#I reckon even as a kid he wouldn’t give his brother up for anything. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

punkscowardschampions · 6 months ago

Text

JC pt.1

Janis: Has your brother talked to you too?

Casey: ‘Course

Janis: I don’t know what I’m meant to do with him

Casey: you ain’t meant to do owt, he weren’t meant to be your problem

Janis: It was stupid to think he wouldn’t end up my problem when your dad left for good

Janis: not saying I wish he’d gone with but Jesus

Casey: I dunno what you’re coming to us with it for, he’s after me going

Janis: I was after knowing how much of a rage he got in with you

Janis: Where does he think you’re going?

Casey: enough to where if our dad moved us further he’d be shooting up a school

Janis: Yeah, I didn’t think it were just me that was treated to the incel manifesto of it all

Janis: I’m worried about him, lack of a gun an’ all

Casey: he’s fucked, no massive surprise, lack of a club an’ all

Janis: Neither of you are like that

Janis: sure, no prizes but I’m serious, do I have to search his tech and hope he doesn’t push me down the stairs in the meantime

Casey: he’d say different except he can’t hack me and him being even a bit alike

Janis: Of course, you’re the bad guy, us both in this one

Janis: but when he doesn’t get his way then where is all this energy going

Casey: probably a list of his other targets somewhere when you crack on with your search

Janis: Don’t act like you think it’s a laugh

Casey: no dickhead’s no use when it’s their job to be and as the twat’s pointed out, mine’s minimum wage customer service bollocks

Janis: I know you can’t fix it, I weren’t asking, just

Casey: just what?

Casey: here’s the chats you save up to fill the awkward silences between you and your husband, have him fix it, he’s the one who reckons he can

Janis: Well he obviously can’t

Janis: I’m talking to you because it involves you, far as Bobby is concerned

Casey: far as our kid’s concerned my room’s his new gym and I can piss off and die, like

Janis: He talks like a sociopath

Janis: that’s not happening because he didn’t see anything and even if he did, he doesn’t get to make demands, what the fuck

Casey: under the same roof or not, it don’t involve me

Casey: and you don’t fancy me putting myself in the middle either, you know what’ll happen

Janis: That’s all you’ve got to say on it?

Casey: what else is there

Janis: Sure

Casey: I get it, you’re in over your head and it ain’t big enough this time to sort you a way out

Janis: I just thought you might have an opinion, give a shit

Casey: bit late in the day for all that, mate

Janis: Not like you could be homeless or anything, why would you bother

Casey: I wouldn’t for long, I don’t go ‘round burning every bridge like them pair

Janis: I’m thrilled you have options but that’s not really the point

Casey: you’ve not got a proper point

Janis: You’re being a brick wall, I get it, you had to be so he tired himself out smashing his head against it but can we not fucking talk

Casey: I don’t wanna talk about Bob

Casey: I’d have to say I can’t fucking help you

Janis: Yeah and you were right I don’t have a single clue but you were wrong because it is my problem still

Casey: *all of ours

Janis: Too right

Janis: don’t let me feel useless alone, you prick

Casey: alright, look

Casey: I’d be fuming to give right into the spoiled little gits demands but

Casey: if moving out causes you less problems, tell us to

Janis: He only thinks that’s a solution

Janis: what’s next, when that don’t do what he wants it to

Janis: it’s not fair

Casey: letting him think he’s won’ll stop you losing sleep over what a bloody nutter he is, chuck you breathing room before his next strop

Casey: feels a fair trade to me, my room for you to have that

Janis: I guess, maybe it might

Janis: and you’ll really be alright?

Casey: I’ve mates to crash with, a girlfriend now

Janis: Yeah

Janis: It doesn’t need to be long, he just doesn’t want us spending time together, he doesn’t really want you gone for you to be gone, you know

Casey: he does, but that don’t matter

Casey: as I told him, ‘til she’s out he’s stuck sharing this town, I’ll not be rushed for nobody, least of all a crying kid

Janis: Have you heard anything lately?

Casey: nah, you heard, no dickhead’s no use when it’s their job

Janis: Sorry, depressing ‘round here lately

Casey: lately, try the last [however old Bobby is in years]

Janis: I’m not taking credit nor blame for that though, tah

Casey: no need, you know where and when to take yours off

Janis: Have spent the last [however long, even if we’re exaggerating for how it felt lol] being told exactly what I’ve done wrong, yeah

Janis: even got my sister involved, prolong the telling off

Casey: Gracie? Good on the lad, that’s funny

Janis: That would’ve been

Janis: Mags, obviously, they’re in the same year

Casey: gutted for her, bet he’s a right laugh in class

Janis: Probably why he’s so angry, can’t have this go effectively in person, really

Janis: far as excuses go, alright but still, taking the piss now

Casey: even the foreign kids could make themselves understood by chucking a desk at Lucas, he’s got no excuses, why he’s actually so wound up

Casey: life ain’t half as shit as he wishes it were, not his

Janis: Teenage prerogative, being an unbearable dickhead

Casey: shame he’ll never grow out of it

Janis: He’s not got the best role models there

Casey: what he’s got’s you and Jim playing happy families, decent roof over his head and that lass who gives him a hand at school, never mind the lasses his own age who won’t care about talking

Casey: don’t know his luck

Janis: You know he’s not interested in that stuff

Janis: but yeah, providing I stay in line and don’t fuck the former up for him, he’ll not start setting fires or murdering puppies

Casey: no pressure

Janis: Thanks, like

Casey: sort of mate I am

Casey: I’ll stay at hers tonight and come in for my stuff [a day that is irrelevant but is giving he’s off work so he can do it when Bobby and Jimothy aren’t there]

Janis: Thought her parents didn’t like you

Casey: they’ll be asleep

Janis: Sure, ‘course you behave better at other people’s

Casey: nowt to do with the earplugs and sleeping tablets

Janis: Maybe an incel kid isn’t that bad after all

Casey: too right, sod all’s worse than the middle classes

Janis: I’m so glad our meeting was brief

Casey: might as well have been an intro, how much she’s gone on and on about you

Janis: Posh girls are always obsessed with me

Casey: tends to be ugly girls which she’s not

Janis: Do you want me to be flattered?

Casey: what you’re used to, not gonna be

Janis: What?

Casey: jealousy of how fit you are, standard to you by now

Janis: Oh, yeah

Janis: it’s a hazard of the occupation but I happen to be a cunt anyway

Casey: yeah, she’d have a job competing with that an’ all

Janis: It’s okay, both of those sound like compliments, she’ll not know

Casey: can make anything sound like a compliment if you try and we’ve both said we would

Janis: I don’t remember that

Janis: nowhere near enough blood to make anything binding

Casey: it’s alright, I do

Janis: I forgot that too, you’re boring now, my bad

Casey: oi, don’t chat shit

Janis: No, it’s handy, like you said

Janis: can prove him wrong, you’re a non-threat now

Casey: piss off, take back that I’m boring

Janis: Why? It’s what you want, makes it a good thing

Casey: why would I want to beat you to the scrapheap

Janis: I dunno, that’s your business

Casey: I’ve no business with none of that, tah

Janis: Whatever you say, mate

Casey: she’ll do for the minute, I’m not marrying her

Janis: ‘Cos that makes it real, just paperwork ain’t it

Casey: whatever you say, you who signed yourself away to the first dickhead bothered by the paperwork

Janis: He asked, I weren’t putting out ads for myself

Casey: I remember

Janis: Try not to, I get it

Casey: unforgettable day, can only try so hard

Janis: You don’t need to tell me

Janis: Thank God for the free bar

Casey: speaking of, I’ve drinks to pour

Janis: Very tactful, okay

Casey: in a bit

Casey: [the stuff collecting day he said] maybe

Janis: Do you want me to be there or not

Janis: because neither of them will be, as you’d worked out

Casey: you know how I am with goodbyes

Janis: But it’s not one

Casey: it’s as good as

Janis: Then I’ll be there, even though it’s not

Casey: I’ll not be catching you with a brew and a blanket no more, acting 90 if you’re a day, it’s an end to that

Casey: to all sorts

Janis: You who made said brew and threw the blanket at me

Janis: nothing happened, how much more wholesome and boring could you get

Casey: can’t have you catch your death of cold, dunno when flu season is but your nan would the dangers

Janis: Our lung damage is on a par, she should be concerned meanwhile

Casey: you’ll not be tempted when I’m not there to tempt you 🚭

Janis: How heroic

Casey: what you’re after, some dickhead to play the hero before our kid goes villain

Janis: is it

Casey: nearly on your knees for my help, you

Janis: I know who you are, and what

Casey: don’t forget

Janis: don’t try to bullshit me

Casey: I’ve never been able to, no use trying

Janis: It’s one of my favourite things about you

Janis: wouldn’t want that to change for no reason

Casey: I need you to remember it weren’t all bad, it won’t be

Janis: I know what you need me to do

Janis: the same as Bob wants

Casey: there’s gotta be some hope left even for the likes of us

Janis: ‘course, no pressure

Casey: reminded me how young he is, the chat we had

Janis: Still a kid, even if a fucked up one, yeah

Casey: if someone had cared when I were, tried more

Janis: don’t

Casey: don’t need to be too late again

Janis: You know this is the party line I get from him as is

Janis: the kid is not a Hail Mary to fix what was done to you two

Casey: nah, he’s another fucked up kid

Casey: but now we’re the adults

Janis: it’s going to destroy him, if Bobby keeps down this path, we all can see that coming from a mile away

Janis: so not only do I need to save him, I need to save Jim from ever knowing

Casey: you can’t, he’s gotta know to get involved

Janis: He has been, these whole [however old Bobby is] and the kid is still walking around like a new and improved version of your dad

Janis: I’m supposed to throw that blame at his door because you know he’ll feel solely responsible even though it’s clearly DNA with the rest

Casey: the kid needs his head seen to, how would you sort that behind his back

Janis: I don’t know

Janis: I don’t know that he’d agree to that, what’s he do, take his fucking translator so she gets to know all his deepest darkest secrets

Janis: would you? I wouldn’t

Casey: might be they can do it in writing or whatever, I don’t know

Janis: I’ll chuck him a diary, that’s really lending itself to the school shooter

Casey: fuck’s sake

Janis: is right

Janis: I’m not freaking out because I’m a big head who reckons she can solve everything, I know I can’t so don’t you join in giving me these easy fixes, please

Casey: I just want to give you something other than another massive headache

Janis: It isn’t you, it’s the state we find ourselves in

Janis: I’ll be grand

Casey: what, you’re allowed to bullshit me

Janis: Felt like I had to

Casey: I’m not them

Janis: Don’t be

Janis: not to play pass the parcel with this bullshit but I might lose it myself if you go to the dark side

Casey: I’m going nowhere

Casey: only [whatever dublin numbers his friends and gf live in because we can deffo say hers is different when her parents are trying to be posh and his friends could live everywhere he has many is the vibe of this era]

Janis: 🌍📍

Janis: Alright, world traveller

Casey: and you’ll be there [the day we specified]

Janis: I’m really going nowhere

Janis: promise

Casey: then I’ll be alright

Janis: promise too, dickhead

Casey: I’ll do it in front of you

Janis: alright

Janis: I better let you get back to it ‘til then

Casey: getting sacked’d be as typical at the minute as it’s avoidable, like

Janis: Nah, you’re too good at your job

Janis: you should make the [sherry drink he made her that was somehow bomb], well impressive stuff

Casey: nobody here I feel the need to impress, but I’m buzzing you liked it

Casey: secret’s [and drop the full recipe] if you wanna make it

Janis: I might try

Janis: felt like drowning in a good way

Casey: long as you won’t

Janis: Was ambushed by that pair before I could even leave the tub, no chance

Casey: you’d go before I could even save you, chances are

Casey: slow night’s still a paid shift and you reckon I’m alright at this job

Janis: I know how to hold my breath

Janis: and you’re not my hero, I heard, don’t worry

Casey: how long for

Janis: [tell him because of course you have a personal best]

Casey: they teach you at lifeguard training or what

Janis: Ha, you do have to be able to swim a certain amount without coming up for air, yeah but I’ve trained myself to do it longer than that

Casey: [tell her the amount of swimming and time you know it to be because she was doing that job in peak crush era so ofc he knows cos he’d have wanted to do it to had he been older]

Janis: Well remembered

Janis: you could do it easy, I’ll teach you, probs not in the bath though

Casey: steady on, fucked as we are, we ain’t so cursed I should worry about getting myself prepped for a great flood

Janis: You don’t need to be embarrassed by how easily I can lap you

Casey: never been when we run, same difference

Casey: and I already said how fit you are, works that way too

Janis: Technically you said your girlfriend thinks I’m fit

Casey: more of the same difference, she’s my missus, obviously she can’t have her own opinion

Janis: Hmm, you’re a less convincing sexist than your brother these days

Janis: still take it

Casey: I’d say your influence, but since you’ve not convinced him

Janis: I’m that shit a woman I’ve ruined it for all the rest?

Janis: whoops

Casey: do ruin loads for the rest, you, yeah

Casey: ‘course they’re lying it’s cos you’re shit

Janis: long as you’re still my mate, can’t pretend I care about having a girl gang

Casey: you’re the only mate I really want an’ all

Janis: can say you’ve ruined that for anyone else too

Casey: *you’ve

Janis: I’ll take that blame

Casey: I’ll miss you [+ whatever the most ridiculous pet name is from the ones they were throwing around when they were in the previous convo]

Janis: 😁😁😁

Janis: I’ll miss you so much more [and throw your own wild pet name out too]

Casey: I’ll take that challenge, aced your last

Janis: There’s still some in the fridge

Casey: will it keep alright ‘til [the day] or you gonna have to finish it in your bath

Janis: if I say no now, looks like I just want to keep it all for myself but

Janis: would be pushing it

Casey: have it, I told you

Janis: ‘cos you feel bad for how much more I’ll miss you

Casey: ‘cause you deserve to feel good and I want you to

Janis: I want it for you too, I’m only being a twat and teasing you because, you know

Casey: yeah

Janis: dunno if you do, doesn’t even make sense

Janis: but you being happy is what matters

Casey: nah, you

Janis: I’ll keep you happy and you keep me happy, how’s that?

Casey: how’s it to know I miss you loads more now

Janis: hard but like I can’t bear how much harder it’d be not knowing

Casey: harder for me

Janis: You’ve got so many distractions

Casey: everybody ordering can see how hard it is, I haven’t enough distractions

Janis: I owed you

Janis: you did it first at lunch, remember

Casey: you that forgets, I can’t

Janis: I haven’t

Janis: it’s everything else I wish I could

Casey: I’d let you with everything else, make you

Casey: you’re owed that

Janis: I know

Janis: but we’re trying

Casey: start [the day he’s picking his stuff up aka saying his goodbyes, love that we’re giving this is bants and like a diet she doesn’t need to go on cos that dessert she’s gotta eat, when it’s SO serious]

Janis: You couldn’t make me dread seeing you if you tried

Casey: I don’t want you to dread me

Janis: Too sentimental how much I look forward to seeing you

Casey: too easy to just say fuck it and come see you now

Janis: yeah

Janis: have to remember the whole list of reasons why you can’t

Casey: but I’m that ready to forget them all when I remember you’re waiting

Janis: I’ll still be waiting [on this day]

Janis: swear

Casey: you left work for us, I could do for you

Janis: Your girlfriend will be there, right

Casey: mates before the missus

Janis: good one, give you that

Casey: I’ll tell her and my boss I’ve got a headache

Janis: stealing my excuse, the cheek

Casey: cheek for the night to be this slow after the day I’ve had

Janis: seriously

Janis: could convince the kid to have another go, well easy

Casey: he already is I’m scum

Janis: It’s self-loathing, you know that

Janis: anything he can call you is how he feels about himself

Casey: owt he accuses me of I might as well do

Janis: That’s why you want to

Casey: you know why I want to’s fuck all to do with him

Janis: I can’t have this be some fuck you reaction, even if I feel the same way about the shit that was said

Casey: how I feel never has done nor will change, for him, her, not for nobody

Janis: It can’t, not for me

Casey: I wouldn’t ever treat you like that, he don’t believe you’re special to me but you are

Janis: If it was as easy as he thinks, to get it out of our systems or whatever

Janis: could have years ago

Casey: he don’t know what to think, he’s not felt it

Casey: and how he’s going, he won’t

Janis: reckon there’s a lot of people who never have

Janis: can’t do, seems like no one else is kept awake wondering

Casey: wouldn’t be special then

Janis: You are

Janis: you’re my every other thought, that you’d like something, or hate it too, how much better something would be if you were here

Casey: you’re my every, not just saying it to top you

Janis: feels like a win for me too so

Janis: you can say it again

Casey: been years since I’ve thought of anything else

Casey: Bob asked if I was planning on taking her to meet dad and I had to laugh, ‘cause ‘course I’m not

Janis: couldn’t hate her as much as he does me

Janis: that’s what you meant, that I’d ruined loads of things

Casey: I don’t feel ruined by you, whatever I said

Janis: Maggie thinks it’s selfish, but I’m just trying to be honest because that’s what’s most important with us

Janis: you’d rather know how I really feel, wouldn’t you?

Casey: yeah

Casey: nothing fucks with my head worse than when you piss about ‘round something instead of just telling us straight out, there’s too much room for bollocks to creep in

Janis: You’re the only person who gets me 100%

Janis: when that don’t feel true, I hate it

Casey: same for me, I told you

Janis: let’s tell each other everything, no secrets, no bollocks

Casey: okay

Janis: okay

Casey: from [the day] or from here on

Janis: I don’t want to wait

Casey: it’s alright, I don’t fancy keeping you waiting

Janis: I want to be close to you, how we were

Janis: don’t even know when and where we drifted

Casey: You married him

Janis: Everything started going wrong then

Casey: no shit, was the wrong thing to do

Janis: I couldn’t just not

Casey: you could, it ain’t just a piece of paper

Janis: I thought it was to him but

Janis: now I don’t know

Casey: you reckoned on using it like a plaster to stick over him, another fucking patch up job, this time to last ‘til there’s kids who can take it on

Janis: I’m not going to do that

Janis: fucking hell, I’ve not avoided all the sins of my ma but I can do that much

Casey: he’ll never do more than survive, if that

Janis: But we’ve seen him do more, it’s possible

Janis: and I’m not saying I’m the answer but I didn’t imagine the whole thing

Casey: your first honeymoon don’t count, he was a teenager and he fancied you, there’s the answer

Janis: what did you say about hope before

Casey: still limits, he’s had every chance and chucked every

Janis: Maybe

Janis: don’t mean it comes naturally to me, to stop trying

Casey: I know it don’t, girl

Janis: I know you know how it feels

Casey: I’ve avoided the sins of neither my mum nor dad, no leg to stand on chatting about mistakes

Janis: This isn’t though

Janis: I’m not gonna be told it is just because there’s plenty in my history

Casey: my favourite thing about you, you won’t be told

Janis: your favourite when you’re not trying to tell me something, yeah

Casey: always

Casey: you’ve got instincts you trust, I wish I had

Janis: use mine, I’ll keep you safe

Casey: I do and you have, be in prison or bled out ages ago without

Janis: Might be my proudest achievement

Casey: not 90 yet, you’ve loads of time to achieve something better

Janis: shut up and take the compliment

Casey: yours to take along with all the credit, like

Janis: not all

Janis: if you weren’t you, it wouldn’t work, not looked after anyone else as well

Casey: and I dunno how to be anybody else, what a pair

Janis: I like you, fuck being some other twat

Casey: I love you, I won’t stop for no other twat

Janis: You’re not drunk, are you

Janis: because you sometimes say it when you are and I have to act like I didn’t hear it to play fair and not get hurt

Casey: be lying if I said I haven’t had drinks bought but

Casey: I’m mostly serving ‘em

Janis: alright

Janis: a good indicator because you’d be to gone to the state you usually are

Casey: go on, how many sherrys have you had, nan

Janis: She’ll never let you call her that without knocking some teeth out of your head, get over it, boy

Janis: He can add driven to drink to his list of complaints, half this bottle is gone but it’s only sherry

Casey: how would I get over foreplay like that, tell her I’ll let her have all my teeth, won’t need ‘em for her turn, will I

Janis: It’s like all that wine hit at once, tah 🤮

Casey: 😏

Janis: No more offering to make you smirk on the other side of your face, you’re too distracted to care

Casey: what else you offering, [the dessert]’ll be long gone too, you’d need to soak up that sherry somehow

Janis: a fat lush, you’re so charming, are you bringing this energy for your other customers or just me?

Casey: you’ve not been a customer of mine yet

Janis: The invite still stand or

Casey: or what, am I over you

Janis: or you don’t need to make me madly jealous now, you already know

Casey: I weren’t inviting you for that

Janis: what for then?

Casey: I just want your opinion of the place, what you like, what you don’t

Casey: for you to be with us somewhere I am that ain’t his house and to be able to make you feel something

Janis: Name another day

Casey: tomorrow

Janis: I’ll be there

Casey: don’t say that unless you’re coming

Janis: I came back when you asked, you’ve asked me to, I’m going to

Casey: you wasn’t half a bottle of wine deep pre pulling your sickie

Janis: You can ask again when I’m sober in the morning

Janis: though you know I’m not drunk and I’m not fucking about

Casey: alright

Janis: Is the drunkest you’ve ever been the wedding

Janis: it was for me

Casey: I weren’t just drunk, highest I’ve ever been too

Janis: misnomer, always reckoned

Casey: mate, I’ve never read that word before in my life, tried to, I should say

Janis: oh, just a posh way of saying the name don’t match what it is

Janis: you weren’t high, not that time, like

Casey: alright, dickhead, lowest then

Casey: what you gone posh for

Janis: Might be a side effect of the sherry

Janis: posh nan

Casey: been in the cupboard dog years if we’re talking effects it’ll have

Janis: can it go bad if that’s what it’s already done

Casey: unopened it’s doing a 1-5 stretch, opened you might get a year from it

Janis: Can’t believe you’ve poisoned me

Casey: calm down, it don’t go mouldy, just tastes even more shit

Janis: yeah let’s chat about mould, that’ll help

Casey: come on, you can trust me

Casey: drink’s what I know

Janis: I trust you

Janis: and it didn’t taste even a bit shit when you made it for me

Casey: meant to be being honest, you’ve gotta say if it tasted a bit like vinegar or dust

Janis: I don’t clean the house with my tongue

Janis: and I like vinegar anyway

Janis: I wouldn’t have lied the first time, was a really fucking good drink

Casey: shame for the kinky couple at [whatever number we’re saying for neighbours lol]

Casey: show us the bottle label a sec

Janis: you’d never see me again, chained up in their spare room

Janis: you gonna judge my taste if it's out of date?

