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dreamerstreamer · 4 years

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Pairing: Dream / Clay x gn!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] You and Dream have been together for months now, but no one knows it. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the two of you live leagues apart.

Warnings: some cursing (a.k.a. Tommy exists)

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: requested by an anon who wanted a fun long-distance reveal! this story takes place during an unspecified time, but i imagine it occurs prior to schlatt’s presidency. anyways, i hope you all enjoy <3

You gazed at the bustling town in front of you in awe, your wide eyes darting this way and that as you took in everything you possibly could. You’d never known that Clay’s home was so... colourful. So bright.

You should really come visit more often.

Now, you thought to yourself, just where is he? He has to be somewhere around here.

Your fingers squeezed a little tighter around the handle of your basket as you swung it back and forth, a small smile gracing your lips as you tread onward. The soles of your feet ached a bit, especially after walking for so many hours, but you didn’t mind too much. It had been a while since you last saw each other, and you couldn’t wait to hear his laugh again.

Just then, a voice spoke up to your left.

“Who the fuck is that?”

Your smile faltered, and you slowed your steps a half-measure as another voice whispered back.

“No clue.”

You swallowed, a lump slowly starting to form in your throat. You focused your gaze on the path ahead of you, trudging forward as you rushed past the muffled words that slowly began to form around you.

“Do you know them?”

“Nope.”

“Are they from out of town?”

“Must be. I don’t recognize them at all.”

Something hot and wet wrapped around your lungs, an uneasy feeling settling into the pit of your stomach. They’re... they’re talking about me, aren’t they? You sucked in a shuddering breath, ignoring the stinging at the back of your eyes. It’s okay, [Y/N]. You just have to find Clay, and then everything’s be just fi—

“[Y/N]?”

You froze, your steps coming to a screeching halt. Is that...?

You turned on your heel, your eyes landing on a familiar face standing just a few feet behind you. Dirty blonde hair and enchanting green eyes stared back at you, and a wide grin stretched across your lips. In a flash, you were charging at him, an overjoyed giggle escaping you.

“Clay!”

You barely caught a glimpse of his outstretched arms before you were tumbling into them, your fingers curling around his back as his hands met your waist. Peals of laughter flew from your lips as he spun the two of you around once, twice, thrice. Your heart was practically singing in your ears as he set you back down again, your feet landing flat on the ground as you gazed up at his fond smile.

“Hey,” he said gently, his emerald eyes scanning your face, “what are you doing here?”

You pulled back the cover of your basket, pulling out a swath of viridian green fabric with a flourish, grinning. “Ta-da!” you cried, holding it out toward him. “I finished fixing your winter cloak!”

His eyes grew wide as he stared at the cloth in your hands, his gaze glimmering with astonishment. “You did? Oh my god!” With a gentle grasp, he pulled the cloak from your grasp, admiring your handiwork with wonder in his eyes as he looked over the stitching. He looked up, a smile tugging at his lips.

“It looks as good as new,” he said. “You can hardly even tell I ripped it.” Tucking the cloak into the crook of his arm, he dipped his head to press his lips to your forehead. “You’re amazing, [Y/N].”

You offered him a bashful grin, biting the inside of your warming cheek. “It’s nothing, really.”

Reaching over, he slipped his hand into yours. His thumb instinctively moved to brush over your knuckles just how you liked it, and you nearly melted on the spot. He really had you wrapped around his finger, didn’t he? Not that you were complaining or anything.

“Seriously though,” he added, pursing his lips, “you didn’t need to come all this way just to deliver my cloak to me.” His gaze grew soft. “It must have taken you so long.”

You chewed on your bottom lip as you dug your heel into the dirt. “I-I, um,” you began shakily, picking at a stray wicker thread in your basket, “I wanted to surprise you.” You took a deep breath, raising your chin to look at him dead on. “You always come visit me, but I thought this time, I should be the one coming to you!”

He stared at you, his lips parted in awe as he took in your words. When he didn’t say anything after a few seconds, your eyes darted to the ground, as you mumbled a quiet, “Or, um, something like that.”

There was a beat of silence. Then came a soft murmur.

“God, you’re so damn cute.”

You whipped your head up, your cheeks blazing with heat as you took in his cocky smile. “S-Stop that,” you sputtered, resisting the urge to bury yourself into the ground. “You’re always so cheesy.”

He dipped his head to press his forehead against yours, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah,” he rasped, his breath tickling your face, “but only for you.”

Your heart did a flip in your chest at the intensity of his gaze. As flustered as he made you, you missed this. You missed him. Was it even possible to miss someone so much?

Suddenly, someone cleared their throat. “Uh, Dream?”

You stiffened once more, taking a step back to peer over Clay’s shoulder, only to feel your breath hitch in your throat. Clay immediately shifted at the first sign of distress on your face, his gaze growing serious. He plastered a polite smile to his face as he turned, opening his mouth.

“Hi ther—woah.” He blinked at the small crowd standing behind him. “Okay, uh. There’s a lot of you here.” Carefully, he stepped to the side, facing the crowd head-on while allowing you the chance to take a step behind him. He offered them a crooked grin, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. “What’s up?”

In front of him, a tall man tilted his head toward you, his chestnut hair flopping over one eye as he raised an eyebrow at you. “Um, aren’t you going to introduce us to your guest?”

Clay’s eyes darted to yours, and you sent him a subtle nod. They were his friends, and as nervous as you were, they deserved to know about you. Turning back to face the crowd, he held a hand out toward you. “Everyone, meet [Y/N], my significant other.” He gestured to the crowd. “[Y/N], meet, uh, everyone else.”

A man clad in blue raised his eyebrows, an unimpressed look crossing his features. “Wow,” he whistled, pushing up the white glasses perched on his nose, “way to basically just call us unimportant.”

Clay rolled his eyes, but you still managed to catch a glimpse of a smile flicker across his face as he relented. “Okay, okay, I’ll be more specific.” He pointed his hand toward the man dressed in blue and the white-clad man leaning against him. “Meet George and Sapnap—my best friends.”

Sapnap glowered at him, his dark brows curving inward. “Yeah, your best friends who didn’t know about your secret relationship!”

Clay winced, something hurt flitting through his expression. “I’m sorry, oka—”

George raised a hand. “We’re kidding, we’re kidding.” He reached over, clapping his hand over Clay’s shoulder. “We’re glad you have someone you like, seriously.”

Sapnap leaned forward, his frown having been replaced by a teasing grin and his dark eyes swimming with mischief. “You totally owe us for keeping us in the dark, though.”

George nodded, pulling his hand away. “Oh yeah, totally.”

Clay grimaced, then sighed. “Great. Anyways,” he said, “this is Ranboo.” He gestured to the tall boy standing next to you, his face split down the middle with skin that looked as pale as the moon on one half and the other being as dark as night. Atop his head sat a small, golden crown that glimmered in the sunlight, and his crimson and green eyes blinked at you as he gave you a small wave, his lips curling into a smile.

“He’s half-enderman,” Clay explained at your curious expression, “but he doesn’t really have any of the cool enderman powers.”

Ranboo’s mouth drooped into a frown as he lowered his hand with a disappointed sigh. “Yeah, I only got the lame ones. Like, I can’t teleport, and I’m not crazy strong, either.”

Another voice suddenly popped up. “He’s fucking useless in the rain, that’s what he is.” You turned you head, your eyes landing on a blond boy sporting a triumphant grin. “If you get even a single drop of water on him, he hisses like a cat.”

“I do not!”

The blond boy cackled, and you couldn’t stop his contagious laugh from letting a smile form on your face. “Don’t deny it, Ranboo! You totally do, and it’s fucking hilarious!”

Beside you, Clay sighed, gesturing to the grinning boy with a look of affectionate disdain. “This one here is Tommy.” His lips twitched. “He’s a demon child.”

Tommy’s smile widened. “Thanks, Big D—wait.” He paused, then scowled. “What the fuck did you just sa—”

Clay didn’t let him finish. He simply shot you a satisfied look before declaring, “Case in point!”

Before Tommy could begin shouting once more, he turned to the shorter brunet standing next to him. “This is Tubbo.” Something in his tone softened as he spoke. “He’s Tommy’s best friend, and he liked bees. He’s not nearly as...” He paused, looking for the right word. “...aggressive as Tommy, and he actually has some genuinely good intentions.”

The tall brunet from earlier suddenly spoke up. “Except for when he’s Big Law. Or Big Crime.”

Clay blinked, then nodded with a slight grin. “Oh. Yeah. Those are two exceptions.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, opening your mouth. “Should I ask...?”

He sent you a lopsided smile. “Probably not.” You stifled a smile as he turned back to the tall brunet, who offered you a cheerful grin. “This here is Wilbur. We fought a war once because he started a drug cartel—don’t mind that—and he’s pretty good at playing guitar.” He pretended not to see your look of alarm as he pointed to the man standing next to him, a pair of fox ears sitting atop his head. “Oh, and this is his son, Fundy.”

You eyed the ears on Fundy’s head, the orange fur ruffling in the soft breeze. Are those... real? They look real. You opened your mouth, but Fundy spoke first.

“Yes,” he said, his eye catching yours, “they are real. And yes, we look nothing alike. My mother was a salmon.” A boulder of shock and confusion steamrolled through your system, but he merely waved his hand. “Moving on.”

You gaped at him, your mind still reeling at the words ‘mother’ and ‘salmon’. “What—?”

“Moving on!” Clay repeated, raising his voice a little. He turned you around slightly, and found yourself standing face to face with a girl with dark hair, the front two strands bleached blonde. “This is Niki. She’s normal. And also very nice.”

You blinked up at Clay, your eyebrows furrowing. “‘Normal’?” you parroted, already feeling yourself fill with disbelief. Fundy’s mother was a salmon, and now he was trying to convince you that any of his friends were normal? You didn’t buy it.

He nodded, his lips curling into a small grin at your skeptical look. “No, like, actually normal. I swear.”

Niki waved at you, her eyes curving into tiny crescent moons. “It’s nice to meet you, [Y/N]! Is this your first time here?”

You nearly jumped by how sweet her voice was, but nodded eagerly, hope sparking in your chest. “Y-Yeah!”

Her eyes glimmered with something gentle and kind. “You should come stop by my bakery sometime!” She sent you a wink, but it came across as more cheerful than sly. “I’ll treat you to some cake.”

You could practically feel your mouth water at the mere thought. Niki was more than just normal—she was wonderful. You had a feeling you were going to be very, very good friends with Niki. “I would love to!”

While Niki clapped her hands in successful delight, Clay took a step forward. “Well, that’s basically everyone. Some people are out of town today,” he explained, “but you can meet them some other time.” His look was fond as he smiled at you. “In the meantime, I can show you around the actual town.”

You clutched your basket a little tighter as you bobbed your head. You’d been dying to see the rest of Clay’s home, and you couldn’t wait to explore. “Okay!”

Suddenly, an confused voice cut in.

“Hold on a second.” Fundy whirled, his ears flicking atop his head as he looked back at his friends. “Are we just going to gloss over the fact that Dream is actually dating someone?!”

Clay furrowed his eyebrows, looking appalled. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

Tommy raised a finger. “Well, I mean,” he began, “aside from the obvious, which is that you having anyone who genuinely fucking likes you is completely unexpected—”

Clay deadpanned. “Ouch.”

“—but we also had no idea, okay?” Tommy crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing. “We kind of have a right to be surprised.”

You raised your eyebrows, bobbing your head slightly. “He does have a point.”

Clay sent you an exasperated look, his eyes pleading. “Do not back him up.”

You held up your hands in front of you, trying to bite back your smile. “I’m just saying!”

It was then that George spoke up. “Wait, how long have you guys even been together for?”

Without missing a beat, you and Clay both spoke at the same time. “Eleven months.” The moment the words left your mouth, you looked at each other, your eyes wide before melting into something softer. Your one month anniversary was coming up soon, and you guys weren’t the type to forget.

In front of you, Wilbur gaped. “Eleven months?” he repeated, sounding like a broken record player. “Eleven months?! How have you two been together for that long without us noticing?”

Clay blinked, then shrugged. “I wasn’t being super secretive about it or anything. No one ever asked, so I never said anything.”

George practically collapsed onto the ground, sinking to his knees as he tugged at his hair, his glasses sliding off his face and onto the ground. “Just how? How? I don’t get it.”

Softly, you spoke up. “I just happen to live a couple thousand blocks away, so it’s kind of far from here,” you explained. “That’s why you guys have never met me, but Clay and I still always make time to see each other.”

Sapnap tilted his head at you, his dark eyes scanning your face as the wheels in his head whirred. “Like, when do you even hang out?” He pursed his lips. “I feel like Dream’s always just kind of... here.”

Clay’s brows furrowed together. “Let me think of a good example, um...” His paused for a moment, then his eyes lit up. “Okay, so, you know those days I just say that I’m going out and don’t really elaborate?”

Sapnap cocked his head. “Um, yeah?”

Clay smiled. “That’s when I go visit [Y/N].”

There was a beat of silence, then Fundy spoke up. “Hold on a second—you travel more than hundreds of blocks just to... see [Y/N]?”

He blinked, then nodded nonchalantly. “Well, yeah. I love them.”

Warmth skittered across your cheeks as you turned to face him, lightly smacking his chest as your heart skipped a beat. “C-Clay!”

He laughed. “What?” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s true.”

Across from you, Tommy visibly gagged, holding a hand over his mouth. “God, this is so fucking gross. Super sweet, but also super gross.”

Tubbo nodded beside him, a hand tucked under his chin. “It’s like... like...” His eyebrows knit together. “What’s a good analogy?”

Ranboo quipped, “It’s almost like I can feel myself getting a cavity.”

A wide smile split across Tommy’s face, and he straightened, turning to grin at his friends. “Ooh, that’s good. Nice.”

Tubbo suddenly gasped, waving his arm frantically. “Oh, um!” He paused for a split second, then shouted at full volume, “It’s like I can feel myself becoming diabetic!”

Tommy made a face. “Okay, uh—less good.”

Tubbo frowned, then opened his mouth again when Sapnap suddenly took a step forward, slamming his hand over Tubbo’s mouth. “Alright,” he said, offering you an apologetic grin, “I think that’s enough fun for one day.”

Clay nearly melted to the ground in relief. “Thanks, Sapnap. Now if you could all scram, that would be great, because [Y/N] and I would love to spend some quality time together.”

George’s lips twitched. “Heh. Disgusting.”

“Wha—” Clay blanched, and you felt your face grow warm. “Oh my god, I didn’t mean like that.”

Fundy rolled his eyes, his mouth curling into a smirk. “Sure, you didn’t.” Before you could even think to retort, Fundy clapped his hands, pushing the crowd away from the two of you. “Well, you heard the man! Everybody get a move on! Let the lovebirds be!”

Niki turned to wave once more at you, calling after you as the distance between you grew, “Bye, [Y/N]! It was nice meeting you!”

Your face lit up at the sound of her voice as you eagerly waved back. “You too, Niki!”

As soon as they disappeared from your line of sight, you felt Clay relax beside you, his shoulders drooping as he ran a hand through his hair with an exasperated look. “Sorry about them. They’re kind of—” He gestured vaguely. “—you know.”

You hummed, your lips quirked into a genuine smile. “I liked them. They’re chaotic, but in a fun way.” You swallowed the lump in your throat as you cast him a wary look. “Do you think they liked me?”

His eyes flashed with pride as he leaned over to press a kiss to your cheek. “Oh, they definitely did.” He sent you a crooked smile. “Tommy might think we’re gross, but he means well.”

You giggled at the image of Tommy gagging at the two of you as Clay slipped his hand into yours one more. “Enough about Tommy though,” he hummed, squeezing your palm, “let me show you around, yeah?”

You nodded with a bright grin, swinging your arms as the two of continued down the oak wood path further into the city. Around you, chatter continued to fill the air, but it didn’t make you anxious anymore. Clay’s friends may be strange, but who wasn’t, really?

As you took in the sight of the town around you and Clay’s soothing voice washed over you, you squeezed his hand a little tighter.

You were right—you really should come visit more often.

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geordiewrites · 4 years

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Exile | George Weasley

Summary: Y/N catches sight of her ex-boyfriend, George Weasley, at his older brother’s wedding after exactly one year apart. Based on Exile by Taylor Swift and Bon Iver :).

A/N: This isn’t directly linked to the song, but its certainly inspired by it as it’s about two ex-lovers seeing each other again at Bill and Fleur’s wedding and how they feel when they see each other again and shit like that. It’s very angsty, since I’m unable to write anything else hehe, and I do enjoy a good angsty story! Hope you all had a great Hanukah and Christmas, or any other events you celebrate too in December and fading into the new year. Also my requests are now open, go wild xox.

Warnings: angst and a hell of a lot of it, swearing, drinking. Let me know if I’ve missed any!

Y/N’s hands gripped a pristine glass of mulberry red wine so hard it seemed as though it would smash. Her Y/H/C shone in the dim candlelight of the marquee she was awkwardly standing in the corner of, fervently wishing she had politely declined the invitation to Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour’s wedding that she had received a few months prior. It seemed like a good idea at the time, just to be in the same room as all the people she had let down twelve months before and simply survive the palpable tension. But now she was there, Y/N couldn’t think of anything worse.

She could see where George was, dancing with some blonde girl from Hogwarts that Y/N didn’t care enough to remember the name of. Just seeing his arm slung lazily around the girl’s waist was enough to make sticky bile rise up in her throat.

Exactly one year had passed since Y/N had abruptly ended her whirlwind engagement with George Weasley, the younger brother of Bill, who’s wedding it was. Granted the ceremony was beautiful, with a huge marquee tent in a meadow of autumn flowers on a poignant, warm afternoon, but Y/N couldn’t feel anything but uncomfortable and out of place around her ex-boyfriend’s dotting family. It had been a messy breakup, with Y/N running away to France in fear of the brewing war and leaving George behind with it.

She had lived in Paris for eleven months, stewing over the pain of losing George by her own sword. But she couldn’t go back. Being both muggleborn and associated with a pureblood, even if he was a Weasley, was dangerous to say the least. So many years were spent with Y/N constantly getting put down for her purity, even in the supposed sanctuary of Hogwarts. She had never said anything to George. He wouldn’t have understood anyway. And so, she agreed to marry him. Agreed to wear the diamond ring he could barely afford, and agreed to a life she didn’t want. One she had never wanted.

It didn’t occur to her that she was too scared to go through with it until her clandestine bag was packed for France, and the words ‘I can’t marry you’ tumbled from her lips.

Draining the rest of the dark wine until her glass was completely empty as a distraction, Y/N barely noticed a tall, redheaded man move to stand next to her with a crooked smile close to George’s own.

“So, how have you been?” The man said, making Y/N snap to attention in surprise before having to force herself not to smile. She wanted to, but Fred Weasley wasn’t somebody she entirely expected to try and talk to her after what went down between herself and his twin brother.

“Fine, you?” Y/N replied hotly after a moment of hesitation, pouring another large glass of wine. Her voice was clipped as if she didn’t want to be talking to him, and her eyes were careful not to meet his.

“Better than ever. It’s nice to see you, Y/N.” Fred mused with a brutal honesty that made her want to spit out her drink. “Truly, I’ve missed you.”

“Not usually something a guy says to his twin brother’s ex.” Y/N chuckled in return. “Especially me, for that matter. Out of curiosity, did he ever tell you what actually happened?” She continued worriedly. Breaking up with George was the hardest thing she had ever done, the hardest thing she would ever have to do, and it was the messiest, most gut-wrenching breakup either of them would face. The details of it... she just dually hoped Fred didn’t know them. Really she hoped nobody but herself and George did.

“Of course he did.” Fred said, but he’s lying. Y/N knows he’s lying from the way he scratched his nose: it’s his tell, but she goes along with it anyway.

“Oh really?”

“Obviously, why wouldn’t he?”

“Well...” Y/N trailed off, making Fred both curious and suspicious.

“Alright I lied. He hasn’t said a word, just told us you two split up and the engagement was off. What didn’t he tell me about, Y/N?”

“Why are you doing this? We’ve set a date, Y/N, October fifteenth next year. Please, just don’t leave me.” George begged, years streaming down his face as his hands clutched Y/N’s shoulders, as if he was desperately clinging to something that was already gone. “We can work through this, we can.”

Shaking off his hands, Y/N moved away from him with a deep cold spreading through her icy veins. “I don’t want to. I don’t want to marry you, I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“What are you saying?” George asked simply. It was almost rhetorical in the complicated tangle of feelings that Y/N couldn’t decipher herself could never be expressed in speech.

“I’m saying I’m leaving. Leaving you, leaving this goddamn country where people want to fucking kill me for something I can’t control.” Y/N cried, but there are no tears from her. Her eyes are dry, as is her throat and her skin feels parched, drained of all moisture and blood and richness. “I’m going to France.”

“France? Y/N, just calm down. You can’t go to France.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I love you. And you can’t leave me, Y/N, please.” George continued, not meaning to be possessive but it just came out that way. Y/N used to like it, but now it just feels like a gilded cage. Have the marriage but don’t be free. Have the husband but don’t be safe. Have the life while others are slaughtered, and you might be next. She was done with it all.

“Funnily enough that isn’t your decision. I’m going to France, I’m going away from this war, from Dumbledore and the Order constantly expecting me to just be okay with everything, when I’m not.” Y/N ranted, waiting a few seconds to see if he would continue. When he didn’t, she carried on yelling, wanting him to know why she was leaving for good. “I’m not okay that they want me to just fight aimlessly all the goddamn time. I’m not okay that you think I’m some goddess when I’m so fucking terrified. I’m not okay that nobody sees that people are about to die, and I’m the most likely out of all of us to do exactly that-“

“Don’t say that. We will get through this war.” George replied, but Y/N was already at the door with her suitcase handle clutched in her colourless hand.

“No, we won’t. I’m sorry, but I’m so done. I can’t take it and I’m leaving-“

“You’re running away.” George said in a tone that made Y/N clutch at the roots of her hair.

“Of course I am. Don’t be pathetic, George, of course I’m running away from my inevitable death.”

“You won’t-“

“No, I won’t. I’m not going to die aged 20 because I’m not going to let them have the opportunity.” There was a beat before Y/N finally spoke the last words George would hear from her for the next year. “Goodbye George, all the best.”

All the best, George thought bitterly as she slammed the door, ready to rush to the airport. All the fucking best.

Fred watched as Y/N flinched, her shoulders tensing for a brief second before she airily smiled, an action even he could see was very clearly forced. Noticing she wasn’t going to answer his question, Fred asked yet another. “Where have you been for the last twelve months?”

“Paris.” Y/N chuckled darkly, feeling her heart clench as George kissed the blonde woman on the forehead. Her soft smile faded and an involuntarily frown settled on her delicate features. “In France.”

“I know where bloody Paris is, just wasn’t expecting that. Why Paris exactly?” Fred pressed, and Y/N had consumed just the perfect amount of mulled wine to be in the talkative, tipsy stage of inebriated. Perhaps getting piss drunk hadn’t been the best plan.

“There’s not a war in Paris.” She answered honestly, feeling the urge to laugh as Fred’s face flickered between shock and disappointment, almost identically to how George’s had one year previous.

“You ran away.”

“Yep.” She said, idly popping the ‘p’ and smudging her crimson lipstick slightly.

“But you’re back.”

“Also yes. I decided not to be a coward for any longer.” Y/N giggled tipsily, placing a chaste hand on his arm to steady herself, but to the untrained eye it appeared she was flirting with him. While Fred knew this wasn’t the case, another ginger across the room didn’t know as such, and felt a pang of all too familiar pain as his eyes landed on his ex-fiancé. “Alright Freddie, I feel a bit hot. I’m just gonna head outside for a minute or two.”

Fred barely had time to nod before Y/N swanned out of the room, her deep red dress clinging to her sensuous curves as she walked. She certainly stood out against a crowd of bland, Weasley-like fabrics from their family, and combined with her Y/H/C, Y/N was very easy to spot in the wedding. George watched as she left the tent to go stand just outside the entrance, strands of her hair fluttering around sharp cheekbones just visible past the marquee. With a quick apology to his blonde girlfriend, George rushed out after her.

