. Then he took your face in his hands and tried to wipe some of the tears off your face that had started falling down in anger, “Y/N, I’m sorry, eh? I didn’t mean to make light of it. But we can’t take it back, and I fucking hate that.” His own voice showed anger now, “Every night, I dream of France. I’m back in the tunnels and I can’t get the mud and smoke out of my brains, however much I try. You’re right. You can’t forget. I’m sorry I said you should.”

You let your forehead rest against his and the two of you stood there for a moment, breathing heavily. Tommy touched your cheek lightly, “But you’ll be alright. You might not see it now and you might not know how, but you’ll be alright.” And then you just let go. You started crying and crying, and it was like everything just only started to come in now. “It’s alright, Y/N, it’s alright,” Tommy whispered while stroking your hair. “We’re here now.” He took your face in his hands again and smiled at you, “You’ve been so strong and I’m so proud of you.” “I never wanted to be strong,” you whispered, “I just wanted to survive.” “I know, princess,” Tommy used his old nickname for you, “You don’t have to be any longer. We’ll take care of you.” His face brightened a little and he added, “even though you don’t need it, seeing what you did to John’s nose!” “Y/N did that?” Polly laughed at John, “Hasn’t changed much.”

Everyone was silent for a little while. You just had to keep reminding yourself that this was real. You were really home and this was your family. Things would get better, slowly, but they’d get better. “Y/N?” John started, “Remember how we used to play with dad’s old bottles? I used to pile them up in a tower and you’d throw them all down. You used to laugh so hard at that.” You smiled at the memory. Happier memories were flowing back into your mind, slowly brightening the dark place in there. “Oh, I remember,” Thomas untangled himself from your embrace with a small smile, “You used to steal tiny things from dad and when you got caught, acted like a little princess to get away with it. That’s why I used to call you that.” “I used to steal the keys at the asylum, extra food and anything to get my hands on, just to find a way out. I can steal anything.” “That’s my girl,” John said proudly. Ada joined in in the storytelling, “I remember when you were born. I was so happy to have another girl in the family, with all those boys all over the place. Mum was too.” “You were the sweetest little thing, tiny at birth,” Polly said, “but with those pale eyes and jet-black hair to match. You used to fall asleep on my lap when I was peeling potatoes. Do you remember that?” “I do,” you took your aunt’s hands as you sat back down again and could see a single tear rolling down her cheek.

“Remember when we lost her, Tommy?” Arthur looked at his brother, “That night in the summer and we were all panicking for hours. Turns out Y/N had just fallen asleep in the hay next to the horses.” “You still have your way with horses.” Thomas looked at you again, “Just as you have your way with brothers. You used to be an angel, but if any of us picked you up without you wanting to, you’d kick and scream. The whole neighbourhood thought we were murdering you!” “Maybe you should listen to me more often,” you replied, grinning too.

“We will now,” Tommy said.

You suddenly felt overwhelmingly tired and you laid your head forwards onto you aunt’s lap, “I’m so tired, Poll.”

“I’ll get the potatoes then!” Ada got up and brushed your head for a moment, “And we’ll have to do something about that hair of yours. Looks like it hasn’t seen a brush in years! You can scream again when I do it, just like old times.”

“I’ve missed you, little sister,” Arthur locked eyes with you and smiled warmly, “Welcome home.”

“Yeah, we have a lot of catching up to do! Maybe I could throw you out the window again, for old times’ sake,” John joked.

“Shut up, John,” you mumbled.

“Leave the girl be,” Thomas said, “she’s had enough trouble in life without you fuckers as it is.”

“Will you be alright?” Polly asked as she stroked your hair slowly.

“I will be.”

Thomas took another drag from his cigarette and nodded, “You will be.”

There was a calmness washing over you that you hadn’t felt in years. And slowly, you started recognising and remembering the way each of them expressed it, but Ada was the one to actually say it in the end.

“We love you, Y/N.”

***

Masterlist

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koolkat9 · 3 years ago

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HWS Germany Ship Event 2021: Day 1

Prompt: Highschool

Paring: GerEng, side of Itapan

Promposal Gone Wrong? Or Right?

“You and Arthur are going to prom right?” Feliciano asked.