Casey: let me have a look and I’ll be able to judge all sorts

Janis: alright, nerd, impress me

Janis: [send him this label]

Casey: [do be a nerd and be able to be more specific about the shelf life of this sherry cos it really do vary, how it should taste if it’s off and if it’s not etc, all the things because he genuinely wants to put her at ease that she hasn’t been poisoned]

Janis: Bloody hell

Janis: you’re a fast learner, most bar staff I know can’t pull a decent pint

Casey: I’ve been Ian and Debs’ bar staff since I were [however old] not that fast

Casey: but who cares about none of that, you’ll be okay

Janis: I don’t believe your parents were teaching you about varietals, you did that yourself

Janis: were you worried about me

Casey: wasn’t much else about to read, why I can’t

Casey: and it don’t matter, don’t have to be now

Janis: Can too

Janis: and it matters to me

Casey: do you feel sick or owt like that

Janis: God, I love you too

Casey: you can’t distract us from you not answering, but nice try

Janis: definitely could, if I really gave it my all

Janis: talking to you is the only time I don’t feel sick in the pit of my stomach

Casey: it’s like I’ve been punched or kicked there when we don’t talk

Janis: hollow

Janis: I feel you missing like a part of me, is that weird to say

Casey: only weird ‘cause I’ve thought and felt it too without saying

Janis: You’re like the version of me I can love, all the bits worth having

Casey: nah, there ain’t no part of you not worth having

Janis: you can think so, might be I need you to

Casey: I’d take every bit of you

Casey: the version from when we first met, you now, at 90, all of ‘em

Janis: nobody has wanted me as much as you, not proper

Casey: nobody else gets you, proper, like you said

Janis: I only want it to be you, I let you in

Casey: I only want you, whoever else I let through the door to chuck their knickers barely over the threshold of

Janis: can’t blame her but I will

Janis: violent fantasies are the only way to cope with them all

Casey: I’ll wait, he don’t have enough violent fantasies to outlive me

Janis: I hate myself for making you wait [however long you’ve known each other exactly]

Casey: you’d be on the register, you didn’t make me wait [however long ago his 16th bday was from this, I could do the maths but no I couldn’t lol]

Janis: alright, alright

Janis: suddenly you’re someone who plays by the rules

Casey: when they protect you

Janis: I would never do anything to hurt you really either

Casey: you never asked for none of this, off us, them pair

Casey: and the hurt what’s already been put there’s the bollocks that’s fucking everything up, not you

Janis: I dunno who I’d be without you lot though, or if

Janis: I wouldn’t change it, can’t but still

Casey: I didn’t reckon I’d hang about for nobody else but my mum, still have and still will count the days for you both

Janis: I never meant to give you that parallel

Janis: but knowing what she means to you, I’m honoured that it exists

Casey: nobody means to go to prison but you’re locked up the same as her

Janis: wouldn’t be a fair comparison

Casey: nah, she loves it, what I’ve heard

Janis: No responsibilities, get your meals and a bed

Janis: maybe I see the appeal, a bit

Casey: only men in a uniform you could fantasise about if you’re hard up for material, booze made to order in the bog, any gear you fancy

Casey: time of her life

Janis: ACAB, Debbie

Janis: I couldn’t be away from you

Casey: all she’s after are bastards

Casey: I should’ve tried harder to be one, might be posted a visiting order then

Janis: Could be she didn’t want kids in a place like that and then all those years are gone and she dunno how to pick it up proper

Casey: I’d maybe buy it had she not taken us as a kid with her to places worse

Janis: Didn’t say her logic was solid, nah

Janis: I dunno, I want to make shit alright for you when I can’t again

Casey: when she’s done her time she can sit down free and we’ll have all of it out

Janis: Yeah

Casey: start to finish, however many [whatever Debbie’s drink of choice was] she needs to get deep

Janis: you’re owed that, all of yous

Casey: she’ll give at least me that, I know how to ask

Casey: and I’m her favourite for it

Janis: I know you are

Casey: yours as well

Janis: my ma’s? Dunno about that, mate

Janis: say that to everyone

Casey: could be but your nan’s more my type

Casey: say it to us

Janis: I’ll say it when you can hear it

Casey: [the day] when we’re alone again

Janis: There’s so much I almost said to you

Casey: I dunno when to stop

Janis: I didn’t want you to

Janis: you do when I tell you, I weren’t

Casey: you can say what you want to me, I’ll hear you

Janis: [send him a voice note saying ‘do you feel like you can hear my thoughts like I do yours? The same way we feel each other being there and being gone’]

Janis: put that to the test

Casey: had to play that 3 times for my heart hammering in my ears when your voice started

Casey: but yeah, [the initial pet name he used accidentally during the blanket playfight used completely deliberately and intentionally in this moment], listening to your head with mine I get itt first go

Janis: and that’s the only reason, yeah

Janis: still not used to hearing you say words like that, without being totally sarcastic

Casey: reason’s that it’s pumping blood to where it’s most needed

Casey: not putting you to the test with ‘em, not yet

Janis: show us how loud it is there, what shit music they’re playing

Janis: yeah you were, calling her up when I was trying to enjoy [all his faves lunch]

Casey: show you tomorrow and I won’t call her up then

Janis: will she not show anyway, knows where you work, like

Casey: she’ll do as she’s told

Janis: are you reckoning on causing a scene

Janis: because I’m too old for that shit, always have been

Casey: I’m no kid, never have been

Janis: just warning you, if you think you’ll be treated to a catfight, you won’t ‘cos I don’t stop at hair-pulling

Casey: can you hear my thoughts or can’t you

Janis: I’m trusting you

Janis: fucking around with me to this level isn’t who you are

Casey: your best mate, who I am

Janis: yeah, always

Casey: Music ain’t total shit, you know

Janis: be able to dance then

Casey: [send her a song you’ve clearly heard at work that you like because it reminds you of jc for some reason which she’ll be able to also pick up on, simply must]

Janis: sorry, I had to listen twice

Janis: it’s decent

Casey: sounds like something the sherry talking would say

Janis: piss off, you like it too

Casey: you’re alright, we don’t have to like everything the same

Janis: save the gaslighting for your girlfriend

Janis: you wouldn’t send it to me else

Casey: obvious what I sent it you for

Janis: I’m still shit with words, never changing

Casey: bollocks are you

Casey: you’re the only one who knows how to talk to me

Janis: you’re the only one who gets what I mean, what I don’t

Janis: I’m never worrying we’re not on the same page, as long as we’re talking

Casey: we’ll keep on, I’m leaving the house not you

Janis: you can’t

Janis: I’m not sorry, can’t even say it here

Casey: you’ve done sod all to be sorry for

Janis: I need you like I want you

Casey: I needed you and you showed up, be wrong to be the sort of knobhead who don’t

Janis: I could tell you were serious, it don’t matter the why or where I should be, none of it matters in comparison

Casey: like I can tell you are about Bob and that being why I should piss off to my mate’s for a bit, no other reason

Janis: it’s the best we can do for him right now

Janis: doesn’t mean I want it for any other reason either, that I won’t miss you, or think he’s right for reckoning this’ll sort things

Casey: you don’t have to ask us twice to do anything for you

Casey: I’d sleep at the bus stop on the end of our street if it meant doing what’s best for you

Janis: I know you would, that’s why I have to look after you, so you don’t

Janis: and you can come back in the day any time, he’s not gonna be there, really only breakfast and tea he sees any of us anyway

Casey: I’ll be hearing off Grace next, you pull more sickies to see us

Janis: She loves a self-care day when she’s got a lad on the go, can’t talk

Janis: but I’ll not, only if you ask

Casey: or when she’s been dumped by him, yeah

Janis: exactly, any excuse to do her own nails instead of somebody else’s

Casey: what you do’s proper work though

Janis: didn’t get chance to fully show ya

Casey: might give you another, without taking the piss every comedown

Janis: sleeping on sofas will have you needing it

Janis: when you come back, for good

Casey: be too old for floors and baths before long

Janis: payback for taking the piss out of me, that

Casey: don’t sound like me

Janis: now you don’t remember, is it

Casey: oi, not got dementia, that’s ages away

Janis: it’s alright, you made it up to me after

Casey: sherry did, more like

Casey: you’ve developed a right taste for it now

Janis: you started being nice before then

Janis: bath to prove it, for a start

Casey: must be freezing, make sure you chuck some more hot in

Janis: [send him a pic of one of the candles he lit being dead legit]

Casey: watch what else you send, bubbles I poured gotta be ages gone too

Janis: tah for the warning

Janis: nothing quite like a drunken thirst trap to let the people know you’re TOTALLY fine

Casey: been caught out by the reflection off the taps myself

Janis: … is that a challenge to stalk your entire feed to see if I can

Janis: ‘cos at some point I will have to leave the tub

Casey: challenge to the house staying standing if you stay there

Janis: I thought you had come back

Janis: it wasn’t you though

Casey: ask me and I will

Janis: I wouldn’t know how to stop now

Janis: like you said

Casey: stop where you are

Janis: okay, I’m not moving

Casey: weren’t challenging you to stay proper still, but it’s your bath, I ran it for you

Casey: and I know you ain’t nowhere near ready to get out

Janis: so I felt better

Casey: was your turn

Janis: and you thought it was a bigger goodbye

Casey: you’ll only get more headaches if no dickhead’s looking after you

Janis: hate you for making me want that

Janis: so not who I am

Casey: nowt wrong with being taken care of, all of us need it

Janis: easier to not, if it ain’t coming

Casey: I’ll always come

Janis: You can’t promise that

Casey: I just did

Janis: You make me high

Janis: using the word properly

Casey: you’ve no comparison, you don’t get high like that

Janis: not as a habit but I have

Janis: my dad is famously a dealer

Casey: why you won’t, you don’t fancy taking nothing off him

Janis: such a know-it-all

Casey: about you and your habits

Casey: bet you’ve forgotten to wash behind your ears for a start, all that hair in the way

Janis: are you calling me dirty?

Casey: ask us really nicely and I might

Casey: go on, clean yourself up

Janis: 😏

Janis: fine, as you asked nicely yourself, I’ll be thorough

Casey: you’ll feel better for it

Janis: I already do

Janis: you might have some good ideas sometimes

Casey: I’m overdue a break, say when your back wants doing

Janis: Casey

Casey: you’re right, touching yourself’s not cheating, should stick to that

Janis: we can stick to technicalities

Janis: none of it is as simple as one label

Casey: none of it’s ever been or gonna be simple

Janis: It never was

Janis: doesn’t make it all wrong

Casey: do what feels right

Janis: not alone, not without you

Casey: I’ll do it with you

Janis: my head is full of you, that feels right

Casey: ‘cause we’re the same and it’s mutual

Janis: do you think about how many times it’s been mutual before

Casey: yeah, I try to work out when, keep count in my head

Janis: how it looks on your face feels like our own secret language, knowing is just for us and it makes everything better, every time

Casey: what you can do with just a look ain’t easy for me to keep secret

Janis: worst kept is the best though

Janis: it felt like everyone could see on my run earlier

Casey: neighbours will have heard me in the shower

Janis: you literally did it right here where I’m laid

Casey: feels right, that

Janis: the what-ifs are making me mental

Janis: what if I’d stayed at the table, what if I’d followed you upstairs

Casey: no ifs, you know what would happen

Janis: *should’ves works better

Casey: you should let the neighbours have a listen to you

Janis: fuck

Janis: heartbeats so loud in my ears now, must be hearing the two of ours together

Casey: just like that, yeah, tell ‘em how you feel

Casey: can still turn the song up if you want, get that beat as synched

Janis: your name is too easy to say, like it was waiting in my throat this entire time

Casey: maybe I put it there when I touched you

Janis: I believe that you could

Janis: how you touch me and the effect it can have

Casey: I dunno about that

Casey: but I want you to say my name

Janis: [send the voice note, which sounds so FINE so CASUAL lol not, obviously you’re trying to be quiet still with the restraint that takes being put into that and that alone here]

Casey: fuck

Janis: it feels so good to be allowed

Janis: you have to try it

Casey: [do because you’re 100% taking that break atm and using it to be feral so there’s no reason you can’t and won’t send her a voice note back, we all know there’s basically no restraint being applied to his volume or levels of indecency whether he’s in a toilet, cloakroom or wherever because no fucks remotely given]

Janis: I’m going to scream or drown

Janis: nothing else is appropriate for how that felt

Casey: something else is, you’re going to do what I did, there in the same place

Janis: I can see you, stood over me, pressing your head into the tiles

Casey: how I’m stood now, barely fucking standing, ‘cause it feels as good as you said it would

Janis: it feels like being honest for the first time, asking for what I want and being rewarded

Casey: be this honest with me all the time

Janis: we have to, this is right, it feels different

Casey: it’ll make the knot in your stomach go away

Janis: but that’s been there since [the wedding lbr]

Casey: you’ll forget what it feel like soon as you’re rid of it

Casey: and it’ll not be back, I’ll not let it

Casey: there’s your goodbye, to that

Janis: I’m forgetting what before was, that we weren’t talking like this, doing this

Janis: seems impossible already, stopping myself

Casey: you don’t need to stop, not ‘til you are screaming or reckon you might drown

Janis: You’ve got me

Casey: stay with me

Janis: You don’t have to ask

Casey: what should I ask for instead

Janis: me

Casey: I’ve got you too

Casey: right where I want

Janis: I’ve got what I want too

Janis: we’re not used to that being real

Casey: I ain’t gonna get used to this nor to you, long as I live

Casey: it’s never not been that real for me

Janis: I won’t hold you to it but you can’t yet

Janis: not when there’s so much still to happen outside of our heads

Casey: nah, do, I mean it

Casey: and I still would even if we’d already done everything in your head

Janis: oh, just my head

Janis: my mistake

Casey: I’ll not hold you to making happen what’s in mine, too massive of an ask

Janis: 1. I’m just as imaginative as you, maybe you can’t read mine if you really reckon otherwise 2. Fuck you let me

Casey: there’s fuck all I wouldn’t let you do

Janis: It’s mutual

Janis: don’t doubt that

Casey: what I’ve got my doubts in ain’t you or this, don’t need your mind reading skills on that one

Janis: the rest don’t need considering tonight

Janis: I’ll go back to worrying about everything and everyone else after, let me just think about you right now

Casey: don’t worry, I’m on about me, nobody else, be alright if we trust your instincts like you said and forget I said anything

Janis: No, tell me

Janis: I want to know what you’re thinking no matter what it is

Casey: I want too much, you can’t imagine

Casey: or probably just shouldn’t

Janis: You’re scared of scaring me away

Casey: tomorrow when you’re shouting us drinks we can chat about what scares me

Janis: fair, alright

Janis: I do owe you one

Casey: and I can’t have you lay in the dark out of candles, you wanna see what you’re doing

Janis: *you do

Casey: I saw you students might as well head off home ‘cause they’ve no chance of being served rest of this shift

Janis: You told us not to, I remember

Janis: their [giving WKD or something equally studenty]s are safe

Casey: warned you not to flash by accident

Janis: I’m only talking to you now the kids have pissed off

Casey: near their bedtime, like

Janis: tah for not including me to take the piss

Casey: already well past yours

Janis: there it is

Casey: walked straight into it

Janis: you can’t decide if I’m 👶 or 👩‍🦳

Casey: who says I’ve got to

Janis: me

Casey: why not both

Janis: you’re funny, acting like you think I’m some nun

Casey: oi, let a lad have his fantasies

Janis: I’d not take that away from you, ‘course

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fluffansmut-old · 2 years ago

Text

The Sweater

December 4 - The Sweater

12 fics of christmas part 2 - masterlist

Summary: Eddie has refused to wear a knitted jumper... until now.

Content warnings: Fluff cutesy stuff, Wayne, Joyce, Will and El is in it, reader has some experiences in knitting- (yes I know its more or less impossible to knit a sweater that quickly but for the sake of the story, go with it.)

Word count: 1899

* Fic is also posted on Ao3*

You had decided to do it. Even if it would consume you entirely.

It had started with Steve, whom had pulled a goofy-looking Christmas sweater out from his bag when he was about to leave your place, for his family’s stupid (his words) get-together.

“I mean each to their own but I wouldn’t be caught dead in that” Eddie said to you as Steve closed the door behind him.

“Aren’t it a little cosy though? Imagine walking through town in a knitted sweater,” You said, imagining exactly how soft Eddie would look in one.

“Baby I would walk through town with you anytime but did you see his sweater? The reindeer had a massive pom pom nose” Eddie said.

“And you walk around with a devil on your shirt, about 80% of the time” you said, defending your love for knitted sweaters a bit. (Even though you agreed with him, Steve’s sweater was ridiculous.)

“Don’t bring Hellfire into this, that’s different and you know it” he said.

You slumped down beside him.

“I suppose so,” you said. “Still I think knitted would look good on you.”

“It’s you who looks good…in anything” Eddie said, before smirking. “And nothing”

He leant in and kissed you, you smiled against his lips before returning the kiss.

A few days later you were walking around town with Will and El in tow.

You had briefly mentioned going shopping when you returned this bag you had borrowed from Joyce, and both of them had instantly begged to join.

Will dragged both you and his sister into the craft-supplies store, claiming that he absolutely needed a few colours to complete the painting he was going to give to his mom and Hopper.

He pretty much disappeared into the paint aisle as soon as you entered.

“This can take a while..” El muttered, watching her brother compare pre-made swatches of colours that to her looked practically the same.

“We’ll better occupy ourselves then” you said. The younger girl smiled at you and you disappeared down the aisle next to Will’s.

El was looking at this tiny “paint your own ornaments” set, when you saw it, soft yarn in a deep red colour.

As so as you had laid eyes on it you couldn't stop thinking about how absolutely gorgeous Eddie would look in that colour.

Right then a clerk came up to your side of the store and said:

“Can I help you with anything today?”

A quick “nope” was heard from both the teenagers you had with you. You smiled apologetically towards the clerk.

“Actually how much yarn do you reckon I need to make a sweater?”

“I know that it should be in here somewhere?” Joyce said, already head deep in a bedroom closet.

“Joyce honestly, it’s fine, I’m sure I can find a book on it from the library” you said, not wanting Joyce to go through too much trouble just for you.

“You got my teenagers out of the house,” she said without looking up. “I owe you”

You were about to protest, saying that the kids actually were the ones to suggest joining, but before you could you heard;

“I’ve got it!”

Joyce pulled out the thin document file containing knitting patterns.

The first one looked simple enough, and it actually looked pretty too.

“Do you think I can do this one?” You asked, showing Joyce the pattern.

“Sure you can, I’ll help you get started” Joyce said and that’s how you ended up on the Hopper-Byers sofa for 4 hours, knitting away.

You had the half-finished knitting-project in your bag when you returned to the trailer. Eddie, who had been away with Wayne during the whole day to find the right parts to repair his van, was excited to see you.

You were excited to see him too, but more so you were excited to finish the surprise you had for him.

The two of you had dinner with Wayne and then you remerged back to his room.

“Imagine when we’ll have our own place” Eddie said dreamily as he flopped down onto the bed.

You dreamt of it too, and you had a job, but not too many places were up for sale, and Eddie probably should finish high school first.

“Yeah, that’s gonna be amazing” you replied, laying down beside him, your head on his outstretched arm.

“We won’t have to wait until my Uncle leaves before we have sex.” Eddie said.

It sent you into a fit of giggles,you turned to him and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Is that really the only perk you see of us moving in together somewhere else?” You asked.

Eddie contemplated for a second before he smirked at you.

“Not just that, but it’s in the top five, for sure” he said.

You threw a pillow at him, before smiling wildly.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Munson”.

Usually when cuddling on the bed, you were the first one to be lulled to sleep.

But today, after the day he had, digging through car parts and arguing prices with grumpy old men, Eddie was knackered.

The tape in the record player, rang out it’s last tunes when you noticed that his breathing was evening out and he began snoring slightly.

You careful removed the duvet from your bottom half and eased yourself out of bed, to not wake the beautiful man sleeping beside you.

As if it was a miracle he stayed asleep when you got up.

“He really must be tried” you muttered to yourself, used to Eddie stirring awake as soon as you moved.

You emerged from the room, on you way to retrieve the knitting project from your bag when you ran into Wayne.

“Are you guys still up? It got awfully quiet in there for a moment.” He asked.

“Eddie’s asleep” you explained with a smile to the older man as you opened up the bag.

“And you’re not? That’s new” he said with a fond chuckle.

He reminded himself of all the times he heard the record player long after hours and had knocked on the door twice before cracking it slightly open only to find you and Eddie tangled up in each other’s arms, fast asleep.

He usually tiptoed in and turned off the music before leaving again.

“Yeah, well I started this thing earlier and I’ve been itching to finish it” you admitted Wayne as you pulled out the knitwork.

“And you couldn’t do it when Eddie was awake because?” asked Wayne as he plucked two mugs from his collection, walking towards the stove.

“It’s for him,” you said. “I’m making him a sweater”

“Really?” Wayne asked, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. “That boy does not deserve you, that’s for sure.”

“It’s I, who doesn’t deserve him ” you said, sounding slightly more defensive than you had hoped too.

“Believe me, he doesn’t know that he scored solid gold with you,” he said, “ hot chocolate?”

Wayne chuckled.

“You really are giving me too much credit here,” you said. Before quickly adding a “yes, please” to the hot chocolate question.

Wayne started heating up the stove whilst you sat down and turned the tv on, flipping through the channels.

“How do you feel about one magic Christmas?” You asked Wayne.

“Sounds good to me.”

He arrived with the mugs about a minute later putting one down in front of you.

You sat in comfortable silence with Wayne, knitting in the light from the tv.

Wayne went to bed when the movie ended. You stayed up about two hours after that, finishing up the sleeves. When it was finished you folded it up and put it in a gift bag.

Eddie stirred awake when you tiptoed back to bed.

“Sweetheart?” He mumbled barely awake.

“I’m fine” you reassured him.

“Sure you’re not anxious?” Eddie asked, eyes still closed.

Your heart swelled at the question, the thoughtfulness coming from him, even when he was half asleep was proof of just what you told Wayne earlier, that Eddie was too good for you.

“I’m sure” you said and kissed his nose. “I’ve just been to the bathroom”

The last part was a lie, but you could spoil the surprise by telling him.

“Mkay then,” he mumbled. His head relaxing into the pillow. “Cuddles?” He said and raised his arm, inviting you in.

“I was just about to ask.” You said as you sank into his embrace.

The next morning you awoke to a cold bedroom. You shivered and pulled the duvet closer around you and Eddie.

The metal head beside you fluttered his eyes open and looked at you with soft brown eyes.

“It must have snowed during the night” he mumbles and pulled you closer to his t-shirt clad chest.

Can I plan or what? You thought as you remembered the sweater you finished.

“Shall we go get breakfast?” You asked. Eddie nodded.

“Have you got anything warm to wear?” He asked you, you replied with a small “yeah”, thinking of how nice that fleece lined jumper would be right about now.

“Have you?” You then asked as you got out of bed shivering.

“Not really, but I’ll manage” he said, but you noticed just how cold his hands were when you took one of them to pull him out of bed.

He pulled out oats of the cabinet with a shaky hand when you couldn’t take it anymore.

You were stood in pj bottoms and your red jumper, vintage Christmas card print on the front, and he had a black sabbath t-shirt on, there were goosebumps along his arms.

“Babe” you said and wrapped your arms around his waist. “I’ve got something for you.”

“For me?” Eddie asked and turned around and kissed your forehead.

“Yeah” you said and smiled, “now I’ve worked hard on it so please like it?”

You held up the gift bag in front of him.

He quickly grabbed it from you and you smiled shyly, now starting to doubt yourself.

“You made this?!” Eddie asked, sounding both genuinely surprised and excited.

“Yeah” you smiled, letting out a small breath you hadn’t realised that you were holding. “So it’s not too corny? Like Steve’s?”

Eddie laughed at the memory of Steve’s sweater.

“Absolutely not baby, it’s stunning” he said as he pulled it over his head.

“I’m glad you like it” you said and kissed his cheek.

“Holy shit it’s so soft” he said as he pulled it over his head. “Thank you, I love it, and you”

“I love you too,” you replied.

Wayne found you on top of Eddie on the couch with empty bowls on the table in front of you.

“I guess you finished it” he said and smiled at you.

“Yeah I did” you said, thinking about the state the sweater was in when Wayne went to bed.

“Now boy how come when I go out and spend my well earned money on sweaters for you, then you force me to return then cause they itch, but when your girl knits one then you wear from the get go?” Wayne asked.

Both you and Eddie laughed at the question.

“They were all itchy, feel it, it’s so fucking soft” Eddie said and held out his arm towards his Uncle.

“I know what’s soft,” Wayne said, hitting Eddie on the head playfully with a magazine. “It’s you, for her

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #advent calendar #eddie munson fluff

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nataliedanovelist · 3 years ago

Text

GF - Timestuck AU: The Power of Mabel ch.2

While fighting over a time machine so one twin can win a pig or the other can win the heart of a girl, Mabel is left stranded in a snowy forest with no time machine and no brother. Oops.

The BEAUTIFUL art pieces were done by @clownwry and @elishevart ! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! 😭❤️💋

ch.1 - ch.3

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford was way more nervous than he was letting on.

She had long, pretty brown hair, braces over her teeth, sneakers, a skirt, and a sweater that allowed the cold air to pass through it. Her cheeks were slightly chubby with youth and nosy, as well as her nose, due to the freezing weather. Her eyes matched her hair perfectly, and though they were clouded with fear and confusion, Ford swore he could see sparkling behind the clouds, sparkling that made itself well-known when she asked if she could make him a sweater or when she saw his hands.

Ford would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy Mabel’s company, but she was practically a stranger, and keeping a random girl in his house that was located in the middle of the woods was fishy and Ford couldn’t help but feel like it was illegal. But he couldn’t leave her out in the snow and send her on her way to find her home and family, so he decided to keep her warm or healthy, simply because it was the right thing to do.

But then she said she had no parents to call. Only a brother, who was lost, too. Ford can remember the old rule: If you’re lost, stay where you are until you are found. So he then decided that she could stay here until her brother found her, which should be by morning at the latest.

Still, he felt uneasy, so once Mabel was settled in front of the TV, Ford excused himself and went into the kitchen to make a phone call. There was only one man who would have better judgement in this situation than him.

The phone rang a few times. Ford checked his watch to make sure it was a reasonable time to call. It wasn’t Sunday, was it? But then the ringing stopped. “Howdy! This here Fiddleford McGucket.”

“Hey there, buddy.” Ford smiled to himself at hearing that cheerful voice. “How have you been?”

“Stanford Pines! Good t’hear from ya!” Fiddleford cheered. “M’just fine, just fine! How are ya?! Ya haven’t gotten eaten by monsters yet, have ya?” He laughed, making his old friend chuckle along.

“No no, I’m alright.” Ford almost brought up the reason he called, but then he remembered something very important to Fiddleford. “How are Emma-May and Tater?”

“OH! They’re doin’ great! We’re all very happy n’ doin’ well! Ya won’t believe how big Tate’s gotten since ya last saw him! He’s already crawlin’!”