Seeing Y/N again after exactly one year was similar to getting hit by a bus. It was exhilarating and melancholy and a whole other myriad of emotions that George was too mentally immature to comprehend. He didn’t even realise he was standing outside, just beside her before he was there. She looked almost exactly the same, except for the smudged red berry lipstick across her cheek. Y/N noticed he was there and stared adamantly at the ground, not knowing exactly why he was there or what he wanted.

“You’re here.” George said, his tone making it a statement far more than a question. Y/N nodded silently, not finding the courage to look at him for fear she would just spontaneously start sobbing. She hadn’t during their breakup, or even after during the mourning period, but right now she felt tears threatening to spill. “Why are you here exactly?”

“It’s a wedding.” She said, again more of a menial, random statement than an answer to his question.

“Yes, I realised that.” George snapped irritably. “The shop is doing brilliantly considering everything going on. And I have a girlfriend. She’s called Angelina, a Quidditch player-“

Unable to take it anymore, an elastic string pulled taunt in Y/N’s heart tore clean in two. “Why the fuck are you telling me this?”

“Wanted you to know.” George said after a significant beat.

“To hurt me.” Y/N muttered venomously, her eyes squeezing shut for a brief second. “Well congrats.”

“Didn’t know you had enough feelings to be hurt.” George cruelly replied. He knew it was beyond harsh, that it was pathetic considering how long it had been, but seeing Y/N looking quite to radiant had brought up a number of old feelings from their breakup right back.

“You know I came here to try and be in the room with these people again. You, your family. Turns out, I can’t.” Y/N said, tears beginning to fall from her eyes, lips tightened into a thin line. “It’s impossible to be near you.”

“It’s good to see you.” George mumbled, so quietly she wasn’t even sure that he had said it out loud. “I mean it.”

“That’s a change of tone.” She laughed, and even that simple sound was enough to make George smile, however much he wanted to be mad at her. “I thought you would hate me.”

“I do.” He smirked, making her laugh again in a way only he could. In a way both of them had dearly missed. “I really do, but I also missed you. Missed your laugh, your smile, your stupid shoes. I never understood why you needed more than one pair of shoes.”

“For the sake of fashion.” She said.

“You haven’t changed a bit.” He whispered, a saccharine mist clouding his hazel eyes as she brought herself to look at him for the first time, and not at the floor. He was older, not in looks but there was a tinge more wisdom held in solemn eyes. Even though he was smiling, he just looked sad. “You’re still beautiful to me. Even though I hate you.”

“I hate you too.” Y/N said, but her tone is soft and almost loving in it’s insinuation. Her heart swelled as she realised he had called her beautiful. “But you can’t call me beautiful when you have a gorgeous girlfriend waiting for you inside.”

“I do, and she’s wonderful.” George said. But there it was again, that sadness that only Y/N could possibly ever notice. Even then, nobody knew him as well as she did. Not even his new girlfriend. “But she’s not you.”

“Nobody ever will be.” Y/N laughed arrogantly, but it was utterly truthful at the same time. Nobody would ever be who Y/N was to George during their relationship, but even she wasn’t that person anymore. She was still Y/N, but a different version. The one he had fallen in love with was gone, and in her place was Angelina.

“Why’d you leave Paris?” George asked.

“I didn’t want to be scared anymore.”

“You were always braver than you gave yourself credit for, Y/N.” George complimented, making her face flush with a rosy glow. Her eyes were hazy with alcohol and a want for something she had forfeited so stupidly. Her lips were in a slight pout, and she gave him a look he had only seen a few rare times before. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I want you to kiss me. Will you? For old times sake?” Y/N asked, her face just a few brave centimetres from his. George wouldn’t have to do much to close the gap between them, and the urge to feel her lips against his for a final time was too overwhelming, like chugging red wine. Forbidden, something he wasn’t supposed to ever do but it was so duplicitously tempting and devilishly irresistible.

George was kissing her before he knew what was happening, adrenaline coursing through his veins. A warmth spread throughout Y/N’s entire body, fuelled by passion and sadness. His hands found her waist, sending involuntary tingles up her spine and back down again to her coccyx, the fabric of her dress riding up slightly so when he moved her hand lower, it just grazed her thigh. The kiss was treacherous, but as addictive as any drug that George had ever heard of. He couldn’t imagine anything both worse and better.

But it wasn’t a kiss of cheating in intention or action really, it was a kiss of goodbye. A kiss of hello to an old soulmate as he departed their chapter in his life, and finally let go of Y/N. A kiss of want and of love eventually disappearing forever. A kiss of teenage infatuation, of snogging in abandoned classrooms and first times in the Room Of Requirement, young and in love. A kiss of unspoken words and emotions, of ‘I want you but I hate you’ and ‘I love you but I left you’. A kiss of finally portraying unspeakable emotions that neither could understand. Perhaps they never would.

When their lips parted, George walked off without speaking. He just quickly made sure her lipstick wasn’t anywhere on his skin and walked seamlessly back into the party, sweeping Angelina off her feet as he once did with Y/N. As he now finally didn’t wish he was doing with Y/N. That chapter was closed, that storybook finally completely written and the ink had run dry. Angelina was who he wanted now, who he had now and who he loved now.

Y/N was a memory of George’s first love, while George was the memory of the biggest mistake Y/N would ever make. He was a reminder of who she lost, but also of who she could find again with someone else. Someone she was ready to marry, and ready to get through the war with. She hadn’t found them yet, but someday she would. She was sure of it.

At least for now, George wasn’t a part of her thoughts. He wasn’t a part of her dreamless sleeps or of her worst nightmares. He simply existed, and that was the best she could’ve asked for by even attending the wedding in the first place. George was a part of her life that was over now.

And Y/N was so ready for the next chapter, however messy and painful it could be. She was finally ready.

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter fic #fred and george #Weasley twin fics #george weasley angst #harry potter angst #golden trio era #harry potter smut #Harry Potter #nancy writes