Ludwig almost choked on his food at the sudden question. He, Feliciano, and Kiku were having lunch and of course, as usual, Feliciano was complaining about the cafeteria food (why he didn’t just bring his own was the question Ludwig always had but never voiced), so when he suddenly asked about prom, Ludwig was thrown off slightly. Honestly, he wasn’t planning it. He and Arthur weren’t big on social events and were quite content just settling in at home with a movie. But now that Feliciano was bringing it up, he had never asked if Arthur was interested and maybe he should have. It was a tradition and if done right, very romantic, and Arthur tended to like both.

“I-I don’t know. W-We haven’t really talked about it?” Ludwig stuttered out, picking at the sausage he had prepared for himself that morning.

“You have to Luddy! It's tradition. Picture, you and Arthur, all dressed up in nice suits, low lights, music blaring. A slow dance comes on, you both look at each other hesitantly, but you end up taking his hand and guide him to the dance floor. Wrapping your arms around each other you begin swaying, you tell him how much you love him and-”

“Okay I get the picture,” Ludwig grumbled, his cheeks now bright red. That scenario did seem nice, but he still wasn’t sure.

“You should talk to Arthur about it first,” Kiku suggested, “if you do end up going, you can ride with Feliciano and me.”

Kiku was a breath of fresh air. As much as he loved Feliciano and his enthusiasm, he could be a bit much at times. Kiku balanced him out with his calm and level-headedness. They were the perfect match for each other and surprisingly worked out really well. He gave them an assuring smile and agreed to ask Arthur.

Not long after, said Brit entered the cafeteria, his eyes scanning over the room. When his eyes met Ludwig, his lips twitched into a small smile and he made his way over. With a quick kiss on Ludwig’s cheek, he took a seat beside him and took out his lunch. “Did I miss anything,” he asked, looking around at the three friends.”

Feliciano turned to Ludwig, nodding towards Arthur and encouraging him to ask his question.

“Just prom things,” Ludwig replied, trying to keep his nerves out of his voice. He let out an awkward cough before continuing, “S-Speaking of... I-I was wondering...how do you feel about it?”

Arthur quirked a brow. “Well, I haven’t thought about it. But it's one of the last events of our high school year so maybe...u-unless you don’t want to.”

“I don’t mind. I-If you’d like to go. Kiku and Feli are also going if that’s any incentive.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his two friends watching them with fond smiles and Feliciano was clearly suppressing a squeal. He never understood why his relationship seemed to bring so much joy to Kiku and Feliciano, but he never asked since it wasn’t hurting anyone so why bother?

Ignoring their antics Ludwig turned his attention back to his lover who seemed to be mulling the idea over. “Alfred has been bugging me about it,” Arthur finally stated, “And a night out with friends would be nice.”

“So it looks like we’re in agreement.” Arthur gave the German’s arm a squeeze before turning his attention to his meal.

Ludwig couldn’t help but feel elated even though he wasn’t one for parties, but anything with Arthur made him happy. This feeling did not last long however as he recalled the tradition of a ‘’prom-prosal.” Was Arthur expecting one? Did he want one? Or was Arthur going to take the lead in this? Did they even need one in the first place since they were dating? Should he ask? But they were usually a surprise, weren’t they?

“Love...is everything okay?” Arthur asked, pulling Ludwig out of his thoughts. “We don’t have to go to prom if you don’t want to.”

“N-Nien, it's nothing like that. I’m just…”

“Overthinking?”

“Ja…”

They had almost forgotten Feliciano and Kiku were there until they announced their departure. “I think we better get going, Feli. We got that big project coming up this week so let's get to class early to get the best supplies.”

Feliciano scrunched his nose up in confusion, but then it dawned on him what his boyfriend’s true motives were. “Oh, si. Bye Lud, bye Arthur!”

And so the other pair of lovers were left alone at the table. They fell into casual conversation, Arthur hoping to get Ludwig’s mind off whatever he was thinking about. It seemed to be working as he was engaged and there was a slight smile on his face much to Arthur’s relief. Soon enough, however, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, and Arthur and Ludwig parted ways for class.