“Wow, that's great to hear.” Ford sat in a chair at the kitchen table. “Has he said his first words yet?”

“No, not quite. Actually, he’s extremely quiet. Not a lot of baby-babble.” Fiddleford chuckled. “The doctor says that’s perfectly normal. Tate’s so smart, he’s reachin’ for specific colors n’ such, n’ ya can tell he’s thinkin’ a lot n’ knows what’s goin’ on, he just got nothin’ t’say.”

“I was very shy when I was young.” Ford commented casually. He didn't feel like mentioning why. “If Tate is anything like either of his parents he’s very intelligent.”

“Oh, he’s so much like both of us it’s scary. Ya know Emma-May, so clever n’ quiet n’ such. Tate’s got all that. But he already looks so much like me! But he’s got his mama’s hair! N’ Santy Claus brought ‘im this fun little fishin’ game where ya fish for plastic fish with a pole with a magnet on it, n’ he loves it! I can’t wait to take ‘im fishin’ when he’s big enough! Ya really outta give yourself a break n’ come down for a visit, he’d move to see his Uncle Ford again.”

Ford’s face felt hot. “Perhaps. Spring is when a lot of anomalies are active and breeding, so i would prefer not to miss that, but maybe I could visit for a weekend before that…”

“Well, no pressure, I won’t assume anythang until ya tell me to, just know there’s always a bed for ya here.”

“Thank you, Fiddleford. The same for you and your family. The clean air will do everyone some good.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Fiddleford sighed happily and perked up. “So! Whatcha callin’ for? Not that I’m not happy just t’chat, but ya never call.”

Ford laughed and shrugged to himself. “I suppose I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“No need t’be sorry, Stanford, just wanna know what’s up.”

“Well, I was hoping to get your advice on something.”

“Shoot.”

“Um… well…” Ford rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to tell him this. “I heard some unusual sounds outside today…”

“What kind of unusual sounds?”

“Cracks, like lightning. And some faint yelling.” Ford answered. “I thought it might be a tree branch or a new anomaly to catalogue, but when I opened the door a young girl was standing there in the snow with no coat.”

“Heavens! Is she alright?!”

“She’s okay, no frostbite. She was cold, but after sitting by the fire, drinking some hot chocolate, and changing into some dry clothes, she’s okay now.”

“Well, good.”

“So of course I brought her in. I tried to call her parents, she probably got lost playing…”

“Sure.”

“... but she says she doesn’t have any parents.”

“Oh.” Fiddleford sighed. “Oh. Now, wait, are ya sure she didn’t just say that so ya wouldn’t call?”

Ford chuckled and said, “I first thought that too, but she looked too sad to be lying.”

“Okay, I see. Does she got somebody ya can call?”

“She says she has a brother, but he was out there, too. So he is probably out there looking for her and therefore nowhere near a phone.”

“Fair enough, okay. So, I reckon y’all are waitin’ for him t’come ‘round.”

“Yup.”

“Well sounds to me like you’ve handled this all pretty well.” Fiddleford said confidently.

“You think so?” Ford asked. “I can’t help but feel like I’m doing something wrong. Like I’m missing something. Am I doing something wrong?”

“Nonsense, buddy, you’re doin’ great.” Fiddleford assured. “Look here, ya can’t just leave a young gurl out in the snow t’try t’find her way home...”

“I agree.”

“... so ya really got one option n’ that’s t’keep an eye on her n’ let her in as a guest. N’ ya tried t’call, but nothin’. The best thang ya can do right now is be there for this lil’lady n’ just be kind t’her. N’ if nobody comes for her by mornin’, why don’t ya go into town n’ see if anybody knows her, then they can help y’all out.”

Ford nodded, then remembered that his best friend couldn’t see it, so he said, “Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. Thank you, Fiddleford.”

“You’re welcome. N’ hey, are ya okay?” He asked seriously.

“Yes, yes I’m okay. I just want to make sure I do this right.”

“O’course. I understand. Ya want me t’come down there n’ give a hand?”

“No, that’s not necessary. I’m sure Mabel will find her brother in the morning.”

“Mabel, huh? Well, if y’all don’t, please call me. N’ even if ya do find her brother, call me. Keep me updated.”

“I will. Thank you, Fiddleford.”