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dresupi · 4 years

Text

Fred Weasley/Hermione Granger - The Sweater Song

1,283 words Rated T The Sweater Song - Weezer

~~~~~~~~~~

The yarn was stuck down in the carpet. Royal blue. It stood out against the crimson carpet in the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione frowned when she saw it, bending at the waist and pinching it between her forefinger and thumb.

“What’s that?” Ron asked, squinting. “It’s blue.”

“Well done, Ron,” Harry exclaimed, clapping him on the back. “Dunno what we’d do without you, mate.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at the two of them before visually following the blue yarn as far as she could, and then when she couldn’t do that anymore, she did what any responsible and curious girl would do.

She began to wind it into a ball, following the trail it left.

“Hey, Hermione,” Ron called. “If you’re going to ball up yarn, can me and Harry meet you in the courtyard later for Herbology?”

“Harry and I,” she said absently.

“What?”

“You said me and Harry, it’s Harry and I.”

Ron sighed. “Can we meet you later?”

“Of course, go,” she said, rolling the yarn as it went down the stairs. The boys left, which mean she was on her own to wind up the yarn as she pleased. And as it happened, the yarn led her over both of the armchairs in front of the fireplace, weaving in and out of all the chair legs, sometimes wrapped around them once or twice over. After that, it led up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory, but it was bunched up in a wad outside one of the doors, so she stood there, rolling it before she kept going.

Along the wall this time, and out the Fat Lady’s portrait.

As she walked, she wondered what in the world could be at the other end of it, but it was as likely as not, someone’s jumper unravelling. But this was infinitely more interesting than listening to Ron and Harry talk Quidditch.

She liked it well enough, but it was all they bloody well talked about.

Perhaps mum was right. Maybe she needed girlfriends.

Well, there was Luna. She certainly wasn’t talking about Quidditch, was she? Wasn’t talking about much that existed in the realm of reality either, but no Quidditch, so that was a plus, wasn’t it?

By the time she got to the trophy room, she had a rather large ball of yarn, which would at least, in lieu of anything else, be a nice toy for Crookshanks.

She found the end of it in front of of one of the shelves along the north wall of the room, looking down at the ball in her hand and the place where she’d ended up. It was sort of anticlimactic. But she supposed this could just be a side effect of being friends with the Boy Who Lived. Everything else looked boring in comparison.

But even though she was too close to the situation to be an accurate judge, she didn’t think finding nothing at the end of a line of yarn was very interesting regardless.

“You look almost disappointed, love.”

She glanced up and into the twinkling eyes of Fred Weasley. It was likely the yarn from one of his jumpers. Mrs. Weasley always made the twins blue jumpers for the holidays.

And she’d grown rather fond of Fred’s kind eyes, and that’s how she knew exactly which twin was standing before her. Not that George didn’t have kind eyes, but...

“I found it in the common room,” she said, “and on the floor... leading here... what was it? A prank?”

“What sort of prank would it be?”

“Is this going to unravel and choke me or something?”

“What kind of a prank would choke someone to death, Granger?” He sounded almost offended. Almost.

“Not to death, obviously,” she scoffed. “One can choke without dying.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t do that.” He crossed both arms over his chest, noticeably sans jumper.

“I know you didn’t lose it,” she replied. “It was wound around table legs and the ike. Unless you were slithering on the floor like a serpent.”

He chuckled. “Correct again. I didn’t lose it. It was intentional.”

“Why then?” she asked. “I’m certain I have no idea.”

“Just to see who would roll it up. You know it’s been there for hours. It’s a bloody shame, it is. Not a single one of those Gryffindors tried to help.”

“And what? The person who rolls it up is pure of heart?” she asked.

“Something like that.”

She shrugged and handed him the yarn ball. “Have fun wearing that to class.”

“I think it’s lovely. You shouldn’t be so disparaging about my mum’s work, you know. Just in case she’s enchanted the yarn to report back to her or something.”

She laughed. “Have a good day, Fred.”

“You too, Granger... say... can George and I get your ideas on a few things?”

Ah, so that was it. It had been a test. And she’d passed. And now they wanted to pick her brain.

“That depends,” she replied.

“Upon?”

“My payment,” she said, sniffing.

“Payment?” he asked laughing.

“Yes. I see you two making money. I’d like a cut. And if so, you can have all you’d like of my brain,” she replied with a smirk.

One Fred returned. “You’ve got it, Granger. I’m holding you to it though.” He held out his hand and she shook it. “All of your brain that I want.”

She grinned. “And George as well.”

“He’s not here, though...” he said, looking around. “It’s just me here. And you shook my hand.”

“Fine. Just for you, then,” she said, grinning.

Fred smiled too and jammed his free hand in his pocket, bouncing the yarn ball in his hand. “Just for me, huh? Whatever will I do with the cleverest witch in the Wizarding World?”

Hermione wasn’t great at this, but she didn’t have Harry and Ron here to make her feel self-conscious or poke fun at her responses, so she attempted a bit of bravery.

“I suppose you’ll do whatever you want with her,” she said slowly.’

“Within reason,” he replied quickly.

“Oh of course, Fred. That’s what you’re known for. Your reason.” She winked and he blushed again, stammering a bit as he dropped the yarn ball. It rolled across the floor, unravelling a bit as it went.

“Say, ummm Granger... next weekend’s a Hogsmeade weekend.”

“It is,” she replied, watching the yarn ball unravel a bit more.

“You and I, we could meet at the Three Broomsticks and uh...”

“Talk about my ideas on some things?” she filled in for him, giving him an out because he looked so very discomforted by their conversation.

“No,” he said softly. “Figured we could have lunch.”

“You and I?” she asked.

“Yeah, is that okay? Or would you rather George were there too?”

“You know I don’t mind George...” she began.

“I’ll be sure to tell him. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about him.”

“I don’t mind him,” she continued, “But if given the choice between you alone or both of you, I’d have to choose you alone.”

He smiled and bent to retrieve the ball of yarn. “I’ll meet you there around one, then?”

“I’d like that,” she confirmed.

“Brilliant,” he exclaimed, turning to leave, boucning the yarn ball in his hand as he left.

Hermione took a deep breath and tried to stop beaming as she waited for him to clear off before she left as well, she had to run back to the common room and gather her books for herbology. And hopefully not give away what she hoped to keep secret for a while at least.

She supposed what she’d found at the end of the yarn wasn’t so anticlimactic after all.

#Fremione #Fred x Hermione #Hermione x Fred #Fred Weasley #Hermione Granger #Fred/Hermione #Hermione/Fred #Song Prompts 2020 #orange #my writing #Anonymous

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rainydayhogwartsimagines · 4 years

Note

It’s me again lol thank you for the first one. I was wondering if you could do another fic w Fred with a admirer makes him a kandi bracelet, if you don’t know what that is then you can skip but thank you for considering- ❤️

I dead ass forgot the name of Kandi bracelets! But I totally know what these are I've got like six of these bad boys in a box somewhere

Fred was curious about this whole situation. He was finding bracelets... Everywhere. The weirdest part was he knew they were meant for him. Little phrases only he could understand would be left on these things, along with the fact they'd be left in places only he would go to. He wouldn't wear all of them. No. He'd simply keep them in a box but he would wear the newest one he could find the next one in hopes of it's maker seeing it and commenting on it. He was curious to know who knew him this well. And why he didn't seem to know them. He sighed, finding the latest one resting on a table in the library. He knew there was no point in asking if anyone had seen it's maker. Whoever you were you were otherwise well known and had everyone in on this, or you were practically invisible to people. He asked many times in open areas if anyone had seen you all with the same answer: Nope. You sat down next to him and rose a brow. "Still getting these from them?" You asked. "Yep." Fred said taking off the last one and sticking in his pocket. "still no luck in finding them hmm?" You asked. "I don't get it. How are they able to leave them in places beforehand without being seen." Fred asked. "I'm not sure." You shrugged. "What's the newest one even say?" You asked. "I solemnly swear that I am... Up to no good-- this person knows about the marauders map." He said. "That's limiting it to a very slim amount of people then." You pointed out. "I feel like Sherlock every time I look at these." Fred said curiously. You choked on air hearing that reference. "How in the world do you know Sherlock Holmes?" You asked. "I read it after you asked me to 'read at least one muggle book so I don't sound crazy' Y/n." Fred chuckled. "You read?" You gaped. "I know. Shocking. Don't tell anyone or else my reputation might be ruined." He said sarcastically making you smile. You turned back to your book and Fred smiled. He loved seeing that beautiful smile on your face, it was like he was seeing it for the first time everytime he saw it. You could feel him staring and hid behind your strands of hair but he tucked them behind your ear and you blushed crimson. Fred smiled even more and you sighed. "I can't study if you keep distracting me Fred." You whined. "Yes I am a fun distraction though." He said. "Midterms Fred. Midterms." You said making him sigh and rest his head on his arms. He soon fell asleep and you looked at the bracelet on his arm.

He wore them. All the time. It pleased you to see he did want to meet the maker. But would he still want them if it was you? You were the listener of the group, usually listening to everyone's problems but never saying your own. Fred was the only one though who actually listened to you. He would notice your tired stares and ask what was wrong. You'd give him a half ass answer but then he'd ask you to "elaborate on that please" and you'd wind up telling him. You and him would have little moments yes. But you've seen him do this with plenty of other girls. You didn't want a "fling" you wanted something more, something impactful. Fred liked you of course though unbeknownst to you. A part of him was hoping you'd drop a hint that it was you behind these bracelets. But so far... Nothing. The next day came and another clue was left by a spot in the staircase he and George would hang out at. "Oh, your secret admirer left a present again." George yawned as he sat. Fred lifted it and rose a brow. "Sherlocking time. Find me." Fred read looking up. George leaned up. "Think we'll meet the maker?" He asked. "Sounds like that's what they're trying to get me to do." Fred agreed. You stopped and noticed the boys. "Left you another bracelet?" You asked, motioning to the new one. "Yeah, they said 'find me'." Fred said. You rose a brow. "So are you going to go off looking?" You asked. "In a moment. I'm going to nap first. Long day. Long. Long. Day." He yawned. You chuckled and walked past. You knew he'd do that.

You knew this boy all to well. You started leaving them along his route, but only in places you'd knew he'd have to sit or stand in a specific spot to see. You were a clever little thing you. It was a wonder you weren't in Ravenclaw. Fred soon woke up from his name and leaned up, seeing the glint of a metallic bead. "...The chase has begun." Fred noted as he got up. George yawned and blinked a few times to see his brother finding another one. "Where you go to be alone." So... The lake? Fred started walking and George trailed after him. "Where are you going?" George asked. "They left another clue." Fred said. It took him a bit but he finally made it to the lake, looking around the area just to come up empty handed. Where was this damn thing? He sighed and sat on a rock before seeing a blue bead. You sneaky little shit. He walked over to the small plant it was on and found it. "Clever. Find the plant name." Was inscribed on the beads. "Now how the hell am I going to do that?" Fred grumbled. Luna rose a brow. "What do you have there?" She asked, her voice light and soft as she spoke. "Oh. A bracelet. Someone's been leaving these for me." He admitted. "Like a scavenger hunt?" Luna asked. "Yes, exactly. But now I'm reaching a dead end." Fred grumbled. "What's it say?" Luna asked. "Find the plant name." He muttered. "Oh... Have you checked in a book?" Luna asked. Fred facepalmed. "That's so obvious. Thank you Lovegood." Fred said making her chuckle as he ran past. He found you in the library reading and he tapped you. "Hmm?" You asked turning to him. "Do you know where I might be able to find a book on plants?" Fred asked. "Well that's a lot of books Fred. Can you narrow this down?" You asked. "Plants that grow near lakes?" He guessed. "...Hmm..." You got up and walked into a aisle before picking up six different books. "What's this for anyways? Finally doing homework?" You asked. "Aha. Funny." Fred said making you laugh and shake your head.

He smiled as he sat down flipping through pages. It wasn't until he read the fifth book he finally found the next bracelet, squished between it's pages. You rose a brow. "Whoever this is, they are thorough as fuck." Fred muttered. "Where you met me." Was inscribed. "Well that's where this dies out." Fred groaned. "Fred, we already know this person knows about the Marauder's map. So that's like four people." You said. "Shit. You're right." He nodded making you roll your eyes. Then Fred paused. "Wait... Three people know about the map." He said. "Hmm?" You asked. "Only three. Not four." Fred said. "Harry, Fred. And Angelina knows too. George had a slip up in front of her." You said. "...Shit." Fred groaned. "Process of elimination. We know it's not George." Fred muttered to himself. You snorted. "You're beginning to actually sound like Sherlock now." You laughed. "Shh. I'm thinking." Fred said with a tone that was joking. You bit back a snort and you shook your head. "Where did me and you meet?" Fred asked. "Uhm... Courtyard. I think?" You recalled. "Right! It was in the winter!" He nodded. "Where did I meet Angelina?" He asked. "Uhm... Also... The courtyard." You said. "Shit. You're right. Gotta be thorough." Fred said before leaving. Luna sat down in front of you. "Stuck around and told him didn't you?" You asked her. "I'm surprised his first conclusion wasn't a book." Luna giggled silently. You smiled and Angelina sat down next to you. "Alright, so who's directing him to the next one?" Angelina asked. "Uhm... I thought you were." Luna said softly. "We gotta keep this inconclusive, he'll catch on that's Luna's in on this if we give her the next spot again." You said. "Hmm. Alright I'll do it." Angelina said with a smirk. "Confuse him just a little bit. I swear making that boy read was both a blessing and a curse, he's gained deductive reasoning." You snorted making her laugh. Sure enough there was a confused Fred, trying to recall exactly where he met you. "Is it Angelina?" He asked before Angelina walked over to a confused Fred. "What are you doing?" Angelina asked. "I'm looking for a clue. And coming up with nothing-- where did I meet you two?" Fred asked Angelina. "we were sitting." She muttered before sitting on the bench pretending to ponder. Fred rose a brow and then sat next to her before noticing the next clue. It was under another bench across. Jesus this person knew how to hide things at an angle. He gripped the bracelet and read it "Where you go to think" so... The astronomy tower. He groaned and began walking and Angelina nearly snorted watching him gripe the entire way there. Six other bracelets were found, all of them being in obscure places before he finally found one. "Look for the listener." He rose a brow. What the fuck did that mean? He walked back to the great hall and everyone was sitting around. "Where have you been?" George asked. "Looking for these things." He sighed. "Hit another dead end?" You asked. "Yeah. 'look for the listener.' what does that even..." Then it hit him. You. The answer was you. "Fred? You look like the Bloody Baron just passed through you, are you alright?" Angelina asked. "The listener in our group is Y/n." Fred said looking at you. George and Angelina looked at you and you smirked. "Surprise." You said, taking off the last bracelet. "Found me." Was inscribed on the beads. He chuckled and shook his head. "You're thorough." He said. "I didn't think you actually read Sherlock Holmes... That caught me off guard." You chuckled. Fred got up and extended his hand. "Come on." He said.

"Where are we--" "we need to talk." He said and you took his hand with a confused look. "Fred if you're upset then I'm really sorry I just thought that it was fun and--" "I'm not upset, that was fucking brilliant." He chuckled. "...It was?" You asked. "You need to organize a group event or something because honest to God that was AMAZING." Fred said making you chuckle. "I had help." You said softly. "From who-- Angelina and Luna!" He gasped making you giggle. Fred smiled and shook his head. "Christ woman, you're going to make me fall harder for you if you keep this up." Fred said making your eyes widened. "You... You actually--" "Yes! Y/n I was hoping this was you! God I knew you were smart but you're giving the actual Sherlock Holmes a run for his money Princess!" He said making you smiled. "A...are you sure that you... I mean... I..." You shuffled. "I like you Y/n... And if you'll let me I'd like to be your boyfriend." He said. You smiled and took out the actual last bracelet. "Mischief Managed." He smiled at it and put it on your wrist. "I'll wear the other one. That way we're a set." He said with a smile. Your face must've been as red as the Gryffindor house colors as Fred kissed you. You smiled and chuckled. He took your hand and went back into the great hall, arm wrapped around you. "It worked!" Luna smiled, now sitting with Angelina. "We've got ourselves a trickster amongst the group." George teased. You smiled and Fred kissed the side of your head. "How'd you even know where to put half of these though?" Fred asked about the bracelets.

"elementary my dear Watson"

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley

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butterflies-dragons · 4 years

Text

Sansa Stark and The Exile Prince

You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defending now? You were my town, now I'm in exile, seeing you out (...) I'm not your problem anymore So who am I offending now? You were my crown, now I'm in exile, seeing you out

—Exile ~ Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver (*)

***

At the end of Game of Thrones, the TV Show, Jon Snow is a prince, but he is exiled from his homeland. Sansa fought for Jon's release after Daenerys’ murder, but he was sent to the Night's Watch.

Then at their farewell, Sansa regrets she was unable to gain Jon’s release, but he comforts her by saying the North will be in good hands under her guidance.

That’s why the new Taylor Swift’s Folklore song: Exile, featuring Bon Iver, is making all our wounded jonsa hearts bleed again...

[Let’s cry together while watching this beautiful Exile Jonsa fanvideo...]

Last year, Sansa’s fight for Jon to be released reminded me very much of her pleadings for Ned’s freedom:

The king! Sansa blinked back her tears. Joffrey was the king now, she thought. Her gallant prince would never hurt her father, no matter what he might have done. If she went to him and pleaded for mercy, she was certain he’d listen. He had to listen, he loved her, even the queen said so. Joff would need to punish Father, the lords would expect it, but perhaps he could send him back to Winterfell, or exile him to one of the Free Cities across the narrow sea. It would only have to be for a few years. By then she and Joffrey would be married. Once she was queen, she could persuade Joff to bring Father back and grant him a pardon.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

GRRM has said that the major players’ endings will be similar in the Books, and yes, he has also called Sansa a major player, so Sansa Stark being Queen of an independent North opens the possibility that she could grant Jon a pardon, so he could go back to Winterfell.

Asoiaf Books are full of exiled characters, especially Targaryen ones, like Maegor, Daemon, Viserys, Daenerys, all of them obsessed to claim the Iron Throne for themselves, and that’s the big difference with Jon Snow and the reason to be hopeful for some kind of pardon, reconciliation and returning home to, at last, enjoy some peaceful time at home, a true Dream of Spring.

But Sansa Stark has already crossed paths with an Exile Prince. Let’s see:

Back in AGOT Sansa introduced us to a very particular courtier of the Red Keep: Jalabhar Xho.

Jalabhar Xho is the exiled Prince of the Red Flower Vale, likely exiled for losing a highly ritualized war as per the tradition of the Summer Isles. Following his exile, Jalabhar came to King's Landing in the Seven Kingdoms to request gold and swords from King Robert I Baratheon to help him regain the Red Flower Vale. Robert always entertained the notion of conquering the Summer Isles, but continuously told Jalabhar and put it off until the next year. Although Robert always put off Jalabhar's request for help, he never firmly declined him, telling him "Next year" instead of "No".

Jalabar Xho has a strong bird imagery that connects him with Sansa, since she is mockingly called a bird of the Summer Isles:

Flowers of a thousand different sorts bloom in profusion on the Summer Isles, filling the air with their perfume. The trees are heavy with exotic fruits, and a myriad of brightly colored birds flitter through the skies. From their plumage the Summer Islanders make their fabulous feathered cloaks.

—The World of Ice & Fire

Sandor Clegane stopped suddenly in the middle of a dark and empty field. She had no choice but to stop beside him. "Some septa trained you well. You're like one of those birds from the Summer Isles, aren't you? A pretty little talking bird, repeating all the pretty little words they taught you to recite."

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

The denizens of Joffrey's court had striven to outdo each other today. Jalabhar Xho was all in feathers, a plumage so fantastic and extravagant that he seemed like to take flight.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa VIII

Sansa is the POV where this Prince of the Summer Isles is most mentioned. Out of the 22 mentions of Jalabar Xho in the Books, 8 of those mentions are in Sansa’s chapters, followed by the 7 mentions of the exile prince in Cercei’s chapters. But what is really curious and very interesting is the fact that most of those mentions are in a romantic context linked with love and weddings:

Jeyne Poole confessed herself frightened by the look of Jalabhar Xho, an exile prince from the Summer Isles who wore a cape of green and scarlet feathers over skin as dark as night, but when she saw young Lord Beric Dondarrion, with his hair like red gold and his black shield slashed by lightning, she pronounced herself willing to marry him on the instant.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

He was one of the few spectators at Joffrey’s Name Day Tourney:

Most of the spectators were guardsmen in the gold cloaks of the City Watch or the crimson of House Lannister; of lords and ladies there were but a paltry few, the handful that remained at court. Grey-faced Lord Gyles Rosby was coughing into a square of pink silk. Lady Tanda was bracketed by her daughters, placid dull Lollys and acid-tongued Falyse. Ebon-skinned Jalabhar Xho was an exile who had no other refuge, Lady Ermesande a babe seated on her wet nurse's lap. The talk was she would soon be wed to one of the queen's cousins, so the Lannisters might claim her lands.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa I

Jalabar Xho was present at Sansa’s wedding with Tyrion Lanniters, he said something to her in the Summer Tongue while they danced together:

Merry Crane took the floor with the exile prince Jalabhar Xho, gorgeous in his feathered finery.

(...)

The music spun them apart before Sansa could think of a reply. It was Mace Tyrell opposite her, red-faced and sweaty, and then Lord Merryweather, and then Prince Tommen. "I want to be married too," said the plump little princeling, who was all of nine. "I'm taller than my uncle!"

"I know you are," said Sansa, before the partners changed again. Ser Kevan told her she was beautiful, Jalabhar Xho said something she did not understand in the Summer Tongue, and Lord Redwyne wished her many fat children and long years of joy.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

[Here you can find a fanart of Sansa and Jalabar Xho dancing together]

Jalabar Xho and Sansa met again during The Purple Wedding and they talked about the Wedding Customs of the Summer Isles:

Tyrion led Sansa around the yard, to perform the necessary courtesies.

She is good at this, he thought, as he watched her tell Lord Gyles that his cough was sounding better, compliment Elinor Tyrell on her gown, and question Jalabhar Xho about wedding customs in the Summer Isles. His cousin Ser Lancel had been brought down by Ser Kevan, the first time he'd left his sickbed since the battle. He looks ghastly. Lancel's hair had turned white and brittle, and he was thin as a stick. Without his father beside him holding him up, he would surely have collapsed. Yet when Sansa praised his valor and said how good it was to see him getting strong again, both Lancel and Ser Kevan beamed. She would have made Joffrey a good queen and a better wife if he'd had the sense to love her. He wondered if his nephew was capable of loving anyone.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

The last we know about this particular character is that he is falsely accused by the Blue Bard to be one of Queen Margaery’s lovers and Cersei would be willing to send him to the Night’s Watch if he confesses:

Behind Margaery came a long tail of courtiers, guards, and servants, many of them laden with baskets of fresh flowers. Each of her cousins had an admirer in thrall; the gangly squire Alyn Ambrose rode with Elinor, to whom he was betrothed, Ser Tallad with shy Alla, one-armed Mark Mullendore with Megga, plump and laughing. The Redwyne twins were escorting two of Margaery's other ladies, Meredyth Crane and Janna Fossoway. The women all wore flowers in their hair. Jalabhar Xho had attached himself to the party too, as had Ser Lambert Turnberry with his eye patch, and the handsome singer known as the Blue Bard.

—A Feast for Crows - Cersei VI

"I prefer this song to the other." Leave the great lords out of it, that was for the best. The others, though . . . Ser Tallad had been a hedge knight, Jalabhar Xho was an exile and a beggar, Clifton was the only one of the little queen's guardsman. And Osney is the plum that makes the pudding. "I know you feel better for having told the truth. You will want to remember that when Margaery comes to trial. If you were to start lying again . . .

(...)

Alone, the Blue Bard's confession would never suffice. Singers lied for their living, after all. Alla Tyrell would be of great help, if Taena could deliver her. "Ser Osney shall confess as well. The others must be made to understand that only through confession can they earn the king's forgiveness, and the Wall." Jalabhar Xho would find the truth attractive. About the rest she was less certain, but Qyburn was persuasive . . .

—A Feast for Crows - Cersei IX

Does the Exile Prince Jalabhar Xho reminds you of someone? Maybe of another Prince, that will probably be exiled from his homeland after some succession dispute, that is surrounded by bird imagery because he wears a black cloak, that is called ‘crow’ and knows an actual crow that repeats everything it hears, that is linked with Sansa Stark, that once imagined himself dancing with a creature that talked to him in a foreign tongue, and that once organized a foreign custom wedding of a Lady with whom he once danced? Do I need to say it?

Damn it, George! What are you doing?

(*) This post was written while listening Exile over and over and over again...

#Sansa Stark #Jon Snow #Jalabhar Xho #is this jonsa?#jonsa #gif not mine

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luciferloveschloe · 4 years

Note

50 Cliché Prompts: 27

27. Help me I’m being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second

this is part of my 1k celebration! i invited people to send in prompts.

okay, so, the fact that i need to explain this highlights how long it took me to write it. in my defense, i have never written a longer one shot, and there is fake dating and pining and feelings and a bit of smut thrown in for flare. enjoy!

[deckerstar, 4.5k words, set early in s2, fake dating, first time, porn with feelings]

of holy things

“Ms. Decker?”

Lucifer’s bartender – Patrick, she remembers – slides a tumbler to where she’s taken a seat at the bar, perched somewhat uncomfortably.

“Oh no, I didn’t order any–“

“Ms. Decker, please.” Patrick interrupts her. “You do know you’re at the very top of our guest list, right?”

Oh. Oh.

She can’t help but glance in Lucifer’s direction, who’s currently deep in conversation with Maze, his right-hand-ninja-demon-bartender-whatever, pouring over what appear to be business records. He’s in a dark ensemble today, hair just the tiniest bit ruffled from their work, and he’s smirking at something Maze said. It suits him, all of it.

The very top, huh?

“Well, let me just…”

She makes to scramble for her wallet, but Patrick only shakes his head at her, chuckling softly.

“Do you want me to lose my job, Detective Decker?”

At that, she takes the offered drink with a grateful, earnest smile, tipping it briefly in salute to him before turning in her seat to face her partner’s club in full swing.

The stakeout had been a complete bust, she can admit that, but it had also been in close proximity to Lux. Lucifer had offered his penthouse to regroup and go over the case files again, Dan had Trixie for the night, and Chloe had agreed to his plan fast enough not to second-guess herself.

As she watches the ecstatic dancing, she starts to relax. Tonight’s DJ is clearly talented, the base surprisingly isn’t too overwhelming for her, and Patrick has mixed her a whiskey sour, she recognizes, which is– Absolutely delicious, really. Tart, sweet, perfectly balanced – and probably also ridiculously expensive. But, guest list.

Who knew having a night club owner for a partner came with such perks?

Said night club owner is still talking with Maze, though, and Chloe hopes he–

“Hello, beautiful.”

Oh, no.

The man stands right in front of her, and it’s too late to turn back to the bar again. Someone trying to flirt with her is the last thing she needs tonight. She opens her mouth to say so, but gets interrupted.

Rude.

“I’m George, by the way. I’ve been watching you since you came in. You’re such a pretty little thing.”

George is in his late forties, by her guess, and passably attractive. He’s also condescending, drunk, all but shouting in her ear and standing way too close for her comfort.

“Sorry, but I’m not in the mood for–“

She halts because he’s just put his right hand on her thigh, clammy fingers reaching toward her ass.

No. Definitely no.

“What’s your name, sweetheart? Tell me while we’re dancing, alright?”

Both of his hands clutch at her skin now, insistently, and she’s helpless at the instinctual well of fear inside of her. But not helpless against him.

Her fingers find her badge easily, and she reckons it’ll be enough to scare George into–

“What’s going on here?”

Lucifer’s voice is sharp and cold next to her, and she breathes easier instantly. George’s hands slip from her legs, and his gaze flicks between them in confusion. She knows the look Lucifer has fixed on him right now, knows the deadly calm, disquieting focus of eyes that sparkle for her, and she loves that it makes the other man squirm.