---

It had been a couple of days since Ludwig had agreed to go to prom with Arthur and since then he had been stressing over it, specifically if a promposal was in order.

“I say go for it,” Gilbert, Ludwig’s older brother, suggested, “what’s the worst that could happen? Who could be mad at a grand romantic gesture?”

“I-I don’t know...he..we aren’t big on that kind of thing. And what could I even do?”

“Well...do something unique to you. And like you said, you guys don’t do grand so don’t worry about whatever everyone else is doing, Do something unique to you.”

With a ruffle of Ludwig’s hair, Gilbert got up and headed to the kitchen to start dinner.

“Something unique to us,” Ludwig muttered to himself. His phone buzzed and a message popped up on his screen. Of course, Feliciano was asking if he had any ideas yet. After typing a simple reply of ‘I’m still thinking’ he exited the messaging app to his home screen. He lingered on the background photo. Arthur, laughing, cheeks pink and face covered in batter and flour. Ludwig couldn’t help but smile at the picture and the memory it brought.

It was from one of their first dates. Both of them liked baking so Ludwig had invited Arthur over to teach him how to make Kuchen. Despite Ludwig’s nerves, things had been going well until he had to mix the batter. He had become distracted one way or another and ended up setting the mixer too high leading to himself and Arthur becoming covered in batter. He expected the Englishman to be angry since he was often quick to temper, but instead, he was met with the beautiful sound of Arthur’s laughter. For a moment his brain stopped working and just listened, mesmerized by it. He had snapped the picture shortly after to save the moment. Looking back, he was surprised Arthur had let him keep it, but then again, the man was full of surprises. He often let Ludwig get away with things no one else could, which he was grateful for.

As he admired the picture, an idea came to mind. Practically jumping from his spot he ran over to the bookshelf, skimming through for a particular one. He eventually came across an old, brown-covered book whose title read “Beilschmidt Rezepte.” He flipped through it eventually landing on a simple cake recipe. 'What's more us than baking?’ Ludwig thought to himself as he grabbed a piece of paper and began writing down the needed ingredients.

---

The next day, Ludwig got to school even earlier than usual to ensure everything was in order before Arthur arrived. He placed down the box, opening it to make sure the icing didn’t smear (he had brought some extra tubes of icing in case he had to fix anything) and luckily it was untouched. The words ‘Will you go to prom with me?’ were written in clear, loopy green letters.

“Ludwig?” A familiar voice called, causing the German to immediately shut the box. Arthur walked up behind him, guitar in hand and a quizzical look on his face. “What are you doing here so early?”

Ludwig felt his cheeks heat up, feeling as though he had been caught. “W-Well you...you see…I...here.” Without another word, Ludwig shoved the box towards Arthur.

“Ludwig…” Arthur broke out into a fit of laughter leading to Ludwig’s blush deepening. His chest became tight and something like humiliation began to sink in. Usually, Arthur's laugher was a beautiful sound for him, but he couldn't help but feel hurt, thinking Arthur was laughing at him and his promposal. At least no one was around to witness this awkwardness.

“What’s so funny?” Ludwig finally hissed out.

His laughter finally began to die down. “I’m...I’m… so sorry love. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, it's just...I had been planning something too.”

Before Ludwig could reply, Arthur put the cake aside, pulled out his guitar, and began to strum a familiar tune.

“Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can’t help falling in love with you

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can’t help falling in love with you.”

Ludwig was left speechless as his lover’s sweet voice filled the air, proclaiming his love loudly. The green eyes that Ludwig loved so much remained fixated on him as the song continued. It sent the German’s heart fluttering and made his throat tight.

“Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can’t help falling in love with you

For I can’t help falling in love with you”

And as the song came to an end and Arthur lowered his guitar, he gave Ludwig a loving smile before saying, “Ludwig...will you go to prom for me?”

“I don’t know Arthur,” Ludwig replied, a smirk growing on his face as he picked up the cake once more, “would you go to prom with me.”

Arthur let out another laugh, “Of course my darling.”

And so the two made their way inside to the cafeteria where they got some plastic utensils and shared some cake before everyone else arrived.