“Anytime, Stanford.”

~~~~~~~~~~

When Mr. Ford gave Mabel the remote for the old TV and went into the kitchen, she decided to use her awesome detective skills to figure out what year it was. If it was before Grunkle Stan lived here and opened the Mystery Shack, she must be pretty far back in time. But she had no way of knowing if it was 1999 or 2005 or the 50s.

The TV was old, but so was Grunkle Stan’s in her time. So Mr. Ford could have had this TV for a long time and didn’t want to replace it.

Okay, so when was the TV made? Mabel didn’t know. Dipper would have known.

Okay, Grunkle Stan mentioned watching TV when he was a kid once or twice. So at least Mabel was when Stan was a kid, okay.

Mabel turned the TV on and it was in color. Okay, so she wasn’t too far back in time. But the TV was playing a commercial for clear skin. The picture was gritty and all the people in it had puffy hair and long socks and oh my god was that woman wearing legwarmers?! Mabel grinned at seeing her favorite fashion on TV, but then her face dropped. When was she?

She tapped her chin and tried to think of how to know the date without being suspicious. She could ask Mr. Ford, but that might be suspicious. Mabel decided to start flicking through channels to try to guess what year she was in based on what was airing. A lot of shows were about cowboys, space, or game shows. Huh. Okay.

All the TV shows were definitely older. Nothing her dad would watch from when he was a kid, so if Mabel had to guess by everyone’s crazy air, the cheesy TV shows, and the music occasionally playing, she was in the 70s.

Huh. Okay. But she needed an exact year. So Mabel turned off the TV, saw an old radio on a desk, and turned it on to listen.

“... cuz it’s cold doesn’t mean you can't boogie, folks! So grab someone you wanna get warm with, turn up the music, and get your bodies warm in the coolest way possible! Here’s Night Fever, by the Bee Gees!”

Mabel grinned at the disco music. Her personal favorite song from these guys was More Than a Woman, but Night Fever would do. For a moment Mabel forgot her mission, jumped off the couch and left the blanket behind, and in the over-sized gray t-shirt Mr. Ford gave her while her clothes were drying, she danced along to the music, singing the chorus since those were the only words she knew.

“When you reach out for me. Yeah, and the feelin' is right,

Then I get night fever, night fever. We know how to do it! Gimme that night fever, night fever. We know how to show it!”

Mabel laughed at herself as she spun around in her socks and tried to do the point-and-hype dance she didn’t know the name to, but everyone did it when a disco song played.

Little did she know that Ford had returned to check on her, and was smiling at her as she shook her hips and waved her hair around and had fun. He leaned against the doorway and planned to let her dance in peace, but when she did a spin and saw him, she grinned and took his hand. “C’mon, Mr. Ford, come dance with me!”

Ford chuckled and shook his head. “No, no! I can’t dance!”

“You got two legs that aren’t broken?”

“Yes.”

“Then you can dance! C’mon!” Mabel encouraged, let him go when they were both in the middle of the room, and she started to dance again. “Don’t make me dance alone!” She even pulled an evil move and gave him puppy eyes. Rude.

Ford smiled slyly at her and hesitantly copied her boogie moves. It was true that Ford never liked to dance, but there was no one around but Mabel, and though he had only known her for an hour or more, he was sure she would never make fun of him.

And he was right.

“Wow! Look at you, Mr. I-Can’t-Dance! Yeah!” Mabel hopped on the couch, standing, and took Ford’s hand. “Here, I’ll spin you!”

Ford laughed and allowed it, doing a single spin, but then scooping her in his arms to dip her and then let her down, making her laugh as they continued to dance.

“Alright alright, you crazy cats, that was Night Fever by the Bee Gees! It's a snowy day here in the heart of Oregon, with snow flurries coming in harder all night, but it should clear up by morning and be a fun day to go out and play! The date is January 26th, 1978 in case you gotta write a check or mail a thank you note to a friend or family member. I’m still writing letters for Christmas! We’ll be right back with some of your favorites after a word or two from our sponsors, so don’t go anywhere!”

Mabel stared at the radio. “Wow, 1978.” She breathed. Her parents were only kids right now, maybe only six or seven-years-old. Wow.

Ford chuckled. “I know, I’m still in the bad habit of writing ‘77.”

Mabel realized her mistake, but was grateful her host misunderstood her. “Me too.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for dinner. How about some ramen noodles?”

“Yes, please! Can we play a game after we eat?”

“Sure. I don’t have many board games, but I do have a deck of cards.”

“Do you know any card tricks?!”

“A few.” Ford admitted, wiggling his fingers. “There are some advantages to having more fingers than average.”

Mabel grinned up at him and followed him to the kitchen for dinner.

#GF #fanfiction #gravity falls #gravity falls au #timestuck au #ford and mabel bonding #Fiddleford McGucket #dancing #night fever #snow day

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wpdarlingpan · 3 years ago

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Hello! I recently follow you and read your writing of DC. I love it, your writing are really good! For a request, i have this idea...

Platonic yandere Damian wayne with twin sister reader. Maybe, when they were kids, he used to be hated her because she was excelent in everything and have a little care and love from Talia. But she really care for his brother and then Ra al-ghul put them to fight among themselves on a cliff to see who was going to be the future leader and in a bad move, they ended up hanging up in the cliff. Then his sister, not wanting to see his brother die, brings him back to the surface and she ends up falling. Damian didn't know how to react and only receive a slap from his mother .

How about, after Damian goes to live with Bruce and being the new Robin, in one of the fights with Slade and his partner, this partner decides to let himself be trapped so that Slade can escape. In the Batcave, they take off the mask to discover that it is their sister, but someone very different, with another personality, cold, somewhat insane, hostile and very intelligent like that, because she was submerged in the Lazarus pit by Slade, who consider as a parent. Maybe Damian will try to reason with her and apologize for what he did to her. She tells him that it is too late and a smoke bomb explodes to reveal that Slade came for his daughter. She, determined, goes with him, but Damian tries to stop her, but is defeated and tells him that he should never have saved him, to see how Damian tears up and before leaving, he laughs and says "I didn't know that demons cry "

it could be possible? Thanks!!

Ukht: Sister in Arabic

Title: Not Again

Talia was surprised when she gave birth to twins. The boy a few minutes sooner than the girl. She was glad as well as they had two lethal weapons instead of one.

Two children with the blood of Talia Al Ghul and The Batman.

There was a boy she named Damian and she name the girl Y/N. She cared for them a short time after they were born then they were cared for mostly by maids.

As they grew older Damian began to despise his younger sister. She was perfect at everything and he was always second best. He believed she got all the love of their mother and grandfather and left him with none.

They were 10 when they were dropped at the top of the tallest mountain on their land and told to fight to determine the next Leader of the League Of Assassins. They were equals. They fought for hours as they each met each attack with one of equal force same with defense. They were bloody and bruised and Y/N couldn’t bare to hurt her brother anymore. But we she was about to give, she didn’t notice how close to the edge they were. The stood facing each other with their feet barely not over the edge but as Damian attack he knocked himself over the edge because he lost balance as he grew angry and let his emotions over ride his training. But as he fell he grabbed onto his sisters leg and she was pulled down with him. The didn’t fall far as they ended hanging onto a small ledge not to far from the top of the mountain.

Y/N knew what she had to do, but did she have the strength to do it is what she was questioning to herself.

She grabbed the rope she had attached to her belt and used one hand to toss it up and luckily for her it landed around a tall rock while the other end flew back down. The two ends of the rope were next to her and she leaned over and attached the rope to Damians belt as he struggled to hold on. He looked over once he felt the weight on his belt and he looked back at her questioningly.

“I love you Damian.” She said as she grabbed onto one end of the rope, pulling Damian up to the top as she used as much of the weight she could to work as a pulley system. She didn’t want him to bed up falling back down so as soon as she saw he was safely to the top, or as safe as you could be on the top of the mountain. She let go.

Damian screamed as he saw his sister fall beneath the clouds to her death, and he couldn’t do anything. He hated her all of his life for reasons she could not control and he didn’t realize that he never triplet hated her until he realized he never had been without her. She patched him up after fights in the middle of the night so he couldn’t protest, gave his pieces of food, tried to show him love but he wouldn’t accept it, not from her.

He regretted it now.

A assassin flew a helicopter up to the mountain with Talia in the back going to collect Damian. Once she arrived and Damian had fought the pain and walked onto the helicopter, Talia slapped him sending him to the floor with a red hand print on his cheek. He wouldn’t cry, never.

They arrived back at the compound and Talia led him to Ra’s. Of course they talked about everything he did wrong then made him practice for 5 hours until it was perfect. After they sent him away to sleep he had nightmares of his sisters death, and how he hated her all those years.

The next day he was sent to live with his father after the league was attacked and Ra’s was killed. His mother handed him off and later on he decided to stay with his father even after he was to be brought back to the league. It had been a few months since then and Batman and Robin were in the middle of a fight with Slade otherwise known as deathstroke. He was a powerful force to be reckoned with. But even worse now, as he had a sidekick.

A fully masked figure wearing fighting gear and knifes strapped to their thigh, not to mention the very sharp Katana they were wielding, it was a difficult task for them both. But Batman dodged a stroke from the blade and the blade hit a gas pipe, as it was about to explode Slade ran off and Batman was about to go follow before she tackled him to the ground. They fought for a good couple seconds before Robin joined the fight and she was knocked out.

Batman and Robin swung out of the warehouse with Batman holding the masked figure as the pipe exploded leaving behind a burning building.

They put her in handcuffs and put her in the back of the batmobile as they drove home.

“Who do you think she is Batman?”

“I’m not sure.”

They drove home in silence, when did Slade get a partner?

Once in the bat cave they tied her to a chair before Alfred fixed up their cuts. The figure began to slowly wake up and she struggled in the chair before settling while staring at the duo.

“Why were you with Slade? A partner? Sidekick? Apprentice?” She doesn’t respond and continued to glare. The Bat stared right back and couldn’t help but think she was very short, just a inch or two below Damian. Her eyes seemed young as well but didn’t hold any innocence.

“You heard him, who are you?!” Damian demanded by Robin put a hand on his shoulder

They still didn’t respond. But, an idea came to mind. If she gave away her identity it would distract them enough for her to initiate a plan.

“Take off my mask Damian and see.” She spoke ominously while they both looked in shock that she knew his identity. He got over it and quickly ripped off her mask and he was staring into eyes alike to his own.

“Y-Y/N?”

“Miss me? I’m sure you didn’t.”

“Who is she Damian?”

“He never told you about me?” She asked with a fake point then proceeded to smirk.

“Damian?” Batman questioned further but all domain could do was stare.

“I’m his twin sister.” If there was a time the bat had showed that he was shocked it would have been when he found out about Damian, but this one rivaled it.

“W-What?”

He looked over to Damian but Damian turned away.

“Yep, his little sister only by a few minutes.”

Damian and Bruce took off the masks looked at her. Bruce saw the resemblances, between Damian and her, between her and himself.

Damian knelt in front of her and stared into her eyes.

“Forgive me ukht, please forgive me.” Tears gathered in his eyes surprising y/n. Damian crying? That’s not possible.

“Forgive you for what Damian?” Bruce questioned staring at his children.

Y/N had her lips pursed so Damian responded.

“Our mother and grandfather put us against each other in a mountain… it was a fight to the death to determine who would be the heir to the league. We fought for hours before I let me emotions lead and I fell. I grabbed onto y/n and she came down with me. We felt onto a ledge with barely enough room for us to hold on.” Bruce’s eyes are wide and slightly teary. “She grabbed her rope and made a pulley system. I was slipping, she tied it to my belt and jumped, telling me she loved me. Pulling me to the top as she Plummeted down. She fell, or rather let go so I could live.”

“And yet here we are.” She spoke snarky glaring at Damian.

“How are you here then?” Bruce questioned feeling as if he knew the answer. Jason was a standing example.

“You already know Bruce. The Lazarus Pit. Just like how it brought back Robin #2.” She smirked as he glared slightly. Damian glared back at their father as he needed to calm down.

“But did you know something Batman?”

“What is it Y/N?”

“We always have a back up plan.”

With that the wall bursted open and Y/N shook of the robes she had been working away with a small knife. She held up a small tracker she had on her and smirked at their surprise faces. The duo threw on their masks even though their identity’s were already known.

Slade walked in with swords at the ready and he threw one to Y/N.

“Nice to see you.” Slade smirked at her.

“To you as well.”

“Ready to go?” He questioned her ignoring the bat and the bird.

“Ready when you are.” They nodded slightly and

Slade attacked Batman while she got Damian. With the help of a smoke Bomb and their disorientation from the information that she was alive, they were fairly easy to take down. They knocked the duo down to the floor and tied their legs together, just to give them enough time to escape.

“You can’t go! Not again.” Damian yelled with tears streaming down his face. He couldn’t lose her, not again.

“Wow look at that Slade.”

“What is it Y/N?” He played along as they turns towards the whole in the wall.

“I didn’t know Demons could cry. You learn something new everyday.”

Slade tossed another smoke Bomb into the cave as the last dispersed, distracting Damian and Bruce since they had almost gotten out of the rope, and got far away from the duo.

Damian stared at the hole in the wall in a mix of anger and sadness. Bruce in shock still.

Damian sobbed and fell to the floor in tears.

“Not again.”

~*~

Hopefully you liked it! Sorry it wasn’t too Yandere, I wasn’t sure how to make him a Yandere with this. But I how it was still good. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day! ♡

#damain wayne #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Robin #slade wilson #deathstroke #Damian Wayne sister #Bruce Wayne daughter #lazarus

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blu-joons · 4 years ago

Text

When He Looks After Your Children Alone ~ BTS Reaction

Jin:

His eyes widened as he walked back into the kitchen to the state your two youngest children had made of their food on the floor and their seats. “You’re never this messy,” Jin muttered under his breath, “why are you like this for me?”

“What?” Your daughter asked innocently as Jin grabbed the paper and wipes to clean it up.

His head shook, kissing against the top of her head, “you like causing trouble for daddy, don’t you?”

“Me?” She continued to tease, staring across at her brother who matched her own clueless expression. “We didn’t do anything wrong; we just ate our dinner.”

“Sassy like your father too,” he frowned, kneeling down on the floor. “Did you even manage to eat any of this?”

His question was answered when his son opened his mouth to reveal a mouthful of food. “Yeah!” He spluttered, only adding to the mess for Jin to clean up.

“Alright, let’s stop talking and eat,” Jin chuckled, tapping the top of his head, “it’s like cleaning up a zoo in here.”

“We’re not animals,” your daughter smartly responded, rendering Jin speechless.

“No, you’re beautiful humans little one.”

Yoongi:

The sight of the living room left Yoongi stunned, noticing the toybox of your children turned upside down, leaving the toys all over the floor. “My doll fell right to the bottom,” your son announced, holding up the toy he searched for.

“Your mum will be home in a minute,” Yoongi sighed, kneeling down to pick up a couple of the toys.

Your daughter followed behind Yoongi, noticing the mess. “She won’t like the house being this untidy.”

“Exactly,” Yoongi frowned, looking between the two of them. “Do you reckon we could clear up the toys and then I promise we can all play with our toys.”

“But I want to play with my doll now,” your son cried out, crawling to the back of the room. “Y/D/N can help you clean up; she’s not doing anything.”

Yoongi’s head shook, taking the doll from his son. “You’re the one that caused this mess, so you can help clear it.”

“I’ll tell mummy,” your son continued to whine, but Yoongi’s head shook, refusing to let him get away with doing nothing.”

“I’ll tell mummy your trouble,” he challenged, watching your son’s eyes widen.

“Fine, I guess I’ll help.”

Hoseok:

His arms wrapped around his two girls who curled into either side of his chest, gripping tightly onto their blankets as their eyes threatened to close. “Daddy, can you sing to us?” Your eldest whispered up to her father.

“I don’t sing,” he reminded them yet again, “I don’t think a rap is good to get to sleep.”

Your other daughter’s head shook, glancing up at him. “You can sing, that’s why you’re famous.”

“Of course,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the tops of both of their heads. “Is there a song you can agree on for daddy to sing you to sleep then?”

“Butterfly,” your youngest called out, but straight away your eldest groaned, shaking her head across at her sister. “What’s wrong with butterfly?”

She let go of a sigh, “I prefer when daddy sings Mikrokosmos, it reminds me of when we went to go and watch him in the concert with uncles.”

“How about I sing both?” He suggested, determined to keep the peace between the two of them. “I can do a medley of the two to keep you both happy.”

“But Mikrokosmos first,” your daughter quickly chimed, making Hobi chuckle.

“Maybe I’ll choose a different song first.”

Namjoon:

He couldn’t help but groan as the shrieks of your three children playing downstairs gave him no peace to carry on with trying to get his lyrics written. “What’s wrong?” Your eldest asked when Namjoon sighed yet again.

“You’re so noisy,” he laughed loudly, “how does your mum work with all of this noise every day?”

Your youngest shrugged beside him, “mummy plays with us too, not just sit on her computer all day.”

“Does she?” Namjoon frowned, noticing the third spin around to nod in agreement with their siblings. “I guess I have been a bit neglectful of you this morning.”

“What if we help you write a song?” The eldest of the trio suggested, “you always say that you want us to be like you.”

Namjoon hummed, glancing at the three of them, “why don’t you grab a pen and some paper, and we can see if we can come up with something good to write?”

“I’m on it!” Your youngest yelled, racing through the house. “Maybe we could be the ones to write BTS’ next hit.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Namjoon smiled, “but it’s worth a try maybe.”

“Don’t underestimate us daddy.”

Jimin:

His eyes lit up when he noticed the drawings your two sons had drawn, squinting his eyes to try and figure out what exactly it was. “What have your drawn?” Jimin asked, trying not to hurt their feelings with his question.

“It’s mum,” the eldest of the two pointed out, as if it was far too obvious for Jimin to doubt.

Jimin looked a little closer, still struggling to see the resemblance. “How come you’ve drawn mummy?”

“We miss her,” the younger announced, “we want to give her a present for when she came back from her work trip so she wouldn’t forget us.”

“She’s not forgetting you,” Jimin quickly assured the two of them, “she’s only been gone for two days, it’s impossible to forget you.”

Their two sets of eyes turned up to look adoringly at their father. “Do you think mummy would like to come home and see our paintings up on the wall.”

“Of course, I do,” Jimin grinned, knowing how much you savoured all of their work. “We can put them all up in the living room.”

“Really?” The elder asked in slight disbelief, “can we make more for her?”

“We can make plenty.”

Taehyung:

When you were called into work last minute, Taehyung was terrified about being the only parent, waiting anxiously for you to come home that evening. “So, how was everything?” You asked him and your children as you sat to dinner.

“We had fun,” Taehyung began, trying to stop his children to spoiling the truth about the day to you.

Your head nodded, looking across at your three kids. “Did you have fun with daddy, was he good?”

“Well,” your eldest stuttered, feeling Taehyung’s eyes stare across at him. “It was a little bit chaotic; daddy definitely needs you mummy to look after us.”

“He broke some of the dinner plates,” the middle child interjected, “and I’m pretty sure he burnt our dinner, it was a bit black.”

Your eyes widened, glaring across at Taehyung. “How did you manage to burn their lunch? It’s one of the simplest meals to make, which is why I chose it.”

“It’s not as easy as you make it look,” he protested, “and they were no help, all they did was laugh at me not help me.”

“They’re children,” you reminded him, “what more did you possibly expect from them?”

“Single parenting is not for me.”

Jungkook:

Your two daughters groaned as Jungkook finally pulled out the karaoke machine, much to their dismay. “We don’t want to sing,” the eldest cried out, “we always just end up listening to you singing to us instead dad.”

“It’s fun,” he protested, plugging the machine in. “And you love to hear me sing? You always ask me.”

Both of their heads shook, “we enjoy going to your concerts, not singing in our living room together.”

“Mum would never do this with us,” the other chimed in, rolling their eyes. “She does things that all of us want to do, not just what she wants to do.”

“What does she do?” Jungkook asked them, refusing to acknowledge that you might just be the better parent of the two.

Their eyes looked across at each other, “she always takes us to the park, and she knows how much we love to bake, that’s why you always come home to cake.”

“Then, let’s make a cake,” Jungkook established, unplugging the machine. “If mummy can make a cake, then daddy can also make a cake.”

“Can you make a cake?” Your daughter squirmed, staring hopelessly at him.

“Of course, I can make a cake.”

---

Masterlist

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onewithnomightypowers · 3 years ago

Text

Old Habits

pairing: Tom Holland x fem!reader

summary: Old habits come back when you meet an ex lover after a long time. Conversations feel like you never stopped talking to them. Sometimes you have to see them one last time to say goodbye like you mean it but most of the time it doesn’t go as planned.

warning: drinking

words: 2.1k

a/n: could be read as part 2 of last kiss but is a stand alone. got a bit poetic at the end. hope you guys like it. and as always, love reading your opinions/reactions. also asks are open. (gif not mine)

masterlist

'@tomholland2013 posted a story'

She picked up her phone to open Instagram. Yes, Y/N still had notifications on for his account even after they were broken up for months. Classic Tom.

He posted two of the same picture on his story. No one understood how that would happen almost every time, not even the people working at Instagram to whom they contacted about the glitch.

Tom had his hair slicked back, standing in a white t-shirt next to Harry, his brother, giving a million-dollar smile. They were holding a clapperboard together. There was text on the picture too, 'day 1 let's go!!' She smiled to herself. Just because they weren't together doesn't mean that she wasn't allowed to feel happy for his achievements. Even though she wishes to know all these big things from Tom himself she is, unfortunately, left here, watching a small part of his life flash in front of her for less than thirty seconds.

"Are you listening?" Hope, Y/N's date said.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. You were saying?" Y/N placed the phone back where it was resting, next to the cold wine bottle.

"You seem distant," they said.

When she 'met' Hope (she only really met them 30 minutes ago), Y/N wasn't looking for love, just sex, and that is what online dating specializes in. She hoped Hope knew what they were signing up for, sexual intimacy and nothing else.

"It doesn't matter does, does it? We both know what we are here for. Why not just cut the chase," Y/N replied.

It was early in the morning, the sun had yet to shine in its full glory. Y/N could only think of the first time she stayed over at Tom's old apartment but then she turned her head only to find Hope's naked body next to her. Her heartbeat accelerated with the realization that he was not hers anymore. Being in a foreign environment didn't help her growing anxiety, twisting and turning her intestines.

It's been four months, her feelings for Tom refuse to quit on her because she knows she could never quit on them, on him, even if he has. He probably has already found someone else in Canada, she thought. She didn't want him anymore but she still needed him, one last time just to teach her stupid heart how to say goodbye.

Y/N wore her clothes and picked up her shoes, going on a trail to find Hope's door to get out before they wake up. Climbing down the stairs, she took out her phone from the back pocket of her jeans.

'5 new messages from Sam' 7 hours ago

Sam: hey

Sam: ik it's late

Sam: I am going for a run tmr morning @6

Sam: do you wanna come?

Sam: will go to the new coffee house near my house after that

Y/N texted him back

Y/N: I'll meet you at the coffee place

Sam: come fast. already here

Sam and Y/N were standing in the queue to place their orders. “You look especially shitty today,” Sam said, running his right hand through his sweaty hair.

“I haven’t been home yet,” Y/N reasoned her appearance.

His mouth formed an ‘o’ shape. The person in front of them left the queue, they moved towards the counter. “One hazelnut latte, double shot with skimmed milk,” Y/N gave her order.

“And you?” the cashier’s question directed to Sam.

“I’ll have a matcha latte with oat milk”

Sam turned to Y/N, “Harrison got me on matcha, and now I can’t go back to coffee”

They paid their dues and moved over to the barista counter to collect their order.

“So, what were you doing last night?” Sam inquired.

“I was on a date, it isn't a big deal though. Just had some needs to take care of”

“Oh, was it any good?”

“It was fine. I was distracted the whole time. Saw Tom’s story about halfway into the bottle of merlot. Couldn’t stop thinking about him”

“Seems…sad. But you know Tom is coming back for the Christmas weekend, I think. He might attend Harrison’s Christmas eve party”

“One hazelnut latte and one matcha latte,” someone behind the counter screamed.

“That’s us,” Sam raised his voice.

Harrison had a bucket inside his house, under a sign that said 'drop your tracking devices here' with an arrow pointing to the bucket. Y/N dropped her phone on a pile of roughly fourteen others. Debating whether to see Tom's face was something she wanted or not made her late and not very fashionably.

The house was decorated with empty liquor bottles along with red and green streamers from one wall to another. Everyone was drunk in their best dress. There were no signs of Tom yet. Y/N took a deep breath, walking towards the kitchen to get herself some liquid courage to help her socialize.

The kitchen was rather scarcely populated. Empty glasses were lined up next to the sink. Are they clean or used? Bending down, Y/N opened the refrigerator to see if Harrison had any chilled wine. No luck. "Hey," a familiar voice was heard.

She looked up at the familiar stranger.

"Hey Tom," she smiled. The refrigerator light falling on Y/N made her blush visible.

She grabbed a half-cut lemon placed in the egg tray.

“How have you been?" Tom asked leaning back on the kitchen counter, observing her movements.

Y/N walked towards the sink to grab herself a crystal glass hoping for it to be clean. "Just busy with work these days"

"I heard you got a job at Condé Nast, is that true?" he took a sip from his beer.

"Well, you heard right. You are looking at their new senior brand manager for digital", she said proudly.

Tom hugged her from the side she was holding a knife to cut the lemon for her gin and tonic. "That's great darling! You always wanted to work there"

Darling. The butterflies in her stomach were fluttering like the first time she met Tom.

"I saw your story the other day. You started filming your script, right?" she dropped the lemon in the glass.

"Yup, it was a long time coming," he grabbed the knife she was using and washed it without even knowing. He was so used to Y/N never washing utensils after using them and, he would always have to clean up after her.

"Congrats on that babe!" The word 'babe' just slipped out of practice.

Y/N grabbed a Bombay Sapphire standing still on the marble slab. The blue of the bottle shinning even in the dim-lit room.

"I missed you," Y/N made eye contact, screwing the cap back on. A long, silent pause.

I miss you too, so very much

She cleared her throat, "so, how long are you staying?"

"Going back Monday morning"

She opened a can of tonic water.

"Are you seeing someone?" Tom asked.

"Wouldn't you wanna know" a smirk on her face grew. "I've been out on few dates, nothing serious. What about you?"

"Met this girl online, dated for a bit but, she wanted something I couldn't give to her"

Y/N scoffed, "did she have a foot fetish or something?"

"No, Y/N. She wanted love, not my feet" they both laughed.

"On that topic..." Tom calmed himself, "...I was listening to this song a few weeks ago and, there was this line, 'the smell of your hair reminds me of her feet' and it made me think of you"

"I reckon," she took a sip of her gin and tonic.

"No, seriously, I really related to that line. No matter how many people I hook up with, it will be hard to find the type of intimacy I shared with you. I still relate to it"

"I hate going on walks alone and having faceless dreams," Y/N blurted, lacking a proper reaction.

"You're still the face of all my fantasies," Tom confessed.

None of them knew what to say next. Anything they thought of saying now included walking over the blurry line of exes to lovers.

"You look pretty"

"Classic me, had a glow up after getting my heartbroken"

"You always looked this pretty. You are beautiful," Tom assured her. The 'heartbroken part did not sit well with him. He already felt guilty for taking a job across the pond which was a great opportunity for him to grow but was only possible by severing his ties with Y/N.

It had just started snowing on Boxing Day. Tom was alone in his cold home, boiling a pot of ramen noodles. He took out his phone and snapped a picture of the burning stove with the pot on top.

Tom: *attached photo*

Tom: I come back after months and my family leaves me alone with no food

Y/N: you should add a poached egg

Tom: Thanks. I shall.

Tom: I think I made too much ramen for me

Tom: do you wanna come over and share?

Her indecision was visible by the coming and going of the gray dots. Then finally, Tom could tame his anxiety by her simple reply.

Y/N: sure.

There was a loud knock on the door. Tom put two bowls of hot ramen on the dining table and went to open the door. Behind the door, Y/N was standing with her hands inside her brown checker coat. There was dust of snow sitting on her shoulders. Her braided hair was made by the most anxious hands in town.

The door opened and, Tom’s hands flew to take Y/N in his arms. They hugged like little kids hug their parents after being away from each other, for them, an eternity. It did feel like an eternity to them too but, they hadn’t forgotten each other’s touch.

“I parked my car at the church, couldn’t find any spot here ‘cause of the snow," she pulled out.

“The snow seems to be gaining momentum.”

Y/N hummed in agreement. She took off her coat and hung it in the Holland’s coat closet.

“Come on, the ramen is getting cold,” she followed tom into the kitchen.

They sat adjacent on the wooden table in comfortable silence. Tom used chopsticks and, Y/N used a fork. Only the occasional noodles falling in the broth were heard, along with the gushing of wind.

“It’s really spicy for me,” Tom said.

“Yeah, I can see your ears turning red.”

She still remembers

Y/N raised her hand to cover her mouth while yawning.

“Since you made the food, I’ll do the dishes,” she got up, grabbed their bowls, and walked over to the sink.

Wearing the gloves, she turned to Tom, “it was quite tasty”.

Tom gave her a smile.

She spread the soap on the dishes and turned the tap on. Tom pushed his chair back to get up.

“Have you made any friends at your new job,” he jumped and sat on the counter next to Y/N.

“Yeah, sort of. Kyara works there too so, I have just made her friends my friends,” she washed his chopsticks.

“That’s good. Have you talked to Emily after the wedding? She told me they are planning on adopting.”

“They invited me over for dinner when they got the approval from the agency. Kyara made this amazing Hyderabadi biryani, it was her mum’s recipe so, it was obviously better than the restaurant”

“God! You and your love for Indian food”

Y/N removed her gloves, “I should go. Thanks for the ramen, by the way”

“Are you sure you can go out in this weather?”

“Yeah I think," she started walking out of the kitchen.

Tom grabbed her hand. “Stay”, his voice was like cotton.