This is so much more satisfying than just flashing her badge at him, and – hold on, jerk – it’s about to get even better.

“Oh, Lucifer! Let me introduce you to George here. George, meet Lucifer, my boyfriend.”

“Boyfr–“

She elbows him to get him to shut up, then leaps from the bar stool and wraps her arm tight around his waist, pulling him to her.

Lucifer tries to sputter more, but when she looks up at him, he swallows and recovers enough to put his arm around her shoulders, the sensation somehow featherlight. Maybe she should be more shocked at how nice his touch feels in contrast, how right.

“I– I… I didn’t realise–“

George’s stammering is ridiculous, the crimson blush on his face betrays his embarrassment, and the way he tries not to cower speaks of how effective Lucifer’s psycho tricks are. Chloe fervently hopes their show will be cringy enough for George to stop him from bothering anyone else tonight.

“Oh, it’s a fresh thing,” Lucifer beams, now clearly onboard with her plan to cause maximum mischief.

She can’t not grin at how giddy he looks, and raises up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. He smells of luxurious cologne, maybe sandalwood, and something that’s just inexplicably him, something warm and intoxicating that makes her want to trail her lips down his neck to mouth at his collarbone.

What happened to being repulsed on a chemical level, exactly?

Her kiss probably turns out less chaste and fake than she intended, and when Lucifer’s smirk slips off his face and his eyes find hers, fingers hovering over where her lips were, she fumbles.

“Babe, let’s… Grab our stuff and head to the penthouse, yeah?”

She turns to gather her bag and the casefiles without waiting for an answer. When she’s facing Lucifer again, he nods at her, a cheeky little smile curling his mouth for her eyes only. They only spare George a glance when they leave, walking closely. Lucifer’s palm rests at the small of her back, barely touching, warm, soothing.

It stays there until they arrive at the elevator, when Lucifer withdraws it to punch in the code. Chloe immediately mourns its absence, but the doors slide open for them and Lucifer gestures for her to go in first.

His eyes are intent on her, his expression uncharacteristically open, almost insecure. There’s wonderment there as well, and awe. She smiles at him in return, unguarded and joyful because she wants to, and maybe because she’s just a little awed herself.

–

Chloe’s smile warms him like the sun, but he’s still apprehensive, and he can’t shake the image of that dullard’s hand on her thigh from his mind. The doors close behind them, and Chloe sags against the wall across from him, relieved. Or deflated, rather?

“Detective, are you alright though? I should have noticed that insolent, boorish nitwit sooner, I apologise–“

“Lucifer, no. I’m okay! There’s nothing to apologise for. I was just about to show him my badge, actually, but when you showed up… Well, I hope what we did will be more effective.”

Oh.

What they did.

Nothing, really. But he still feels a band of warmth where she’d pulled him into her side, and his skin still prickles where she’d pressed her lips to his cheek. It never felt like this before. Why does it feel different? What is she doing to him?

And why, why can’t he stop thinking about how her body felt underneath his hands?

(Soft, bare ivory instead of blazers and jeans and suits. His fingers wander, and her body yields to his, breathless sighs taking the place of clever quips and banter. She’s his Detective, she’ll always be, but here, in the gentle darkness of sins and holy things, here with him, she’s only Chloe. They’re wrapped around each other, flesh and bones and soul, and she moans in his ear. His name has never sounded sweeter than on her tongue, and he groans and he kisses her and–)

“Lucifer?”

He clears his throat, and it’s too loud in the small space, jarring. She’s studying him with her sea foam eyes, curious, and she has no right to be so beautiful in her simple white blouse and black jeans. His heart still thumps in his chest, and he needs to touch her, to be touched by her again, so very badly.

The Devil, tempted.

“Well… Well, I’m sure it was. Effective, that is. But I’ll text Maze to chuck him out anyway. There’s no room for miscreants like him in Lux, after all.”

He unlocks his phone to do just that, and he’s glad for the task, the distraction it provides him.

“Oh, that’s… That’s good. Thank you, Lucifer.”

He pauses and nods, trying for nonchalance and failing miserably.

There’s that rush coursing through him again, this exquisite high he’s never quite managed to recreate since, no matter how many of his favourite substances and bedfellows he’s been combining.

And it’s… It’s just her, he realises with sudden, aching clarity. Her, and how she… The way he feels when–

“Lucifer, are you okay? I hope I didn’t overstep earlier. I mean, I…”

He wants to claw at his collar, flee, needs to kiss her until he can’t breathe anymore.

Chloe…

How come she knows him so well already? How come she sees right through him when he’s spent literal eons perfecting his masks, his charades? All the walls he built in loneliness and despair, the last defences meant to protect him from more hurt and pain, they crumble and give easily before her.

Why does he want them to?

The elevator dings, and he’s saved by the bell.

“Nonsense, Detective. You know me, always up for some good old-fashioned roleplay! Now, tell me what drink I can pour you, darling.”

–

He’s oddly quiet next to her. So far, she’s counted several excellent opportunities for a bit of Luciferish commentary, but he’s used none of them. His contributions to the conversation are thoughtful, but clipped, any attempts at jokes half-hearted at best.

By now, it has worry eating at her insides, the unsettling feeling slowly replacing the strange euphoria from before, from when he’d touched her.

Although the question is on the tip of her tongue, she doesn’t ask him if he’s fine. Again.

He is focused on her though, there’s no doubt about that. His eyes follow the movements of her hands where she spreads and rearranges the evidence on the coffee table in front of them, and every so often, he nods in agreement to something she has said.

When he takes a sip of his brandy, she doesn’t acknowledge the slight tremor of his fingers.

“So, that’s why I think you were right, yesterday. We tailed the wrong guy after all.”

A statement as rare as this should earn her a gleeful, exuberant “Detective!” at the very least. Instead, he only smiles distractedly, barely even looking at her, and gets up from the chair across from her abruptly.

O…kay?

He starts to pace in the open space of the penthouse, and although she should probably gather her things and leave so he can sort out… whatever this is, she feels compelled to watch him. To stay with him.

He doesn’t seem to notice her concerned staring at all, his graceful long lines tense in a way they usually aren’t, his eyes distant and his mouth set in a hard line. It’s such a far cry from his bubbly joy from earlier, and she doesn’t understand.

A predator, she thinks, but scared and backed into a corner.

What could possibly unnerve him like that?

He drags a trembling hand through his hair, the hair that’s always meticulously and perfectly styled, and it’s all wrong.

Maybe she can get him to talk by dragging him back to their case? A little bit of projecting never hurt nobody, either.

“So, Lucifer, what did you think about–“

“Can I touch you?”

“What?”

–

No. No, no, no, no, no.

“I… I’m sorry Detective, I didn’t… I‘m actually not feeling so well tonight? We should… We should go through the files at the precinct tomorrow. Alright, see you then!”

“No Lucifer, wait. What did you mean by that?”

Her eyes are bright and sharp when she’s focussed on him like she is now. Detecting mode on. She’s raw and unbridled energy, always hunting for the deeper truth, ready to pounce, ready to deliver justice, ready to bring whoever stands in her way to their knees.

She doesn’t know that before her, he’d sink to his knees willingly.

Chloe arches her eyebrows at his silence, and it’s a visceral effort to tear his thoughts away from her beauty.

“I– I just… When you–“

He has to stop and releases a shaky breath, feeling unsteady and disturbed by all this want, this pathetic longing that Chloe surely will have no need for.

“Lucifer, it’s alright, talk to me. We both… You make me vulnerable as well, remember? What do you need?”

He can’t lie to her.

“I– I want to touch you again, Detective. It felt… I know we only made believe, but I just–“

“Okay.”

It’s his turn to gape, now.

“What?”

Chloe tilts her head, considering. This can’t be a smirk she’s trying to hide. Can it?

“Wellll, I seem to have slept with my neck at a terrible angle last night, and my shoulders and back have been killing me for weeks now. I think… I could do with a back rub, actually. So…?”

She beckons him with sparkling eyes, smiling knowingly, and he’s helplessly lost.

“I– At once, darling.”

He crosses over to her, and tries to joke about massage oil and his comfortable bed, but it all gets stuck in his throat. He settles gingerly behind her on the couch eventually, his heart beating wildly and his stomach in knots, feeling as though he has never even touched a woman in his entire life.

And is this… Is this really what she desires? He has no way of knowing, will probably ruin things between them, and–

Chloe cranes her neck to look back at him, nothing but warmth in her gaze.

“Stop overthinking and worrying, okay? I want– I want this, too.”

He nods, completely enthralled by all her mercy, but she turns to face forward again, lifting her hair away from her shoulders. Just like that, her soft skin is bared before him, and he drinks in the graceful lines of her exposed neck and back. Without even intending too, his fingers card through her hair, carefully smoothing it to one side.

She sighs, and he brushes his fingertips over the expanse of her back, his hands coming to rest lightly atop her shoulders.

He knows it’s no small gift to have earned the trust of his Detective, and he’s not sure if he deserves it, but fuck, he’ll give his all to be what she needs, to give her everything she could ever want. He doesn’t understand his feelings, any of it, but he understands desire, and it has never been clearer to him what it is that he desires. Uncaring Devil façade be damned.

He starts with gentle pressure, massaging her with all the care and skill he possesses, and it is exactly as exhilarating as he thought it would be. She’s melting into him, her body welcoming and pliant under his hands, and he can’t quite believe she allows him to touch her like that.

When he tries digging his knuckles in a tad more forcefully, her surprised, pleased moan sends blood rushing towards his groin. He shivers, does it again, and–

“Yes, Lucifer, just like that. Right there, yes.”

This unfamiliar, all-consuming need is clawing out of him again, and it’s all he can do to clench his jaw, flex his fingers, and comply with her demand.

It’s not just that he can finally touch her, either. He can smell the nuances of her perfume, her shampoo, even her fabric softener. He feels her warmth and the rush of her blood, the vibrancy of her soul against his fingers. She should be just one simple human, but her life is more precious to him than he can even fathom, and everything about her calls to him like nothing, like no one before her ever has.

He continues to sweep his hands over her body, kneading down alongside the vertebrae of her spine, and her sounds of pleasure get him more drunk than all his booze ever managed.

When he’s arrived at her waist again, he stills her hands on her body and lets his forehead rest gently against her back. His breathing is heavy by now, but so is hers. He’s still not sure what they’re doing, but he has to ask before he goes insane. Slowly he moves his hands so that he’s cradling her waist, embracing her more fully. Surely she’ll flee now?

“Is this okay?”

To his surprise, Chloe covers his hands with her own, even pulls his fingers under her blouse suggestively.

“Yeah, Lucifer.”

He swallows hard, and finally dares to press his lips to her neck, peppering the skin he kneaded earlier with soft, open-mouthed kisses. There’s a small intake of breath, then Chloe sighs and arches her back as if to give him more access. He’s dizzy from it all, high on the sounds he can elicit from her, finally.

His fingers drift upward over her ribs of their own volition, but just below the temptingly full swell of her breasts, he hesitates.

“Chloe… Please, please tell me to stop when you need me to. I– I don’t want you to regret anything.”

To regret me.

Almost abruptly, she turns in his arms again. Her eyes focus on his for a second, intent and searching, then she drops her gaze to his mouth. She wets her lips, cradles his face with both of her hands, and claims his mouth with her own.

He groans against her lips, helplessly, and finally, gently cups her breasts. As if she set out to drive him mad specifically, she wears a simple lacy T-shirt bra under her blouse. He can feel everything through its material. When he flicks his thumbs over her stiff nipples, Chloe whines against his lips, nearly breaking off their kiss, and fuck, has he ever been harder in his life?

He takes his time to explore her, thoroughly, committing her shape and feel to his memory in case she decides never to grant him this again, and laughs when Chloe bites down on the swell of his lower lip.

“Lucifer,” she breathes against him, and it sounds even better than it did in his fantasy. She looks as dazed and unbelieving as he is, but her eyes are frantic with need. He wants nothing more than to please her, in whatever way he can.

“Let me take care of you, love. Please.”

She nods, and he slowly turns her in his arms. She leans fully against him now, not an inch of space between their bodies, and he notices the way her heart races.

He dreads the second she’ll leave him.

Almost timidly he lets his hands trace over her body until they’re resting at the tops of her thighs. When his hands hover over her fly, his resolve wavers again. Chloe saves him, pulling her zipper down quickly and wriggling, adorably, to give him more space.

She couldn’t state more boldly that she wants this, now, and the Devil might just come in his pants like a horny teenager.

Only their breathing fills the quiet as he slowly reaches to cup her over her panties, and they groan together at the first connection, as he realizes how drenched she is from what they’ve been doing.

“You kill me,” he whispers against the shell of her ear, then pushes her underwear aside because he has absolutely zero restraint left.

He’s allowed to touch, and she’s swollen and dripping wet. For him. He mouths at her neck, wraps his hand around her throat lightly when she throws her head back, and it’s intoxicating, all of it.

It would almost certainly be embarrassingly easy to get her off in this state. (Hell, he can barely keep himself in check, and he has eons of practice.) A few determined strokes, a handful of precise circles around her clit, and she’d be gone, he reckons. But this is not at all what she deserves, not at all what he wants to give her, now.

Instead, he takes his sweet time, caressing every inch of her, spreading her wetness with fingertips and knuckles, worshipping her silky skin. He keeps his touches deliberately featherlike, as if anything more would shatter her, but he knows it’s him that’s fragile, and he finds he’s not ashamed of it anymore.

She’s restless in his arms, writhing against his body, and he’s sure he bruises her hip with his left hand, but she doesn’t mind, keeping it there by pressing her own above it, linking their fingers together tightly.

Like this, only teasing and exploring, he brings her to the edge.

He senses when she’s almost there, and it’s glorious. She’s trembling and twitching, gifting him with quiet little whimpers he will treasure forever, and grips his thigh with enough force he has to bite back a grunt. (It hurts, and isn’t that marvellous in itself?)

But this is not how he wants to do this, and so he withdraws his fingers at what is possibly the last possible moment before she reaches her peak.

“Fuck, Lucifer– Why did you stop?!”

He almost feels sorry at the desperate lilt of her voice, almost. But pleasure is one of the few things he’s good at, and he knows this will be worth it in the end.

“I know, I know. Fuck, you feel so good, darling. Trust me when I say I know what I’m doing. I’ll stop your pleasure one more time and then I’ll make you come, I promise. If you don’t think it was worth it after that, you can throw me out of my own house, you have my word.”

She chuckles weakly, thankfully, then throws her head back again when he wastes no time and pushes one finger inside her.

“Ugh, Lucifer… More like you’ll do– Fuck. You’ll do my paperwork for a month.”

He smiles against her skin, both because of their banter and at the thought of him actually doing paperwork. He’s glad she doesn’t make a real deal out of it, but then, he trusts his abilities, doesn’t he?

She gasps when he finds her G-spot, and the way she clenches around him makes his eyes roll back in his head. He’s not sure which colour they are anymore. But all that matters is her pleasure, and he lets himself get lost in it.

He brings his thumb to massage her folds, all the sensitive spots he discovered earlier, but is careful to avoid direct contact with her clit. She keens in his arms, moaning openly, and he watches every beautiful reaction play across her face. He never wants this to stop.

A second finger follows the first, and he grazes sensitive nerves over and over, makes her grind against his fingers inside her. She pulses rhythmically around him, and the feel of her heat and strength maddens him.

“Lucifer, please, it’s so good…”

She almost sounds delirious by now, and it’s a conscious effort not to come just from this, just from seeing her carefree and lost in pleasure like this.

“Hold on for me, love, once more–“

He removes his hands from her body, and she whines and whips her head around immediately, crashing her lips to his with a fierce intensity that takes his breath away.

“Make me come already,” she demands against his mouth, and he groans helplessly.

He keeps her like she is now, wanting to watch when she finally falls apart, and returns his hands to her. With his left hand, he cups her breast, teasing a nipple with insistent, back-and-forth-strokes that earn him an exhale and hands fisting in his hair.

Two fingers of his right hand slip inside her again, snug against her G-spot, and he’s holding back nothing. Finally, he presses his thumb directly against her clit, in rough, dirty circles, just the way she needs now, and never lets his eyes leave hers.

After all the build-up, she’s completely lost in it, her face soon scrunching up in sensation beautifully and her fingers bruising his skin. He lets his forehead fall against hers and gasps with her, committing everything to his memory.

Her orgasm starts in little tremors and ripples across her body. Tangled up with her as he is, he feels them all, feels her clench around his fingers like a vice grip. Her mouth falls open, her eyes press shut, and finally, with his thumb circling her relentlessly, she freezes up in his arms and comes with a wail that cuts right through him.

He swallows it with his mouth, and he kisses her tenderly, smiling against her lips as she rides his hand through her peak, clinging to his body and whimpering softly.

Only when she goes limp and boneless in his arms he carefully removes his hands from her, breaking their kiss and opening his eyes to take her in, flushed and euphoric with pleasure. It’s the most beautiful, rapturous sight.

He brings his fingers to his lips because he has to, and he groans at her taste in his mouth, revels in the breath she sucks in.

“Fucking– Shit, Lucifer. You really had every right to brag all this time, didn’t you?”

She’s breathless and gorgeous and happy, and he always wants to be the reason she is.

“Course I did, darling,” he retorts automatically, but he can’t help the shit-eating grin, and he can’t help how not-unaffected he sounds.

Her smile dims a little, though, and it’s ridiculous how fast he panics. If she leaves now, he’ll be ruined forever.

“I– I know this is maybe not the right time, but I just… I guess I need to know if I’m just another notch in your bedpost, you know? If I am, if we are, I don’t know, more than– Ah shit, forget I said anything.”

She leans in to kiss and distract him, but he stops her with a finger, understanding perfectly for once.

Chloe couldn’t be farther away from being just another notch in his bedpost, he realises. She is light and everything good that’s been missing from his existence. His heart stutters inside his chest, but the thought that someone could hold power over him loses its terror when he’s looking at her, when her emerald eyes shine like they do now.

“You are, Chloe. We are,” he vows, and it’s the absolute truth.

Voicing it aloud lends his devotion a shape, and he knows the word humans would use to describe his feelings. Some dark part of him still scoffs at the notion of him ever being able to love someone, much less being loved in return, but nevertheless, he knows it’s love that spreads like fire in his veins, that settles like a comforting weight in his chest, that floods his battered heart with life and his soul with hope.

“Really? Oh, thank God,” Chloe mumbles before she kisses him again, and not even the mention of his father can take this giddy happiness away from him.

This is new. This is terrifying. But it is good, and this time, he cannot wait to fall.

“Lucifer,” Chloe breathes against his lips, and there is nothing but her.

#lucifer on netflix #deckerstar fanfiction #lucifer fanfiction #thedeckerstarnetwork #1k celebration #me actually writing #asks answered #i PROMISE i'll also complete the other prompts #i'm always this slow lmao

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weasleydream · 4 years

Text

Their girl

Here it is!! I have to admit I’m proud of this one (that’s why I even made a teaser) and I really hope you will love it too!

Just for information, a part is based on HBP movie and I’ve used a citation from Dr. Seuss (Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.)

I really hope you enjoyed as much as I did, and don’t hesitate to give me feedbacks and to comment, like or reblog!

Masterlist

(gif not mine)

Teaser

The trail was narrow, so narrow that the brambles growing on each side hurt my legs through the torn fabric of my jeans. I held my wand as tight as possible with my right hand while I constantly wiped my sweat from my forehead with my left one. My breath was jerky and my lungs were burning, along with my legs, but I couldn’t take the risk to stop now. I had to reach the cavern as soon as possible; I had to tell Sirius he was caught. The screams were getting louder and louder behind me. I didn’t have to turn around to see they were catching up with me. Suddenly, the somber entrance of the cavern appeared in front of me.

Something was wrong. When I had left, the ivy was arranged so that it could hide the cavern, but now it was on the ground. Fearing that Sirius had already been found, I used my last strengths and ran in the cavern. Sirius was nowhere to be seen, but George was here. He was standing a few meters away from me, looking at me with the same look full of hatred than my pursuers.

“You lied to me.”

His voice was hoarse, and I heard all the venom he probably wished he could have spit. His hands were clenched in fists and he took a few steps forward. I feared him. What if he hit me? The George I knew would have never done it, but the boy in front of me wasn’t really him. It was a copy, just a copy whose goal was to destroy me at all costs.

Absorbed by George, I hadn’t realized the screams were louder than ever. I suddenly felt their presence behind me and I slowly turned around, deciding giving my back to George was less dangerous than ignoring what was behind. When I saw their bodies, I gasped loudly and my weak knees stopped supporting me. They were both dead, their faces covered in blood as it seemed like they had been severely beaten. Crimson drops fell regularly from a strand of Sirius’ hair. Remus’ scars were completely invisible underneath the bruises. My loud cry echoed in the stone and I clasped my hands on my mouth.

The crowd in front of me opened, people stepping backward with a sort of silent respect emanating from them. He walked slowly toward me, his snake eyes fixed on mine and his smile more terrifying than anything else.

“They are dead because of you, Y/N. You are the responsible of their death. They are dead because of you.”

Lord Voldemort took his wand and pointed it on me. In a last attempt to stay alive, I jumped on my feet even though I was too desperate to find a way to escape. It was useless, though, because George’s arms were maintaining me firmly in front of my death.

“They are dead because of you, Y/N. They are dead because of you. Because of you. Because of you..”

I suddenly woke up, tangled in the sheets that were now soaked with my sweat. I sat and pushed furiously with my legs until the wet fabric fell on the floor and I threw my pillow against the wall, for good measure. I had felt my tears on it, and the salty drops were still rolling on my cheeks. I tried my best to calm my breath, but the terror that had taken over me was too strong. I abruptly got up and hit the nearest wall. Once, twice. I only stopped when my breath became less shaky and I felt the blood flooding from my knuckles. I decided I didn’t care and sat on the floor, the back resting against the wall, and like absolutely every night since I had to stay with Sirius, I thought about both my life and my nightmares.

I was an orphan. I had spent all my childhood in a muggle orphanage, not understanding why strange things happened around me and not around the others. One day, I had received Professor Dumbledore’s visit and he had explained me everything. The magical world, Hogwarts, he had even given me some informations about the first wizarding war that had killed both my parents. A few weeks later, I had sat on a stool with the Sorting Hat on the head and ended in Gryffindor. During my first years, I had made a lot of friends, I had played Quidditch… I wasn’t in the team, but my two best friends, Fred and George Weasley, had taught me everything about their favourite sport and whenever they invited me to their house, we would play during hours. Everything had changed during my sixth year, when I had met Sirius Black, who had escaped Azkaban the previous year. It was the very first breakout, and he was known as a dangerous murderer. But one day, as I was walking alone in Hogsmeade, three older men had attacked me and dragged me behind an empty shop. I didn’t know what would have happened if a huge black dog hadn’t showed up at this moment. Saying I was surprised when I saw the dog turning into Sirius Black and when I had understood he had saved me would be an understatement. However, I hadn’t been afraid. Something in his eyes, the desperation he showed me was enough for me to trust everything he had said. The following weeks, I had brought him food and blankets to make sure he would survive, even if I was obviously not the only one. I had always been careful not to be seen, but one day, two kids had followed me and seen Sirius. We had both seen them, and we knew they would denounce me. From this day, I hid with Sirius and no one never had any new of me, except Remus Lupin who was the only one to know where we were along with Dumbledore. The only thing I truly regretted was my bond with the twins, and even a bit more with George, who I liked very very much.

From this day, the nightmares haunted my nights, and I always had one solution. I eventually decided to get my ass up and left my room in the 12, Grimmauld Place. I came downstairs, hoping I would find Sirius in the living-room. A fire was burning in the chimney, which obviously wasn’t for the temperature, because since the beginning of the summer, London was a burning hell. No, I knew the cracklings of the fire were something quite reassuring for Sirius when he was woken up by his own nightmares. I found him lying on the couch. His eyes were closed but there was no snore escaping from his mouth.

“Sirius,” I whispered. “Please, groan if you’re awake.”

Indeed, he groaned loudly and opened his eyes after an ostensible yawn intended to make me understand how he wanted to sleep.

“Come on, make me some room.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and sat, letting me enough space to sit next to him.

“You want to talk about it?” He asked with a hoarse voice.

I knew he was looking at me, probably as worried as each night. And like every night, I shook my head, he sighed, passed an arm around my shoulders and recalled a funny story of his Hogwarts years. And as usual, I thought of how lucky I was to be with him, and how he and Remus were the closest things to a family I had ever had.

Remus arrived soon in the next morning to announce us we would have some visit. It was quite unexpected: in fact, since the end of June, Sirius, Remus and I had been the only ones in this scary house. When I recognized Dumbledore’s half-moon spectacles, my mouth fell wide open.

“I’m glad to see you too, miss Y/L/N.” He said with a smile. “I have to admit I would have been curious to see the results you would have obtained with your NEWTs but, what do you want, I guess it wasn’t meant for you.”

I shrugged, not really knowing what to answer. Even if I wasn’t an Hogwarts student anymore - and this thought always made my heart sting a bit - Albus Dumbledore was the kind of person who was intimidating, the kind you didn’t want to say stupid stuff in front of.

“But I’m not here to embarrass you with school problems. According to the situation we are facing, I want to inform the three of you that from now, the Order of the Phoenix rises from the ashes.”

I knew perfectly well what the Order of the Phoenix was. Dumbledore himself had told me about it a few years ago, back in the orphanage, and Sirius and Remus had also told me plenty of stories about it. But that wasn’t really a shock; after all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back and someone had to stop him. What shocked me was what Dumbledore told us after, with his piercing eyes fixed on me as if he knew how affected I would be.

“The Order has already found new members. Before the end of the week, the Weasleys will install here and help with the meetings. Molly and Arthur want to participate, and they will bring five of their children.”

After that, I was too taken aback to listen to their discussion. I caught a glimpse of Remus’ eyes on me before I stormed out of the kitchen where we had been and joined my room. Although I desperately wanted it to be a joke, a voice in my head whispered viciously I would have to face the twins in less than a week. My best friends, my first crush, whose several letters had always been ignored because I couldn’t take the risk to answer them… In the last one I had received, they had written they thought maybe I was dead. Maybe someone had kidnapped me, and when they had looked for me, they were too late. It was painful to read that, to know how pained they had been whereas I was alive, just unable to give them any information.

And they were going to live in this house for an entire summer.

“Bloody hell!” I shouted.

The door opened and Remus’ head appeared. He had obviously understood what was going in my mind as he sat next to me and ruffled softly my hair. I had noticed it was his way to show me some affection, because he was way more timid than Sirius who never hesitated to hug me if he wanted to.

“I know it will be difficult for you, Y/N, but it will be okay.” He said.

Something in his voice was reassuring, it was a true gift he had. No wonder why he had been every Hogwarts student’s favourite professor, me included. Despite his terrible condition, this guy had the biggest heart I had even seen.

“What if they hate me?” I whispered, looking up to him with teary eyes. “I haven’t shown any sign of life, they think I’m dead. What if they hate me for lying to them?”

“Technically, you didn’t lie, you just hid a part of the truth.” It was Sirius, whose shoulder was resting against the doorframe.

“Thank you, Sirius.” I narrowed my eyes at him and he grinned. Without even looking, I knew Remus had rolled his eyes.