#germanyshipevent2021 #hetalia #hws #gereng #engger #geruk #human au #highschool au #promposal #i didn't get a prom so they get one #fluff #hws england #hws germany #fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction #itapan #though its on the side #hws italy #hws japan

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

Can you do one where it turns out greyback injuring Remus way back years ago was actually caught on camera and that video of young remus getting his shoulder ripped is like released at a hockey game on the screen or maybe just put online and everyone sees what happens Omg please I'm begging you to do this!!! ILYYY

Hello anon! This is a really interesting idea and I’ve been thinking about it for a while--the NHL doesn’t allow security cameras in locker rooms, but I assumed there would be audio somewhere from one nearby. People who leak ~scandalous information~ on the internet are literally the worst.

Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for graphic descriptions of injury (mostly the sounds)

“How did this happen?” Remus asked, wincing internally at the tremor in his voice. He was shaking from head to toe; it was a miracle he hadn’t started screaming yet. Then again, he wasn’t sure that he would be able to stop. “How the hell did this happen?”

“We don’t know,” Alice said quietly in the chair across from him. “This information was confidential and we haven’t even presented it to the NHL board for review. Someone must have leaked it to the press.”

“Why does this keep happening to me? First Sirius, and now—” He pressed his lips together as his voice cracked. There were a few beats of silence. “Why did you call me in here? I already saw it on the internet.”

“We need you to confirm it was you and Fenrir.” Alice looked him in the eyes. “If you don’t think you can listen to this, Remus, that’s okay, but it will help us build a stronger case to get him punished.”

He took a deep breath. “Can—can Sirius come and sit with me for it?”

“Of course.” She stood and left the room, leaving him alone with the coach.

“You’ve listened to it, haven’t you.”

Arthur nodded. “I’m so sorry, Remus.”

“I don’t need you to be sorry, I need people to not look at me like some sob story.” Bitter fury rose in his throat, though he wasn’t angry with Arthur. “I worked hard to get there and even harder to come back. I’m done dwelling on the past. This is going to undo everything and I’m sick of it.”

“Did the team know?”

“I told some of them when Sirius was at All-Stars.” Remus knew Arthur remembered the fight; he had chewed Sirius out for it as soon as practices resumed. “Didn’t tell my parents, though.”

Arthur closed his eyes and let out a long breath. The door clicked open behind him. “Re?”

“Hey, baby.” Instant relief washed over Remus, though he still felt like he would lose it at any moment.

Sirius settled into the chair next to him and held out his hand—Remus took it immediately, scooting their chairs closer together so their shoulders touched. “Are you ready?” Alice asked, picking up a remote. Remus nodded.

The video was grainy, but the audio was pristine. A few voices—familiar voices, I remember them clear as day—jumbled together as the last members of the team filtered out of the locker room. “See you tomorrow, Moony!” one called over his shoulder. “Great game!”

“Bye, Tags!” Remus said from inside. Did I really sound that young?

The hallway outside the locker room was empty; he heard himself shifting around inside as he stretched out. Left thigh, right thigh, left calf, right calf, reach and roll. “Hey, Lupin.” Fenrir’s gravelly voice made him freeze and Sirius rested his other hand on top of theirs.

“Sup, Backer.” A light smack signaled their fistbump. “That was a beautiful goal you had at the end of the third, by the way. The scouts definitely saw.”

“They certainly did. Are your folks here tonight?”

“Yeah, Jules was so excited. He’s been bouncing off the walls for the past couple days.” The unbridled fondness in his younger voice was a balm. Jules had been convinced that he would be drafted to the NHL right after that game.

“They’re saying you’ll be number one.”

“Really?” Young Remus laughed. “I dunno, man, there are a lot of players this year. You and me are neck and neck, right?”

Dumbass! he wanted to shout. Just shut up for once! “Neck and neck,” Fenrir muttered, barely loud enough for the camera to pick up. “Hey, do you need a hand with your stretches?”

“Sure, thanks. Might have a bruise from your pads tomorrow, eh?” The friendly joke made him wince. More shuffling noises followed. The hall stayed empty.

“Here?” Fenrir asked. There was a dangerous edge to his voice and Remus swallowed around the sudden dryness of his mouth.