Y/N turned and made contact with his pleading eyes. She moved closer to him. “Please”, he said. They both were inching in to lock their desperate lips.

Y/N did not notice when she had fallen asleep talking to Tom. Their naked bodies were covered by the white comforter. Her eyes slowly opened to a boy with brown eyes and messy hair looking at her.

“I like it when you sleep. I love watching you sleep”

She chuckled. “That’s a bit creepy, don’t you think?” She had a sleepy voice.

“You look so serene, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I could stare at you for eons”

“But love, I'm only here till the snow settles,” she caressed his cheeks.

“Then the cold shall frost our limbs," he leaned in to kiss her.

tags: @elios-timotea

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #spiderman #marvel fanfiction #marvel #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #spider man #spiderman x you

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years ago

Text

it takes two

desc: when you make a stupid mistake, you can feel a shift in your friendships with your two best mates. so what better way to take care of things than to not mention anything to either of them at all? that is, until you’re bursting at the seams and need to get the story out, one way or another.

word count: 5.6k

warning(s): mentions and consumption of alcoholic beverages

A/N: something a little different. i still hope you all enjoy :) took me freaking forever to write this oi veigh. notes: my requests are still currently closed, i am merely working through the ones in my inbox. i do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any platforms.

taglist: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darlingdetails @laneygthememequeen @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @feffffffy@acciotwinz @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @shadowsinger11 @sleep-i-ness @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @purplefragile @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @bbystrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle @mytreec @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @auroraboringalis57 @godricsswords @jejegu @annasofiaearlobe @starlightweasley @alwaysasadaesthetic @thisismysketchbook @izzytheninja @imboredandneedalife @hemmoporro @valwritesx @heavenlymidnight @hannolannno @msmimimerton @oh-for-merlins-sake @hufflepuff5972 @pigwidgexn @sarcasticallywitty15 @breadqueen95 | message me if you’d like to be added or removed!

“Fred! Bloody hell, can’t you let me win just once?”

The common room was vibrating with chattering students. Across the table from you sat Fred with a rather smug look painted onto his face as if to say, Won again! You huffed dramatically; you’d been trying this entire term to beat him in a game of exploding snap and had yet to do so. You sulkily sank back into the couch and folded your arms across your chest, all while Fred just sat across from you and laughed. Just then, George plopped down next to you and thrust a goblet that was filled to the brim into your hands.

“Are you giving me this because I’ve lost to your git of a brother for the millionth time this year and need some reconciling?” You lowered your voice and your eyes to the goblet, the insides of it swirling with Gryffindor-deep crimson reds and oranges, the liquid that would course through your veins like a rapid fire.

“What’re you on about?” George asked, a sly smile creeping onto his face, “that’s butterbeer.”

You knew by the colour alone and the sheer burn in the back of your throat when you swallowed that it was definitely not butterbeer. Your eyes began to water at the sting. “Mhmm,”

“To answer your question, Y/N,” Fred dragged your name out a little bit longer than you would have liked, but he just adored teasing you, didn’t he? You narrowed your eyes at him as he relaxed back into the armchair, bringing the goblet of firewhisky to his lips, “no, I can’t let you win just once, I reckon. That wouldn’t be fair.” He then took a too-big-to-handle gulp, and began to cough from the burn of the alcohol.

“Fred, I swear to Merlin, could you be any less subtle, you idiot?” George sneered at his twin, grabbing for the goblet which Fred held above his head. George just sighed. “Can’t let the prefects see I’ve snuck this in.”

You giggled and shoved him. “Oh, you mean, your brother?”

The three of you peered across the common room to see Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny chatting away, Ron and Hermione’s shiny Prefects badges glistening on their robes. You shoved George playfully when he began to laugh.

“What? Ron wouldn’t tell. He’s too scared of us. It’s Hermione I’m worried about.”

You clinked your goblet with his and then with Fred’s and wiggled your eyebrows at the both of them. “Well then, boys, best make sure she doesn’t see, yeah?”

The three of you threw back more gulps and you reckoned it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but the buzz of the party was making you abandon all logical thoughts.

You jumped up in surprise to find yourself still in your uniform from yesterday, but somehow tucked comfortably underneath the covers in your four poster. There were two perfect seconds where everything was fine and wonderful and lovely, until the haze above you lifted and you felt the very obnoxious thumping in your head when you turned toward your window and the sunlight nearly blinded you. Groaning, you pulled the covers back over your eyes and stayed in the dark until one of your mates began to yell that you were going to be late for breakfast.

You changed into new robes and tried to tame the wild animal that was your hair, but it was really no use, so you settled for pulling it back without accentuating your migraine. Sullenly, you dragged yourself away from bed, through the portrait hole, and down the steps toward the Great Hall.

It was all coming back in fuzzy little increments, wasn’t it? Last night. You grimaced when you remembered dancing and singing and playing exploding snap and giggling like mad all evening, like a little schoolgirl. The room had been buzzing with excited students and everyone was thoroughly enjoying their Sunday evening, despite the fact that Monday morning lessons loomed in the distance. Everything seemed to be better after some firewhisky, right? Blimey. The firewhisky. No wonder you had such an awful headache! That’s the last time you’d ever listen to Fred and George and -- oi. Bloody hell. Fred and George.

You were hit not only with another sharp pain through your skill, but with the overwhelming sensation of what exactly had happened. The truth. The painful, blinding, can’t-even-pretend-it-didn’t-happen truth.

And the truth was, of course, that you’d been so overpowered by your own giddiness mixed with the alcohol that you’d promptly danced the evening straight away and fell asleep uncomfortably in the armchair next to the fire quite early in the evening. One of them, one of the twins -- and which one, you didn’t know -- had taken it upon themselves to carry you from the common room and up to your dormitory before placing you safely in bed, all before you’d been too delirious to realize that you’d pulled him forward and kissed him. KISSED him.

But who was him exactly?

Your heart jumped into your throat, eager to escape, and you stopped short right in front of the Great Hall. How could you face them now? You didn’t even bloody know which one you’d embarrassed yourself in front of! Though, surely the one had told the other, so you reckoned you’d embarrassed yourself in front of them both at this point.

And then you saw him -- he had half of his body slung over the Gryffindor table, trying desperately to grab for the last bit of bacon Ron seemed to have snatched up. He flicked his red hair out of his eyes and took the final piece of toast off of Ron’s plate in an attempt to get his brother back for stealing the bacon from under his nose. And then a bright smile split his face as he sat back down, clearly satisfied with himself, and you knew right then and there that it had been him.

You’d kissed Fred, in a drunken, delirious state.

Your stomach grumbled. You knew that you desperately needed to eat, but you turned swiftly on your heel, away from the Great Hall, away from him, away from the mess that awaited you as you ignored it all and made way for the kitchens instead.

-- -

You felt as though you were walking on eggshells. You were conscious of every grin, every flutter of your eyelashes, every wave, every movement of your own so as not to come off a certain way.

There was no way you’d be able to avoid the two of them without rising suspicion, so you told yourself you’d go on as normal and only think or speak on the entire ordeal if one of them brought it up. It was proving rather difficult though, to not think on it at least. But it had been a week and thankfully, neither of them had brought it up to you. Fred and George continuously sent you winks across classrooms and teased you mercilessly, but this was nothing new; however, each and every time they said your name with an upward inflection, a question perched on their lips, you felt your heart constrict a little.

Why was this having such an effect on you? It’s not like you fancied Fred, or either one of them, for that matter.

But the butterflies that danced around in your stomach each and every time you saw him made you question everything you thought you knew about your heart. Were you only feeling this wave of nervousness because of the kiss-that-shouldn’t-have-been, or because you were actually developing feelings for him? And if you were developing feelings for him, were they genuine, or were they only because you’d kissed him? Or perhaps, maybe the kiss meant nothing in that it was simply just a kiss, a drunken, silly mistake. OI VEIGH. You internally scolded yourself for thinking in circles.

One particularly bad day, you’d been gawking. There was no other way of describing what you’d been doing. You were straight up staring, but not in an “I love you, let’s get married” type of way, but rather, “I need to look at you for a moment to see if these feelings I’m feeling are real or I’m just kidding myself” way. Of course, Fred couldn’t tell the difference, so when he caught you watching him attempt to cut bits of gurdyroot into five equal pieces, he smirked at you and asked, “Like what you see?”

You coughed in surprise on the air you were breathing and sat up a bit straighter. “Just watching your technique,” you blurted out, which didn’t sound any less pathetic, you reckoned. You just couldn’t wait to get out of the dungeons and back to the common room to stick your nose in a book and escape to someone else’s world for a bit.

But blimey, this was driving you mad. You hadn’t told anyone of this little adventure, had you? You thought about possibly consulting Ginny, though discussing the idea of you snogging one of her brothers probably wouldn’t be high on her priority list. Then you thought perhaps Hermione, who was always of a sound mind, but then you’d have to admit to the firewhisky and that wouldn’t benefit anyone. Then the possibility of Harry caught your attention, because he was always getting himself into conundrums, wasn’t he? He was probably an expert on damage control about now. Though when it came to romance, he was kind of awkward, so perhaps he wasn’t the best person to consult either.

You were nearly bursting at the seams with this story -- you just needed to get it off of your chest, you needed to be told that you weren’t crazy and that it was totally okay to be questioning these things you were feeling. But you hadn’t had enough time to find an appropriate confidant, which resulted in you spilling your guts to the absolute worst.

“I kissed him!”

In a moment of horror, your eyes widened and you brought your hands to your mouth in surprise, because you couldn’t believe you’d just said the words out loud. All it had been this whole time was a thought, right? Perhaps even a dream. Maybe you’d been imagining it the entire time. But now, saying it out loud, you realized that what had happened that evening was as real as the befuddled boy standing across from you.

Poor George arched an eyebrow and pressed his lips together to keep from laughing, you could tell. You began to shake your head and lift a finger, but he just took a step forward, his eyes softened now, as if to say, It’ll be alright, you know. “Wait, Y/N --”

“Erm --” you were finding it really difficult to string together coherent sentences, because you weren’t exactly sure what you’d like to say. I may or may not be mad for your brother? I kissed him that one time when I was delirious and he hasn’t said anything and now I’m confused? So instead, you opted for, “Can we just -- go ahead and forget I’ve ever said anything?”

The grounds were absolutely bloody freezing -- the snow was coming down quite heavily now, everything already covered in a blanket of white, and you watched George shiver as he pulled his scarf tighter around his neck. Yet you felt as if your entire soul was on fire.

You noticed though, that he didn’t look surprised; Fred must’ve told him. You felt crimson red flush your cheeks and you so very much wanted to bury yourself underneath the covers of your bed in your dorm. Unfortunately for you, though, you had lessons soon. “Fred’s told you already, hasn’t he?”

“No, no, he didn’t,” George replied, eager to make sure you knew the truth.

“Reckon you think I’m out of my bloody mind, don’t you?”

“I thought that long before this whole debacle.”

You punched him square in the arm and he recoiled jokingly. “Ha haaaa,” you told him before dropping your head into your hands and groaning. When you finally had the courage to lift your head, you met George’s gaze and watched as the wind rustled his hair and snowflakes landed all over his robes. He peered at you sympathetically. “Can we just... please don’t tell Fred you know anything. If he hasn’t told you, I reckon he’s trying to repress it -- you know, kind of like a nightmare you don’t wish to remember!” George snorted at your attempt at making fun of yourself. “Or -- I dunno, maybe you could help me figure out how to broach the subject with him -- or maybe --”

George placed gentle hands onto your shoulders. “Oi, you really haven’t a clue what you’d like to do about this, d’you?”

You shook your head embarrassingly and started to groan again.

“Tell you what,” George said, gesturing for you two to head back inside the castle, “you think on it, and if you need any help, let me know. Once you come to a decision, I’ll help you execute a plan, and for the time being, this stays between us. Deal?”

For the first time in nearly a week, you felt somewhat better. You took a rather deep breath and let the cold, winter air fill your lungs before exhaling and letting your muscles de-tense. Your heart fluttered at his kindness, and the tenderness in his eyes as he watched you. “Thanks, George, I appreciate it.”

Then you picked up a huge wad of snow and threw it straight at him until he was pummeling you, too.

-- -

He winked at you just as you rolled your eyes and walked across the classroom and plopped yourself in the seat beside his. He smirked a bit, as if to say, Fancy meeting you here.

You glanced up toward the ceiling for no reason other than to not look directly at him for a moment. With your heart thundering dramatically in your chest, you internally sent out a plea to the universe, who apparently found it rather funny to pair you and Fred together in nearly every single lesson. What’ve I done to deserve this type of internal agony?

“Wow, together again,” Fred teased as he pulled out his spellbook from his bag. Then he threaded his brows together and thought for a moment, as if he was concentrating his hardest on a scientific discovery, “Don’t you find it kind of odd that we’ve been paired together in nearly every class? I mean, blimey, it’s as if our professors are trying to get the two of us to date or something.”

A lump appeared in your throat at the word date, and you swallowed to try and dislodge it. “Yeah,” you replied breathlessly, a nervous laugh escaping you, “odd.”

A few weeks ago, you would’ve been delighted to have been paired with Fred. Not because you were in love with him or anything, but because he was one of your best mates, wasn’t he? And now, as you inched as far away as you possibly could from him without looking suspicious, you felt a shift in your friendship -- a crack, if you will, that, as the days went on and you became more and more uncomfortable around him because of the secret you held close to you, seemed to be growing larger and the distance between you both bigger.

You had to admit, though, the two of you were pretty great together. Not in that way, but just as partners, as equals. As friends. Which is what you’d always been. Fred had this way about him that made even the most dreadful of lessons seem lighter, and you reckoned you could do far worse than having him as your partner. You wouldn’t want to be paired with a dreadful Slytherin in Potions now, would you? You made a mental note to thank the universe later and take back what you said about the agony thing.

“Right,” Fred began one afternoon as the two of you swiftly made your way up from the dungeons to the common room, “so I reckon we should probably meet sometime soon so we can get started on this dreadful assignment for Snape, so I’ll just cancel with Lee and George. What d’you say? This weekend?”

Your breath got caught in your throat when you realized that Fred wanted to cancel plans with his best mates to spend time with you, albeit, working on assignment for Snape. But it wasn’t due for a week! “Fred, you don’t have to do that --”

George appeared around the corner and waved at the two of you before making his way through the seat of students. Meanwhile, Fred just waved you off. “Nonsense. It’s no big deal. Not trying to get away from me, are you?” He smirked at you.

“Of course not,” you replied. George appeared in front of you both, immediately engaging Fred in some conversation that you were sure was centered around some type of mischief they were looking to get into, but the blood pounding in your ears seemed to drown everything out around you.

You hated this. There was no getting around it. Why had you stupidly kissed Fred? Why was your subconscious trying to make you fall in love when you had other pressing matters, like exams and things? And why had the universe caused this wedge between you and your two best friends in the entire world?

Fingers snapped in front of your eyes and everything came back into focus. George laughed breathlessly, “You alright? Zoned out there for a moment,”

“Not dreaming about working on that assignment with me, are you? Have got a few more days until then, I’m afraid.” Fred teased. You swallowed and watched as George’s eyes shifted from his brother’s to yours.

You were able to produce somewhat of a laugh and punched Fred in the arm, a little two hard, because the boys just peered from one another to you, with confused types of grins on their faces. “Hilarious, Freddie. I’ve -- I’ve just remembered that I’ve got another assignment to finish up, so I’m going to head to the library -- but I’ll see you both later!”

And before either of the twins could convince you to come with them back to the common room to take a break, you sped off toward the library, trying with all of your might to catch your breath that seemed to have been stolen away.

-- -

You vowed after that night in the library that you were not going to let Fred get to you, no matter what. You told yourself to stay calm and grounded and to push aside whatever happened. To focus on what was in front of you. There was absolutely no point in getting worked up when it had obviously meant nothing to him, for he still hadn’t mentioned it. Who knows? Perhaps you’d also apologized in your delirious state, and he played it off. You just needed to move forward. And if your feelings were true, and it was meant to be, it would happen, wouldn’t it? The two of you.

You’d done a surprisingly good job of keeping your promise to yourself.

You found yourself falling back into your old routine. Each and every time Fred teased you or sent a wink your way, you merely rolled your eyes, reminding yourself that this was his normal behaviour and that there was absolutely no reason for you to read into it. He didn’t act overly flirty, he didn’t try and hold your hand or hug you or anything -- in fact, now that you were less focused on the entire ordeal, you came to realize that he was showing no signs that anything had happened at all.

You were busy in the common room, flipping furiously through a copy of the Daily Prophet, when the twins dropped their belongings and fell onto the couch across from you.

Without looking up, you could feel them both smirking at you. “I am not engaging in any type of firewhisky-related activity with you two again,” you told them straightforwardly.

“Why,” Fred teased, “because you’re worried about doing something you’ll regret again?”

Your heart nearly stopped beating at those few words. You froze and lifted your head; Fred was peering at you as though nothing was out of the ordinary, and George was looking back and forth between the two of you, looking as though he was ready to jump in with something if you needed him too.

“W-what d’you mean?” you asked tentatively, though you weren’t sure you wanted him to answer.

This was it, you reckoned. He was going to bring it up and then it’ll be out there in the open for the three of you to mull over; you’ll become awkward and uncomfortable around them both and that’ll be the new normal. Absolutely bloody fabulous.

Fred shrugged, as if it were obvious. “Your one woman show was quite the entertainment, you know.”

Oh. That you remembered. You breathed a deep sigh of relief, but then realized as the twins began to laugh that you weren’t exactly off the hook. It wasn’t the kiss they’d been discussing, but you reckoned that singing obnoxiously in the common room was probably just as embarrassing.

“No matter,” Fred said, “We haven’t even got any on us. Now if you’d both excuse me, I’ve got to go and ask that lovely lady out on a date. She’s been rejecting me for weeks, but I know she’ll come round.” He straightened his tie as if he were off to a business meeting and stood up, sending you and George bright grins before he went off to the other end of the common room to where Angelina was sitting reading a book. “Wish me luck.”

You watched with furrowed brows as Fred waltzed over to her, looking positively chuffed and confident, his aura of confidence engulfing the room entirely. He sat down next to her and you felt your heart begin to thunder against your ribcage; you realized now that you wanted to know the answer to Fred’s proposal probably more so than he did. And when, inevitably, Angelina rolled her eyes in a teasing sort of way but nodded her head in agreement as her eyes sparkled, you were surprised at the feelings swirling in your stomach.

It wasn’t sadness, or heartbreak, or confusion at all.

What you felt, in actuality, was relief.

You knew deep down that you didn’t love him, and thank Merlin he didn’t love you, too.

When he pulled Angelina to her feet and guided her toward the portrait hole, he looked over toward you and George and sent a wink as he bit down on his bottom lip, and for the first time in weeks, the eye roll you sent him back was genuine, and you finally felt as though you had your best mate back.

Once Fred was gone and completely out of earshot, you jumped up excitedly and began to shake George by the shoulders. “Blimey, woman, what has gotten into you?” he asked through a laugh.

“George, don’t you see?” you pleaded with him. “Clearly, whatever the bloody hell came over me doesn’t matter to Fred, because he’s sought out Ange instead! And it doesn’t matter to me either -- all those feelings I thought I had were merely because I was a nervous wreck due to the mistake I’d made. It was all in my head, wasn’t it? The feelings, I mean,” you rushed to continue when you noticed George’s confused features, “or whatever they were. Reckon I can just forget about that kiss now.” You sank comfortably into the couch, feeling as though a huge weight had finally been lifted off of your shoulders after having carried it around for bloody months, and you picked up your copy of the Daily Prophet again, reading giddily.

George leaned forward in the armchair, pressing his elbows into his knees. “You’re just going to forget about the entire thing?”

“Well, I don’t see why I’ve got to harp on it anymore, you know? Besides, I’ve got so many other things to focus on,” you told him before folding up your news clipping and setting it down on the table. “Speaking of all those things I need to do, I’d like to avoid them for the evening. What d’you say we break curfew and head down to the Quidditch pitch? I’d really like to give you a run for your money, Weasley.”

You noticed the mischievous glint in his eyes, and he was up and back from the boys dormitory with his broomstick before you could second guess yourself. You felt yourself blush when he said, “Whatever makes you happy. But I’ve got to warn you, I’m absolutely going to crush you out there.”

You pulled a thick scarf around your neck and scoffed before hopping through the portrait hole. “In your dreams, mate.”

-- -

You both landed dramatically on the couch after spending far too much time out in the cold. You wondered if your nose and ears were going to turn permanently red, and you rubbed your hands together as you inched closer toward the fire.

“You may have gotten me that time,” you told George, who was slowly sipping his steaming hot tea, “but it’s only because I’ve had an off few weeks. Now that everything’s back to normal though, I’ll be able to kick your arse just like you deserve.”

“Easy there,” he replied, and though his voice was soft, it echoed throughout the desolate common room, “don’t go getting any ideas. Haven’t you heard that Fred and I are the greatest beaters Gryffindor has ever seen?”

You actually snorted. “Right, okay, sure -- whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You realized then just how tired you actually were. You sank back into the couch and closed your eyes for just a moment; if you gave yourself a few minutes, you knew that you’d be absolutely out cold and probably snoring. You giggled a bit at the thought -- it’s no wonder Fred didn’t fall in love with you!

You heard George laugh a little too, and his voice was quiet in your ears. “Come on, Y/N, it’s nearly one -- let’s get to bed.”

And then you bolted forward, just like you had the morning after drinking all of that firewhisky. Realization hit you like a ton of bricks; next to you, George froze, a bit confused by your jolt, and you just peered at him, reliving it all over again.

Come on then, let’s get you to bed, Y/N.

It was the way he said your name, both that evening and tonight, filled with such tenderness and care that you’d be able to recognize it anywhere, easily pick it out of a lineup. You wouldn’t forget it for as long as you lived.

George threaded his brows together and shook his head slightly, as if to say, Are you alright?

And before you could let yourself figure out a better way of doing this, you breathed out, “It was you.”

His features twisted from confusion to nervousness, and then to relief. His face was flushed red, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the cold air or the fact that he was remembering, and reliving it all with you.

It was George that you’d kissed that night, not Fred.

It was evident that he didn’t know what to say. He parted his lips, as if he were going to open his mouth and speak, but nothing happened. You laughed a bit at how bloody stupid you’d been, and then grinned sympathetically at him. “It was you, the whole time.”

You wondered how you’d missed it, how you’d assumed it was Fred. And then, as George tentatively inched forward and placed his hand on top of yours, that all those feelings of butterflies and nervousness and heart-stopping moments hadn’t been because of Fred at all.

Whenever Fred had said something cheeky and your heart began to race, it was only because you’d caught George peering at you first.

When you stumbled over your words that time in a lesson, when Fred had jokingly told you that he thought your professors were trying to get you two to date, it was only because your head and heart subconsciously yearned for his twin instead.

And when your heart had started to race that day on the snow-covered grounds, at the idea of telling Fred anything at all, it was actually because of the tenderness in George’s eyes as he promised to not say a word to anyone.

“Why -- why didn’t you say anything?” you asked him.

It was so odd to see him so nervous; he and Fred were the most confident people in the bloody world, weren’t they? George sucked in a breath and you felt yourself tighten the grip around his hands as he spoke his own truth. “I dunno... you were so tired that night and so I figured it was just a mistake. But then you got all weird around us and so I figured perhaps not. Then you went and thought it was Fred and confided in me that one day... I just didn’t want to scare you away. You were so upset and confused and I didn’t want to worsen it. I figured you’d come to the realization on your own -- or, I hoped you would.”

You bit down on your lip and continued to laugh; you had felt so embarrassed by the idea of telling Fred when you thought it was him, but with George, it felt okay.

“Look,” he continued, squeezing your hands, “I’m not really sure where you’re at right now -- I mean, blimey, we’ve been best mates for years, haven’t we? If you’d like to forget the entire thing and go back to normal, then I -- I can do that.” He paused for a moment to consider the look in your eyes. He sucked in another breath, as if more oxygen in his lungs would give him the courage to continue. “I just... I don’t know if I want to.”

He was lucky then, because you didn’t know if you wanted to either. Perhaps it wasn’t the firewhisky that made you abandon all rational -- perhaps it was George and the way he made you feel -- because you pushed aside all what if’s and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you before gently brushing your lips over his. His surprise lasted about two seconds before he melted into you completely, and it was as if the feeling of his lips moving slowly against yours brought back all recognition from that night. Of course it had been him -- the faint taste of cinnamon and vanilla transported you right back.

When you broke apart, you both hovered close to one another for a moment before looking at one another and beginning to laugh at the ridiculousness of the entire ordeal. You pressed your lips together and said, “Normal’s overrated anyway, isn’t it?” He nodded and brought your hands to his lips. “Go to Hogsmeade with me.”

“What?”

“Tomorrow,” you told him straightforwardly, “I’ve been dying to head into Zonko’s. Then let’s grab lunch and a drink at the pub. No firewhisky, though." You both laughed.

He smirked at you and you watched as the fire reflected in his eyes burned brighter. “Did you just ask me out on a date?”

“That depends,” you replied, somehow feeling even more confident than before, “are you going to say yes?”

“Of course I’m going to say yes.”

You pulled him to his feet and he pulled you into an embrace; you wondered again how you’d gone on so bloody long not realizing it had been him who you’d kissed. You thought about apologizing for it, though you just squeezed your eyes shut and leaned your head against his chest, and you realized that he’d somehow be able to hear all of the unspoken words inside of you. Thank you for being so kind about all of this, you’d say. He pulled you tighter toward him and he pressed a kiss to your hair. I care about you too much not to be anything but that.

You both stepped apart. Awkwardly, you began to fumble with the strings on your sweater and George ran a hand nervously through his hair. This was going to be so strange, wasn’t it? Dating your best friend. Though as odd as the prospect seemed, you thought for a moment why you two hadn’t been doing this the entire time.

“Erm, so, tomorrow,” George stumbled a bit, walking with you toward the steps up to the girls’ dormitory. “Lunch, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, feeling overly giddy as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Tomorrow.”

Just as you were both headed up to your respective dormitories, George turned and said your name and stopped you. “Yeah?” you asked.

He shook his head slightly and furrowed his brows. “You know I’m only joking, right? It was Fred that night.”

Hot, bubbly panic took you over at those words, but then the git began to laugh hysterically and so you tossed a throw pillow directly at him and it hit him square in the head. For Merlin’s sake, these two you were going to drive you bloody mad.

“In that case, I won’t be seeing you for lunch tomorrow,” you called in a sing-song type of voice before heading up the steps.

You were right at the door of your dormitory when you heard George laughing still. “Aw, come on Y/N, I know that’s not true. You find me far too irresistible. I’ll see you tomorrow, love.”

You bit down on your lip to suppress a giggle. You’d have been really bloody angry had he not been so right about the irresistible thing.

“I’ll be sure to bring Fred along, too.”

“Weasley!”

#fred weasley #george weasley #fred and george weasley #weasley twins #george weasley reader insert #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley fic #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagine #weasley twins fanfic #weasley twins fanfiction #weasley twins imagi #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #hp imagine #weasley twins imagines #george weasley imagines

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apinklion01 · 3 years ago

Text

Going Angst

Day Three: Family

Walker didn’t go far from his post at the prison unless it was for patrols or if a prisoner escaped. He had a very private corner tucked away within the walls which served as his main lair where no other ghost could go.

So any other ghost stood clear when he did venture further out into the Ghost Zone. He liked that they kept their distance. They knew the consequences if they didn’t. He was the only one trying to keep any sense of order down here, and he worked hard to keep it that way.

There were only two occurrences where a ghost didn’t give him respect: the mangy excuse for a werewolf and the Phantom.

The werewolf he could care less for. The ghost was powerful, yes, but Walker knew more about his time in the living realm than the mutt would ever know, and that was all he needed to give him an upper edge when dealing with the furry convict.

The Phantom was another story.

He was a freak even by ghost standards. A spirit boundless from the planes of life and death who moved between them freely thanks to the wrenched machine his family had built within a place called Amity Park.