“But Remus is right. Don’t worry, it will be okay. And if it isn’t, this house is big enough for you to avoid them.”

Sirius quickly dodged the pillow I had thrown to him and left with a laugh. Remus patted my shoulder and followed him, letting me alone with my thoughts.

I thought I was prepared. Hell, I had learned a speech to explain my situation, and to apologize. I should have known I would froze as soon as I would see them. And Merlin, it didn’t miss. The first ones to enter the house were Molly and Arthur. I recognized their voices, unable to see them because I was hidden in the kitchen. They had been like my parents, they had welcomed me in their house, and all of sudden, I felt the urge to jump in Molly’s comforting embrace. I had to remind myself I wanted to see the twins first. They immediately followed their parents and my heart skipped a beat when I heard them for the first time in months.

“I didn’t think I could visit a place dirtier than Filch’s office.”

I was pretty sure it was Fred. I couldn’t help but smile genuinely. George said something I couldn’t understand, and I heard Sirius describing them the way to the kitchen, asking them to grab something for him. Apparently, one of them wanted to use his wand - I suddenly remember they were now allowed to use magic outside school - but Sirius dissuaded them by showing the lovely portrait of his mother. A few seconds later, the door opened, and the twins stepped in the kitchen.

The only noise was the one of the door closing as Fred and George looked at me with round eyes and wide open mouth. I stood in front of them with what was probably the dumbest look ever seen on my face but unable to remember a bloody word of my speech. The first one to react was George, and before I could even process the fact that he had blinked, he was engulfing me in a bone crushing hug. Fred soon followed and I found myself in the middle of a Weasley sandwich in no time. I had imagined plenty of scenarios for this moment, but me bawling my eyes out in their arms wasn’t really what I expected. If anything, I would have thought the contrary would happen.

I would be unable to say how long we stayed like this, but no one interrupted us. I supposed Sirius and Remus had explained the situation to everyone by now, and they wanted us to sort things out.

“Why?” That was Fred’s first words for me. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What the hell even happened?” continued George. “Y/N, we thought you were dead. Dead! You just disappeared, like this and... “

“And we’ve felt so fucking guilty!” exclaimed Fred. “We thought it was our fault, that we shouldn’t have let you alone and -”

“Stop.” I had murmured but they both shut up, obviously waiting for an explanation.

And I gave it to them, without omitting any detail (except my crush on George), I told them everything from the day Sirius had saved me until the previous week when I had freaked out when learning they would come. I told them about my nightmares and how badly I had wanted to send them an owl, how guilty I had felt when I had read their last letter. They listened to me without saying anything, the same look in the eyes. I was unable to read them right now, their faces were closed and they weren’t even looking at me. When I finally finished, a heavy silent took place.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” I felt something like anger boiling in my veins, even though I knew I shouldn’t be the angry one.

“It’s a lot to process.” Fred said quietly.

“Y/N, I don’t think you understand…” If I didn’t know him better, I would have thought George was on the verge of crying. “We’ve hoped you were alive, somewhere… They have told us you were probably gone on your own, but we knew better than that. Then they have told us maybe you had been kidnapped, and you were probably dead. They… They wanted us to let go of you, to forget you, and we have.” I felt my heart stinging. “We have because it was too painful to think you had given up on us, and it was even worse to think you were dead. You can’t blame us for not knowing what to think. You just can’t.”

With that, he turned the heels and left, followed by Fred. None of them even looked at me, and if they had done so, they would have seen the most broken expression I had even shown. I knew it would be difficult but I had hoped they could understand they weren’t the only ones suffering in this. I had been forced to give up on my life, on the only place that had been home for me. I had lost my first real family.

I decided to avoid everyone and hid in my room for the rest of the day. When the diner approached, my stomach started to rumble but I refused to go downstairs and risk to run into Fred and George. I wanted to see Molly and Arthur along with Ron and Ginny and the mysterious fifth sibling accompanying them. However, I feared the same reaction than the twins, and I didn’t think I could handle that.

A soft knock on the door interrupted my thought. I ignored it, hoping that whoever was here would understand and leave me alone.

“Hey, groan if you’re awake.”

I chuckled despite myself and dragged my tired body to the door to let Sirius in. I immediately came back to my bed and dramatically threw myself on it.

“I guess it didn’t happen like you wanted.”

I shook my head, my face still hidden in the pillow. I felt his hand on my shoulder.

“I understand it’s hard but it will be okay, Y/N. Remus and I have explained everything to Molly and Arthur. Molly told us she would talk to Fred and George but only if you bring your ass downstairs. I think she wants to know if we feed you correctly.” I laughed.

“We’re lucky she wasn’t with us in this cavern then.”

Sirius faked an horrified expression.

“Merlin, you’re right. She would have killed me and fed you with more mashed potatoes than a normal human being could ever eat.”

“Or killed you too for scaring her like that.” Remus passed his head through the door and smiled at me. “The dinner is ready, prepared by no one else than Molly. Come on Y/N, you can’t miss that.” He added when I shook my head.

I gave up and followed Remus and Sirius downstairs. They went directly in the kitchen and I timidly followed them. The conversations suddenly stopped and a loud noise echoed. Molly had dropped the dish she was holding and rushed toward me, her arms wide open. Without thinking about it, I threw mine around her neck.

“Y/N, I’m so happy to see you! Oh, dear, you have no idea how worried we’ve been!” She lowered her voice and murmured in my ear: “Don’t worry for Fred and George. They are quite surprised, but they have missed you so much…”

I smiled weakly and Molly returned to her dish. I saw Arthur conversing with Remus, but the twins were nowhere to be seen. On the other hand, Bill’s presence was a pleasant surprise. I had always gotten along with all the Weasley family, even Percy who would always want to play chess with me, even if he always lost. I also saw Ron and Ginny, the latter sending be a broad smile before hugging me. I suddenly realized how much I had missed them and I felt my heart swelling with joy. It would have been a perfect dinner if the twins had been there.

Later that night, another nightmare woke me up. I straightened in my bed, my shoulders shaking in the rhythm of my sobs. The look of hatred the Fred of my nightmare had thrown me was engraved in my memory, and the voice of his brother saying he hated me echoed in my ears. A shiver ran down my spine, and I caught myself fearing the dark around me. Suddenly unable to stay here, I rushed out of my room, not really bothering to be silent as I ran downstairs. I needed more than ever to see Sirius, to hear one of his stories or literally anything that would make me forget my nightmare. According to the crackling of the flames I heard, he was there. I found him sitting on the usual couch with a wooden box on the knees. His shaky hands were holding a letter. I stopped, fearing he wouldn’t accept my presence tonight, but Sirius looked up to me and a sad smile appeared on his face.

“Another nightmare?”

I just nodded, a huge lump in my throat preventing me from saying anything. I sat next to him and waited patiently for him to tell me what he was reading.

“It’s one of the last letters Lily Potter has sent to me. This,” he said while handing me a photo, “is the photo she has sent with the letter. It’s Harry, it was his first birthday.” He pointed at baby Harry, whose forehead was still free from any scar. “And this is James.” Sirius stifled a sad laugh while looking at his friend’s legs. It was the only part of his body we could see, and I could tell he was running behind Harry. “I wish I could have been here…” murmured Sirius.

I didn’t know what to say. Quite fortunately for me, Sirius sighed and put the letter and the photo back in the box. He delicately carried the latter to the table and came back next to me.

During the following days, I spent a lot of time with Ginny and Ron. They told me everything that had happened in my absence, carefully omitting all twins-related subjects. I also talked a lot with Molly, mostly about futile things as cooking and Charlie’s work in Romania. Arthur and Bill weren’t here often. We also received Nymphadora Tonks’ visit a few times, along with Alastor Moody’s one. However, despite the several persons surveying the corridors of this house, I felt more alone than ever.

My second proper conversation with Fred and George happened almost a week after the first one. I had done my best to avoid the cleaning of the house. When Sirius and I were alone here, the dust and the spiders weren’t a problem, but Molly wanted the place to be as livable as possible. I had pretended I was sick, which had earned me narrowed eyes from Remus, and I was now alone in my room. I was curled up on the threadbare seat in front of the window, looking at those who had the chance to be able to walk in the street. The door opened so slowly it didn’t make any noise. What warned me was the squeak of the floor and I turned vividly the head to see George closing the door.

“I heard you were sick.” His voice was quiet and it was the first time in a week he actually looked at me in the eyes. A little smile appeared on his face. “You don’t seem at death’s door, though.”

“I just didn’t feel like cleaning all day… I swear if I see one more dead rat I’m gonna explode.”

We both laugh, two shy laughters that filled my heart with something I had missed a lot: the bliss of being with one of my best friends. George walked toward me and raised an eyebrow, asking me silently if he was allowed to sit. In response, I made him some room. He sat in front of me, in the same position and his gaze drifted for awhile.

“It’s kind of funny, when you think about it.”

George looked at me, probably alarmed by my nostalgic tone. I hadn’t realized I had spoken, but when I caught his look, I continued.

“Everyone blames everyone for what happened but in the end… It’s no one’s fault.”

“What do you mean?”

“Fred and you blame me for disappearing, and probably Sirius for showing me who he was.” He didn’t deny. “You also blame yourselves because I was alone this day. I blame myself because I was the one deciding to help Sirius, and he blames himself for involving me in this. But in fact, none of us is really responsible, you know? We couldn’t know how this would turn out…”

“You’re right, we couldn’t.” It was Fred, who had obviously succeeded in avoiding his mother too. I hadn’t heard him arrive either. “And we don’t really blame you. You shouldn’t think that, Y/N.”

“Do you think one day you’ll stop hating me?”

I sounded so pathetic but it was maybe my worst fear. If they couldn’t forgive me…

“We don’t hate you, Y/N. We have never hated you.”

George had stood up and grabbed my hand. He pulled me toward him, tightening me against his chest.

“We don’t hate you…” he repeated.

At this very moment, my heart could have stopped beating and it wouldn’t have mattered. I was happier than I had ever been, knowing that my two best friends were here with me. And my laughters were more genuine than it had been in a long time when Fred exclaimed:

“You’re adorable, but I’m starving. I’m sure it’s time for a snack.”

From this point, what was going to be a living hell became the best summer I ever had. I spent my days cleaning with Fred, George, Ron, Ginny and when they arrived, Harry and Hermione and my nights talking with the twins. Sometimes, Molly caught us three still awake at unholy hours and sent me in my room, but it was quite rare. I was pretty sure most of the time, she let me with her sons on purpose. These nights, my nightmares were worse than usual.

Fred and George’s absence during the school year worsened considerably my state. By June, I was barely able to close my eyes more than three or four hours per night and I had to admit I was a pitiful sight to see.

“Y/N, have you seen the bags under your eyes?” exclaimed Remus one evening in the middle of June.

He and Sirius had called me in the living-room and were lecturing me.

“You need to tell us what’s happening.” Whereas Remus was getting angry, which was very unusual and quite worrying, Sirius’ voice was softer and his eyes were fixing me. “You worry us Y/N. You don’t sleep enough anymore and… It seems to be worse.”

“We thought maybe you need some fresh air.” Added Remus. “We have asked Molly if you can stay at the Burrow a few days. Would you like it?”

“I don’t want to disturb.” I mumbled.

“You won’t, don’t worry. Plus, she’s asked for weeks to see you.” said softly Sirius.

No sooner said than done, I was immediately sent to pack my things in my room while Remus warned Molly I would arrive the next day. And it didn’t fail: a few hours later, I was desperately trying to escape her hug. Plus, I hadn’t eaten anything since the previous evening and a delicious smell was arriving in my nostrils from the kitchen. My stomach started to rumble and I was quite surprised I wasn’t drooling yet. Molly dragged me toward the table and put in front of me a plate with an unknown meat covered in sauce. It took the best of myself for me not to swallow everything in one bite. Molly was somewhere outside, she had warned me she was going to get some vegetables in the garden. The silence here was different from the one in Grimmauld Place. Back in there, it was heavy, charged with all the awful things said and done in this house when Sirius was younger. His constant melancholy seemed to impregnate the walls. But at the Burrow, the walls weren’t blank, they were covered in pictures and drawings. Everything in the house, from the chess board that was on the chimney to the blanket always laying on the couch during the coldest days of winter, everything here sent whoever stepped in this fabulous house a pleasant feeling of being home. Maybe Remus and Sirius weren’t wrong after all, maybe things would get better for me after staying here.

The following day was the most normal one I had in years. I woke up in Bill’s old room, joined Molly in the kitchen for the breakfast - Arthur was already at work - and spent the morning helping her with different chores. The sun being high in the sky, we decided the garden could use a bit of weeding and after the lunch, Molly handed me a pair of gloves. Taking a well deserved break, two hours or so later, I sat on a bench.

“Oh, I have forgotten to tell you!” Molly stopped in her tracks and turned toward me, smiling at me. “I’ve sent an owl to Fred and George. They are very busy with their shop but they’ll come to say hello, probably tomorrow.”

I grinned excitedly, already eager to see my best friends. I couldn’t visit them, still wanted for helping Sirius, and that was bothering me a much as them. I couldn’t help but notice Molly’s smile faltering when she mentioned the shop, and according to the look she was arbouring, I knew I was in for an entire discussion about it.

“I can’t believe they left school!” Molly exploded, making me jump. I got up and approached her. “I mean I knew they thought it was a waste of time but what if their shop doesn’t work? What are they going to do?”

“Molly, they are smart. If they left, that’s because they are confident. From what I know, they already have a lot of fans, and even if it doesn’t work as expected - which I highly doubt, everything seems always fine with these two! - they’ll find something else. Don’t worry for them.”

My answer obviously wasn’t what Molly wanted to hear, but that was what I thought. I had seen a few inventions, had barely avoided testing some others, and I knew the boys were motivated.

We gardened in silence another hour and when the heat became too much to bear, we retreated in the welcome freshness of the house. I let myself fall on a chair, completely exhausted.

“I would never have thought gardening was that physical!”

Molly laughed and replied something, but a loud noise from the chimney covered the sound of her voice. We both rushed in the living-room to see Remus barely standing on his feet. His face showed more tiredness than I had ever seen on him, more desperation too. The tears flooding from his eyes created shining trails on his cheeks.

I froze, simply unable to make my brain work long enough to ask him what was happening. Unconsciously, I kept glancing at the chimney to see Sirius appear.

Little did I know what Remus had to tell me.

“Remus, Remus tell me what’s happening!”

Molly was fussing around him, checking some injuries I hadn’t even noticed. His eyes were fixed on his knees and mine on him, and the more time passed, the more the fear crept on me. Slowly, I was understanding what had happened but when Remus finally told it, his shaky voice so different from his usual calm one, it didn’t prevent my heart from almost stopping after a few painful beats.

“Sirius is dead.”

Honestly, I didn’t think three words could be that painful. No nightmare, no I hate you from anyone could hurt that much. I never thought one day, I would feel my heart slowly cracking before exploding under the weight of my loss. He’s gone. Dead. He’s not here anymore.

I felt like I was drowning, but in the same time, I became more aware of the two pairs of eyes on me. Molly’s mouth was opened in shock, her hand was stopped in the air, as if she had wanted to put it on my shoulder, and Remus was looking at me like he was trying his best not to break down. He had just lost his best friend, one of the only people who had ever understood him, and I knew how distraught he was, but the hole in my heart was filling with anger and I found myself clenching my fists to contain it. Remus choked out a few words, trying his best to explain what had happened. It took all my will to stay calm, but when I understood Sirius had left the house to fight a stupid battle, I lost it.

“Why did he leave the house?”

My voice was quiet, muffled by the lump of pain in my throat. I was trembling as a wave of rage hit me.

“He should have never left! It was Dumbledore’s order! Why did he leave? WHY DID YOU LET HIM LEAVE?”

I was screaming non senses the loudest possible. Without realizing it, I found myself in the kitchen, enveloped in Molly’s embrace. But I wasn’t done, I needed to get whatever I was feeling out, I couldn’t let it suffocate me. I was still yelling, struggling to make Molly let go of me. She finally loosened her grip, but her eyes were still worried when she saw Remus entering in the kitchen. Understanding the silent message of his pleading eyes, she left in the living-room, letting us alone.

“Y/N, please, let me -”

“Explain? Are you gonna tell me how he’s- how he’s dead, or are you gonna find an excuse on why he left this bloody house?”

Ignoring my provocation, Remus forced himself to adopt a calmer attitude and explained everything. The Ministry, the arch. A deafening silence took place as soon as he finished, a silence I couldn’t bring myself to break because I feared I would explode once more. But hell, I couldn’t clench my fists harder, blood was already straining my skin as my nails were deep on my flesh, and I was trembling more and more. Without any warning sign, I screamed and hit abruptly the table. I didn’t even see Remus flinching when I grabbed a bowl containing fruits and threw it toward him. I missed him and frantically looked for something else. My tears were blinding me and my throat sore from screaming that much, and the floor was littered with broken glasses and scattered food.

From what I was able to see through the veil of tears covering my eyes, Remus was standing in front of me, trembling with all his being and not doing anything to stop me. He was accepting all my unfair accusations, all my hurtful words spat with venom. He didn’t say anything, obviously beating himself up with his guilt. Among my screams and my tears, I didn’t even notice Molly sneaking in the kitchen, followed by Fred and George. I only realized they were here when a pair of arms gripped me tightly and dragged me outside.

The air had considerably freshened, contrasting with the emotions boiling inside me. I found myself being hugged once more, and the feeling of two bodies pressed against mine finally got me out of the abyss. I just stayed here, my face hidden in George’s neck, sobbing and repeating I didn’t want him gone.

“My parents and now… Am I not enough? Why does no one stay?”

Fred’s arms tightened around my waist and George tensed, and I sobbed with renewed vigour. I couldn’t tell how much time passed while I was wrapped in this comforting embrace, but when I finally lifted my head, I noticed Fred was gone. George was looking at me, an hand on my lower back and the other cupping my cheek. When another tear rolled down on my face, he gently wiped it with his thumb and pressed me against his chest. He didn’t say he was sorry, he didn’t say it would be okay, he just showed me he was with me.

The sun was on the verge of going down when I considered the thought of getting inside. George’s arm was still around me, acting like a protective blanket against the cold air of the evening and the pain threatening to drown me. The sound of steps behind us made me jump, and I turned my head to see Fred watching us with a sad smile. He sat next to me and put his hand on my back.

“The kitchen was a mess, I don’t think Peeves could have done better.” He laughed softly when I let out a watery chuckle. “Don’t worry though, Mum, R- and I have fixed it.”

“You don’t need to be careful of what you’re saying around me. I need you both to be… To be just you, or else I won’t been able to do it.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be as annoying as usual.” assured George with a smirk.

“You’ll want to get rid of us in an hour.” added Fred.

“Never.” I murmured before being engulfed in another Weasley sandwich.

What got me to bring my ass in the living-room was a loud sob echoing in the house. I knew who it was, and my unfair anger immediately vanished when I heard for the very first time Remus crying. I rushed in the room and jumped on him, throwing my arms around his neck and tightening him like my life depended on it. Remus was doing the same thing, and this hug was painful, both physically and mentally. We didn’t say anything, but we both knew what it meant.

Now, it was just the both of us.

I didn’t sleep this night, nor did I even close my eyes the following one. I had to hear everyone arguing around me about what they would do with me. Molly wanted me to stay at the Burrow, Remus refused and said he would take care of me while Fred and George thought I should live with them, their main point being that I had to see their shop.

“She could help us!” had proposed George.

Only at this moment did I realize I was now free to go wherever I wanted. And it seemed like the others had understood it as well because Molly came up with the idea of sending me back to Hogwarts.

“No. I stay with Remus.”

I didn’t really recognize my voice. It was hoarse, my throat being sore from the hours I had spent crying the last two days. I felt plenty of worried eyes on me and suddenly felt oppressed. I turned the heels and escaped the overcrowded kitchen of the Burrow, preferring the silence in the garden.

I immediately recognized the hand on my shoulder, and didn’t hesitate before resting my head on his shoulder.

“I promise I’ll come to your shop soon.” I murmured. “I just don’t feel like it right now.”

“I know, love.” answered George. “Don’t worry.”

My heart fluttered when I heard the nickname he had always given me, remembering me the pain wasn’t the only thing I was allowed to feel. I caught myself hoping he would kiss me for the first time in months before mentally scolding my stupid feelings. Sirius was dead and I thought of kissing George? What was wrong with me?

I had decided to stick with Remus without thinking about what it implied. I had to go back to Grimmauld Place. Remus had been reluctant to tell me, fearing I would freak out or throw him another bowl in the face, but also because he knew how painful it would be for the both of us. “I don’t want you to suffer more than you already are.” he had told me. I knew he wanted badly to find another solution, but Dumbledore had ordered him to stay there until he figured out what to do with the house.

So here I was, unable to push this stupid door and enter this stupid house. Remus was patiently waiting behind me, but I suspected him to have a hard time too. Finally, the hand I had put on the handle five minutes ago pushed the door and I took a few steps in the dark hall. I thought I would break down and scream, the pain and the anger taking over me, but I certainly didn’t expect the numbness I was currently feeling. It was like I wasn’t controlling my own body as I climbed the stairs to reach my room, not really paying attention to what Remus had told me or to Kreacher looking down on me.

The main reason I hadn’t slept since Sirius’ death was the fear. I knew what would come as soon as my eyes would close: the nightmares would be more terrifying than ever.

“You can’t stay awake forever, Y/N.” had said George when I had confessed him my fear.

And I knew he was right, of course he was, but that didn’t prevent me from freaking out each time my eyelids closed against my will. However, in the middle of this night, as I was lulled by the crickets chirpings, I fell asleep.

The cavern was empty. I was curled up in a corner, hidden in the shadows as people kept walking in front of the entrance without coming in. I couldn’t understand their whispers, but I was pretty sure they were talking about me. Some were hissing my name with venom while metallic noises echoed against the stone. Weapons. My breath was shaky, and my arms, which were wrapped around my knees, kept trembling. Suddenly, something happened outside.

The people at the entrance seemed to panic as someone shouted among them. Rushed steps noises blurred the voices for a moment, and soon the shadow of a man appeared on the floor. His voice hadn’t this reassuring tone it used to have.

“Y/N, where are you? Come say hello… Y/N, I know you miss me. Why don’t you show yourself?”

Sirius’ voice was creepy. He seemed totally insane, yet I was so desperate to see him that I looked up. I was still hidden in the shadows and he couldn’t see me, but I could see perfectly well his knotted hair surrounding his gaunt face. He had a faint smile, but the most terrifying about him was the gleam of insanity in his eyes. I let out a gasp and Sirius pointed directly his wand on me.

“Here you are, Y/N. Come say hello, come say hello to me…”

Without realizing it, I had jumped out of bed as soon as I had opened my eyes and slammed the door open. My bare feets made no noise on the dusty floor as I rushed in the living-room.

“Sirius where are you?”

Only after my desperate call did I realize I was alone here. No cracklings from the fire, no bottle of wine on the table, no story to tell, no one to comfort me. Sirius was gone. Despite these last two days of mourning, it was the first time I completely understood what death meant, and the pain brought by this realization was too painful. I was barely aware of the screams escaping my mouth, of the tears covering my cheeks, of the blood on my knuckles as I hit the wall. I didn’t hear Remus arriving, didn’t feel his arms around me or processed the words he was saying to me. The only thing I knew was that Sirius was really gone, and he would never come back.

I opened my eyes in a room I had never seen before. I gasped loudly and practically jumped off the bed. It took me a few seconds to recognize Remus, uncomfortably sleeping on a chair on a corner of the room. His face should have been relaxed, yet I still could see little wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead. While looking at him, I also remembered the previous night. The nightmare, the living-room, Sirius. Just thinking of him was incredibly painful and I let out a sob. Remus immediately woke up and was next to me in a split second. He engulfed me in a hug, pressing my shaking body against his chest.

“You were screaming.” he murmured. “And crying. Just before passing out in exhaustion, you said you didn’t want to see this place… I thought I could bring you here. We’re at my house.”

“Thank you.” My voice was so muffled by his neck, where I had hidden my face, that I wasn’t even sure he could hear me. “But Dumbledore -”

“It doesn’t matter.” Remus interrupted me with a very soft voice. “You matter.”

“How did he die?”

My question seemed to shock him as I felt him tensing. He slowly pushed me away to look at me in the eyes, probably expecting to see tears. And he was totally right: my sight was blurry and my cheeks wet, but I needed to know how it had happened, or else I knew I wouldn’t find peace. Remus understood that and told me everything, from Harry’s connexion with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to the fight in front of the ark. When he finished, the silence seemed to last for hours before I eventually found something to say.

“He was laughing… He was in the middle of a fight with Death Eaters and he was laughing…”

“Yeah, we know how he is…” answered Remus with a nostalgic tone.

None of us bothered to correct what he had said. Maybe because deep down, we knew Sirius would always be there.

I was so drown in my own grief that I hadn’t really realized I wouldn’t be the only one suffering. There was Remus, of course, even though he was always hiding his feelings in front of me so that I could focus on mine, but there was also Harry.

Remus had told me a few members of the Order would accompany the Weasleys to welcome Harry and Ron back at King’s Cross. He had insisted that I should go with them, that it would be nice to get out of the house, which I hadn’t done once. When the day of their return arrived, Remus and I met Tonks, Mad-Eye, Molly, Arthur, Fred and George. The twins both hugged me but they didn’t say anything about Sirius, which I appreciated. I didn’t want to talk about it, about my pain and my sadness, but when I saw Harry appearing after walking through the barrier and the look he sent me, I realized I had to tell him something. Anything. Sirius had been his godfather, after all.

Once Harry and Ron were done with the traditional welcoming, our group moved toward the Dursley family and I took this opportunity to grab Harry’s arm. He immediately stopped, letting everyone take a short advance before turning toward me.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered before scolding myself.

He had probably heard that a thousand timed and that was certainly not what he needed to hear now. However, much to my surprise, he nodded and put an hand on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry too… It’s my fault.” My heart ached when I heard the desperation in his voice.

“No.” He looked at me, obviously surprised to hear my harsh tone. “It’s not your fault Harry, it has never been.”

He choose to ignore what I had just said.

“You’re the only one who understands me.” He murmured. “They are all saying they are sorry, that he was someone good, but no one didn’t really know him, you know? We’re the only ones and I… I appreciate what you did, Y/N.”

He left without explaining what he meant and joined the Dursleys. After one last hug, Fred and George left too, saying they were busy and their family and Mad-Eye followed them. Tonks decided to stay with us a bit longer, and Remus invited her for the tea. I caught them exchanging a knowing glance, but I knew I would find out about what it was. Indeed, half an hour later all three of us were sitting in the living-room, drinking our tea in a comfortable silence. Remus suddenly stood up and patted my shoulder, announcing he had something to do, and left me alone with Tonks. She immediately moved next to me.

“I won’t say I’m sorry because I feel like that’s not what you want to hear.” She said. I nodded gratefully. “But I wanted to give you that.”