“Yeah, that’s—okay, that’s actually a bit too far, can you let up a bit? Fenrir, you’re pulling too hard.” Panic seeped in. “Fenrir, stop, you’re hurting me—”

There was a horrible cracking noise and younger Remus’ strangled shout cut off abruptly as his shoulder came out of the socket. He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped Sirius’ hand. If he focused, he could still feel Fenrir’s fingers pressing his face into the mats.

“‘Look at me, I’m Remus Lupin, I’m the fastest player on the ice and I’ll be number one’,” Fenrir mimicked as Remus’ agonized whines continued. “You think you’re so clever. So perfect. You’ve never had to work a day in your life. I’m the best player out there and the scouts are fucking idiots if they think you’re better.”

A muffled wail ended with a gasp and a series of pops. “Please—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Fenrir growled. “Look at you now, crying like a girl. You’re never going to tell anybody about this, because I know your secret.” Remus’ breath shuddered. “Oh, yeah, I know all about you. If you even think about tattling, everyone is going to know.”

“Ple—ah.” Sirius’ grip tightened around his fingers as Remus’ sharp cry caught in his chest. The green-tinted video fuzzed out for a moment, but still nobody walked past. Fenrir had planned this well.

“You’re nothing now, Lupin. You are damaged goods and you’ll never set foot on the ice again.” His voice lowered. “If you do, I’ll find you.”

There was a thud as he finally released Remus’ arm and quiet, wheezing sobs filled the silence. “What did you do to me? Oh my god, oh my god, it hurts so much, what the hell did you do?”

Remus tasted something salty on the edge of his lips and pressed his thumb against Sirius’ ring. This was real. This was his. Sirius loved him. The team loved him.

“I did what I had to do. Say hi to Jules for me.”

The locker room door opened a few seconds later and Fenrir walked out, flexing his hand. With the open door, Remus’ hoarse weeping was clearer as he was left alone on the floor. The video ended.

“Remus.” Alice held out a box of tissues, her voice gentle as the screen went dark. He reached out for one, but his hand was shaking too bad to grab it; Sirius took one and carefully wiped his cheeks dry with feather-light touches.

“That was him,” Remus managed around the boulder in his throat. “That was Fenrir Greyback, and that was me.”

“Would you be able to swear it in court?”

“What the fuck do you think?” Remus snarled. Sirius ran his thumb over his knuckles. “Do you want to see the scars on my shoulder, too? What reason do I have to lie?”

“I meant are you prepared to talk about this in front of people?” Alice rephrased, calm and collected as ever. “This is a traumatic event and I don’t want to force you into anything.”

“Remus, you’re a valued player on the team,” Arthur said. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe in this league.”

“Don’t look at me differently. Now that you know this, now that everyone knows, people will treat me like I’m fragile. I’m the same person I was two days ago and this will not change how I play.”

“I know.” Arthur folded his hands on the desk. “You’re a fighter, Loops. That’s one of the reasons I wanted you on my team.”

“Do you two need a moment before you head back out?” Alice asked, glancing between him and Sirius. “We’re going to kick the reporters out and then everyone’s going to go home for the day while we talk to the board.”

“We do, yeah.” Remus’ voice wavered and coach stood, following Alice into the hall.

“Oh, mon loup,” Sirius murmured, standing and pulling him into a hug. A kiss pressed against the top of his head and Remus grabbed the back of his soft shirt like it was the only thing holding him steady. “I am so sorry.”

“You already knew.”

“No, I didn’t. You told me, but—” Sirius faltered. “I had no idea how bad it was. The things he said to you…”

“Were wrong.” Remus finished. He had spent so many long nights and dark days convincing himself of that.

“They were wrong. You are not damaged goods,” Sirius said fiercely, pulling back to hold his face in his hands. His eyes were fiery. “Listen to me, Remus. You are not damaged. You are everything to me and I love you for exactly who you are.”

“I love you, too.” Remus’ lower lip wobbled and he rested his forehead on Sirius’ chest again. “Hearing it—I already knew what happened, but hearing it was horrible.”

“It was.”

“I’m sorry I made you listen with me.”

“Don’t be sorry, mon amour. I’m with you through the good, the bad, and everything else. I’m glad I was with you for this.”