The teen was impulsive, rash, and even led a prison escape that left Walker and his squadrons beaten up and reinforcing the security measures.

However due to being half ghost, the Phantom remained the sole convict that the warden knew he couldn’t lock up permanently.

But something was odd during the time he talked to the teen.

Walker heard an unusual song in his ears. One he hadn’t heard since his time in the living world. A song from his mother, supposedly handed down from members of her side of the family tree.

That very song kept repeating while he fought the Phantom, and only stopped after he was long gone.

But why?

Tired of asking himself questions, Walker decided to venture to the Library of Alexandria. The legendary building was open to any in the Ghost Zone so long as you didn’t start any fights that could damage the books and scrolls inside.

Walker didn’t learn everything about ghosts from word of the ear. Prior to dying, he came across a few books teaching him an intermediate amount of how the spectors worked. Their powers, obsessions, weaknesses. While Walker didn’t have access to the more offensive abilities, the knowledge was all he needed to fight such supernatural entities, even beyond his final breath.

He continued building more knowledge by returning to the library. There was a section specifically for new ghosts who wanted to learn about how to handle the afterlife, but also for older ones to learn of rituals, common spells, and caring for their cores.

Walker made his way down the aisle, a young apprentice of a librarian having handed out the book that might have the answers he needed.

His eyes spotted the name of a book: Melbourne’s Guide to a Spectral Entity. It appeared to be far older than anything Walker had read, the spine of the book faded and tearing apart, the threads loose on the covers.

Walker took out the book from the shelf, a few lowly blob ghosts scuttling away to undisturbed places of the library. Prying the book open, he grazed through the pages, the words mostly in Old English, yet he somehow was able to read them.

One page stood out. A ghost and a human side by side, the older being a ghost, a depiction of their core present.

If a ghost dies prior to learning about any future descendants or relatives, a song they hold dear will be heard when they encounter them. The living or dead relatives will not be able to hear the song until the older one speaks the truth. When they do, then the relative will be seen as a true descendant.

Rediscovering and reuniting is held as sacred to all ghosts. To break the bonds of family is viewed as disgraceful unless done properly. If not, dire consequences may occur to both the living and dead members.

Walker nearly dropped the book. It was impossible. There couldn’t be any connection between the Phantom and him.

Either the book was speaking blasphemy, or it was some sort of joke that the half ghost conceived. But the boy looked too young to think up such an act.

There was only one ghost who had the answer: the master of time himself.

One doesn’t simply wander into Clockwork’s lair. To some it’s visible occasionally, and to others it doesn’t even appear in the Ghost Zone unless they need his assistance.

Clockwork already had seen a few timelines where Walker would come inside, but didn’t bother to turn around, cleaning up a gear connecting the multiple clocks the building held inside.

“A simple greeting wouldn’t be too much to ask,” He said.

“I need you to show me something,” The warden’s deep voice spoke.

“Do you know what you need to see?” Clockwork answered, drifting down to the place where the ghost stood. He noted in several timelines that the ghost preferred touching the ground, avoiding acting like a ghost during his time in the Ghost Zone for more than half a century.

“I need you to show me a family. Any related descendants of John James Walker,” The ghost narrowed his eyes. It was dangerous to reveal the true name a ghost had prior to dying, but Clockwork had no usage for such knowledge and never told a soul any when they asked. Not even a certain Daniel James Fenton had the privilege.

“As you wish, though I warn you Walker, you may not like what you’ll see.”

Clockwork escorted Walker to an old mirror, where a small clock was inserted on the wooden frame. Nothing was visible on the mirror except both their reflections. A small flick of his wrist to the right, and the hands turned back fast until they were a mere blur.

Clockwork held his hand out and the clock stopped. In the mirror there were three children running on a farm. One was Will, a red headed boy, the other a brown haired girl named Elizabeth. The third was one he knew Walker recognized: himself. His hair was a dirty blonde color, yet his eyes were a stormy gray.

“Is this you,” Clockwork asked. Walker didn’t respond, stunned at the sight that he thought was all but in his memories.

“Bet you can’t catch me,” He heard his eldest brother shout.

“No fair, you had a head start,” His younger self cried out. Walker tentatively placed a hand on the mirror, the surface flickering like a leaf touching a puddle.

The ghost was silent as he watched the scene play out: a normal game of tag, with not a care in the world.

“Continue forward,” He spoke dryly, and Clockwork obliged.

The clock spun forward, and Clockwork halted it. The scene had changed to the inside of an old house. The sky beyond the windows was a dull gray, the grass in the distance muted green and brown colors.

A woman, Walker’s mother, stands by the door, reading a letter she had long awaited back from the army. Her anxious smile soon faded into disdain, and she muttered a few lines of the telegram to herself before she began to shake her head and cried. Her daughter Elizabeth, who was standing nearby, tries to console her but her words falter, and tears too begin pouring from her eyes.

A young Walker runs down the stairs, looking at both his family members. “Liz, what’s going on?” He asked worryingly.

Elizabeth looked up, her eyes wet from crying. “Dad,” She began, pausing as she coked up. “He’s not… coming back from the war…”

Clockwork maintained his distance, but saw Walker’s shoulders tense up. He took his hand away from the mirror, placing it inside one of his pockets.

The younger Walker in the mirror appeared confused. “Did he get held back again? Liz, tell me-”

“He’s gone Walker!” Elizabeth shouted before biting her lip. A shaky sigh escaped her mouth. “He’s gone…”

Clockwork turned the clock forward again. Walker didn’t seem to mind.

They paused again. Walker backed away again as the scene unfolded. It was a funeral being held around sunset. His mother appeared older, having begun growing gray hair and crying gently. William and Elizabeth were nearby with their own kids. Clockwork reckoned they were but six years old at the time of the unpleasant event.

“John, you didn’t deserve to go like this,” William spoke solemnly. “If we had known this was going to happen, maybe I’d have tried harder to convince you to tell the army to give you a break.”

“But you were an awful lot like dad,” He continued. “You didn’t want us to get too wrapped up in your troubles. I don’t know how many you had on your hands, ranging from learning I was drafted into the war to getting into the paranormal. All we have left of you are our memories. “

He set down a white lily onto the headstone marked with Walker’s name.

“I hope you still have them when I meet you on the other side.”

The rest of the funeral played in silence.

“Why are you showing me this,” Walker spoke, his head hung low.

“Your mother died sometime after your funeral,” Clockwork said quietly. “But her name lives on in one of your living relatives, Maddison. Elizabeth’s granddaughter.”

Walker perked up at the news, his eyes uncertain but wanting answers. “... Show me,” He muttered in slight disbelief.

The scene changed quickly, the hands slowing to a stop inside a modern home. Four figures were present. A woman, presumably Maddison, held a baby in her hands. It was easy to see the reason she was given the name, as she had a resemblance to Walker’s mother.

A man, the father of the baby, stood by, beckoning a smaller child to come forward. This one had reddish hair like her mother’s. The baby looked like it was recently born, their eyes remaining closed.

“Jazz, meet your baby brother,” The father spoke.

Jazz looked at the baby with big eyes. “He’s small.”

“He’s only a baby Jazz,” Maddie said quietly, her eyes full of nothing but love for her children. “And he’ll need you to be there for him, even if we’re not around. Can you promise me that?”

Jazz gave a tiny nod.

“Here, you can hold him,” Maddie spoke, handing the sleeping child into the other’s hands. Jazz carefully held him. The baby stirred, but didn’t wake up. Jazz gave a smile in awe.

“What’s his name?” Jazz asked.

“We’re giving him a special name,” Jack told her. “One part comes from a relative of your mother’s.”

“I had a great great grandfather who was around long before you or I were born,” Maddie said. “He passed away in a war, but he gave a name to one of my great grandfathers, John James Walker.”

Walker let a faintly audible gasp that Clockwork made out.

“We’re naming him Daniel James Fenton,” Maddie continued. “So he can grow up and be just as good as both of them.”

At that moment, baby Danny started to cry, startling Jazz. Maddie took her younger child back into her arms, rocking him back and forth.

“Shhh, don’t cry sweetie,” she spoke softly. “Shhh. I’m right here, I’ll always be here to protect you, my little Danny.” She began humming a melody Clockwork knew Walker had known his whole life.

Clockwork let the hand return to the present, and the mirror reflected both ghosts.

“So,” Clockwork said, floating over to clean the clock on the mirror. It had been a while since he had done so. “What will you do now?”

Walker didn’t respond for a minute, placing together the pieces in his head. The older ghost counted till the moment where the warden would ask the question.

“...He doesn’t know anything about this yet, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Clockwork said.

“You better not do any funny business, old man,” Walker muttered, walking toward the exit.

“What do you intend to do,” the time keeper questioned.

Walker stopped at the steps. “My job. I’m the one making any attempt at order. Only something like Pariah Dark could stop me from doing that.”

Clockwork sensed that the ghost had left before glancing at another mirror playing a particular timeline scenario: Danny looking through a scrapbook detailing Maddie’s side of the family tree.

“Fate isn’t kind to you, is it Daniel,” The Master of Time muttered.

#danny phantom #going angst week 2021 #dp walker #clockwork #pink lion dabbles

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sapphicwhxre · 4 years ago

Text

you

♥︎ pairing: ginny weasley x fem!houseneutral!reader

♥︎ summary: ginny distances herself from you because she thinks you love someone else.

♥︎ requested: yes | no

♥︎ warnings: angst, heartbreak, self hate/comparison, total inconsistency since if you're in the trio’s year you wouldn’t have class with ginny + astoria isn’t in ginny’s year but shush its a fic

pumpkin pasties, chocolate frogs, and all your other favourite treats jumped around in ginny’s bag. the gryffindor girl had gone to help ron woo some mystery girl who he’d taken a liking to and stumbled upon his stash of candies. ginny had called it a fee for her services and decided she’d share her earnings with the girl she loved most, both as a friend and more ─ that girl was you and as far as ginny knew, you were completely oblivious to her feelings.

it was a wednesday afternoon so she could only assume you were having your weekly study session with the gryffindor golden girl herself, hermione granger.

the pep in her step made her red hair bounce on her shoulders, her excitement to see you growing with each one she took. ginny turned the corner, finally at your study spot and she paused. you looked emotional, to put it simply, and you clutched what appeared to be a crumpled piece of parchment that someone had changed their mind about tossing.

there was a nervous gloss to your eyes and ginny thought she should leave, letting you and hermione talk alone. but her curiosity and just the way she cared for you got the best of her.

taking a deep breath and not noticing ginny behind the pillar ─ where she wasn’t so much as hiding, but quietly observing ─ you started to read off of the parchment. “there’s no easy way to say this,” you read clearly, but your shy, quivering smile gave away how you felt about reading what was written. was it a letter? had you written it? “but i love you.”

ginny’s heart stopped. she swallowed thickly, uncertain of how to process the sinking feeling in her chest. you exhaled shakily and smiled, biting your lip and staring down at the words you'd written.

“i love your hair,” you laughed, running your hand over your own nervously. “i love your eyes when you’re happy and the sound of your voice. did you know your nose scrunches when you laugh? it’s adorable. i’ve never met someone who brights up my life like you do. i love how you always know what to say and i love that i can be myself with you. i love your heart, you’re everything i adore. i love when i can look into your eyes because mine fill with the love i’ve only ever felt for you. the only thing more beautiful to me is you. it’s that same look that i’ve never been able to tell if you’ve given me back. my thoughts go cloudy when i’m with you. i love you so much. you’re... you. how could i not have fallen in love with you?"

as she looked at hermione’s angel-like face, ginny felt hot drops of some form of sadness more intense than she even knew possible well up in her eyes. hermione’s lips were parted in awe and she was smiling.

hermione granger, brightest, most beautiful witch of her age. beside you, in ginny’s opinion, but you were right. how could you not have fallen in love with hermione?

you folded up the letter and sighed, no longer reading but still going. “even if you don't love me, it was worth every word. i’ve never regretted anything when it comes to loving you. yours, y/n l/n.”

hermione grinned at you, “that was beautiful, y/n. truly... gods, i didn’t know you had that in you.” ginny fled, not wanting to watch what came next or hear what hermione had to say about how she felt for you. she’d break like the porcelain her skin resembled if hermione said she loved you back... if hermione kissed you, like ginny had only dreamed of.

wiping away the tears that stained her cheeks, she hated herself. y/n loves hermione. she just wished she hadn’t listened. she shouldn’t have fallen for you in the first place or let herself have foolish hope. even more foolish to think she could ever win you over when you could have hermione. older, brighter, and beautiful. she was fool, and now ginny believed had paid the price for it.

but had she stayed only a second longer, she’d have heard hermione’s stunned words. “ginny’s going to love every word, y/n, i know it.” bubbling with nerves, you threw yourself to hug her and squeezed tightly, just as ginny turned to steal one last glance at you. “thank you ‘mione, you’re the best.”

you were inaudible from the distance but there you were in hermione’s arms, giggling and chattering. despite the fact that you were joking about her own crush, ron, the sight only made ginny sick. ginny lost her appetite and made her way to her dorm, instead of the great hall where dinner would be starting in just a few minutes.

the heartbroken girl probably would have thrown up right then and there, had she seen you and hermione walk into the great hall. arm in arm, you were practically shaking with anticipation. of course, she’d incorrectly imagined that you’d be parading in with intertwined fingers and smeared lipstick but through a made up mind, it’d look like all the same.

“where’s gin?” you found a seat next to ron and harry, scanning the table for her red ponytail. through a mouthful of food, ron shrugged and answered, “must have gotten held up.” hermione rolled her eyes with disgust, silently scolding him for his ill manners.

you took the opportunity to tease the two. “never invite me to dinner at your home, save the fighting for your kids.” they both blushed heavily and stammered out how they’d never fancy the other, then immediately spewing out offense at the implication. ron huffed and harry spoke over them, rolling his eyes heavily.

“what about you, y/n? i thought you and ginny would be an item by now,” harry didn't really care either way, but it did seem ridiculous for the two of you to dance around dating for so long, especially since he somewhat saw her as a little sister. and truth be told, everyone was curious about you two.

even ron perked up and hermione smirked knowingly. “leave her alone, it’s none of your business,” she announced.

ron narrowed his eyes and started, “hermione, do you know something?” hurrying to stop them from bickering again, you cleared your throat. “i wrote ginny a letter, laying out exactly how i feel for her. now if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to go find her because i don’t think she’s coming.”

you hopped out of your seat, taking some food for her, and left poor harry alone with the arguing lovebirds to go confess your feelings.

you hummed to yourself, going to knock on ginny’s dorm door. her dorm mate opened the door and looked you up and down, glaring angrily. “what do you want?” she crossed her arms and scoffed. taken aback, you blinked and searched the room for ginny, who was curled up in her bed crying.

“excuse me? get out of my way, i need to see ginny. is she alright?” the girl eyed you, as if scanning you for a lie, and she supposed you were sincere in your concern. “she’ll be fine, just give her some space.”

without another word, the gryffindor slammed the door in front of you and you were left staring at the shut dorm, filled with confusion and a harrowing worry. your hand fell and defeated, you shoved your love letter into your pocket.

you didn’t see ginny the next day in class. or the day after that. she wasn’t talking to any of her brothers, you, or harry and had even turned the other way when you waved her down. it was like she was avoiding you and after a week of it, you came to the conclusion that she must be. ginny’s schedule resided in your mind so you set to confront her after potions. a girl with a mission was a force that should never be reckoned with ─ ginny taught you that.

“it shouldn't be too hard if we get some studying in,” ginny was discussing an upcoming exam with astoria greengrass, a slytherin girl in her year. you rather awkwardly stopped in front of the two and watched them part ways, ginny sending you a scarily pissed off glare. the tension could be cut with a knife and you and ginny blurted at the same time.

“you’re avoiding me!”

“i heard you and hermione!”

anger slipping, ginny avoided your eyes. “well that’s why i’ve been avoiding you. i’m sorry, i know i should be happy for you,” she started to ramble and you stared at her, baffled. happy for you and hermione? “i thought i didn’t care, that i could just push my feelings for you aside. it’s just that when you read that letter to hermione, there was so much... love in your voice. it hurt. i want to be the one you love.”

dumbfounded, you realised that she’d thought the letter was for hermione. “oh fuck, ginny no,” you stumbled, making her step back, assuming you were rejecting her. this wasn’t how you wanted to tell her that you loved her, it was supposed to go better than this. “wait! what i mean is─”

“you made it pretty damn clear what you mean, y/n,” ginny sniffled. “i think it's best if i just─” you cut her off with a kiss. you grabbed her face, kissing her like you’d never tasted something so sweet and you just couldn't get enough. she pulled back, breath heavy on your lips. “but... but hermione,” she whispered and you laughed, eyes fluttering shut and head shaking.

“i was reading it to her to practice on you. it was always for you ginny, it’s always been you.” the smile that you missed all week finally enraptured the lips you’d be kissing as much as you possibly can now that you knew you could. “and besides, she fancies your brother.” ginny thought for a moment and then sighed in embarrassment. but she said nothing as she knew you’d only reassure her and she knew this was how things ought to be.

ginny wrapped her arms around you and melted into your embrace, burying herself in your warmth and tugging you closer ─ though with no distance between you two, the gesture wasn’t very efficient. “so you love me?” she just wanted to hear you say it.

“i love you, ginny.”

“i love you, y/n.”

──────♥︎

#ginny weasley #ginny weasley x reader #ginny weasley imagine #ginny weasley angst #ginny weasley fluff #ginny weasley x y/n #ginny weasley fanfiction #ginny fic #ginny fluff #ginny angst #ginny imagine #ginny x reader #harry potter series #harry potter x reader #hogwarts x reader

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ialwaysgobacktoit · 4 years ago

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Time to rest your weary head: Part 13!

IT TOOK ME LONG ENOUGH, but it is here!!! As I explained before, I was facing the last weeks of my semester, delivering final papers and such, but now I'm freee!!!! I thank you all for your patience and eternal support, really <3 hope you like this one! :)))

Also tagging some of my beautiful readers <3 @madie2200 @katiebellf @starbornsinger

Last thing: I wanna leave here my praise to all fic writers and fanfiction and headcanons I had the pleasure of reading on this website; you all inspire me so much, and I’m glad to say I am a part of such a beautiful net of sharing and reading other’s stories :) you are awesome and you inspire me to keep on writing! Thank you :)

Check out the Chapter List and Part 12 if you haven't read it yet!

It was late, but Azriel didn’t mind. He felt like he could explode: like all of a sudden, all his life made much more sense.

He had a mate.

That mate was Gwyn.

And Gwyn had kissed him.

As he jumped off the balcony at the House of Wind, diving fast before soaring, he couldn’t contain his grin. His heart hadn’t stopped thundering in his chest ever since he got to her door. They kissed, and he sensed her affection and desire as sure as she had felt his. He held her in his arms, just like he had that night all those weeks ago. And he had missed so badly doing so, he realized the second he felt her hand on his cheek, caressing him in a way no one ever had, before she enlaced her arms behind his neck.

He felt like a teenager, his Ilyrian hormones pumping through his body, making him restless and euphoric. He wanted so bad to go back, to just stay with her, to make up any excuse to see her, to wake her up, to lay down with her. To spend every second he had right next to her, learning all the different ways he could make her glow.

For so long, he deemed himself worthless; tainted and scarred and damaged. But now he could see that perhaps that wasn’t true. He was hurt, but he could heal; everyone had a past, and it shouldn’t prevent them from living their present. And Gwyn… She was the reason he started believing that. That he had hope left, and that maybe…. Maybe he could care about himself just like others cared about him.

It took a second to realize he was crying. Alone, just him and his shadows, as he soared and spun across the night sky, he was crying. Sobbing and laughing uncontrollably at the same time. He breathed in and out, trying to calm his racing heart, but he still let the tears flow; he still kept smiling, the image of Gwyn’s face never fading from his mind.

Feeling the cold wind across his face, he landed on the pathway to the River House. It was all dark, but he could see a dim light from one of the windows. Rhys’s study.

Rhys. He lowered his mental shields enough so he could voice his brother’s name. Are you there?

Silence, before Rhys’s voice sounded. Yes. Are you alright?

I need to talk to you. May I come in?

He heard footsteps approaching the front door, and then Rhysand was staring at him, violet eyes dark in the dim light. “Come in, brother.”

He was greeted by the image of Nesta facing him, that huge portrait that Feyre had painted some time ago, after The Blood Rite. The house was silent, and all he could hear was his steps as he followed Rhysand to his study.

When he closed the door, Rhysand had just sat down at his armchair.

“Are Feyre and Nyx asleep?”

“Fortunately. The kid’s been having some trouble sleeping these last few months, therefore so have we.” He snorted, but smiled fondly at the thought of his family. “Sit down, Az.”

He obliged, and felt the way Rhys sized him up, trying to decipher what was going on with him. And although Azriel’s expression yielded nothing, he didn’t make an effort to wipe away his tears from before; so his brother was probably putting up the pieces together by now.

Azriel didn’t leave enough time for him to do so, as he again talked to him mentally.

Gwyn is my mate. But I reckon you already know that.

I do. I suppose it didn’t go well, then.

And Cauldron-damn him if he didn’t start laughing at that. And not a bitter one, but a true, genuine chuckle that made Rhys’s brows shot up and a bemused smile appeared on his face.

“It went more than well, actually.” Azriel corrected, shaking his head as he looked to the ground, still smiling. “And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” His brother shifted in his seat, resting his elbows in his knees and interlocking his fingers.

So Azriel explained what Rhys needed to do for them. He honestly didn’t care if his family knew or not about their mating bond, but was well aware Gwyn might need some time to adjust – and the required privacy to do so. And that was fine with him; as long as he was able to spend time with her, he’d be happy. In any way she wanted.

When he was finished, they stood in silence for a couple of seconds.

“So, I see you have your shot at happiness in your hands at last, brother.” Rhysand stated, with a knowing smile on his face.

“I do.”

“She was very good at refraining from telling you. Of course, I didn’t mean to pry when I found out. But do you know why I read her thoughts that night?”

Azriel shook his head, and watched as his brother declared with a low tone.

“She was just sitting there, in a midst of people whom she didn’t have familiarity with, and you were by your usual spot, talking to Mor. And she was just staring at you, eyes full of an emotion I couldn’t decipher, but I knew what that gesture meant. She couldn’t keep herself from looking at you, just as you couldn’t stop from glancing at her time and time again during the evening: like you were drawn to each other. I was going to ask her if she needed to talk about it, though I knew it was none of my business and she was unlikely to do so, but then I read her thoughts about you being mates.”

“That’s why I didn’t meddle in. I was witnessing something way bigger than me, and I think you know what I mean.” He finished, and completed “That’s why I - and Feyre - kept quiet about it.”

All Azriel could do was laugh quietly again at the mention of his High Lady. “Of course she’d know.”

“My dear brother, I learned by experience you shouldn’t keep things from your mate, even if it is to protect them. You're supposed to walk through it together.” Regret crossed Rhysand’s face at that confession.

Azriel knew that although his brother claimed to hide the details of Feyre’s pregnancy from her not to worry her, it wasn’t exactly fair all the same.

“But I’m certain you’ll learn that with time.” He completed, leaning over to pat Azriel on his knee. “So, don’t worry. I will do as you ask.”

Azriel nodded his thanks and stood up, meaning to leave. But, just as he was reaching the door, a thought occurred and he turned again to his High Lord.

“Rhys” He kept sitting on his chair, staring at him expectantly “It took me long enough to realize, but I’m glad you stopped me that Solstice night.”

Rhysand let out a soft chuckle at that, and bowed his head slightly, raising his glass. Knowing well what Azriel had meant with that.

****

His shadows were restless. He barely slept during the rest of the evening, his mind too awake to give in to slumber. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was slightly nervous to see Gwyn again – and to see if they’re new acknowledged bond would stand out or if Rhysand’s spell would work. He wouldn’t doubt of his High Lord and brother, but still. He wanted to see it for himself.

He stood in the training ring ever since sunrise. Gwyn had gone to her usual morning service and he hadn’t seen her, only felt her absence in the House, both an effect from the mating bond and his shadows, since they were so eager to be around her. So he sparred for hours, waiting for the moment training began and he would see her again.

The priestesses started to arrive right about the time Cassian showed up.

“Morning, brother”

Azriel nodded back, and turned to arrange the practice swords and shields into place, preparing the room.

“How was last night?”

He could sense Cassian’s presence behind him, and the innuendo in his sly tone. Gwyn’s image appeared in his mind once again, her burgundy dress complimenting her body’s every feature. He could feel her in his arms, their proximity and heat, the way he kissed her with all need and tenderness he ever felt towards her, the small sound she made when he pulled her close, pressing their bodies together… He was cut short from his thoughts when Cassian cleared his throat, suppressing a laugh.

“I can scent everything went well, then.”

Fuck.

He started thinking about other things, anything at all, to cover his desiring scent. It wasn’t professional nor respectful to appear that way in front of the Priestesses, even though Cassian and Nesta didn’t seem to mind covering their own arousal multiple times during all these months.

It was right at that moment Cassian’s mate and Gwyn arrived, their voices filling up the air. Azriel was still with his back to the door, and counted a total of five seconds before turning around and facing the deep teal ocean that were Gwyn’s eyes.

Like the seas in Reyna.

His shadows whispered one of Summer Court’s many beaches, the quietest, most isolated and beautiful one. Azriel felt a subtle need to take her there someday, to travel around Prythian with her, to watch her explore and discover the continent, her face lighting up with each new sight.

He casually approached the two females, who were still talking while they began their stretching on the mats.

“Good morning.” He let out, dipping his head a bit.

“Hello.” Gwyn greeted back, meeting his eyes. He watched as she breathed, noticing every detail of her exposed neck and freckled cheeks before meeting her eyes. It was a monumental effort to not scan her entire body and take in all of her curves. She seemed to notice that, and with a thrilling sensation he watched her face blush.

“Good morning to you too, Azriel” Nesta mocked, interrupting their charged silence. “Did you enjoy your evening?”

She directed this particular question to both of them. Gwyn finally tore her eyes away from Azriel, doing nothing to conceal her flushed cheeks.

“Yes.” She nodded a bit timidly, biting down her lip to keep her from smiling further, and met her friend’s inquisitive stare with a sparkle that almost sent Azriel to his knees.

Damn. That female would be the death of him.

“We did indeed.” Azriel found himself agreeing, his voice rough all of a sudden. His shadows reached towards Gwyn, desperately trying to turn her attention to him, to them. He wanted to be lost in those teal eyes again, to be alone with her.

“I’m glad to hear that, Gwyn.” Nesta smiled kindly to Gwyn, honesty and pride in her tone. “Although you’re aware you’ll have to give me more details later.”

Gwyn rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, continuing her warm-up exercises while Nesta stood up. As she went on to stretch her thigh, holding it behind her back, she leaned on Azriel, placing one hand on his shoulder to steady herself and taking advantage of the situation by voicing quietly:

“You hurt my sister and I’ll make you regret it, Spymaster.”

His shadows protectively wrapped around his shoulders, but he was well accustomed to Nesta and they had developed a great friendship after all those months. He could always understand and read through her pain and aggressiveness, even when others didn’t. He did believe her words, though. She, pretty much like him, would do anything to protect the ones she loved.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He nodded once, staring into her piercing eyes, and she patted his shoulder once, seeming satisfied with his answer, before pushing back and striding towards Cassian.

Gwyn kept stretching on the floor, but he could see she heard everything they said by her amused smile as she watched her friend walking away. Azriel reached his hand towards her, and she faced him again and grabbed it, helping herself up.

They were standing face to face now, hands still intertwined. He could hear Cassian and Nesta organizing the Priestesses in the background, the rustle of robes and training leathers as they moved across the training ring. But he couldn’t care less, not when he was holding his mate’s hand, face mere inches from hers.

“It seems you just got intimated by Nesta, huh?” She teased.

He shrugged: “It’s nothing to which I’m not used to by now.”

She chuckled, her eyes crinkling and her voice a sweet melody to his ears. He couldn’t stop but join her, with a quiet laugh. He could feel both Cassian and Nesta’s stare on them, observing their every move. It didn’t seem like the couple caught up on the scent of their mating bond, even though that faint chill mist mixed with water lilies, the combination of him and her, was currently inebriating his senses.

“Could we see each other later today?” Gwyn surprised him by asking, her big bright eyes waiting expectantly for him to answer.

She took a sudden breath, like she was trying to capture the new scent they shared as well, and Azriel found his lips blooming into a smile, both at the thought and at the request:

“I’d love to.”

She beamed “You can meet me at the library, if you are free.”

Gods, she was stunning. He couldn’t stop counting her freckles, observing the way her ponytail twirled behind her back, marveling at how warm her hand felt against his. What a strange and powerful feeling, he thought; to miss someone with that intensity, to desire more than anything to be close to them at all times.

And Azriel wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’ll be there.”

***

And so he went. After successfully ignoring most of Cassian and Nesta’s teasing remarks through training and lunch, none of them, however, related to the mating bond, Azriel found himself heading towards the library.

He was greeted by Clotho as soon as he entered the space, her magic pen already moving.

Good afternoon, Azriel. What can I do for you?