She handed me a photography she had taken a few months ago, when she had insisted she wanted to have photos of all the Order members. On this one, I was sitting between Remus and Sirius, the latter holding high a glass of wine and ruffling my hair. Remus looked like he was trying to disappear, but his smile was genuine as he was glancing on us. My arms were wrapped around their shoulders, and my grin was so large that anyone could feel their cheeks hurt just by looking at it.

Seeing it reminded me of how happy I had been with them, and it made the unfairness of Sirius’ death more painful, if it was possible. But a little voice in my head whispered something I had heard a few years ago, back in the muggle orphanage. Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened. And that’s what I did: I forced my lips in a smile, first weak then genuine, and I felt a weight getting off my shoulders.

“Thank you Tonks. Thank you.”

From this day, tears stopped being a daily thing. Slowly but surely, I learned how to keep my pain under control and, most importantly, I learned to open myself. Remus had always known when I was feeling down but, during the following months, it happened more and more often when he would ask me if I was okay and I would answer no instead of lying. The only thing I hadn’t really told him was this part of shadow hidden in me, the one still causing nightmares every night and remembering me Sirius was gone. I had made progresses on ignoring it, but sometimes, it was too strong for me and I broke down. That’s what happened on Christmas, six months after Sirius’ death.

All this time, I had stayed with Remus, visiting occasionally Molly at the Burrow. I had only seen the twins once, their shop occupying them to the point that they didn’t have a free day. That’s why Molly had thought she could reunite us at Christmas, and she had invited Remus and I.

It wasn’t the first time I stayed there for Christmas, and I had always loved the festive atmosphere that reigned in the house. This year wasn’t an exception, and laughters and good food filled our night. I was now sitting between Fred and George, telling Ginny funny stories about Hogwarts. I had taken off my jacket an hour ago and it was on the table in front of me, the corner of the photo Tonks had given me sticking out of the pocket. I always had it with me, it was the most precious thing I had.

We were all so caught in the peaceful ambience that none of us heard the first alarming noise. Molly was the only one to hear the second as she suddenly froze in the middle of the living-room, her eyes fixed on the outside. Our conversations stopped and we all looked at Molly.

“Mum, what’s happening?” asked Ron while he approached the window.

“Nothing.” She mumbled. “I thought I heard -”

All of sudden, Ron jumped backward to move away from the window, his skin strangely pale. Only a second later, we understood why.

I had never heard a laughter as psychotic as this one. It was high pitched, and the insanity it revealed was simply terrifying. We were all shocked, as hypnotised by the woman outside. We only reacted when two more people apparated in the garden. Without saying anything, I saw Arthur and Remus jumping on their feet and rushing outside, followed by everyone else, me included. The freezing air hit me and the tears suddenly brought in my eyes prevented me from seeing the three Death Eaters. I quickly blinked them away only to see Harry rushing behind Bellatrix Lestrange - she had killed Sirius. The shadow in me, the one I was always trying to hide, took over me and I jumped after Harry. However, someone behind me had anticipated my actions as they firmly wrapped their arms around my waist. I screamed, trying to get rid of George and hitting his face in the process, and my anger increased when Remus followed Harry.

“Let me go! GEORGE LET ME GO!”

But he didn’t. Instead, he pulled me against him and murmured in my ear Remus and Harry would be okay.

“No you don’t understand, I need to -”

Suddenly, a wave of almost unbearable heat hit us all. The Burrow was burning. A sob died in Molly’s throat as she witnessed her home disappearing in front of her. My heart stung when I thought of all the memories everyone had here, Molly’s kitchen, Fred and George’s prototypes. I felt like another person was in my body when I thought that my jacket was still in there -

My jacket. With the photo inside. Maybe I was totally crazy, maybe the shadow I feared was real, in fact I didn’t know why I did this, but I suddenly escaped George’s embrace and ran in the burning house. I immediately felt the pain in my lungs as my mouth and my throat were dried with the heat. The smoke made my eyes sting with hot tears. A part of the kitchen ceiling was slowly consuming itself. I desperately reached for my jacket and as soon as it was clenched in my hands, I threw myself on the floor, hoping I could breath. The air was more breathable down there, and my sight stopped being blurred because of the tears.

I could vaguely hear people calling for me, but the cracklings of the fire were way too loud for me to hear correctly or simply answer, as I didn’t trust my voice on this very moment. Instead, I closed my eyes, I curled up in a tight ball, and listened the sounds around me, remembering the nights spent with Sirius near the chimney. I fell asleep.

After this day, Remus became more reluctant than ever when it came to letting me alone, even for five minutes. At first, he had been quite angry, every occasion being perfect for remembering me how reckless I had been and how he had thought he could trust me. I was too proud to tell him why I had done this, and to tell George and Fred too, but one day, Remus had thrown in my face Sirius would have been disappointed and I had lost it.

I had literally exploded, my loud voice echoing in all the house as I tried to tell him how important this simple photo was. At some point, my angry monologue had given way to a sob festival, the only coherent sentence I had been able to form being “I know you’re disappointed too but I love you both too much… I couldn’t let it disappear.” or something like that. From this day, Remus had stopped being angry and became more protective than he had ever been.

The twins had needed less time to forgive me, even though they just couldn’t understand why a photo seemed more important than my own life. They had been so afraid that the first thing George had told me when I had woken up at St-Mungo’s was that the next time I tried to disappear, he would tie me to a chair and keep me there for the rest of my life. Fred had added that I would never be alone anymore, them keeping an eye on me even when I would shower. Unfortunately for me, a nurse had arrived at this moment and I couldn’t hide my burning cheeks, no pun intended.

I had to admit this constant protectiveness was annoying, but it reached its peak a few months later when Remus received a letter from Dumbledore, asking him to come to Hogwarts as soon as possible, for he had to leave and wanted the school to be protected. Remus hurriedly grabbed his wand and turned toward me. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me right behind him, my wand firmly held in my hand.

“What are you doing?” he asked me suspiciously.

“Coming with you. What do you think I’m doing?” I replied. I wouldn’t miss this perfect occasion to go back to Hogwarts.

“You’re staying here. It’s too dangerous.” Remus had used his autoritary father’s voice.

“No way. Where are the I’m not letting you alone and You stay right next to me? I come with you.”

Remus was obviously torn between the urgency of the situation and the fact he wanted to convince me to stay here. But he knew how stubborn I could be and he sighed.

“You better stay safe, Y/N.”

The true happiness I had felt when I had seen the castle had disappeared for a long time as I was running near the Astronomy tower on Bill’s tail. Dumbledore wasn’t here, gone Merlin knew where, leaving three members of the Order, a few professors and a bunch of kids, me included, to protect the school against the Death Eaters. In the fire of the battle, I had been separated from Remus but Bill had made sure I was always next to him.

We had just passed the tower and were ready to turn on the next corridor when we both stopped. A Death Eater was waiting right in front of us, an evil grin revealing sharp fangs. Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf.

“Be careful Y/N, he’s dangerous!” shouted Bill.

An instant later, Greyback was literally jumping on us. Bill quickly dodged him while I threw myself on the floor. I immediately stood up only to see him savagely hitting Bill. The impact made the latter dropping his wand, and as I felt the danger arriving and lifted my wand, Greyback attacked. I was too late. Bill’s face was covered in a sea of blood and he fell unconscious. I screamed his name, barely aware that it wouldn’t help. Ensued a few attacks I barely countered, only managing to cast protective spells around Bill and I. He still didn’t move, and I was sure he was dead. This thought was what distracted me for a second, just a second, but it was a second too much. George’s face when he would see his brother dead because of me was the last thing I imagined before feeling my skin being torn apart.

I woke up in a room I had never seen before. This impression of being lost was familiar, and I turned my head, expecting to see Remus asleep on a chair next to the bed, probably waiting for me to wake up before scolding me, but he was nowhere to be seen. I put my head back on the pillow before it hit me. He’s dead. They are dead. Even with my eyelids closed, I still could see Bill lying lifeless on the floor, a pool of blood slowly growing around him. And Remus… If he wasn’t there, it had to mean that…

Suddenly, I heard a laughter coming from where I thought was downstairs. The confusion soon became relief as I thought If people are laughing, then everyone is okay. Remus is still alive, along with Bill, and I can see everyone. It’s okay. A true happiness invaded me as I quickly stood up. I wiggled my toes against the soft carpet when the feeling that something was not right hit me. I wasn’t in any kind of pain, yet I perfectly remembered feeling Greyback’s claws in my flesh, I remembered the sensation that my body was being torn apart. I hesitantly lifted my shirt - had I really put on this one the previous morning? - and saw my skin as good as new. No injury, nothing. The feeling of discomfort became more persistent and I heard new laughters. I decided to head downstairs.

The room I was in was at the end of a corridor. The walls were naked, painted in a soft beige tone. The same white carpet gave it a cosy aspect. I made my way toward the wooden stairs, passing in front of a plant and a teddy bear thrown on the floor. Once downstairs, I caught a glimpse of the sun high in the blue sky behind a big window. Other toys were strewing the floor. I followed the sound of a man’s voice I didn’t recognized and entered in a little living-room.

It’s impossible.

I was seeing him from the side and he was younger, but it was him. I had seen enough photos to recognize his curly hair and mischievous smile. Sirius was in front of me.

He turned his head, maybe because he had felt my presence, and his smile froze. His face dropped and he slowly got up, still looking at me.

“Y/N…”

His voice was still the same, hoarse and reassuring. Hearing it convinced me it was real enough for me and I ran straight in his arms. I hid my face in his neck and tightened him as much as I could, afraid to let him go and lose him once more.

“Sirius… Sirius you’re here…”

I was unable to say something else but it didn’t really matter. Maybe it was a dream, I mean it was obviously a dream, it was impossible, but it felt so good to see him. After a while, Sirius gently pushed me and looked at me.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?”

I had never seen such a sadness in his eyes, except maybe that night when he had read Lily’s letter.

“Glad to see you too.” I mumbled.

His hand reached my hair and he ruffled it, remembering me of Remus’ habit. He smiled, but it was a bitter smile, and I had the impression he wanted me to understand something because he couldn’t tell me.

“Of course I’m glad to see you Y/N. I’ve missed you so much… So much.” He repeated while grabbing my hands. “But you shouldn’t be here. You can’t be here. It would mean that you’re -”

“Dead.” I interrupted him with a blank voice.

I was dead. Greyback had killed me. Now, Remus was alone. Well, he had Tonks, she really liked him and he really liked her, but still. Then I thought about George, about Fred, about Molly and I felt like crying. However, nothing came. No tears, nothing.

“Crying here is impossible.” murmured Sirius. “We’ve suffered enough in our lives, don’t you think?”

“But it hurts…” I whispered.

“I know.”

And he engulfed me in another hug. I breathed his scent, trying my best not to succumb to the panic I felt invading me. Sirius’ hand was gently stroking my back and we stayed like this for a while before the presence of two other persons hit me. I lifted my head just enough for me to see above Sirius’ shoulder.

“You… You look like Harry.”

The man smiled. He was young, maybe four or five years older than me, but I understood why everyone said to Harry he looked like his father. James Potter seemed to be the man I had always imagined, the cool guy of the school, the Quidditch star, always up for some pranks in the school.

“I know,” he replied. “Harry’s lucky, he took the good genes if you want my opinion.”

Lily Potter hit playfully his shoulder as Sirius chuckled. She was a beautiful woman, her fiery hair bringing out her eyes. She was as pretty as everyone said.

“Sirius has talked about you a lot.” she said. “Said you’ve helped him whereas everyone thought he was a criminal. You’re brave, Y/N.”

I didn’t know what to say and choose to smile. The situation was just so surreal… I was talking with Lily and James Potter, next to Sirius who was dead a year ago, and I was dead too.

“I think you’d like to sit.” offered kindly James.

I nodded and sat next to Sirius on the comfortable couch, removing a fluffy pillow to make myself some room.

“Where are we?”

My eyes were wandering around the living-room. It was almost as comfy as the Burrow’s. Thinking about this house I would never see again was particularly painful and I pushed the thought aside when Lily spoke up.

“You’re in our house. I guess you’re here because of Sirius.” Seeing my interrogative look, she continued. “When we died, James and I woke up here, probably because it was the happiest days of our lives…” Her voice was nostalgic, but she smiled.

“I came here because the best period of my life was when James and Lily were still here.” said Sirius. “And you came here because I did.”

A silence took place as the three old friends were looking at me. Maybe they were expecting anger, or panic, or amazement, but all I could think about was how unfair all of this was. I didn’t want to die, Sirius, James and Lily shouldn’t have died, I shouldn’t be with them whereas Harry was so desperate to have his family around him.

“Your son is a hero.”

I saw James flexing his muscles and Lily flipping her hair above her shoulder, both exaggerating in their reactions, but I could tell they were really proud.

“Yeah, and involved in Dumbledore’s personal stuff, this kid is really awesome.” said James.

“How do you know this?” I asked curiously.

All of sudden, the atmosphere was no longer relaxed but tense as ever. James’ face dropped, Lily glared at him and Sirius was fixing his knees.

“No way…” he mumbled. “You can’t… No. No way.”

“No way what?” I eyed him suspiciously. “What are you hiding from me?”

“You’re still stubborn as hell, aren’t you?” Sirius was annoyed but, from the look in his eyes, I knew I had won. “Listen, I’ll tell you but there’s no way you’ll do it. Got it?” I nodded. Sirius sent a harsh look to James before sighing. “You can go back and see your loved ones but -”

“I want to go.” I had jumped on my feet and grabbed Sirius’ hand to force him standing up. “Bring me to Hogwarts. I want to see Remus and George and -”

“I said no. You won’t go see them, not right now anyway.” Sirius’ voice was firm but he looked sad.

“Why?” My voice was high-pitched as I was getting angry. “I want to see Remus! I need to tell him -”

“That’s the point! You can’t talk to them. In fact, they won’t even see you and trust me, it’s more painful than not seeing them at all.”

“You came…” I murmured. “You came to see Remus and I…”

“As soon as I woke up here. I was here when Remus told you. Molly’s kitchen hadn’t done anything to you, you know.” He added with a sad chuckle.

I stayed silent. I wanted to see Remus, to see the twins, to see Molly and Arthur but… Would I be able to just see them? To witness their pain as they wouldn’t know I’m next to them? How would it feel if I saw Remus losing it, like when he had told me Sirius was gone?

“I want to go.” I said.

Sirius sighed and extended an hand.

“Then follow me.”

Just a split second later I found myself in front of the infirmary door. It was open and, from what I could see, only one bed was occupied. I rushed toward it only to see the damages on Bill’s face. He was totally unrecognizable, as if he was wearing grotesque Halloween mask like the muggles like. The blood had been cleaned, and each wound was perfectly visible. Madam Pomfrey was busy next to the bed, manipulating deftly three vials. She was mumbling to herself while pouring the potions in a big recipe, sometimes waving her wand and pronouncing a complex formula.

“He’s okay.” said Sirius.

I jumped, having completely forgotten his presence. I was more than relieved to know that Bill was alive, that he would be okay, even if a small voice in my head whispered it wouldn’t be completely true. He had been hurt by a werewolf, and he was the one who survived the battle. He would probably feel awfully guilty, and maybe even feel like a monster if he became a werewolf.

Hurried steps echoed in the infirmary and I turned my eyes from Bill the very same moment Remus entered the room. Madam Pomfrey’s reaction was immediate. She almost dropped her vials, mumbling she never thought she would have to do this one day, and made her way to Remus. The latter was looking frantically in the room, and I knew he was looking for me.

“Remus, I’m sorry.” said the nurse.

If Sirius hadn’t grabbed my shoulder, I would have run to Remus. His face had dropped and his eyes were fixing blankly the hidden bed Madam Pomfrey had spotted. I looked powerlessly as Remus took hesitant steps, fearing whatever he would see. None of us was aware that the infirmary was slowly filling with friends of mine and members of the Order. As soon as Remus passed in front of us, Sirius followed him behind the curtain hiding the bed where my body was lying. However, I felt strangely disconnected, like unable to process the situation. I wanted nothing more than to hug Remus, tell him I would be okay because I wasn’t alone, I wanted to describe him James and Lily’s house and I wanted him to know we would wait for him all together…

My name had never sounded like a cry of agony before, and it was the most heartbreaking thing I had ever heard. Slowly, the shocked gasps escaping Remus’ mouth became screams more and more loud and painful. I took the last steps separating me from him.

The first thing I saw was Remus’ back. He was leaned over my body - it was so strange to think this - gently stroking my cheek. Only my face was visible, the rest of my body being hidden by a thick blanket. My skin was white.

“I’m sorry… Y/N I’m so sorry…” Remus voice came shaky. His hand was cupping my cheek and he lightly kissed my forehead. “It’s all my fault… I’ve lost you because I was an idiot… First Sirius then you… I love you Y/N… I love you like you were my own daughter… I’m sorry…”

He started crying and grabbed my shoulders to pull me against him. The blanket slipped in the process, showing my wounds. If Remus hadn’t seen it, Sirius had certainly and he was looking at my stomach. The bleeding had stopped for a while, but my shirt was still soaked in blood. The wound was extended from just above my brim to my ribs. The five traces of the claws were so deep that on a dozen of centimeters, the flesh was visible. No wonder why I died on the spot, I thought bitterly.

I would have done anything in my power to be able to remove the blanket so that Remus wouldn’t see the wound, but I was obviously not powerful enough. When he put my body back in its initial position with an infinite delicacy, the blanket was still on my legs, and he saw everything.

The most heart-wrenching cry I had ever heard echoed in the silent infirmary, and knowing I was the cause of his pain, he who was one of the two men I would always love like my fathers, millions of tears would have rolled on my cheeks if I could have cried.

After what felt like hours, Sirius and I were still next to my body. None of us could stop looking at it, at this awful wound and at my blood. Someone had dragged Remus away, probably back at Bill’s bed to know if he would become a werewolf, but from what I could hear his voice was distant. I knew him, and I knew how he would deal with this: by making as if nothing had ever happened, as if he wasn’t suffering, and by throwing himself in the battle to come. Suddenly, I heard the noise of several persons arriving in the infirmary and my heart almost hurt when I recognized Molly’s terrified scream. I would have definitely broken down when I heard George asking where I was. An heavy silence took place during which someone probably showed the bed still hidden by the curtain and a few seconds later, George discovered my body, soon followed by Fred. I had always thought they were tough guys, and I would have thought losing me after all that had happened wouldn’t be as hard as the first time, but when I saw George falling on his knees, I understood I was wrong. Fred froze behind him, and their eyes were both fixed on my face. I was going to make my way toward them when I felt Sirius grabbing my wrist.

“I think it’s time to go.” he murmured.

I nodded weakly and threw one last glance to George. He had gotten up and was next to me, my hand firmly tightened in his own. For a second, I wished I could feel his warm touch, I wished I could hug him and Fred, but the hand I felt enveloping mine wasn’t George’s and in a blink of the eyes I was back at the Potter’s.

James and Lily weren’t in the living-room anymore. The laughters I had heard here were long gone, the atmosphere being now tense as I fixed a glass on the table.

“I shouldn’t have let you see this.” said Sirius. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to. I needed to see them… Even if it was more painful than I thought.”

Sirius nodded, probably having felt the same thing when he had died.

“You’re back?”

James had passed his head through the opening of a door and his face immediately softened.

“I’ll ask Lily to make some tea.”

The couple came back five minutes later, Lily holding a tray with four cups and some biscuits on it. I was shocked to realize I was no longer sad, even though Remus and the twins’ faces were still engraved in my mind. I remembered what Sirius had told me earlier: Crying here is impossible. We’ve suffered enough in our lives, don’t you think? As selfish as it sounded, I agreed with this. I wanted to live a peaceful life (if we could call whatever I was experiencing a life) and to feel only happiness. Lily interrupted my thought when she handed me a cup of tea and the plate with the biscuits. I took one of them, ate it and exclaimed:

“That’s delicious!”

She laughed at my surprised tone.

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

“I didn’t think the afterlife was like living in a pretty house and drinking tea with who we want.” I said.

“You know,” said Sirius, “even if sometimes it can get boring, being here is pretty cool. The only thing you miss is your family but one day, they’ll be with you.”

“Let’s hope it won’t be before many years…” I sighed.

Slowly but surely, I understood what Sirius meant when he said it could get boring. Our days were always the same, drinking tea, watching the TV, sometimes walking outside, but there were no such things as places to work or school. Idleness was probably the goal of whoever had created this place. Some days, I was so bored that I wanted nothing more than to clean the house and storing Harry’s old toys. However, I had never done so as Sirius had told me Harry’s absence was more easy to bear for James and Lily this way.

If it wasn’t for my several visits to the ones I loved, namely mainly Remus, George and Fred, I would totally lose the sense of time, and very probably my mind too. In a way, it was always as painful as it had been the first time. That was how I found out about what George had kept secret from me all these years.

It was a few weeks after Bill’s wedding - which I had been to, of course. At the time, George had seemed a bit off to me and I was worried. I wanted to stay more with him, helplessly hoping that he would eventually see me, but Sirius didn’t agree. He was afraid I would become totally crazy. That’s why I had came to the apartment he shared with his brother as soon as Sirius had allowed me and after paying a visit to Remus. I arrived while Fred was comforting George, obviously really upset.

“Listen mate, you need to tell me whatever you won’t let me know.” said Fred. “I’m worried for you Georgie, and Mum is too. Pretty much everyone is, in fact. Come on, what’s wrong?”

“You know perfectly what’s wrong.” mumbled George.

Fred stayed silent and looked at his brother. He had probably never seen him as sad and it was really worrying. I took a few steps, wanting to be sure I could hear what would come.

“You loved her.” whispered Fred.

George lifted his head, his watery eyes fixed on the ceiling. A single tear rolled down his cheek and he didn’t bother to wipe it away. He didn’t bother to answer either, Fred already knew he was right. And I was there, looking at George who had just admitted he loved me, unable to think correctly.

How many hours had I spent alone with him while Fred was gone for pranking someone with Lee? How many times one of us had fallen asleep with their head resting on the other’s lap? How many nights had I dreamt of what I had just heard? But it was too late. We weren’t brave enough to face our feelings, and now I was dead. George couldn’t see me and I couldn’t talk to him. We would be apart for dozens of years and there was nothing we could do about it. It was too late.

After that, several months defiled without me going back in the world of the livings. I didn’t really know if it was because of what I had heard about George or because of this weight in my stomach every time I had to look away from him, Fred, Remus or Molly. Maybe I wasn’t strong enough to face this. But I knew for a fact that Sirius went regularly down there to see Harry and Remus, and I still remembered the day he came back with the largest smile I had ever seen on his face.

“The last time you made this face was when we told you Lily was pregnant.” had said James with a small grin. I had admired his bond with Sirius since day one, and at the moment I could tell he was happy to see his friend like this.

“That’s the point, my dear Prongs.”

Lily had furrowed her eyebrows.

“Well, spill the beans Sirius.”

“Moony is gonna have a baby!” he had exclaimed.

Sirius hadn’t even let us time to react before he had begun explaining everything he had heard. I was genuinely happy for Remus, knowing that he would never be alone. However, I didn’t feel like going back to the living world. In fact, the only thing that changed my mind was when Sirius arrived one day way sooner than usual announcing us the new.

“The baby is arriving!”

In no time, Sirius, James, Lily and I were outside the room where Tonks was giving birth. It appeared that we had arrived when Teddy Lupin was almost here because roughly five minutes later, a baby cry echoed in the house. We followed the sound and found ourselves in front of the most emotional sight we could witness. Tonks was lying in her bed, obviously exhausted but amazed. Teddy was in Remus’ arms, and the father was looking at his son with an almost childish fascination.

“He’s so tiny…” he whispered.

Teddy was wrapped in a blanket as blue as his hair, and only his chubby little face was visible. Remus was holding him carefully yet tenderly against him. His eyes were filled with joyful tears and he was arbouring the most genuine smile I had ever seen on him.

“I’m so proud of him.”

I turned to see James grinning and looking at his friend. His arm was wrapped around Lily’s waist and his other hand was on Sirius’ shoulder.

“He’s gonna be okay.” added the latter. “Maybe we should let them some privacy.”

James and Lily nodded and disappeared a split second later.

“Go, I follow you.” I said.

As Sirius disappeared too, I made my way to Remus and put my hand on his shoulder. I saw him slightly tensing and I could have sworn he had felt my touch.

“You’ll be an incredible father to him, Remus.” I murmured. “You’ve always been.”

All these months, we had been aware of the war preparing against Voldemort and not being able to help was really frustrating. We had decided, all four of us, that we wouldn’t try to have informations about it as we couldn’t do anything to help our friends. We didn’t know that the fight was more imminent than ever. We didn’t know that soon we wouldn’t be four anymore.

It was the very beginning of May. As every friday, we had organized a movie night and James had been a true child, insisting he absolutely wanted to watch a movie with cars in it. After a quite ridiculous argument about it, I finally gave up my idea of horror movie. Lily came back a few minutes later with popcorn and we installed on the couch. We were a bit tight but I found a very comfortable position snuggled against Sirius with my head resting on his shoulder.

The TV was playing an awfully sexist scene where a half-naked girl was washing the car of the main character - what kind of movie is it? I wondered while eyeing James - when a noise echoed from upstairs. Immediately, James and Sirius jumped on their feets and Lily grabbed my hand. I knew we all had thought the same thing - the war made another victim. According to what I could hear, two persons were upstairs. However, I didn’t perceived any hesitations in their steps and I was slowly coming to the conclusion that at least one of them knew the house when they appeared in the door frame.

“Remus!”

My mouth had been more rapid than my brain and in no time I had jumped in his arms. I felt him hugging me tightly, and his chest began to rise with a more steady pace.

“Y/N… Y/N I thought I’d never see you again…”

Then he slowly pulled me to look at me and I met his eyes.

“I missed you so much Remus…”

I saw the exact moment Remus realized we weren’t alone and who was here. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open. He had compulsively tightened his grip around my arms and he was now looking frantically alternately Lily, James and Sirius. He seemed to be unable to say something or even to move, and I gently pushed him toward his friends. It seemed to be all he needed and he rushed toward them, engulfing all three of them in a desperately needed hug.

“I’m sorry for Teddy…”

I had turned toward Tonks who was looking at her husband with a bright smile.

“I am too,” she answered. “But I know he’s in good hands and, as much as I would have wanted to live with him, I’m glad we’ve helped offering him a better world to live in.” I nodded, showing her I understood. “Wait a minute!” she exclaimed. “You know about Teddy?”

Remus froze.

“How is it possible? How do you know about him?”

In a few words, Sirius explained how we could travel from this world to the livings’ one. He warned them too, telling them it was really hard to see your loved ones without them knowing it. However, just looking at Sirius indicated me he knew Remus wouldn’t care and would go back to his son as soon as possible. And he was right: five minutes later, Remus and Tonks had disappeared.

After their departure, a short silence took place before being broken by James saying he wondered how Tonks had reacted when she had learnt about Remus’ furry little problem. Sirius answered her hair had standed on end and the two friends began an hilarious competition based on the jokes about hairs. I was laughing so hard that I didn’t hear the noises from upstairs, and only Lily’s interrogative face warned me.