“The team…” He trailed off and sighed. “I don’t want them to see that. My folks, too.”

“I think they already have,” Sirius admitted. “But they love you so much and they’ll be here for whatever you need.”

“We have to go sometime.” He took a deep breath and stepped back, rubbing his eyes and kissing Sirius quickly. “Alright, let’s go.”

They made it four steps down the hall before James appeared and engulfed Remus in a hug. “Holy shit, I’m so angry,” he choked out on a harsh breath. “I love you, man.”

“Love you too, J. Where’s everyone else?”

“Inside. I called dibs on first hug.”

“Have they all seen it?”

“Some of it. I don’t know if anyone watched it all the way through.” He sniffled and squeezed Remus tighter. “I don’t know how you came back from that.”

“PT helped.” He closed his eyes and leaned into James. “So did you guys. I couldn’t have made it this far without you.”

“Neither could we.” James pulled back. “Do you want to see them or are you heading out?”

“Heading h—”

“I want to see them,” Remus interrupted quietly. Sirius raised his eyebrows. “It’s going to happen sometime. Might as well be now.”

James nodded and walked over to the locker room door. “Ready?”

Remus laced his fingers with Sirius’. “Let’s do it.”

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txtdreamss · 4 years ago

Text

the boy who has everything// [f.w.]

Summary: Fred and you have been secretly going steady since the end of your fifth year. Now that he and George are making their grand exit to follow their dreams, you are struggling to come up with the perfect parting gift.

Inspired by: https://open.spotify.com/track/37hblhCnC5YzhDQH58Rgpi?si=0EISnLcTRE2mctlIXNObTA

Warnings: Angst, Malfoy!Reader, difficult home life, neglect mentioned

A/N: Currently going through a bit of a writers block that definitely came from school, but I thought something to do with my fav boy would help clear my mind. Just want some input from ya’ll, would you be interested in me starting to take requests? Also, low-key miss having mutuals before I decided to completely start over lol. Also, why does ‘each other’ look wrong to me? Like I am a native English speaker but the words just like sus...

Word Count: 2.2k

The numerous differences between your childhood and your boyfriend’s were anything but subtle.

Growing up, you felt as if you were a puppet being dangled for the world to see. Your mother, Narcissa Malfoy, was a complex woman; She obviously loved you very much. She held you, but never longer than it took to keep your tears at bay. Lucius Malfoy, on the other hand, was your father in blood only. His disdain for your lack of enthusiasm regarding blood purity was obvious. He had never once in your 18 years on Earth said ‘I love you’, or even a simple ‘I’m proud of you’. Until the day came where you were willing to take the dark mark and fight on behalf of Lord Voldemort, you would be nothing in your parents’ eyes besides a test child before Draco’s birth.

Now, from what Fred had told you, his childhood was seemingly filled with sunshine and rainbows. He spent his summers wading in the pond near the Burrow, listening to the chirp of crickets and giggles of his numerous siblings. The entire family was open about showing their love in words and actions. Molly and Arthur, despite not being particularly rich, would give the clothes off their backs if it meant their children would never have to experience fear in any capacity. Fred always had a playmate, and never did he have to go through life fearing being expelled from the family home for his opinions.

In the simplest of terms, Fred and you were complete opposites. Your similarities were found in the small things; the way you both were headstrong and loyal, and most of all...

You both despised Filch. Fred had saved your butt from being caught in the halls after dark at the beginning of 5th year. He had decided then and there that despite the fact that you were in a different house, you simply had to be more than another member of the besmirched sacred twenty-eight. He knew from the second you were taking his outstretched hand in the dimly lit corridors that no matter what, you both were destined to be in each others’ lives. As he led you down a secret passage to the sound of Mrs. Norris’ eardrum-rattling mewls, you knew that the idea that he was just another impoverished ginger from the Weasley family was anything but true. Despite all the odds, that night was what laid down the foundations for you and Fred to become more than just another member of the family feud.

Going on almost 2 years later, and your relationship had shifted from what was a slightly odd friendship to an unexpected relationship. Fred and George were now planning their grand escape for sometime after the Easter holidays, but you had a totally different date on your mind; April 1st.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“Oi, Weasley! You are a whole 42 seconds late!” You giggled, and Fred simply chuckled before dropping his books next to yours.