“I’m looking for Gwyn.” He cordially bowed his head to the Priestess.

Do you want me to call her?

“Thank you, but there is no need. If you could just tell me in which section she is I’ll meet her there, if that’s ok.”

“Ancient hymns and rituals”, third floor down to the right. You’ll find her.

He swore something about the way that magic pen swirled at the last sentence had a tinge of cheekiness, mischief even. So he gave Clotho a soft smile and went into the depths of the library, descending the stars and carefully avoiding staring directly at any Priestess that walked by, only greeting quietly the ones he knew from training.

As usual, his shadows kept swirling faster and faster with each step closer to Gwyn, excited at the prospect of being alone with her. Well, not alone entirely, but Azriel didn’t particularly care at the moment. He knew the curious eyes directed at them would be much more discreet than the ones at training – or anywhere else, for a matter of fact.

He could hear her before he saw her, humming softly as she labeled and stored a few books back on their spots. His heart thrummed against his chest, and he leaned on a shelf across from where she stood, still absorbed in her task, humming the same sweet melody over and over again.

Before he managed to say anything, one of his shadows darted to touch her hand, and her eyes lifted from the book she was holding and met his, her mouth quirked to the side.

“How long have you been there?” She put down the book and crossed her arms in front of her chest, lifting an eyebrow.

His shadows had encapsulated her shoulders and hair now, in a way that she seemed to be the Shadowsinger, and not him. He commanded them to get back to their places, but in vain. He honestly didn’t know why he even tried anymore.

“Not long.” He finally pushed away from his place by the shelf and stepped towards her, while she did the same.

He grabbed her hand, his thumb feeling her soft skin. His shadows encircled them both now, creating a dark cloud in an already dim-lit room. Gwyn laughed at them; curiously following their patterns with her eyes, hand still intertwined with his.

“They never did that before, with anyone.” Azriel observed the way his shadows expanded and darkened around and above them.

“Well, as you said before, they like me. If I were you, I’d be worried they might run away and come to me. I wouldn’t mind at all. Curious little things.”

When he faced her again she was staring at him with such intent he drew a ragged breath, mind focusing only on the female before him. The poor lighting of this particular hallway made her eyes darken, her pupils dilate, mouth slightly parted. Her copper hair now a shade of deep red, like molten fire. He just wanted to kiss each and every one of her freckles, from her face to her neck and below.

The thought made his body ache for her, his pants growing uncomfortably tight. He breathed deep, once, twice, in order to calm his mind and thoughts, but was cut short when her lips met his.

His arms instantly found their way to her hips, gripping her gently. She tugged her hands in his hair, pressing herself against him as the kiss deepened, her lips parting wider to give him access. He enlaced one arm around her, keeping her close and placing his other hand in the back of her neck. He could hear a song, an ancient melody spreading from them, an array of strings and choirs.

When they parted at last, her eyes were wide.

“Did you hear that?” She whispered as they breathed in each other’s scent. Her hands were still on his hair, and he couldn’t take his hands off her just yet, placing them steadily on her hips once again.

He nodded, smiling, and she laughed silently before continuing: “It was magical.”

He leaned to kiss her once again, stopping for a brief second and silently asking for her permission to continue. She closed her eyes, lifting her face, and a soft sigh escaped her lips when they met his for the second time. It was softer this time, tender. Azriel didn’t know if something could ever feel better than this, than having his mate in his arms; than having Gwyn in his arms.

When they parted, he rested his forehead on hers, their breaths mingling. The scent of their mating bond stronger this time, only enough for them to sense it.

“Do you think they could feel it today?” Gwyn seemed to read his mind. “Our scent.”

He met her ocean eyes and shook his head: “Well, Nesta has a sharp mind, and Cassian knows me my entire life. They definitely suspect something.” He huffed a laugh “But not relating to the bond. They probably think is a crush thing.”

She laughed at him, teasingly: “Is it, Shadowsinger? A crush thing?”

“It’s so much more and you know it, Berdara.” He answered in the same tone, but he knew by the way she swallowed once that she heard the husk in his voice, sensing the promise in his words.

Someone is near. Priestesses.

His shadows curled around his ear and he retreated a step, just enough to allow a casual distance between them. Gwyn turned her head to the sound of robes shuffling by, and looked at him again. “Care to join me?” She offered, nodding towards the cart with a loving smile.

“Gladly.”

They fell into a comfortable routine after Gwyn taught him how to shelve the books she cataloged and labeled; sometimes she hummed or sang something to herself, and it was usually at those times when he paused what he was doing, bewitched by her voice. Even the movements of the other Priestesses seemed to still when Gwyn sang, the whole world going quiet. Usually, though, she noticed the subtle halt in his movements after a few moments, and interrupted herself by laughing at his reaction.

If Azriel could exchange the work he did as a Spymaster to just label and store books with Gwyn the whole afternoon, he would. Even if he knew the importance of his work, he would trade everything in a heartbeat just to be with her. Or perhaps he really needed a break.

There was a time in which he thought his spying to be the only thing that he was meant to do. And there was so much in it that he disliked: the torture, the gore. But maybe… Maybe it was time for him to start making some changes. For his sake, and the ones he loved.

“What are you thinking about?”

Her quiet voice distracted him from his thoughts. He shook his head, shelving another book, and turned to her, finding her kind eyes staring straight back at him. “It’s nothing.”

“Az.” Gwyn reached for him, holding his hand in hers “You know you can tell me.”

“It’s just” He gazed at their joint hands and sighed “I did such bad things in the past, and have been doing it for so long… I'm tired of it.”

She lifted a hand and brushed her fingers against his skin, meeting his stare. “You did a lot of great things too, Azriel. Like helping your friends, your family, your people… And me.” She smiled, reassuringly. “You were the one who saved me that night all those nights ago, and then helped me stand up back on my feet every morning after it. You helped me become who I am today.”

Her tenderness broke him, touched a place inside him he was just starting to realize he had, and he took a deep breath before he took her hands in his, lifting them to meet his lips. The only possible reaction he could have to all that gentleness without allowing tears to fall; and he prayed to the Mother it could convey everything he felt.

The way Gwyn smiled and leaned in to softly kiss his cheek gave him his answer.

#awwwwwww #sorry it took me so long #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel and gwyn #post acosf #gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel fics #i live for gwynriel

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blindbatalex · 3 years ago

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Here have this carraville university au by the one and only raisin anon ♥

8 am lectures were the absolute worst in Jamie’s ever so humble opinion, conveniently ignoring the fact that he had indeed signed up for it and had little ground to complain. But it didhappen to be a somewhat interesting course, and as advanced courses usually go, the number of students was low, and the professor was roughly five million times more laid back than the freshly graduated doctorates doing the introductory courses for the freshers.

So it sort of made up for it.

And Gary was in it, of course. That most definitely made up for it. And considering how little time they had had together lately, it was a treat in itself. They didn’t actually study the same thing, as Jamie was on sports science, but after developing a somewhat interest in the business side of commercial top-flight sport, he had taken up some extra economics courses and well. Who could blame him if macroeconomics wasn’t as interesting looking at cute boys?

He didn’t particularly like the vast majority of the people there either, to be perfectly honest. Mostly it was kids from wealthy, well-to-do backgrounds, looking to take up positions in some bank or another, recommendation letters most likely written by their daddy and his associates.

But Gary wasn’t like that. He was more clever than most of them, but Jamie could never see him on a stock exchange or in a high ranking executives office. The first lecture in this new environment Jamie had looked around the small auditorium and decided on who looked the least like a rich, posh twat. Gary had fit the bill. And then he had opened his mouth and revealed not only was he from Manchester, but he was also a United fan. So twat, after all, then.

Jamie’s twat, however, it turned out.

Two months into the semester and he was slumped in an armchair in his and Stevie’s shared flat, lamenting his misery in having a crush on a Manc. What would his mother possibly say, her oldest disgracing their proud scouse roots like that? Stevie, for his part, had absolutely zero sympathy and only judgment.

Four months into the semester, he knew he needn’t have worried about his mother. She had smiled and asked if he was happy. Jamie had blushed and mumbled out an embarrassed yeah, trying to not care about his brothers snickering behind him. Gary was invited for dinner the following Sunday and had made Jamie wonder if being charmed by Mancs was perhaps something of a family trait, going by his mother’s giggling. The look she had thrown Jamie as Gary had volunteered to help clean up the dishes was as obvious as it was strict. You better bloody keep this one.

“Pay attention” an elbow hit his ribs, and Jamie snapped back to reality, to the voice of his professor droning on and on, drawing up something or the other on the blackboard, and a group of bleary-eyed students trying to seem more or less alert and interested.

“I was. And that hurt,” he hissed back at his boyfriend, rubbing absentmindedly where the elbow had hit him. It didn’t really hurt, but he had been up since six-thirty and reckoned some moaning was allowed.

“No, you weren’t. And no, it didn’t,”Gary mumbled back, not even looking at him, too busy scribbling down notes from the blackboard.

Jamie rolled his eyes at Gary’s insistent innocence but decided against bickering any further in solidarity with the girl sitting in front of them.

Instead, he moved his leg closer to Gary’s calf under the desk and indulged himself with five seconds of playing footsie, a bit for his own fun and bit to show he wasn’t really angry. Going by the tiny quirk of the corners of Gary’s lips, he didn’t particularly mind either.

“Any questions with that, boys and girls ?” the professor asked from where he had turned his back on the blackboard and looked expectedly at them.

A few hands shot up, thankfully enough that the professor wouldn’t pull his overused oh so I suppose you all are experts then joke, asking for clarification or elaboration. Personally, Jamie was very well in the realm of not even understanding what you don’t understand and simply nodded along if a question sounded particularly interesting. Gary would help him with the assignments later, he was sure.

His lack of understanding, however, didn’t stop him from stalling ever so slightly when the lecture came to its conclusion. As their schedules diverted, he wasn’t above wasting one or two minutes simply to talk with his boyfriend for a bit. Especially when he knew they didn’t have time to meet up either later in the day or any of the coming either.

“I want a proper date night this weekend, you know. Make up for all the days we’re too busy to do anything,” he said as they walked side by side out the door, throwing a ta for today at the professor still standing at the desk, discussing whatever with one of the more kiss-ass students.

“Go for a film, and I’ll let you get the sweet popcorn?” Gary suggested. He grabbed Jamie’s hand and dragged him over to the corner of the staircase where he would continue down the hall to his next lecture and Jamie would go upstairs to the library.

“You can walk me home after, holding my hand and kiss me goodnight, and I can invite you to stay over. Have a little slumber party, just you and me?”

Gary said it with such innocence, as if he wasn’t perfectly well aware of what he was insinuating and what it was doing to Jamie. He bit his lip and batted his eyelashes, the flirty smile slowly growing into a laughing grin as his poor acting skills gave away.

Jamie laughed with him.

“You know me so well, love,” he said and leaned in to peck him on the lips. It was a bit more PDA than they really tended to display, but they hadn’t seen each other all that much outside of Uni lately, and screw it, they could still be considered to be a little bit in the honeymoon phase of their relationship.

“I’ll call you later tonight, yeah?” Gary said as they pulled away.

“Yes, please. Enjoy ESG Risks and Regulations”

“I will. Enjoy the library.”

“Always.”

Jamie kissed him again, a little because he felt like it and a little because he wanted to make the random blond pretty-boy walking past just then jealous that Jamie was most definitely getting some. He didn’t restrict himself to just a light peck this time.

He smiled when he pulled back, and had they been together for longer, and the setting was more romantic, he might’ve even dropped a casual love you. As it happened, though, they weren’t there quite yet, but he was definitely starting to feel it. Give him a few more months and it would more than likely plop out sooner rather than later. Judging by the way Gary was looking back at him, he was getting there too.

He let go of his hand slowly and stepped back to let Gary walk past and down the hallway. It felt dangerously close to something straight of out a romantic period drama, if Jane Austen had been writing about two working-class boys at university who barely got any time together, restricted only to early lectures and staring longingly down hallways.

“Bye, love”

“See you”

He watched as the dark mop of hair on Gary’s head disappeared into the flock of students crowding the hall, and no matter how sappy, or clingy or desperate of him it was, he almost missed him already.

Fucking hell, he was going to make this date night the best one ever.

#carraville #raisin anon #fic rec

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zosonils-art · 3 years ago

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Do you have a robot master OC (of the eight plus Drum) that you’d say is your favorite? If you haven’t done an infodump for them yet then you should do that one next

i couldn't choose a favourite if i tried, i love them all, but since you mentioned drum i thought i'd give her some new art and a proper dedicated post too! infodrump [ayyy] under the cut

drum, serial number SWN-002, is my take on the popular [????? i'm still a bit of a mega man fandom newbie i don't know hjdfn] 'wily equivalent to roll' oc template! she keeps things running at the various castles and fortresses and hideouts and whatever else her dad holes up in, whether that's by doing housework, planning schemes, or dodging taxes. whenever wily is trying to take over the world, drum acts as his second-in-command, ensuring that everything goes according to plan and ordering around the latest group of robot masters

she's every bit the edgy mid-00s teenager she looks: sarcastic, apathetic, and always talking back to her dad. she's more obedient than bass is, but she doesn't care for her job at all and will resort to any flimsy excuse or act of malicious compliance she can come up with to slack off. due to her purpose as an organiser and commander, she's a bossy control freak who's quick to anger when things don't go exactly her way, although when she's off work the worst of these traits recede in favour of more conventional teenage apathy. she sees herself as above the time and effort it takes to go out of her way to be mean to people like wily and bass tend to do, but she's equally uninterested in being nice on purpose and her default attitude is squarely on the nastier side

when she doesn't have work to focus on - and sometimes when she does anyway - drum is the lead vocalist and guitarist in a garage band, of which she is [currently - a friend's ocs get involved later, but that's a whole different post] the only member. i'm not good with music terms but she's into whatever genre stuff like wake me up inside and crawling in my skin is [i know those aren't the names hdfjf it's just the words i know people will recognise]. the sort with the crunchy guitar and the very loud lyrics about being sad and/or angry. playing or blasting music helps her to calm down when she's in a bad mood, which is pretty much all the time. the first warning sign of a new wily plot is a spike in search popularity for my chemical romance

i haven't gotten around to designing it, but drum has a non-armoured form like most of the other more explicitly kid-like robots, which she mostly uses for loitering around malls when she has an excuse to not be at home. she rarely buys anything, just hangs out and radiates an aura that makes suburban white women hurry their three kids into the next shop. drum often ends up hanging out with like-minded teens in the same vague area of the goth/punk/emo venn diagram she occupies, and makes a bit of a game out of seeing how honest she can be about her life without revealing that she's one of the world's most wanted robots. she tells herself that it's just something she does out of boredom and curiosity towards humans, but it mostly stems from loneliness and the desire to have literally any friends that aren't her brother's dog

as a sort of contrast to the healthy and positive relationship between their lightbot counterparts, drum and bass absolutely DESPISE each other and make no secret of it. each of them thinks of the other as an insufferable prick and they'll get into petty arguments over just about anything, from whose turn it is on the xbox to who treble loves more. [for the record, it's drum. she lets him hang out in the kitchen while she's cooking and sneaks him food scraps when bass isn't looking. he's the only family member she has an even remotely positive relationship with.] pretty much the only thing that can get them to stop fighting is mutual hatred of a bigger prick, and so far the only person to consistently get them to put their differences aside like this is wily himself - as much as the wily kids hate each other, they hate their dad just a little more, and have a history of teaming up just to mess with him. sometimes mega man can spark that spiteful cooperation, but drum's total apathy towards the light-wily family rivalry means she usually sees him as not worth her time and just finds bass' obsession with beating him even more annoying

drum wasn't made for combat, and as such she doesn't have a signature weapon or any fancy tricks like the copy chip. usually she just orders other robots to do the fighting for her. however, she is equipped with a standard arm-mounted buster, and can hold her own in battle with a 'fight smarter, not harder' approach if she has to. she's also outfitted with the same treble adapter that bass has, so if she's backed into a corner she can call on him for a power boost. treble is capable of supporting both adapters simultaneously, so as an absolute last resort they can all combine into treble-boosted drum & bass, who theoretically has all the combat power of bass plus the strategic thinking from drum and the boost in power from treble. in practice, though, drum and bass are so at odds with each other that they can barely hold together in the same body without either fighting for control or outright splitting apart to argue harder. again, it takes a lot of spite to get them to work together, but if something draws their combined ire and convinces them to cooperate they're an utterly terrifying force to be reckoned with

the game idea i vaguely have in my mind would feature drum as the final-not-final boss before wily reveals he was the mastermind behind it all and surprises absolutely nobody. she was put in charge of the latest world domination attempt, probably as the result of a 'why don't YOU take over the world if you're so smart' conversation, and in true drum fashion she follows a standard wily plot outline to the letter - including the blatant flaws, like all eight of her chosen robot masters forming a rock-paper-scissors wheel just begging to be exploited by the copy chip, and making a clear path from just outside the death fortress to her base of operations. after she's defeated in combat, she sarcasically wonders aloud how mega man could have possibly bested her plan and then helpfully points rock directly to wily's castle. she didn't wanna do the stupid scheme in the first place

again, i love all my ocs too much to possibly choose a favourite, but i'd say drum was the most fun to come up with if only because i had the help of some mates in a discord server. someone was like 'hey if there's bass is there a roll equivalent called drum or something lol' and i SPRINTED to microsoft paint to rough out a character design and the next entire day was just a constant stream of all of us bouncing ideas off each other and creating the meanest girl in the universe. her design changed a little bit from the initial sketch, most notably she used to have the half-shaved hairstyle that every gay person tries at some point before that changed to a midpoint between phoenix wright and sonic the hedgehog, but overall everything about her as a character flowed really well from the start. while she's fallen mostly into my hands since the initial brainstorm, she absolutely wouldn't exist without those friends' input and i feel that that's important to mention!

i'm very tired and i've been working on this on and off for the past day so i'm gonna call the infodrump finished here - thanks for giving me the excuse to talk about her! unfiltered and transparent versions of the art below as always

#i already talked about drum in my first post about her long long ago but i think she deserves a new infodump #zos draws #mega man #mega man oc #robot master oc #drum wily #zos talks #zos answers #aprofessionallurker #man there's so much art i gotta do of her. gotta draw her civilian form and her treble boost AND treble-boosted d&b eventually

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vivithefolle · 4 years ago

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Is there anyway you could share the entire livejournal essay about Hermione's reaction to Ron coming back in DH? The few paragraphs that you referred to in your recent answer sound extremely interesting.

[The “recent answer” that goes back to... last December. Oh my god I’m such an ass I left you hanging for so long I’m so sorry.]

Okay, okay, so here goes! KEEP IN MIND: I DIDN’T WRITE THIS. I FOUND THIS ON LIVEJOURNAL AND PICKED EVERYTHING THAT I LIKED ABOUT IT, AS WELL AS SOME COMMENTS THAT INTERESTED ME.

This “essay” was actually more of a “reading the books” thing with the person sharing their thoughts and ideas about it. The person was clearly a Snape fan, but they had sympathy for Ron too. I’ll try to formate it as accurately as I can remember it.

And now, here it is:

---

ORDER OF THE PHOENIX

[About Ron being made a prefect.] The essayist: It’s sad, but this probably is the first time Ron’s beaten Harry at something. And the last time.

A commenter: Ron's had a really difficult life, and this is the book that proved it for me. It made me a Ron fan. Just look at the interactions he has with Fred and George. This is commonplace. I know a lot of people don't like Ron, but just look at this book, this chapter especially. People have accused Ron of being lazy, unambitious, having no emotions, and being a big stupid boy. It's just not true. Look at how Fred and George needle him out of jealousy. Look at how they treat Percy. Imagine Ron having to grow up with two older brothers that will not hesitate to bother, torture and torment people that stand out or that get more attention than they do or that cross them. He saw it happening with Percy, so what's he going to learn? He'll learn to shut up unless he wants to have something happen to him. He'll learn that standing out positively is rewarded with cruelty. I can understand how Mrs. Weasley could not have fully protected him from those two. Not all the time, not while trying to also care for Ginny, keeping up with her other kids in school, and running the household. Worst of all, punishing F&G doesn't seem to do anything. Those two just don't care/they crave the attention, negative or positive. The best thing she could've done would be to give them no attention, but that's so against her nature that unfortunately she just fed the monsters. No emotions? Is it really difficult to understand that sensitivity wouldn't be encouraged in young Ron? He's got these two bullies that only want a reaction out of him. If he cries, it'll only encourage them. Any reaction is encouraging to them, but he has to go with anger. It's a survival thing- puff yourself up, make yourself look bigger than you are so the predator messes with you a little less. Look at the pride Ron's showing in his badge. The desire to do well is there. He likes the good feeling that comes with it, but he's been hard-wired since birth that it's better to be "middle of the pack". In later chapters, I know you'll have to point out the way the power makes Ron behave, so I just want to start on the defence now. It's all Ron knows. It's all he's been taught. It's a huge character flaw, but it's what makes him so human. Rowling did develop this in the book, but only accidentally. We're never going to get a good look at Ron's psychology except through these hints because it's, as usual, All About Harry. Ron's flawed, but I hope we remember that he has a reason why he's got those flaws. It doesn't excuse him, but it really explains him. So yeah... that's why I defend Ron.

...

“I’m not Percy,’ he finished defiantly.”

The essayist: Mmmm-hm. Ron feels nervous at the thought of his good fortune inspiring anger in someone and what's his first defence? "I'm not Percy"? Man, the evidence that the Twins' psychological torment has left lasting scars on Ron could not have been more obvious if he'd shielded himself and said "Please don't jinx me, Fred! ... I mean Harry. ... Shit, what'd I say?"

...

“Excellent,” said Ron, with a kind of groan of longing, and he seized the nearest plate of chops and began piling them onto his plate, watched wistfully by Nearly Headless Nick. “What were you saying before the Sorting?” Hermione asked the ghost. “About the hat giving warnings?” “Oh yes,” said Nick, who seemed glad of a reason to turn away from Ron, who was now eating roast potatoes with almost indecent enthusiasm.

The essayist: Ron’s not being very restrained with his eating, is he?

The commenter: I don't know if it's accidental or not, but this is one of those moments that I love, one of the tellings of Ron's home life via his behavior. In this scenario, he's totally a kitten who just got adopted to a house where he's the only cat. He's at a table with food, so his instinct is to eat as fast as he can or his siblings will yoink it. It doesn't help that there are many other people around, encouraging the "get the good stuff fast or you'll have to sate yourself on bread or whatever nobody wants". Ron is so much more human than Harry! How can Harry not be showing any signs of his "horrendous abuse" for eleven years? Well... I guess he sort of does when he buys all that stuff in his first year. And I guess Ron has to go back home every summer where it gets reinforced. But Harry goes back every summer, too... what the hell?

...

“What’s going on?” Ron had appeared in the doorway. His wide eyes traveled from Harry, who was kneeling on his bed with his wand pointing at Seamus, to Seamus, who was standing there with his fists raised. “He’s having a go at my mother!” Seamus yelled. “What?” said Ron. “Harry wouldn’t do that — we met your mother, we liked her. . .” “That’s before she started believing every word the stinking Daily Prophet writes about me!” said Harry at the top of his voice. “Oh,” said Ron, comprehension dawning across his freckled face. “Oh . . . right.” “You know what?” said Seamus heatedly, casting Harry a venomous look. “He’s right, I don’t want to share a dormitory with him anymore, he’s a madman.” “That’s out of order, Seamus,” said Ron, whose ears were starting to glow red, always a danger sign. “Out of order, am I?” shouted Seamus, who in contrast with Ron was turning paler. “You believe all the rubbish he’s come out with about You-Know-Who, do you, you reckon he’s telling the truth?” “Yeah, I do!” said Ron angrily. “Then you’re mad too,” said Seamus in disgust. “Yeah? Well unfortunately for you, pal, I’m also a prefect!” said Ron, jabbing himself in the chest with a finger. “So unless you want detention, watch your mouth!”

The essayist: Note how Ron’s first reaction is to side with Harry.

The commenter: Not surprising because of the best friends thing (some might argue) but I say it's not surprising considering how Hermione and Ron were treating Harry like a ticking time bomb. Survival!

...

“Hello, Harry!” It was Cho Chang and what was more, she was on her own again. This was most unusual: Cho was almost always surrounded by a gang of giggling girls; Harry remembered the agony of trying to get her by herself to ask her to the Yule Ball. “Hi,” said Harry, feeling his face grow hot. At least you’re not covered in Stinksap this time, he told himself. Cho seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “You got that stuff off, then?” “Yeah,” said Harry, trying to grin as though the memory of their last meeting was funny as opposed to mortifying. “So did you . . . er . . . have a good summer?” The moment he had said this he wished he hadn’t: Cedric had been Cho’s boyfriend and the memory of his death must have affected her holiday almost as badly as it had affected Harry’s. . . Something seemed to tauten in her face, but she said, “Oh, it was all right, you know. . .” “Is that a Tornados badge?” Ron demanded suddenly, pointing at the front of Cho’s robes, to which a sky-blue badge emblazoned with a double gold T was pinned. “You don’t support them, do you?” “Yeah, I do,” said Cho. “Have you always supported them, or just since they started winning the league?” said Ron, in what Harry considered an unnecessarily accusatory tone of voice. “I’ve supported them since I was six,” said Cho coolly. “Anyway . . . see you, Harry.” She walked away. Hermione waited until Cho was halfway across the courtyard before rounding on Ron. “You are so tactless!”

The essayist: So Harry meets Cho, makes a complete faux pas and reminds her of her dead boyfriend. Ron quickly steers the conversation away onto something more happy, i.e., Quidditch, before Cho can get too upset. Nevertheless, Ron is apparently the insensitive jerk around here, not Harry.

[If this reminds you of something, then yes, I absolutely took what the essayist was saying and elaborated on it. I confess, I am a dirty thief.]

...

“Well, I suppose he could’ve played better,” Harry muttered, ��but it was only the first training session, like you said. . .” Neither Harry nor Ron seemed to make much headway with their homework that night. Harry knew Ron was too preoccupied with how badly he had performed at Quidditch practice and he himself was having difficulty in getting the chant of “Gryffindor are losers” out of his head. [...] And so they worked on while the sky outside the windows became steadily darker; slowly, the crowd in the common room began to thin again. At half-past eleven, Hermione wandered over to them, yawning. “Nearly done?” “No,” said Ron shortly. “Jupiter’s biggest moon is Ganymede, not Callisto,” she said, pointing over Ron’s shoulder at a line in his Astronomy essay, “and it’s Io that’s got the volcanos.” “Thanks,” snarled Ron, scratching out the offending sentences.

The essayist: So Ron’s getting basic facts wrong in his essays.

The commenter: This is going to look so contrived, but I genuinely believe it, and maybe after these reviews, your standards for contrived have dropped enough for me to pass the bar :3 But... he's not putting in any effort. His ego can't take another beating at the moment (even punching bags have limits). Imagine it- after the Quidditch humiliation with his friend the Star Athlete (when he really was trying) he tries to distract himself by doing school work 1. which he isn't very good at anyway, 2. with the Star Athlete of Academics/Slytherin Spectator Crowd best friend Hermione there 3. with Hermione there to set it right anyway (it sounds as if Hermione isn’t so much correcting their essays as writing them herself). If he tries his best at this and then fails at that, Ron probably would start to consider suicide. It's self-preservation at this point to put in zero effort. This kind of fail is literally "I'm not trying because I have given up."

...

She wrenched her bag open; Harry thought she was about to put her books away, but instead she pulled out two misshapen woolly objects, placed them carefully on a table by the fireplace, covered them with a few screwed-up bits of parchment and a broken quill, and stood back to admire the effect. “What in the name of Merlin are you doing?” said Ron, watching her as though fearful for her sanity. “They’re hats for house-elves,” she said briskly, now stuffing her books back into her bag. “I did them over the summer. I’m a really slow knitter without magic, but now I’m back at school I should be able to make lots more.” “You’re leaving out hats for the house-elves?” said Ron slowly. “And you’re covering them up with rubbish first?” “Yes,” said Hermione defiantly, swinging her bag onto her back. “That’s not on,” said Ron angrily. “You’re trying to trick them into picking up the hats. You’re setting them free when they might not want to be free.” “Of course they want to be free!” said Hermione at once, though her face was turning pink. “Don’t you dare touch those hats, Ron!” She left. Ron waited until she had disappeared through the door to the girls’ dormitories, then cleared the rubbish off the woolly hats. They should at least see what they’re picking up,” he said firmly. “Anyway . . .” He rolled up the parchment on which he had written the title of Snape’s essay. “There’s no point trying to finish this now, I can’t do it without Hermione, I haven’t got a clue what you’re supposed to do with moonstones, have you?”