“Who are you?” she asked gently.

I turned around and my wide opened mouth matched Fred’s one. I instinctively began to look for George because Fred without George was just impossible but… He was alone. I was so shocked that I just couldn’t react and this time, it was Fred who didn’t give a second thought and wrapped me in a strong embrace. He didn’t say anything and I didn’t either. I felt his reluctance to let go of me and I pulled him just enough to see his face.

“He’ll be alone…” he murmured.

I didn’t say anything. No word could have eased his pain, nothing I could say would make it all better or fairer. Instead, I decided to offer him the best goodbye I could give him, and grabbed his hand. A split second later, he was kneeled next to George, who was crying on his twin’s body, Fred’s hand suspended in the air, as if he was afraid to disturb his family. When he decided he couldn’t bear it anymore, he finally found the courage to put his hand on George’s shoulder.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured, “and carry on. You have to carry on for me, Georgie.”

He got up, murmured I love you Mum in Molly’s ear, passed his hand in Ginny’s hair like he used to when they were younger and joined me.

“Ready to support me? Can’t wait to discover the kind of pranks the afterlife offers!”

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

“Move James, we’ll be late!”

“Wait a minute, I’m hungry!”

“Fuck Prongs, we’ll miss him! I don’t care, we’ll go without -”

“Calm down Moony, I’m here!”

The animation in the house was at its peak. It had been the only subject of conversation Remus had had the last few months, and he couldn’t help but show how proud he was. Tonks was running everywhere, trying to gather everyone for she wanted us all to be there. Lily was nowhere to be found, and Fred, Sirius and I were patiently waiting in the living-room.

“Remus is going to explode!” I exclaimed when he crossed the room fuming against his bloody idiotic and blind friend and threatening to shove his antlers where the sun didn’t shine if he didn’t speed up.

“I’d like to see him try!” laughed Sirius.

“Sirius, it’s Teddy! This is so important!”

“Yeah I know but… He should know nothing happens like it should when Prongs is involved.”

Eventually, after a few threats who even scared me but only made James laugh, all our little blended family appeared on Platform 9 ¾.

“Where is he?”

Tonks was tip toeing in an attempt to spot her son in the crowd. She was holding tight Remus’ hand and she seemed so excited it even was a bit painful to see. Suddenly her face lit up and she literally dragged Remus through the various groups of parents and students. Just behind them, James had his hand resting on Lily’s back as they walked quite happily too and I was following Sirius and Fred who were busy walking through every single person they could.

We finally joined them and I glanced at Remus who was looking at his son with the same childish fascination he had always had.

“He’s a big boy now…” Remus’ voice was melancholic as Teddy was waving goodbye at Harry and Ginny.

The boy eventually went in the Hogwarts Express, finding quickly an empty compartment. A hissing warned us the train would go and he waved more excitedly to Harry and Ginny, completely unaware of the fact that his parents were here too, waving and thanking the skies they could stay by his side, always.

Living wasn’t easy. I lost my friends, I lost Sirius, I lost my life. I suffered, I cried, I hated and I loved more than I could have imagined.

But when, many years later, another ginger boy woke up at the Potter’s, when he found his twin running after me, when he hugged us, when he kissed me, I knew.

I knew that, despite the darkness, I had found happiness.

Tags: @summer-writes @coffee-wihtout-caffeine

#Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #angst #my writing #george weasley #george x reader #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #fred weasley #Remus Lupin #sirius black

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turniptitaness · 3 years

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A03 Tag Game

Oh heyyyy @mentallydatingahotcelebrity thank you for tagging me in this and making me feel like an ACTUAL WRITER MY GOSH, even though it took me five days to actually do it...

How many works do you have on AO3?

Nine, which is a pleasant surprise. I thought it was more like five... Plus, one of them is a compilation of 31 little ficlets I wrote for an Ineffable Holiday challenge last year, so I suppose in a way you could say 39. I'm relatively new to writing fanfic, so I'm actually proud of myself for having this many already.

What is your total AO3 wordcount?

39,850. My goodness. That many words of fanfic. Astonishing. And that doesn't even include the stuff I have yet to post. I wonder what the word count of my original writing must be???

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Four fandoms... Good Omens (mostly), The Politician, Crimson Peak, and Only Lovers Left Alive. For someone who loves Tom Hiddleston and all his work, I have the dickens of a time writing for him. No idea why. I have an old Loki fic that I keep meaning to edit and post, but you know... Something shiny and new always comes along.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Well, this will be interesting... I have no idea. Lemme just casually provide links to subtly hint that you (yes you) ought to go read my words. Just kidding. Or am I?

1. Dreams and Plans (Good Omens fic) Awww, this is the very first fic I posted! And I'm still super proud of it, so this makes me happy.

2. Holidays in the South Downs (Good Omens compilation) See, this is the one I expected to have the most kudos. It's the compilation I mentioned earlier, so I fully expected it to have the most engagement.

3. Baby Blue Transistor (Good Omens fic) Clearly, my readers are a Type. This was a "Good Omens Lockdown" fix-it fic. Because NO WAY was I going to let Crowley sleep through the pandemic and leave his angel all alone. And Aziraphale wasn't about to let that happen either.

4. Shelter from the Rain (Good Omens fic) Aw. I love this one. Writing it made me happy.

5. Crimson Past (Crimson Peak fic) It's flippin' hilarious to me that this one makes the list, since it's literally just something I threw on ao3 for a lark. But I guess if you've only got nine options to work from... 💁🏻‍♀️

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I always respond! I just get so excited at seeing that someone cared enough about something I wrote to have a reaction to it! And more people who have the same interests! It's just! So cool!!! Lucky me, so far I haven't had any really negative comments, but I would hopefully do my best to respond well to those if they ever come my way.

What is the fic you’ve written with the Angstiest ending?

Hmm. Probably Crimson Past or Will You Stay?

Crimson Past is about the aftermath of what happens in the movie, so I mean...

And Will You Stay? is a little moment between Payton Hobart and River Barkley from The Politician. Yeah. If you know you know.

I love a good bit of angst, but I mostly tend to write happy endings if possible, because I love the characters I write for and just want them to be happy. Is that too much to ask???

Do you ever write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve ever written?

S...sort of? I mean, kind of. I'm not sure if it really counts. BUT ANYWAY let me talk about my most recent endeavor, okayy?

Lonely Nights is a semi-crossover of Only Lovers Left Alive/an original character that's based on the "story" of Ben Platt's cover of "You and I" by Lady Gaga. Trust me, I know it sounds weird, but to me the music video has such a strong character and even narrative that it totally counts in my brain.

Anyways, it has like 5 kudos because it's supremely random, but I had such fun writing it that I'm currently writing a sequel. And maybe even turning it into a trilogy ye gods above save me from myself.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

If I have, I deleted it and repressed the memory. Luckily I'm not big or popular enough to garner that kind of attention. Unless, as I said, I repressed it all. Apart from Good Omens, honestly the fandoms I write for are small enough that people just seem grateful for ANY new content, so it's a win-win situation. 🤣

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Oh no, I can't write smut to save my LIFE. I'm not sure why, I love reading the stuff, but somehow I just feel so foolish trying to write it. I'm much more the "fade to black" kind of writer.

I did just write a quick little rather steamy moment for Ben, my Lonely Nights + Unnamed Sequel OC, but even that was written from the perspective of an unwitting observer and was intended for comedy purposes, so yeah. And both participants were fully clothed throughout.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I'm aware... Again, being small and in tiny fandoms has its advantages.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not technically, although I am currently indebted to Mental (hi!) for donating like half of the good ideas for my current WIP, and being a cheerleader for the other half. So in a way??? Anyway, shout-out to you for being amazing, Mental. 💞

What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Don't ask me that. That's mean. I could be here for days. But as of THIS PARTICULAR MOMENT, my top three (in no particular order) would have to be The Ineffables (GO), River/Payton (The Politician), and Ben/Top Secret New OC from my WIP.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Honestly, I'm pretty sure it was the Curious George fandom when I was like five years old... But that's not on ao3, so. I bet my mom still has the original manuscript somewhere in her house though, so you never know.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

It's a toss-up between Lonely Nights/its upcoming sequel, purely because I'm having so much fun with them, and Give Me One Weekend, a Politician fic, because it makes me happy to write about my boys being happy.

Okayyyyy, I'm gonna tag @missarisanitewrites even though you've probably already done this... But just in case you haven't. Mainly, I'm just a fan (curses on you for that Professor!Tom nonsense) and wanted to tag you, so. Hi. No pressure.

And also @broken-lycan because Ummmm hello you're super talented and ought to flaunt your words at every opportunity and also I miss you so Hi.

#tag game #story of my life

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karl-marxs-lil-pogchamp · 2 years

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Curious George hot takes, from the one and only person who not only watches Curious George, but also ships YellowDoor

#what am i doin with my life #Curious george meme #im not even sure how to tag this asdfghjkl #woe curious george be upon ye #crimson talks about curious george #look ma i made a meme #shitpost #curious george #the man with the yellow hat #the doorman curious george #professor wiseman curious george

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marvelslut16 · 5 years

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An Unexpected Encounter

Pairing Crowley x reader

Synopsis: Reader runs into her old hunting partners, the Winchesters, after not seeing them since they found out she was with Crowley years prior. The boys get a glimpse into life with a slightly domesticated Crowley.

Word count: 1560

Warnings: Swearing probably. Mentions of Hell, hell hounds, and demons. Angry Dean.

Author’s note: It’s my first Crowley imagine so let me know how I did! And, I chose George as a filler name to make the writing process easier, feel free to change it to whatever you would like while reading.

You walk out of the quaint little diner that you frequent once a week for breakfast, the warm spring weather surrounds you like a blanket. You breathe in deeply, enjoying the faint smell of rain that lingers in the air, and the fresh scent of blooming flowers. You bask in the sun's rays while you still can.

“(Y/N) is that you?” you here a deep voice that you know all too well coming from behind you. In the reflection from the diner’s picture window you can see your old hunting partners Sam and Dean advancing towards you. Your mouth dries and you take a gulp of air before turning to face the brothers. You put on your brightest smile, pushing the memories of the last time you saw them to the back of your mind.

“Sam, Dean,” you use your practiced fake voice. The one you use with Crowley’s demons when they annoy you and get out of hand. “What brings you boys to this little town?”

“Electric storms popping up, just wanted to make sure it wasn’t a demonic omen,” Sam looks down at you, his long hair blowing lightly in the breeze. “Why are you here then?”

“Just finished breakfast,” you use your thumb to point at the diner behind you. The diner that holds your new life, the one you know Sam and Dean won’t approve of.

“So you quit hunting?” Dean raises an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah I did,” you put on a real smile, images of yours and Crowley’s life in Hell flash before your eyes. “I guess I wanted that apple pie life too.”

“Good for you (Y/N),” Sam smiles down at you. “Honestly never thought you’d be the one to give the supernatural up.” You faintly smile and give him a small nod, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“Well let us know if you see anything,” Dean says in his gruff voice, the one he uses when he’s on guard. It’s been four years and he doesn’t trust you anymore, a small part of you deflates. These boys were practically your brothers, and because of one fight they no longer trust you.

“This isn’t attack of the demons,” you roll your eyes at Dean, too annoyed to care about your attitude. “Believe me, I would know.”

“You still talk to Crowley or something?” Dean’s anger flashes in his eyes. He has no right to get angry at you all over again. This fight was the whole reason you left in the first place.

“Something like that,” you move your left hand from your side into the back pocket of your jeans as naturally as you can. Wanting to hide the over the top engagement ring and matching studded wedding band.

“He’s just using you (Y/N). He doesn’t care about you he never has!” Dean roars. You take a deep breath to keep from yelling back, you can’t do this here. Not now.

Before you can open your mouth to refute his claim, the bells connected to the diner door jingle, alerting that you three or no longer alone on the street. You tightly close your eyes as you hear the tiny footsteps running up to you, no way to avoid this now.

“Mommy!” your son squeezes your legs and hides behind them when he sees that you aren’t alone.

“Hi my little prince,” you scoop him up into your arms, wanting the security of him being close to you right now. You glance behind you and see that his father did not accompany him out the door, and you let out a little sigh. “Where’s Daddy?”

“He’s inside paying,” he hides his face in the crook of your neck, trying to hide away from the punishment. The light scent of sulfur and crayons surrounds you now. Sam and Dean are staring at you with wide eyes, you almost forgot there were there.

“We talked about this mister-” you use your mom voice on him.

“I know,” your son leans back so he can look into your eyes, chubby arms wrapping around your neck. “But I saw you right outside the window and I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you chuckle fondly at your little boy, who has his father's black locks. “But you need to stay with one of us at all times.”

“Or someone could hurt me,” he finishes with a ridiculously large sigh coming from his tiny body. He definitely got his dramatic touch from his father. Sam clears his throat, reminding you that he and Dean are still there.

“Oh right! Sam, Dean this is my son, George,” you smile at the brothers. “George can you say hi?” He hides his face in your neck again in protest, you let out a little giggle. “Sorry about that, he can be a little shy when it comes to new people.”

“That’s okay George,” Sam smiles and lightly pinches George’s exposed cheek.

“Sam used to be shy too,” Dean adds, his eyes locked on your hand that's now rubbing soothing circles onto your son’s back. The sunlight bouncing off the many diamonds adorning your finger.

“George is pretty big,” Sam comments, noticing his brothers curious gaze.

“Yeah, he’s two and a half,” you grin down at the black mop of hair that’s in your eyesight. “I got engaged pretty quickly after I left, and married soon after. The pregnancy was a shock, we planned on waiting a little longer. But I wouldn’t change any of it.”

“So you moved on from that demon pretty quickly,” Dean gives you a triumphant smirk, he always hated your infatuation with Crowley.

“They do still talk,” Sam looks down at his brother. “So don’t get too cocky.”

The bells behind you jingle once again, your grip on George tightens a bit, hoping that Dean won’t start yelling when he sees Crowley. Crowley walks up to you, slinking his left arm around your waist, giving George a kiss on the head, before pecking your cheek. You look to the right and grin at your husband, your king.

“Moose, squirrel, always a pleasure to see you,” Crowley’s English accent drips with sarcasm.

“Those are people daddy,” George’s giggles are slightly muffled by your neck. “Not animals.”

“I know that my prince,” Crowley gives your son a genuine smile, sun glinting off his forehead ironically giving him the look of a halo. The king of Hell was quite the softy when it came to your little family. “Those were their nicknames when I worked with them years ago.”

George’s head flies out of the crook of your neck to whip around and face the brothers. “You knew my mommy and my daddy?” George asks, his little jaw dropping. “That’s crazy.”

“Yeah we did,” Sam gives him a soft smile while Dean’s anger seems to grow.

“The three of us worked together for years,” you gave George a small squeeze, Crowley’s arm tightens around your waist. “Your dad would help us occasionally. But after your father and I got together we realized that we wanted a family and we left. I actually haven’t seen Sam and Dean since then.”

“You’re still with him?” Dean asks, eyes shrinking into slits.

“Of course I am,” you scoff. “Hell, Sammy figured it out before Crowley ever walked out. I’m sure he knew as soon as I called George my prince.”

“You left us (Y/N)!” Dean seethes. “For that- that-”

“I was in love Dean! I still am,” you stare him down, jaw clenched tight. “And I would rather you not make a scene in front of my son.”

“No wonder you don’t want him away from either of you! He’s not-” Dean’s words are cut off when Crowley snaps. While no words come out, you can clearly make out the fact that he’s calling George not human and a monster.

You breathe in a sharp breath, fighting to hold back the tears that are rapidly rising. Dean was your best friend back in the day, the two of you were joined at the hip. But now he’s standing right in front of you insulting your son, your husband, your family.

“No one talks about my son like that!” Crowley’s voice rumbles, eyes briefly turning a bright red. “And no one raises their voice at my wife, she is my queen and you puny little humans will treat her as such!”

“Bye boys,” you smirk at them before Crowley snaps your family back to Hell. It may be dark and full of Demons, but it’s home.

“My love-” Crowley gently pulls George from your arms and sets him on the ground. As soon as his little feet hit the ground he’s running to his room to find Juliet, the gigantic deadly hell hound and your sweet little son, the strangest best friends.

“I wouldn’t change a thing,” you gently caress his cheek, leaning in to give him a passionate kiss. When you pull back to catch your breath, Crowley snaps the two of you to your room.

“How about we make another little one, my Queen?” there’s a familiar glint to his eyes, and you can’t help but bite your bottom lip.

“I think that can be arranged my king,” your hands grasp the lapels of his suit coat, and pull him into a deep sensual kiss.

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen @rexorangecouny

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #crowley #spn crowley x reader #supernatural crowley #supernatural crowley x reader #crowley x reader #crowley imagine #crowley fanfiction

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gingerteaonthetardis · 5 years

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prompt: 31 days of ficmas - coal

pairing: fremione (because back on my bullshit)

word count: 2267

rating: t for testy teenagers

for @lotsofthinkythoughts on her birthday! usual apologies apply. i’m still pants at editing, and also at magic!

Stupid, infuriating... ginger... bastards!

The mantra cycles through Hermione's head in a repeated (and increasingly colorful) loop, and she wishes she'd never told the twins about this damn tradition.

It had been funny, at first, realizing how little a Wizarding Christmas had in common with a Muggle one. She'd always gone home for the Christmas hols, and it wasn't until her fourth year—until the Yule Ball, actually—that she really started to notice the differences. There were trees, yes, and presents. Lots of fairy lights and good cheer. But there was also a lot less moralizing, and no leering Saint with a list of goodies and baddies. Certainly nothing that needed payment in the form of cookies and carrots, and might possibly leave behind punishment instead of presents.

The Weasleys—mostly Arthur, of course, and the twins—were curious, so she told them as much as she could remember about Muggle Christmas traditions. After the tumult of the term, there was something comforting about imparting her strange customs and mysteries upon eager ears. Santa Claus and his origins from Saint Nick; the flying reindeer and magical sleigh; the unlikely and difficult process of sliding down chimneys. Coal for naughty children. Harry filled in blanks where he could, though he preferred to let Hermione do the talking.

But as she gets up out of her bed—the one she used to share with Ginny, before the younger girl had taken to lingering outside of Harry and Ron's room at night and willing the door to disappear, presumably—she feels no trace of holiday cheer. Only a pure, seething irritation that warms her to her toes, even as she steps out onto the freezing wooden slabs of the floor.

Nobody is there to witness it, but that doesn't stop her stomping her foot. "Ridiculous… immature, dung-for-brains boys," she raves, grabbing a jumper—not of the Weasley variety, as she has been excluded from that particular tradition, thanks ever so—and donning it over her red-striped jimjams.

"It's not even right! It's supposed to be inside of bloody stockings, you half-wits!"

Her voice rises to a screech, as she is forced to assume she is performing for someone; the twins wouldn't go without the gratification of glorying in a prank well-done. Not on Christmas. They're probably lurking somewhere nearby.

Well, she thinks, she'll just make sure they don't need extendable ears to hear her displeasure.

Irritation boiling over, she looks down at her jumper, and the thick yarn is positively coated in coal dust, turning the cheerful, holiday crimson into something from a macabre, post-apocalyptic horror film. Because all of the furniture in her room has been transfigured into giant, ruddy lumps of coal.

Lying on the massive chunk of fire hazard that used to be Ginny's dresser is a folded piece of parchment. She nearly storms past it. No doubt it contains a bit of self-congratulatory crowing and not much else.

Happy Christmas and Best Wishes to a Very Naughty Witch!

- F&G

Her jaw tightens, and a red flush works it's way up through the woolen neck of her jumper. "Honestly," she mutters. "Like they've never seen a pair of knickers before."

"We hadn't!" They chime in their usual, infuriating unison—albeit a bit muffled—and Hermione stomps to the bedroom door.

"At least—"

She swings it open, and there they are, grinning like anything. Grinning like two things that were born to grin, and perhaps they were. Born to grin and to drive her mental.

"—not pink ones!"

"Right," George nods, quite seriously, "and definitely not with those little—"

"—bows and lacey bits on 'em!" Fred finishes, pleased with himself.

Hermione momentarily finds herself at a loss for words, eyes darting back and forth between two beaming, freckled faces, smudged black with the evidence of their prank, just like their jimjams—yellow striped, a bit too short at the ankles, and also spotted with dust. They must have come in and done the transfigurations just before she'd woken up, she simmers, glaring down at their socked feet. The bastards could be so quiet when they wanted to.

Her glare turns back on their faces, which are still fixed in cheerful grins. Unrelenting. A touch of innocence, too, despite them both being nearly-grown wizards, almost of age, and entirely too old for ridiculous pranks. Still, the whole scene would probably be adorable, if she had a soft spot for tall, troublemaking ginger twins. Her eyes catch on one pair of eyes, darker than the other, more angled.

One tall, troublemaking ginger twin, maybe.

But, she reminds herself, no good will come of that.

Hermione shakes her head, and her hair must surely resemble a tumbleweed, but she pays that no mind. She's well past the point of mortification, between this and The Knicker Incident. (Honestly, can't a girl do her laundering charms in peace? But that gives her an idea…)

She musters all of the dignity she can manage at half-past six, coated in coal dust, staring down a bloke she fancies despite… well, pretty much everything about him. And with a hand dropping to her hip and her best Molly Weasley tone, Hermione scolds the boys.

"Well, Fred, George, perhaps if you were a little more helpful around the house, the pair of you might have a broader understanding of women's undergarments." Her natural swottiness carries her along as she mimics the matriarch—and she does it well. Merlin knows she's had plenty of exposure to Molly's ire lately. "Or perhaps, if you had more natural charm…?" She pauses to arch an eyebrow and give a disappointed tsk. "As it is, I am forced to credit your shock and awe to either a woeful and tragic inexperience with women, or a disturbing lack of interest in personal hygiene. Neither bodes well."

Two sets of lips twitch.

George eyes her before glancing over at his twin. "Don't think she's found her present, Freddie."

"Apparently not," Fred agrees, giving a sad shake of his head.

"Pity. You worked so hard."

And Fred still just looks at her. "I know. What a shame."

Her irritation flares. "Oh, I'm quite sure I found it, you absolute wankers. I've got the evidence all over my best jumper!" But the two boys just shamble away, putting on a great show of disappointment, wagging their heads.

"Let me know when you find your gift, Granger," Fred calls over his shoulder. "Shouldn't take long for the Brightest Witch of Her Age."

The rest of the morning is no less infuriating.

She contemplates waiting for the transfiguration to wear off, but ultimately decides against it. She's still got an entire week at the Burrow and has little interest in smudging every new item of clothing she unpacks with coal dust. So, she sets about reversing the spell.

Which is, of course, difficult.

Ginny is the first to come check on her. The girl looks a bit peaky, Hermione thinks (a touch uncharitably, given the state of her hair), but staying up all night pining will do that to a person. Ginny simply eyes the room and sighs. "Idiot."

"Idiots," Hermione corrects. "Plural."

"He's trying to get your attention, you know."

"Who is?"

Ginny rolls her eyes, but gives no further answer. Being in love is doing her no favors, Hermione gripes. She's quite snappish this morning.

"I'll bring up a coffee for you," Ginny replies. "Mum and Dad are having a lie-in, so you have a bit of time before breakfast." And then, because she's of no help at all, the girl disappears.

Harry is the one the rest of them apparently bullied into bringing up the coffee. Strong and black and bitter, it grounds Hermione and fuels her fury all at once. Her hair is a crackling halo of potential magic, and static builds up in the knit of her jumper. Her feet, at this point, are blackened on the soles.

Her best friend pushes up his glasses and glances around the room—at the misshapen lump that used to be a rocking chair, and the tragic heap of the dresser, and even at the bed posts, thoughtfully topped with little rounded orbs that could almost be onyx, if they weren't so bloody filthy.

"You could just ask them to de-spell it."

Her shoulders set and they both know what she's going to say, but she says it anyway.

"No."

Ron doesn't come up. He's still mad at her. He's always mad at her.

Happy Christmas, indeed.

By the time breakfast is ready, she's close to snapping. Her mind is split along two tracks, yanking her in seemingly unrelated directions. The first is the issue of the alleged "gift." What sort of gift, she asks herself, could possibly be hiding in lumps of coal?

The promise of that present—tantalizing in its implausibility—is really the only thing that keeps her from just giving in and using a crushing charm to grind everything to dust. It would be messy, and the furniture would be a loss, but…

She stomps her foot.

Leave it to the Weasley twins to ruin her Christmas.

It's that sudden rush of fresh anger—the injustice! How dare they pull such a callous stunt on a much-earned day of rest and celebration? Why, she ought to crush their little—that sends the spell singing out of her wand. It's not exactly a nice spell, nor kindly worded. But at the sharp rap of her wand against rock, the coal that comprises the knob on her bedpost begins to shrink—condense. There is a sound like crunching stone, only slower. Lower. Almost popping.

Of course, she realizes. Pressure.

The spell flares out again, increasing the pressure around the great heap of sediment. This is far from it's normal use; it's designed for potions that require certain conditions, a bubble of high or low pressure. But before her eyes, the coal begins to shrink away, and as it does, it reveals the wood beneath. She sighs in relief. The furniture is intact, at least.

Piece by piece, she spells away the coal-coating on the furniture, until at last, there is only her nightstand to go. With a final flick of her wand, she applies pressure.

This time, the coal shrinks—tightens—into… something.

A small stone, sitting on the wooden surface of the table, glittering.

She steps closer and sees that it is attached to something—a delicate copper chain. And the stone itself is, she laughs to realize, a diamond.

Her stomach fills with butterflies and amusement and good, old fashioned irritation all at once. Of course it would be a diamond.

A sodding diamond. A diamond bracelet.

From the twins?

"He's trying to get your attention, you know."

Her cheeks are suddenly and inexplicably pink.

Oh.

She looks down at the thin copper links, shiny and red-gold where they catches the sunrays. And at the tiny chip of clear, crystalline light that nestles into one of the chain links.

Well.

It wouldn't have been a very expensive present. Just a lump of coal, and a bit of copper wiring to twist into chain links. Even if he had bought the thing outright—which she knew he was far too resourceful to do—diamonds weren't so prized in a culture where stones were only as good as the magic they could channel, where gems were valued for utility more than anything else. Diamonds were usually needed for their strength, for spells that required fidelity and endurance. They were called good, reliable stones by many wizards who apparently lacked an eye for the aesthetic.

But it would have taken lots of pressure—more than she could conjure with her little spell, certainly—to wear a large lump of coal down to a chip that size. Pressure, impressive power, and time. She examines the bracelet further and discovers no discernible magical signature; this diamond, she realizes, isn't being used to channel or carry anything, despite all the potential in a copper conduit. It's just lovely, there on its chain. It's just being given to her for the pleasure of it, of looking at it and appreciating it.

She shakes her head, unable to stop the grin that takes over her mouth.

That's some rather brilliant magic.

Hermione is, predictably, the last to the breakfast table. She's changed into fresh pyjamas and tamed her hair into a braid and wiped the soot from her face, but the biggest change is her satisfied smile.