It was rare for Fred to be on time, but he always made an effort (and usually succeeded) for you. Due to your obvious difference in house loyalty, the easiest way you found to spend time together was to carve out 2 afternoons each week to just bask in each others’ presence. Every Monday and Friday (unless there was a quidditch match), you would meet Fred in a secluded corner of the courtyard. The two of you would goof around study, snack on some treats from Honeydukes, or simply lie back and enjoy the sunset while talking about whatever came up.

“So, anything big happen today, love?” Fred pecked you on the cheek quickly before dropping his head on your shoulder.

“Just the usual. Apparently, my mother has finally given up on sending me howlers to come home.”

“Y/N, mum already said she would love for you to come and stay with us during the holidays. You could come get a feel for the family over the holidays next week, and you would finally get to see what the Weasley-Twin-Birthday-Bonanza is like!”

“You mean watch your aunt call you George for a whole evening while asking why you aren’t a prefect? Oh, I am so in.” The ginger made a face of mock offense while dramatically huffing into the shoulder of your robes. “That reminds me, will you finally cave and tell me what you want for your birthday?”

“Love, I don’t want anything at all. Having my gal be there for the big one-eight is more than I could ever ask for.”

Money was no issue; Your mother had continued sending you a small allowance, most likely in the hopes that it would sway you to ‘do the right thing’. Fred had always made an effort to get you a new charm for your bracelet for your birthday, which most likely cost him a few weeks in sales, so of course you wanted to return the favor and find the perfect gift. Last year, you had crocheted him a plush lion wearing a Gryffindor-themed scarf and he had loved it. For some reason, though, you couldn’t help but feel like you needed to find him something bigger and better for his final birthday as a Hogwarts student.

“If you say so, Fred. Just don’t complain when you open my gift and it’s a pair of socks embroidered with little kittens.” Fred simply smiled and grabbed your hand that was previously tapping on the edge of your potions textbook.

“I’ll wear them with pride.”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“Ginny, please tell me you have some amazing idea for a gift that I haven’t thought of....” Ginny grimaced as you sunk into the wooden chair, obviously aware that this meeting you had called in the library wasn’t just to give her some advice in terms of course selection.

“Well... um... maybe you could bring him some muggle joke products? He really gets quite a kick out of them.” The apples of Ginny’s round cheeks became rosy, and she awkwardly rubbed at the back of her neck. “I mean, no offense, but couldn’t you just ask him?”

“I tried that already. At this rate, he will be turning 19 before I figure out what to get him...” A puff of air escaped your chapped lips, and you once again found yourself nibbling on them in thought.

“Well, here you are, big sis! Trying to figure out a gift for your git of a boyfriend?” Draco’s familiar greasy head popped out from behind the shelf before the young wizard marched up to you directly. “Do us all a favor, give him a little ‘life sans Y/N’... Merlin knows his parents probably don’t want a child of dark lord sympathizers at their shack anyways.”

“Shut up, Draco...” Before Ginny could attempt to soothe your anger, you had up and left the room.

“Psh, serves her right anyways...” A resounding smack was heard as Ginny wacked the platinum-headed goon on the back with the heaviest textbook lying nearby.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

It wasn’t like doubt surrounding your relationship had never been an issue before. You often found yourself wondering if your company was putting Fred in danger, especially considering the current climate surrounding the resurgence in death eater activity. Fred had always tried to quell your worries, but sweet words and gentle kisses could only do so much. You and Fred knew how you both felt towards each other, but it seemed like the world was against you some days.

Maybe Draco is right, he could get out of here and find a nice girl with normal parents to settle down with. After all, who wants to be known as the significant other of a Malfoy?

A single tear slipped out of the corner of your eye, but you quickly dabbed it away with the edge of your sleeve to avoid grabbing attention from any of your housemates. The only perk you found that happened to come with being sorted into Slytherin like the rest of your family was that it was far enough away that you knew Fred wouldn’t find out if you spent any time sulking about your common room. For once, the slam of the heavy dungeon doors brought you comfort instead of a nagging chill.