The essayist: This doesn’t seem like a particularly open-minded and enquiring position to take, although I suppose that Hermione’s open-mindedness has always been something of an informed attribute.

The commenter: This trope among fans has got me riled up beyond belief because they use the "Hermione's word is gospel" thing to make unfair assumptions about other characters: Ron's "emotional range of a teaspoon" thing comes to mind, and right after that, Lavender supposedly being silly about believing Trelawney about her dead pet (Hermione never considered that maybe the thing Lavender was dreading was bad news from home or bad news about her pet). Regarding house elves: This is one case where the fans ought to have seen that Hermione was being very thoughtless as far as strategy. Ron has lived all his life up until this point thinking that there was no problem with house elves and she literally expects to be able to just tell him "it's wrong" and he's supposed to change instantly? Talk about your cultural insensitivity. In this case, maybe Ron knows better than you do, Hermione? You didn't even know about house elves until you were at least twelve (but more likely, she didn't know until this year). She must understand the concept of "he doesn't know it's wrong". That was how she defended Crookshanks when he was chasing Scabbers. ... Hey, Hermione thinks Ron's smarter than her cat. That's something, I guess.

...

The commenter: Competition is seriously the worst thing in the world for Ron. He's got wa-a-ay too much baggage. Do well so they'll love you. Do well so they'll notice you. If they notice you, you'll get praised. And tormented by Fred and George. Then if you fuck up, you'll have let everyone down. My brothers never let anyone down. That's the standard. Oh God, I can't live up to that. Which do I want to chose- being ignored or scorned? I could do well. Then I'll be good enough to be called "just like them"! JFC, when's it ever going to be "Good like Ron"? Chess. Literally everyone else has one thing they shine in, even Neville with his Botany and Dean with his art (and... and I'm going to ignore the fact that Hermione and Luna are the only two I can think of with non-appearance based special stuff... someone please help me out? I guess Tonks' doesn't really count as a shallow one because it makes her a master of disguise...)

...

HALF-BLOOD PRINCE

...

Ron gagged on a large piece of kipper. Hermione spared him one look of disdain before turning back to Harry.

The essayist: “Hermione spared [Ron] one look of disdain before turning back to Harry” pretty much sums up her relationships within the trio. It’s no wonder Ron’s so insecure and keeps worrying that she really fancies Harry.

...

“And you’ve been through all that persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you were unstable and a liar. You can still see the marks on the back of your hand where that evil woman made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your story anyway...” “You can still see where those brains got hold of me in the Ministry, look,” said Ron, shaking back his sleeves. “And it doesn’t hurt that you’ve grown about a foot over the summer either,” Hermione finished, ignoring Ron. “I’m tall,” said Ron inconsequentially.

The essayist: Ron’s so adorably pathetic here, the way he’s obviously feeling inferior to Harry and being ignored by his so-called friends. *hugs Ron*

...

When they left the Gryffindor table five minutes later to head down to the Quidditch pitch, they passed Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. Remembering what Hermione had said about the Patil twins’ parents wanting them to leave Hogwarts, Harry was unsurprised to see that the two best friends were whispering together, looking distressed. What did surprise him was that when Ron drew level with them, Parvati suddenly nudged Lavender, who looked around and gave Ron a wide smile. Ron blinked at her, then returned the smile uncertainly. His walk instantly became something more like a strut. Harry resisted the temptation to laugh, remembering that Ron had refrained from doing so after Malfoy had broken Harry’s nose; Hermione, however, looked cold and distant all the way down to the stadium through the cool, misty drizzle, and departed to find a place in the stands without wishing Ron good luck.

The essayist: Hermione keeps belittling Ron and doing him down, and reacts quite strongly when he even so much hints at losing interest in her and showing attention to another woman. Can we say “abusive relationship”, anybody?

...

“Harry! Ginny!” Hermione was hurrying toward them, very pink-faced and wearing a cloak, hat, and gloves. “I got back a couple of hours ago, I've just been down to visit Hagrid and Buck--I mean Witherwings,” she said breathlessly. “Did you have a good Christmas?” “Yeah,” said Ron at once, “pretty eventful, Rufus Scrim—” “I've got something for you, Harry,” said Hermione, neither looking at Ron nor giving any sign that she had heard him. “Oh, hang on--password. Abstinence.”

The essayist: Wow, Hermione’s just being so childish here, ignoring Ron when he’s talking directly to her. Incidentally, Ron’s speaking to her like a normal friend, it’s Hermione who’s doing the blanking. Still, I’m sure this argument is all Ron’s fault for daring to go out with another girl. Hermione is totally blameless.

[Just in case: the essayist is being sarcastic, they’re pointing out the double standard of the HP fandom blaming Hermione’s immature behaviour on Ron.]

...

DEATHLY HALLOWS

...

“I think you’re right,” she told him. “It’s just a morality tale, it’s obvious which gift is best, which one you’d choose—” The three of them spoke at the same time; Hermione said, “the Cloak,” Ron said, “the wand,” and Harry said, “the stone.” They looked at each other, half surprised, half amused. “You’re supposed to say the Cloak,” Ron told Hermione, “but you wouldn’t need to be invisible if you had the wand. An unbeatable wand, Hermione, come on!” “We’ve already got an Invisibility Cloak,” said Harry. “And it’s helped us rather a lot, in case you hadn’t noticed!” said Hermione. “Whereas the wand would be bound to attract trouble—” “Only if you shouted about it,” argued Ron. “Only if you were prat enough to go dancing around, waving it over your head, and singing, ‘I’ve got an unbeatable wand, come and have a go if you think you’re good enough.’ As long as you kept your trap shut—” “Yes, but could you keep your trap shut?” said Hermione, looking skeptical. “You know, the only true thing he said to us was that there have been stories about extra-powerful wands for hundreds of years.” “There have?” asked Harry. Hermione looked exasperated: the expression was so endearingly familiar that Harry and Ron grinned at each other.

The commenter (?): Actually, I thought that Ron was proving the errors in the story. Because he’s right. The eldest brother didn’t die because the Elder Wand had corrupted him (like the One Ring). He died because he was an idiot. He died because he randomly decided to start blabbing about his new toy.

“You talk about wands like they’ve got feelings,” said Harry, “like they canthink for themselves.” “The wand chooses the wizard,” said Ollivander. “That much has always been clear to those of us who have studied wandlore.” “A person can still use a wand that hasn’t chosen them, though?” asked Harry. “Oh yes, if you are any wizard at all you will be able to channel your magic through almost any instrument. The best results, however, must always come where there is the strongest affinity between wizard and wand. These connections are complex. An initial attraction, and then a mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard from the wand.”

The essayist: Harry’s wand has to think for and protect him because he’s too stupid and incompetent to think for and protect himself! Ollivander’s the expert, and he just admitted it. He said any halfway decent wizard can perform magic with almost any wand. The reason Harry could only work with the holly wand is because of the phoenix feather core it shares with Voldemort’s wand. That is, it wasn’t Harry doing the magic with Harry’s wand! It was the Voldemort soul piece! Once Harry was forced to use wands that didn’t have that core, the soul piece couldn’t do the work for Harry any more. He was forced to rely on his own magical powers and competence, which are clearly minimal. This is proven by his inability to do effective magic with any other wand. It’s also proven by an incident from Philosopher’s Stone. Remember when Harry was being chased by bullies and inexplicably found himself on top of the shed roof? That was the soul piece allowing him to fly like Voldy. Lily could slow her descent from a height, as if she had an invisible parachute, but that is not the same as flying, and we have no evidence she could fly. Only Voldemort and Snape fly without assistance! The evidence is overwhelming that I am right. How many spells can Harry do effectively? Expelliarmus, Expecto Patronum, Protego--that’s it. Even as a young adult, he is incapable of doing the basic healing or cleaning spells a young child should have down pat before going to Hogwarts. Of course, we’re told the Patronus spell is difficult and advanced, but who told us that? Remus Lupin, friend of Harry’s father, sycophant, and notorious liar, particularly when it comes to flattering Harry. Recall Lupin also said Snape didn’t like James because Snape was envious of Potter Sr.’s Quidditch prowess, and we know that was a lie. Given this evidence, anything Lupin says that cannot be confirmed by an independent source, especially regarding the Potters, should be dismissed out of hand. True, Hermione has trouble with the Patronus spell, and she’s super-competent. Doesn’t that prove it’s a very difficult spell? Not at all. To take an example from a different field, Beethoven was a virtuoso organist, the greatest pianist of his day, one of the greatest pianists in history, and probably the greatest improvisational musician ever. But he was only a decent violinist. Everybody has areas of weakness, no matter how good they are overall. In addition, Hermione is very gullible where authority figures are concerned. If a teacher tells her, “The Patronus is a very difficult, advanced spell that many people can’t ever master,” she’ll believe that, which may create a self-fulfilling prophecy. A couple of years ago, another DTCL member and I facetiously suggested Harry was less intelligent than his wand. We didn’t know we were right. It rarely happens, but this is an occasion when I would have preferred to be wrong.

...

If only there was a way of getting a better wand... And desire for the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, unbeatable, invincible, swal-lowed him once more... They packed up the tent next morning and moved on through a dreary shower of rain. The downpour pursued them to the coast, where they pitched the tent that night, and persisted through the whole week, through sodden landscapes that Harry found bleak and depressing. He could think only of the Deathly Hallows. It was as though a flame had been lit inside him that nothing, not Hermione’s flat disbelief nor Ron’s persistent doubts, could extinguish. And yet the fiercer the longing for the Hallows burned inside him, the less joyful it made him. He blamed Ron and Hermione: Their determined indifference was as bad as the relentless rain for dampening his spirits, but neither could erode his certainty, which remained absolute. Harry’s belief in and longing for the Hallows consumed him so much that he felt isolated from the other two and their obsession with the Horcruxes. [...] As the weeks crept on, Harry could not help but notice, even through his new self-absorption, that Ron seemed to be taking charge. Perhaps because he was determined to make up for having walked out on them, perhaps because Harry’s descent into listlessness galvanized his dormant leadership qualities, Ron was the one now encouraging and exhorting the other two into action. [...] But not until March did luck favor Ron at last.

The essayist: MARCH! That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. The first fifteen pages of this chapter cover three months, and during that entire time, Harry Potter does nothing, nothing, but sit on his ass fantasizing about the Elder Wand and trying to connect with his Voldie-soul mate. Oh, wait. He also tries to open the snitch so he can get the stone out of it. (Nothing gay about that, either.) I wish he’d succeed in that, too. Maybe he’d swallow the stone, and it would end up in his scrotum. He sure needs something that works down there. Harry doesn’t have the right to bail out on his society like this. He can’t have it both ways. He can’t have the adulation that goes with being Mr. Boy-Who-Lived-Chosen-One-Wizarding-World-Savior and abdicate the responsibilities that go along with those titles and that adulation. Look at what happens in this chapter: Harry becomes obsessed with finding and uniting the Hallows, so much so that he withdraws from his friends, bails out on the job his idol Dumbledore gave him, and spends all his time brooding and trying to connect with the Dull Lord. In other words, he acts clinically depressed. Ron and Hermione were exposed to the same information Harry was, but they didn’t become obsessed/depressed. Ron was mildly interested in the Super-Wand, but not enough to distract him from the Horcrux hunt. Hermione dismissed the whole DH story as nonsense and continued following Dumbestbore’s orders. So why weren’t they tempted?

...

The essayist: Harry opens the locket using Parseltongue--interesting that this never occurred to him before now--and two ghostly figures emerge. They’re Voldie-versions of Harry and Hermione, and they articulate Ron’s worst fears: “Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter...Least loved, now, by the girl who prefers your friend...Second best, always, eternally overshadowed...” I’ll say it again: When you’re right, you’re right. The evidence is overwhelming that Molly Weasley treated Ron the worst of all her children. And if Rowling doesn’t want us to ship HP/HG, she needs to quit throwing them together and making them leaders, with Ron either in the background or absent entirely. JKR obviously wants us to automatically dismiss certain statements just because they’re made by “bad guys” such as Voldemort and Rita Skeeter. There are two problems with this: (1) The “lies” make perfect sense, far more sense than what we’re supposed to believe. (2) Even pathological liars sometimes tell the truth, typically when it won’t hurt their own interests to do so. For those of us who live in what cartoonist Garry Trudeau calls “the reality-based community,” the evidence is what matters, not what we’re told by authority figures. Those of us in the higher stages of spiritual development are funny that way.

...

The essayist: Well, whose fault is that, Ms. Rowling? You’re the one who’s spent the last four books making Ron dumber and dumber, depriving him of any meaningful activity, while you shoved Harry and Hermione into increasingly dominant roles.

The commenter: Are we supposed to look down on Ron now so that we can condemn him for leaving Harry and Hermione? Because if so, then that’s just unfair. Every time Ron tries to come up with an idea, Hermione criticizes him or shoots him down. And the twins have done a fine job of intimidating Ron into remaining mediocre and modest so that he doesn’t remind them of Percy, so what is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to come up with ideas when he’s surrounded by people who basically tell him to shut up and sit down?

The essayist: Just then, Hermione comes out of the tent with cups of tea, with tears running down her face and looking terrified her “friend” is going to curse her with her own wand.

The commenter: So, Hermione will snarl at Ron all day long, but cower in fear when Harry gets mad. Is she projecting herself onto Harry and assuming that just because *she’s* quick to hex people who anger her (Ron, Marietta, etc.), Harry will do the same to her?

The essayist: The evidence is overwhelming that Molly Weasley treated Ron the worst of all her children.

The commenter: And blatantly showed favoritism to Harry while snarling at Ron in the same breath. Of course, Horcrux!Tom doesn’t bring that up, because JKR would have to admit that there might be something wrong with Molly favoring Harry the way she does. The essayist: Hermione acts so crazy Harry has to put a protection charm between her and Ron.

The commenter: Yeah…sorry, it’s not “slapstick” anymore when somebody actually has to stop her from hitting Ron. When Harry feels that the situation is dangerous enough that his intervention is necessary. That’s not funny. That’s a true-crime episode. What gets me is that Hermione's tantrum lasts for days. It goes on for several pages into the next chapter. She doesn't start acting normal again until she comes up with the idea of visiting Xeno Lovegood. The essayist: Hermione tells Ron she still hasn’t ruled out attacking him with birds again.

The commenter: *flatly* So, all of the fans who cooed about how “great” it was for Hermione to show “girl power” by sending Ron to the hospital wing in HBP or breezily dismissed the scene as just tired teenage melodrama? Can put a sock in it. Hermione has clearly learned nothing, JKR clearly feels that that scene was funny, and at no point are we supposed to think that Hermione is an abuser. Even though, if the genders were reversed, fans would be calling for Ron’s head on a platter if he dared lay a finger on Hermione. No. This isn’t funny. This isn’t charming. Hermione hurt Ron so badly in HBP that he had to go to the hospital wing. And she tried to repeat the damage she caused here. Is she going to attack him with birds again after they get married? Is she going to do it in front of their children? Will it be “cute” and “funny” then? No, if a man is an abusive monster for losing his temper and trying to hurt his girlfriend, then Hermione is an abusive monster for losing her temper and trying to hurt her boyfriend. Not only did Hermione land Ron in the infirmary with the first attack, but she wants to do it again at a time when they are on the run. She will NOT be able to take an injured Ron to Hogwarts infirmary, nor to St. Mungos. In other words - she intends for him to remain injured and stick with them while camping, or else he must apparate away while injured, risking another splinching so he could be healed.

...

The essayist: Ron and Harry go back to the tent, and Harry fades into the background so as not to interfere with the lovers’ reunion. That’s a mistake. After Harry wakes Hermione, she shows her delight at Ron’s return by--attacking him? She punches him over a dozen times while yelling at him and screaming for her wand from Harry. Remember last chapter, when I talked about how immature Hermione is? Here’s your proof.

[The essayist quotes an article that I haven’t been able to find, but paraphrased: it speaks of a father who came to pick up his 4 y/o daughter from daycare, a little later than usual, and the daughter reacted by punching and hitting her father, upset at his being late. Additional read: “The parents must know that physical aggression is a common yet natural problem faced by toddlers.”]

The essayist: So there you have it: Hermione Granger, know-it-all supergirl, is so immature she acts like a preschool child when the boyfriend she’s been missing finally returns. I’m not suggesting she has a father-daughter relationship with Ron; this kind of anger is found in other relationships, too. What I am saying is that her way of expressing her anger is appropriate for a very young child. While adults may certainly feel this kind of anger and desire to hit when reunited with a loved one under similar circumstances, they don’t act it out. That restraint is what separates adults from children. Hermione acts so crazy Harry has to put a protection charm between her and Ron. I frankly found her behavior so out of control as to suggest mental instability. She engages in two full pages of histrionics before throwing herself into a chair, sitting so tensely I’m surprised the circulation isn’t cut off to her arms and legs. She remains in a bratty snit until the end of the chapter, which is another six pages. Hermione is still pouting the next morning. I’m wondering if her real problem is not that Ron left, but that she didn’t. Is she angry at him because he had the guts to admit they were blowing it and take a time out, while she just kept trailing along after Harry like a lost house elf? I think she’s definitely mad because she’s always controlled Ron and their relationship. How dare he assert his independence of her! Who does he think he is? Her equal? In an AU, maybe. This is called the Potterverse after all, not the Ronverse. Hermione’s having a bad month. First Ron runs out on them; then she saves Harry’s life, but he’s an ungrateful jerk about it; then Harry asserts his independence; then Ron comes back but doesn’t grovel sufficiently for her taste. All this mistreatment is going to give her the idea she’s just a normal character and not an Author’s Darling. While Ron was gone, he was captured by bad guys called Snatchers, who are bounty hunters for Voldemort. In getting away, he got a spare wand, which he gives to Harry. Of course, it doesn’t work as well as Harry’s “real” wand, so Harry’s still in a snit about that, and with Hermione in a snit, too, they’re a cheerful bunch. Honestly, I don’t know why Ron puts up with these two. The Hs are so spoiled and self-centered, they deserve each other, but I don’t think this is what HP/HG shippers mean when they proclaim the two as an OTP. Sane, normal Ron doesn’t deserve either one of them. Run, Ron! Run while you still can!

...

The essayist: As an interesting aside, ròn is the Celtic word for seal. In Druid lore, seals represent love, longing, and dilemma. No more appropriate totem animal could be imagined for this boy whose sense of selfhood is undermined by his longing for love from a rejecting mother and inadequate father, and who, like the selchie wives of folklore, is faced with the impossible choice of being who he truly is and being rejected, or denying the best part of himself to gain love. Ron’s intelligence and independence threaten his insecure wife (and best friend), just as the selchie’s identity as a seal-woman threatens her human husband; Ron imprisons himself by hiding who he is so the Hs can feel smart and in charge, just as the selchie’s human husband imprisons his wife by hiding her sealskin in a trunk.

#vivi answers #ask #ron weasley #hermione granger #hermione critical #hermione granger critical #harry potter #harry potter series #harry potter critical

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ginnyweasleywannabe · 3 years ago

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Blackinnon Week: Tuesday "Soulmates

Tuesday: “Soulmate” The moment they knew , they realize that the other is their soulmate; when they get together.

Word Count: 2159. Can also be found on AO3 @inthemiddle2

Sirius thought he would feel something different today but ultimately he still felt hollow. He looked around the platform, today was supposed to be thing big thing and he thought it would be exciting or maybe sad but nothing. His parents didn’t have anything good to say about Hogwarts but they never had anything good to say about anything. He was looking forward to going to Hogwarts just to get away from his parents. When they first crossed the magically boarder he realized that his leaving wasn’t going to rid him of his problems but just bring on new ones.

The eleven year old boy was currently trying to drown out his mothers complaints. She was speaking to his Aunt Druella. He knew he was going to be in Slytherin, his whole family had been. He wasn’t looking forward to it. Truthfully he hoped he would magically get sorted elsewhere. That would just bring more trouble as his family would practically disown his for breaking family traditions and beliefs. He wasn’t sure what would be worse, getting into Slytherin or not.

Regulus was trying to hold back tears. Sirius hated when he cried, he was such a baby sometimes. He would cry and Sirius would have to stand there and watch his parents beat the little boy. He turned away from Reg not wanting to see the sadness in his eyes that he was leaving him and it would just be him and his parents from now on.

The platform was a buzz with kids full of excitement and parents feeling a mix of happy and sad to see their child off.

“I just don’t understand why we can’t sit together?” Sirius turned to the voice to see a bi-speckled boy groaning. He flopped his arms down dramatically.

Across from the boy was a blonde, almost silver haired girl. She was standing tall, not even looking at the boy as she rolled her eyes and said “Because Jamie, I’m eleven now and I need to start making friends with girls.” She continued to look around the platform in awe.

“But why girls are girly and weird. I hate girls.” He was mumbling now.

“James I am a girl!” The little blonde stomped her foot and rounded on the boy. She stuck he head high but she only came up to his chin.

“Please Marlene, you’re as much of girl as mom!”

“Hey!” The women who Sirius assumed was James’ mom shouted and gave his hair a rumple.

He looked sheepishly as his mother, “Sorry mom!” He turned back to ‘Marlene’, “You know what I meant. You’re a cool girl and you play quidditch, and you’re my best friend which is why we should sit together on the train.”

The girl had been glaring at the boy but her face softened, “Jamie, cool girls can be girly too! My cousin Alice invited me to sit with her and I want to try and make other friends besides you and my brothers. You’re my best friend and you’ll be my best friend no matter what houses were in.”

The two hugged, before James eventually shoved her away saying it wasn’t cool to be the guy crying and hugging the girl on the platform.

Sirius watched the two in envy. He wondered what it would be like to have somebody who loved you know matter what house you were in. He could tell the pair had to be purebloods as they neither looked shocked about the magic around them. That was plus, maybe he could be friends with them. The girl was a spit fire. She seemed like the type who took up the whole of any room. The boy looked nice enough, like he wasn’t so uptight like everyone he had to hang out with now.

Sirius boarded the train with his cousins but they were soon to ditch him, not that he minded. As he peered into the cars he saw boys he recognized from all the pureblood parties his parents made him go to. He wasn’t really sure how he felt about all that pureblood stuff. He had never met a muggle born so he couldn’t tell if they were any worse at magic than him. He did know he hated it just on principle of hating anything his parents loved. If he was honest with himself he figure muggle-borns and half-bloods were bad at magic, it made sense in his eleven year old brain. He saw the kids on the platform who looked confused. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t be taught? Oh well it wouldn’t matter anyway. He would be in Slytherin and life would go on as it always had under his cousins careful watch.

He decided to move on from the cabin of boys from the parties, take moment away while he had it. He looked into the next few cabins and saw the boy and girl from the platform. He cracked open the door.

“Do you mind if I join you?

The pair looked up from their bickering, they were seated on opposite benches.

The boy spoke first, he had a bright smile on his face. Sirius knew he wasn’t new to the magical world from the platform but eagerness he had could have fooled some. “Of course! Hiya I’m James Potter!

Sirius recognized the name Potter, he was sure his parents had complained about them at some point. “I’m Sirius” He figured no harm in leaving off his last name for now. He turned to face the girl across from him.

“I’m Marlene. Marlene McKinnon” She had a thick Scottish accent and she pointedly raised her eyebrow at the last name. It seems she had picked up on his purposeful leave off.

She was giving him a smile but also pointed look. He squirmed under her eyes, how was she doing that?

Sirius cleared his throat, “Uh right. Um did you know Marlene means ‘star of the sea’?” He awkwardly coughed again, “So um, I’m named after the star Sirius. The dog star.”

She was just looking at him, “….Right.” Sirius was sure he had just blown it, he was never going to make new friends. But then the little blonde girl smiled at him, “remind me to be your partner in astronomy.”

James looked between the two, it was like they had their own private joke. Marlene was already making new friends, and a boy?!?

“Well Marley shouldn’t you be on your way? I’m sure Alice is looking for you…”

Marlene just rolled her eyes and went to stand up but the door slid open.

A redheaded girl smiled at the group and a boy with long black hair stood behind her.

The girl spoke first, “Hi! I’m Lily! This is my friend, Severus! Can we sit with you?”

Lily didn’t wait for a response before sitting down. “I’m a muggle-born! This all very exciting don’t you think!”

“You shouldn’t tell people that.” Sirius said it in a neutral tone but Marlene and James looked at him.

“Oh.” Lily looked a little hurt by what he had said, “Um Well Sev, isn’t so he’s told me a lot about the school and magic.”

Marlene was quick to jump in and try and mediate the situation, That’s great! It can be overwhelming at first! I’m Marlene! I have four older brothers but they explained a lot to me as well before.”

James also joined the conversation, “So do you know what houses you lot want to be in? Both my parents, and Marley’s whole family are Gryffindor’s! I reckon I’ll make it but I’m not so sure about Mars. She’s slimy like the Slytherins.”

Sirius’ body tensed with the Slytherin jab. He was going to end up there, if he didn’t at first his parents would make sure of it.

“What’s wrong with Slytherin?” It was the first time the long haired boy had spoken. He was aggressive and defensive.

James responded, “Well they’re all gits! All stuck up with their pureblood mania. Slimy I tell ya!” His tone was light and joking but Severus didn’t seem to take it that way.

“My mom was a Slytherin!”

Sirius wanting so desperately to be like by James, “Yeah well that explains it! You’ll fit right in with that slimy greasy hair!” Both the boys were laughing, “I think will call you ‘Snivellus Slytherus’”

James burst out at that, Lily stood red to the face. “Come on, Severus. Let leave these, these bullies!” She stormed out of the cart with Severus in toe.

James hollered after them, “See you Snivellus!”

The door slid closed with a slam. Marlene looked from the door to the two laughing boys. She stood as she began to yell.

“James Fleamont Potter! You should know better than to treat somebody like that! And you know that being a Slytherin is just fine! Marc’s girlfriend Kate was a Slytherin!”

Sirius’ eyes were wide, he had very quietly and still. James gave a sheepish grimace, “Yeah well Kate’s the exception.”

Sirius was holding in laugh at the boy getting put in his place by the short little blonde. The small noise that escaped his mouth reminded Marlene that he was there. She rounded on his, “And you! I know who you are. I have older brother who have gone toe to toe with your cousins. You better stay away from us with all that pureblood bull!”

Sirius shrunk into the bench, “I, I, I just meant she should be careful who she says that to. You’re right my cousins are barmy. It’s not safe to say that to just anyone.”

Marlene relaxed a little bit at his justification, still unsure if she fully believed him. “You both should be kinder people. I expect more from you from now on. I’m going to find Alice.”

Marlene turned on her heal and exited the compartment. The boys both sat there in silence.

“…Your middle name is Fleamont?” Sirius was laughing

“Oh shut it” James gave him shove but was also laughing.

John Bertram had just been sorted into Hufflepuff. Sirius knew his name was coming. He was standing with James and other boys he had met on the train.

“Sirius Black”

Okay this was it. He walked to the stool. Sitting down he wiped his sweating hand on his trousers. It felt like the moment was slow motion. He looked out to the crowd. He saw James and the other boys giving thumbs up. He saw his cousins sitting at the Syltherin table glaring daggers into his eyes. He was quick to turn away from them. His eyes land on Marlene’s. She was smiling up at him. He felt his heart rate start to calm. Then she winked at him and suddenly it sped back up.

The hat had barely touched his head before it shouted, “GRYFFINDOR”

He sat in shock for minute, the women behind him gave him a nudge. He was a zombie as he moved to the Gryffindor table. He sat down off by himself. He knew this wouldn’t last. Why bother making friends. Not that anyone tried to sit with him anyway. Remus from the train sat across from him with a shrug. He was just staring down at the table until he heard the name Marlene McKinnon called. He looked up at the girl. She was smiling but Sirius could see behind her confident smile there was also a slight nervousness to it.

The hat sat on her head for a few minutes. Eventually it shouted Gryffindor as well. Marlene beamed. All around the table boys of different ages stood and cheered. Sirius assumed they were her brothers. Sirius felt himself smile. Marlene made her way down to the table. She stopped next Lily. Sirius had expected her to sit with the red head but she never sat down. After a moment she kept walk and eventually landed right next to Sirius.

“Welcome to the lions den.” Sirius gave her a half smirk, half grimaced.

Marlene reached down and grabbed his hand under the table, “Back at ya, Black.”

Marlene didn’t realize was she was still holding his hand until he dropped it like fire when James sat down.

“So Marley admit it, the hat sat on your head for so long because it wanted to put you in Slytherin”

“God James you’re so obnoxious” She was smiling when she said it though. “I’ll have you know it was between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.” She stood, “Alright I’m gonna leave you boys to do boy things.” She gave Sirius a squeeze on the shoulder smiled and then walked away.

Sirius didn’t know it then but now as he thinks back on sitting in Azkaban, that little blonde girl was going to change his life. He didn’t know it then but he knows now he loved her then. That first day with his person. She was a force. She was his soulmate.

#blackinnonweek #blackinnon week 2021 #blackinnonweek2021 #blackinnon #sirius x marlene #marlius

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