Fred isn’t like me. He has everything he could ever want... All I do is create more stress for him.

Ignoring the harsh gaze of your housemates, you slipped into your dorm and found yourself slinking to bed without so much as slipping off your robes. Pulling the emerald comforters over your head, you let yourself slip into a restless sleep.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

It was finally the day before the Easter holidays, and Hogwarts was more alive than ever. Young couples were spending their last day on campus wandering the corridors, groups of friends sat laughing and promising to write letters on what they each planned to bring back, and even some people that swore they were enemies seemed to be acting more hospitable. It must’ve been nice to not be spending the morning trying to calm your beating heart and convincing yourself that what you are doing isn’t wrong.

“Hey Lovey! Have you finished packing yet?”

“Well... not exactly, Freddie.” Fred’s face dropped, and he took your hand in his.

“Is this about my aunt? I promise you won’t even have to say more than a simple ‘hello’ to her.” The mere mention of Fred’s Auntie Muriel almost cracked your tough exterior.

“I can’t come home with you, Freddie. There is no way your family wants to spend their holiday break with the daughter of Lucius Malfoy. Look, I mean... here’s your gift. Just please promise to wait till you get to the station to open it.”

Fred opened his mouth to argue, but you had already turned away as to avoid him seeing hot tears trail down your cheeks. You would have to be insane to go and willingly spend your holiday alone in the Malfoy Manor. There would be no family meals, especially now that all your parent’s energy went towards providing shelter for the death eaters. As you stumbled away to make your way back to your dorm to finish packing, Fred’s warm hand grasped your shoulder.

“Please. Y/N, all I want is to be able to spend every day of this holiday mucking about with you. I know why you want to go home, and I’m telling you as your boyfriend and best friend to not do it. Just please, grant me a birthday wish... come home with me.”

Fred drew you into his chest, and you found yourself clutching onto his striped button-up as if it would save your life. His larger hands rubbed across your back, and he pressed a small kiss on the top of your head.

“Are you really sure about this, Fred? I wouldn’t want to make your mum and dad uncomfortable, or even your older brothers for that matter.”

“Y/N, my love, the light of my life, just come home. If you can manage to get George to like you more than he likes me, I promise you the rest of my family will love you.” His signature smirk spread on his freckled face, and he pressed a quick peck on the tip of your nose.

“Now, let’s go get you packed, Y/N.”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“Oi, Fred, what’s in the box?” George elbowed his brother while somewhat attempting to be quiet. The train ride was almost over, and you had resorted to using the seat opposite to the twins as a temporary napping spot.

“I nearly forgot I had it on me to be quite honest. Do you think I should open it even though she is coming with us?”

“She said to open it at the station, but we are obviously past that point, so please just open it!” George bounced in his seat, and Fred gave in to temptation. He unwrapped the ribbon holding the small box shut, opened the lid, and discovered a dainty chain with a circular pendant hanging on the end.

“Is that a size reference for your-”

“George! Shut up, you dimwit. I think it might be a mirror-glass type thing, but I genuinely have no idea...”

“Freddie, bring it to your eye and look through it.” The twins both jumped as you rolled over, clearly no longer asleep.

Fred brought the pendant to his right eye, squinted, and his immediate smile couldn’t be contained. When held at the right distance, he could see a small picture of you and him from your first date at Hogsmeade. He was much more lanky and awkward looking, and you were almost matched in height. The smile you both shared in the photo warmed his heart to no end, and Fred found himself having to gather his emotions from the memories he had of that day.

The ginger all but leapt to your side of the cart, and he wrapped his arm around your still-sleepy figure. He squeezed you tightly to his side before leaning in to whisper something in your ear without allowing George to hear.

“It’s perfect, my love.”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

~Post-fic A/N: I hope this was a good read for you guys! I am definitely on the verge of passing out, but proofreading is superior to sleep (jk). Anyways, if anything comes to mind, don’t hesitate to reach out or send in an ask! I love interacting with you guys, even if it is just a brief hello! :) ~

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred and george #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley angst #fred x reader #fred weasley imagine #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #angst #malfoy reader #reader insert #weasley supremacy #txtdreamss

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