She deposits herself into a seat with a cheerful, "Good morning, everyone. Happy Christmas!" and is greeted in return. (Not by Molly, of course. Or Ron.) The chatter of the family barely even pauses for her, except from one person, down the table, a twin with darker eyes.

She catches them.

With a little twisting grin, she reaches up—and oh-so-slowly tucks an escaped curl behind her ear.

The delicate bracelet slips down her wrist, and with it comes a subtle flash. Though, from Fred's perspective, the light off the diamond can't beat the glimpse of her teeth as her grin threatens to burst into something brighter. Her eyes positively sparkle and he wonders how nobody at the table notices it—how the brightest witch just glows.

He winks. And then, because she missed a bit in her cleanup, he mimes rubbing his thumb over a spot on his chin. Cheeks immediately growing pink, Hermione mimics him, and her thumb comes away gray with dust.

"Twat," she mouths.

"You're welcome," Fred mouths back.

He gets other gifts that morning, but the way Hermione Granger laughs just then—silent, only for herself and for him, with her hand over her mouth and the bracelet on her wrist—is undoubtedly his favorite.

#like... i'm sorry?#i just... love them.#forgive my timeline shenanigans to make this a thing.#also... forgive my BLATANT misuse of magic.#fremione #fred x hermione #hp #abbey.txt #ficmas #ficlet

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youarejesting · 4 years

Text

BTS365 Prompts.Week 41

[Full Masterlist] [Prompt Masterlist] [Tag yourself here]

Please tag me in your work if you use my prompts. I want to see your work. Ever your Jester. Tell me your birthday and I will tag you on your special day!

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Oct 8st - 14th

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Kim Seokjin - curious

Jin never thought he would ever get dirty, that he would ever go somewhere so foreign to him. But here he was in the ridiculous yellow suit and hat provided to him by the staff and producers. The others looked cool in their outfits and colours and he just looked like a banana. The others teased him and he tried to force the redness from his face, neck and ears.

They started the safari, walking around when something dropped on his shoulder. Seokjin froze and the monkey crawled around his body sniffing and looking for the snacks Seokjin had in his pockets to feed said monkeys when they reached the enclosure.

“That’s our monkey George he loves the colour yellow, we named him after curious George”

“That’s who you look like!” The boys all cheered, making Jin’s ears turn red once more.

Min Yoongi - party

Yoongi didn’t like parties, he didn’t like the volume, the capacity he didn’t like dressing up and dancing and yet he was always trying to please his friends and go to the parties anyway. Today he couldn’t take it, he thought about somewhere to hide and thought perhaps a room, but people would wonder why he is sitting around and he would have to awkwardly explain himself.

He could hide in a closet but people would most likely think the room is empty and then if they found him they would think he was waiting to peep on others. He looked around a room about to leave when he heard a giggle from out the window. Ducking his head out he didn’t see anyone but he heard another giggle this time from above. He turned his head up to see two feet dangling off the edge of the roof.

Climbing over the edge he saw you lying there looking at your phone and giggling. “Hey are you okay?”

“Yeah, just uh… escaping,” You smiled “I don’t like parties, too loud and awkward”

Jung Hoseok - old

“Harabeoji” A small voice shouted and footsteps patted across the front porch, where you and your husband were sitting softly on an outdoor bench swing. “Harabeoji look what I drew at school today?”

“What did you draw my son?”

“I drew our family, look mum dad and then there is you and Halmeoni?” You looked over at the picture and laughed.

“What are these lines?” Hoseok asked, pointing at the picture.

“Wrinkles because you are old?” Your grandson laughed

“It’s okay my love, you may be old. But I still love you?” You chuckled “We have been together for sixty years now, and you are still my hope”

Kim Namjoon - farmers

He knew nothing about farms but his grandfather gave one to him in his will, he could inherit all the money as long as he lasted one whole year living on the farm. He thought it would be easy. He was wrong.

What started as a dream holiday became a nightmare in moments, no electricity, no hot water, no internet. But this little farm has something the city didn’t. It had you.

Park Jimin - lace

The fans were going off thanking you, the head stylist for Jimin's latest outfit. You smiled, they thought you were doing it for them, the fans when really you also wanted to see them wear these things. But you couldn’t just start putting them in risky outfits all the time or they would suspect so you saved them for special occasions.

You were planning the next outfit sketching it out and sighed the boys in crop tops and some in skirts. It was a fantasy come true. You knew you couldn’t, but you set about making the outfits anyway.

A week later the boys were going to a gala and you grabbed the bags with their names on it and handed the items to them. Each one got changed and stepped out for you to help them with their suits before heading off to the hair makeup artists.

“Ah Noona, I think you gave me the wrong outfit”

Jimin stepped out blushing, he was in a lace crop top and a skirt and you felt heat in your face. It was so hot Jimin shouted “Noona your bleeding”

Kim Taehyung - skeptic

Taehyung was your business partner, and the two of you were pretty famous on youtube. You were a ghost hunting duo called the ‘Spooky times’. Where the two of you would travel around the world to some of the most haunted locations and try to find evidence of ghosts and other paranormal creatures.

“Hey rollerghosters welcome back to another BOO-tiful location, today we are at the LaLaurie Mansion in New Orleans which is one of the most famous haunted locations. And we are going to find ourselves a ghost” Taehyung smiled into the camera and you laughed from the corner of the screen you were dressed especially cute today.

Everyone within the fan base knew you were not afraid of anything, you would also encourage Taehyung when he found something. Talking up every whisper and creak that it could in fact be a ghost. Taehyung wasn’t scared either, finding everything rather amusing and wanting to speak to a spirit was his ultimate goal.

The cameraman Hoseok and the Sound guy Yoongi were two of the jumpiest in the group. The two crew members were fan favourites, Jhope was known for his extreme reactions, once or twice throwing the camera and running out of the building. Yoongi was rarely ever seen but often heard his slow drawl when he complained about having to take eight flights of stairs in an old hotel because someone had been complaining about walking in the attic.

There were many compilations of the cast and crew on youtube . Some of your favorites include Yoongi, trying to fist fight ghosts and Hoseok’s collection of funny noises. Of course you and your co-star had your fair share, most were shipping videos but there were one or two of Taehyung being adorable, funny or sexy and some of you staring and talking to ghosts.

The fans believed you could see them, and they weren’t wrong. What they didn’t know was that you were a high ranked demon, old and powerful. As you stepped into haunted buildings you could see other ghosts and entities within and glared down any who got too close to your friends.

This had resulted in a few clips of you talking to nothing, but you just made the same excuse that you were documenting your surroundings and noting the architecture of the building. They would never know.

Jeon Jungkook - intergalactic

You were the only humans on the ship among a few species of aliens, well aliens from your perspective you assumed as to them you were the aliens. You were sitting next to an Alzothian named Daa, he was bigger and had more advanced optical nerves. All round the Alzothians had amazing eyesight, it had freaked you out at first as they could see, xray, infrared, ultraviolet light and more things that you hadn’t the science to comprehend.

“You are blue eart’ling, what ‘as caused you to feel the emotion you ‘oomans call sad” The deep voice spoke the vocal cords and lung capacity of the Alzothian were minimal. It meant the H sound was tiresome so they skipped it when they could, preferring to speak further back in their throats to prevent the unnecessary exhaling.

“I am just feeling lonely,” You sighed, “I get like this sometimes, when I miss human contact, do not worry”

“You are not alone, I am ‘ere” Daa gestured to himself and you gave a short laugh. “And your eart’ling friend mister goo as you call ‘im, is on the ship to, I will call your ‘ooman companion”

“Hey, what is going on?” Jungkook appeared with another Alzothian; this one was Crolyt who was learning about human anatomy and biology and the bodies limits.

“The female Eart’ling is feeling the emotion sad and needs ‘ooman contact.” Daa spoke

“Do you need a hug?” Jungkook asked you and you blushed but nodded wrapping your hands around his waist and pressing your face against his chest. Jungkook hugged back his arms around your shoulders gently rubbing your back.

“Success you are no longer blue” Daa smiled

“Daa we should leave from what I ‘ave gathered this seems to be the beginnings of their mating ritual” Your cheeks went bright red and when you looked up you saw Jungkook’s ears also crimson kissed by embarrasment.

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scream-tears · 5 years

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The Royal Invitation - Part 2

Aerowyn Matilde George Rothchester might seem like a very long name, but it definitely is not for a royal in the Kingdom of Dalewin.

After her grandfather, the beloved king, passed away, Aerowyn (also known as Winny) is called back from her art school in New York. She’s thrown back into her royal duties, expected to know what to do.

But with the Royal advisor on tour with the new king, Winny is left to figure things out with his stepson. The only problem, he has no idea what he’s doing, after all he’s only the lead singer in a band.

Co-written with @aweirdkindofyellow

Chapter 2

Alex’s POV:

I brushed the tips of my fingers against the banister, walking up the large spiralling staircase to where I recalled the library being. The walls were painted in a deep teal, embellished with golden patterns and trims, signifying the signature colours of the kingdom.

The south corridor in itself was by far the greatest. Having had the King's library and other rooms among it meant that each alcove withheld a painting of the generation from the period. Dating back to 1673, I eventually found myself far enough down the corridor to stop at a certain painting in particular.

A sheepish grin adorned her pink lips, enhancing her lightly tanned complexion whilst her long blonde locks were tied back into a ponytail. Her arms were wrapped tightly around the King's neck whilst he tilted her crown slightly and grinned down at her. I smiled weakly at the two of them, somewhat understanding how she must be feeling.

I pushed through the door beside the alcove, finding myself in the same room I had stumbled into the day before. With tall shelves teeming with books of all kinds and rays of sunlight pouring in, it was a given that this, of all places, would be her hideout.

I strolled through the small walkway separating the books from the main area, eventually finding myself leant against the far bookcase, admiring the scene at hand.

She shuffled around, carefully placing each of her canvases in the far corners of the room out of the way, clearing a floor space in the middle. Her assortment of brushes and paints were soon placed onto the desk in no particular order and she fell down into the large crimson chair, spinning softly as though to contemplate her next move. I smirked as her eyes met with mine, moving from the bookcase to the stool as she continued to stare at me, her eyebrows arched.

"Can I help you, Gaskarth?" Aerowyn asked, her Dalewinian accent shielded by what I recognised to be American. I couldn't help but question her history.

"Nope." I replied; she rolled her eyes, leaning back to the point where she was submerged in the leather material. "But maybe I could help you?..."

She perked up at my remark, glancing at each aspect of my face before trailing her eyes over my body. I felt judged. Her eyes were like sharp needles, poking at each imperfection she found.

"Actually, you can." She stood up, leaning against the desk as she began arranging the colours, occasionally glancing back up at me beneath her eyelashes. I stared back at her–a proud smirk tugging at the corners of her lips as she finally stood up. "I need a body."

"A body? I mean, the one you've got there is just fine." I winked, playing off the dooshe-bag attitude that I had been so flawless with at home–she rolled her eyes again. Clearly not so much here.

"I need a body to paint on. Your body." She declared, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she did. I surveyed the way her thumb caressed the side of her cheek, and for a second, I envied it.

"Okay…"

"So you up for it?" The grin against her lips was enough of a persuasion to say yes. I nodded.

Before I arrived I had been warned, particularly because of my history, that I had to be on my best behaviour. 'The princess is a lady', Garry insisted. Never did I ever have stripping down into my boxers for her to paint on me in the agenda. This girl before me was far from what I had been told. She was human.

Before long I was seated again, my exposed legs pressing against the cold surface of the wooden stool. I rubbed the back of my neck instinctively, watching as she began mixing the colours she wanted.

The first stroke was strange. The bristles brushed delicately against my skin leaving a trail of gooey substance behind. I looked up at Aerowyn, though she was too occupied with her art to notice. I watched the way her eyebrow raised when she questioned the direction the brush moved, and the way the tip of her tongue stuck out of the end of her mouth as she concentrated on the task at hand. I chuckled lightly, breathing in as she gripped my wrist in order to keep my arm still. Her touch was gentle and caressing, her fingers soft against my skin.

"Do you do this a lot? " I asked, keeping my eye on the brush strokes as I attempted to break the silence engulfing us.

"Not the way I used to." She replied vaguely.

"How so?" Part of me knew I was breaking the rules and overstepping the boundaries by pushing for an answer, but I was literally sat in my underwear–the line was crossed a long time ago.

"Long story short, I'm an art student and so my artwork tends to be less courageous and more... simplistic, for it's time limits." I nodded, understanding the time pressure that comes with making art. Occasionally the studio would ask for another song and want it in by the next day, so it tended to be random and extremely stereotypical as far as lyrics were concerned.

"Well I thin-" I trailed off, staring down at her hand as it pressed against my chest. In the process of a short conversation she had finished the basis of my arm, eventually trailing up to my shoulder.

"You think what?" She mumbled smugly, the side of her cheek arching as she tried to hide her smirk. I gulped, noting that she was reading my body just as much as I was trying to hide it.

"I think that as soon as you graduate and get away from the restrictions of school, you'll have more of an opportunity to create art like this. Art that you love." Saved it.

Silence engulfed us once more, the heavy breathing and movement of bristles being the only sound emanating from the room.

Within an hour she had completed my chest and arm, deciding she'd do it in segments and just piece it together when complete. I stood in front of the bookcase, trying out some of the many poses I had learned from all the photoshoots I'd attended. I guess being in a band has its perks after all.

I pulled my shirt over the now dry and crumbling paint, fastening the buttons as I looked over at Aerowyn beneath my lashes. She was shuffling around again, returning everything back to its original position–the art supplies returning back to draw.

She fell down into the crimson chair, spinning slowly as her laptop began to load. Inserting the memory stick from the camera into the laptop, she glanced over the screen, smiling weakly as her eyes caught mine.

"Want to see the pictures?" Her voice was warm and soothing. A feeling of relief washed over me as she actually spoke, beckoning me over to the screen. I crouched down beside her, admiring the art she had created with nothing but paints and my skin.

"They're amazing. You're amazing." I stuttered, peering over at Aerowyn as her cheeks burned a blush red. I smiled smugly, turning back to the pictures as she scrolled through.

"I like that one," she pointed to one picture in particular. I was stood in front of the bookcase, officially getting bored of the shoot, so I pulled the funniest face achievable. I just happened to make even Aerowyn laugh in the process.

"It's a shame I didn't steal the camera. I'm an expert as far as photography goes." I added smugly, grinning over at Aerowyn as she rolled her eyes.

"Your so pompous." She moaned, smiling playfully. It was just like the portrait–young, curious and full of innocence.

"I do try." I winked, smirking as I stood up from my crouched position beside her. She spun to face me, staring up at my towering figure. "I should go and get cleaned up in time for dinner."

"Of course," she nodded understandingly. It was around an hour before everyone was expected downstairs for dinner, including myself seen as though there was lot's to discuss with Gary and the king.

"Goodbye, Princess." I added, attempting to read the emotion hidden behind the facade. Nothing.

"Goodbye, Alex."

I turned on my heel, heading though the small hallway and out of the large doors. I hurried along to the west wing, bee-lining for my room in a rush to get cleaned up. I wasn't usually this eager to attend formal events like this one, but it meant seeing Aerowyn again. It was about time I got a taste of the princess they were all talking about.

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accio-jamespotter · 6 years

Text

if harry had been a metamorphmagus

inspired by this post

when harry was a baby his hair turned so many different colors that petunia evans looked at him with as much shock as disgust. as he grew older he began noticing when his appearance changed, and the curious boy he was, stole a mirror from petunia’s bathroom and hid it in the cupboard under the stairs that she wouldn’t dare step inside. he switched the light on late at night when the house was silent and he was sure vernon and petunia were fast asleep. holding out the mirror in front of him, he scrunched up his face in an attempt to make his hair change colors. nothing happened. he tried again and again and again, but the only thing he achieved was anger.

he dropped the handheld mirror onto his lap and sighed, pondering his difference from the dursleys. there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t think about his parents—who they were and who he could’ve been.

he thought about dudley. he thought about the meager portions harry was given at mealtimes and the knobby knees with which he was so familiar, and he felt angry.

he willed himself to lift the mirror once again, determined to watch his messy black hair fade to any color at all, but when he looked into the mirror he saw that his hair had already changed. it was bright red in contrast with his eyes.

when hagrid came to collect harry and prepare him for his first year at hogwarts, harry was still wide-eyed with wonder.

did you ever make anything happen? anything you couldn’t explain when you were angry or scared?

harry thought about talking to the snake and his hair turning colors. he thought about that one time when aunt petunia cut his hair and harry was so upset that it grew back. and grew back. and kept growing back as many times as she cut it.

he didn’t say anything.

when harry potter arrived at hogwarts, heads turned and excited whispers became more audible.

people kept rushing up to him, some eager to speak to the boy who lived and others anxious to watch him alter his appearance at will.

“is it true? you really are a metamorphmagus?”

harry nodded but felt ashamed that he wasn’t confident in his abilities. he didn’t want to disappoint, however, so he scrunched up his face and tried to internally imitate a bodily response to feelings of anger. he opened his eyes after realizing that they had been closed and observed several open mouths as fascinated first years saw his hair turn red.

“that’s awesome!”

“do it again, harry!”

harry, overcome with pleasure to be praised for something he had been forced to wear hats to hide all his life, obeyed his fellow students wishes. he scrunched up his face again and this time, tried concentrating on his hair and letting a certain shade of blue fill him up inside. his bright red hair faded to purple before settling at a shade of dark blue.

when the sorting hat declared him a gryffindor, harry’s hair became the crimson shade of his house crest. his sorting was met with wild applause from the gryffindor table, and he sat down to join what would become his family.

in first year harry learned to control his metamorphmagic and was easily able to transform his appearance at will. there were still a few things he struggled with, like making himself appear much older than he was and preventing unconscious changes in hair color or facial appearance, but for the most part he was able to control his magic.

when harry wandered into the empty classroom that night, he had no idea he would encounter his parents. he had no hopes other than to escape the threat of being caught out of bed after hours and when he came face to face with the mirror that showed him family, he stared, stunned, before every unconsciously altered aspect of his appearance disappeared from his body and he was left staring at the family he had never known. they saw him as he was, and he saw them as he wished they would be: alive.

in second year there was no need to brew polyjuice potion in the abandoned bathroom because harry could simply transform himself into goyle and follow crabbe into the slytherin common room. the trio discovered much earlier that draco malfoy was not, in fact, the heir of slytherin.

the school was split between believing harry to be good and believing him to be assisting a monster in entering the grounds. “have there been any slytherin metamorphmagi?” people started wondering. they became cautious and hesitant around him, which drove harry crazy.

oliver wood was too busy worrying about the quidditch cup to care whether or not harry was the heir of slytherin. in fact, he encouraged harry to use that to his advantage. “harry, just start speaking parseltongue when the other team’s seeker is near. they’ll shoot off in the other direction allowing you to catch the snitch!”

he showed off his metamorphic abilities during mealtimes in an effort to make people laugh. one day, late at night in the gryffindor common room, harry transformed into snape and was putting on a show for his fellow classmates, who were cackling with laughter. professor mcgonagall awoke from the noise and made her way up to the fat lady and through the portrait hole. “what on earth is going on here?” she shouted, and for a split second she looked at professor snape and was in awe of his presence in the common room, but quickly she made the connection and sighed. “harry, come with me.” harry, disguised as snape, froze and let the metamorphization fall away from his body.

“yes, professor mcgonagall,” he said, and looked back at the gryffindors before climbing out through the portrait hole and to mcgonagall’s office.

“i know you’re not the heir of slytherin, harry,” she began.

“—but they don’t!” harry interrupted, and then fell silent.

“let me speak. i know you’re not the heir of slytherin, and i know it’s hard to watch your peers believe that you are. you’re doing a good job reminding them of who you are, but i can’t let you walk around making fun of professor snape. you know that, harry,” she said, and harry nodded.

“how about professor lockhart then?” harry inquired, and mcgonagall suppressed a laugh.

“no, not even him.”

harry nodded, sighed, and stood up to leave the office, but as he was leaving he quickly metamorphized into lockhart and turned back to mcgonagall. “would you like an autograph before i go? who am i kidding, of course you do! minerva, you’re practically my biggest fan!”

“that’s not saying much, then, gilderoy,” she smiled. “get out of here, harry.”

harry did.

in third year, harry met professor r.j. lupin on the hogwarts express. his robes were ragged and his hair turning grey, but he saved harry from the dementors.

when harry went wondering the corridors at night, marauders map in hand, he noticed snape coming his direction and transformed into the first person he thought of: lupin. harry, disguised as lupin, noticed the way snape’s jaw clenched and his hand tightened around his wand.

“what are you doing around here late at night? finding a good spot to howl at the moon, i suppose?”

“severus!” the real professor lupin called out from behind them. harry panicked, but lupin had already seen him. “and harry, i assume.” harry let the alterations fall from his face and he looked down at his feet. snape was aghast.

“potter, you’re in big trouble now,” he sneered, but lupin came forward and put his hand on harry’s shoulder.

“let me take care of it, severus. after all, it was me that he metamorphized into, wasn’t it?” lupin sounded amused and snape’s expression was priceless.

harry was pulled into the defense against the dark arts classroom and he apologized profusely and told lupin what appeared on the map.

nothing changed, though.

peter pettigrew escaped and left sirius in hiding. lupin retired and harry wondered why none of his efforts were enough to truly fix things.

in fourth year, harry’s name was thrown out of the goblet of fire and his face turned bright red without the help of his metamorphmagic.

when ron was struggling to ask a girl to the yule ball, harry turned himself into fleur delacour so ron could practice.

when the weasleys showed up for the third task harry was happily surprised. mrs weasley hugged him and harry’s hair turned the exact shade of ginger hair that was so known for existing in their family. he felt like family.

in the graveyard, the jet of red light coming from harry’s wand that should’ve been reflected in his eyes only made them glow greener. after cedric’s death, harry found himself thinking about it more than he intended. thoughts swarmed his mind as he dreamed of a world in which cedric survived instead of himself. he wished it was reality. harry turned a streak in his hair yellow out of respect, which combined with his black hair to make the hufflepuff colors.

in fifth year, harry met tonks. she was wild and accomplished and young and funny and she was a metamorphmagus, like him. she showed harry how to express himself through metamorphmagic and managed to make him laugh even when he felt nothing but anger inside.

during christmas at grimmauld place, harry and tonks worked with fred and george to plan ultimate pranks to play on the rest of the guests and family. harry, always a supporter of the mischief the weasley twins created, and tonks, eager to help with pranks, were perfect for helping fred and george execute their ideas. they frequently pranked sirius until he convinced them to let him help behind the scenes.

mad-eye moody gave a photograph of the original order of the phoenix to harry, who felt upset upon seeing how many people among his parents had died trying to fight to live. he took it though, and spent the night staring at his parents and wondering what they would think of him and how different they would look in person.

harry found himself in the bathroom with the door closed but not shut fully, staring in the mirror at himself. he looked at the image of his father, closed his eyes, and made the changes necessary to morph into not the boy who resembled his father but the boy who was his father.

his eyes turned hazel like the ones in the photograph, and he looked intently into them trying to see the man he had never known.

but what good is it to try to see someone you don’t remember seeing?

suddenly the door was pushed open and sirius looked up at—at james. he stood in shock watching as james potter’s hazel eyes looked solemnly at sirius’ grey ones, now silver with the glaze of tears. harry, upon realizing why sirius must have been staring at him with tears in his eyes and a mouth that stood open in shock, shook his head and let the alterations fall from his face. his eyes returned to their brilliant green and his face softened to resemble lily’s.

“i’m sorry,” he said sadly, “i didn’t mean to alarm you.”

sirius was quiet for a moment before collecting his solemnity and continuing. “harry! harry, it’s okay. it’s perfectly natural,” he spoke as if trying to regain control of his emotions, and harry looked back at the mirror, wishing his father was next to him. he could tell that sirius wished his father was there, too. for a while they just stood in silence.

“i loved your parents dearly, you know,” sirius looked at harry’s reflection in the mirror. “not a day goes by that i don’t miss your dad. it is overwhelmingly unfair that i got to spend so much time with james and lily and you so little.”

harry returned sirius’ gaze through the mirror, and they stared at each other’s reflections, both searching for solace in the mirror; both searching for james in the other.

as the year went on, harry continued to progressively lose many of his metamorphic powers, and he felt lost inside his own body. when arthur weasley was attacked by a snake, harry confided in sirius.

“sirius,” he began, his voice slightly shaky, “what if i—what if i unknowingly metamorphized into the snake? what if i’m the reason mr weasley is in st mungo’s?”

“harry, harry—that’s not how that works. metamorphmagi can only transform into other humans, not animals or other creatures, you know that. you’re going to drive yourself insane thinking that this was, in any way, your fault. you saved arthur, but the connection between you and voldemort is too dangerous, so you must never do it again.”

“this connection that exists between voldemort and i, does it mean that i’m like him? does it mean that maybe, for a while, our minds kind of... merged, and we became one?”

“no, of course not! perhaps connection was the wrong word. it’s more like a passageway, that allows you to see into his mind on occasion.” sirius places his hands on harry’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. “believe me, harry, when i say that you are in no way like voldemort.”

harry tried to believe him.

in the department of mysteries, harry easily shifted his features into antonin dolohov’s to slip past the death eaters without notice, but they found his friends and harry was forced to come forward as himself. when the order arrived, the situation became much more chaotic, and harry turned to dolohov again as to make his fight easier. he deflected curses that were aimed at his friends and watched as the curse he couldn’t shield led sirius to fall through the veil. he watched as sirius’ eyes struggled to find a familiar face and passed by harry’s disguised body twice before accepting the pain and closing his eyes. harry ran toward him, his metamorphmagic stripped from him with every step, and would’ve followed his godfather had remus not held him back.

in sixth year, tonks found harry under the invisibility cloak on the train and they walked together for a little while. tonks was not her usual self. she was not glowing anymore and her hair was now brown with a subtle purple rinse. harry, who had plenty of experience with the correlation between emotional distress and metamorphic abilities, knew what tonks’ temporary loss of ability meant, and he worried for her.

“hogwarts isn’t going to be the same this year, is it? now that he’s back?”

tonks shook her head, “no, it won’t be. some parents might not even let their kids go to school, which is silly considering there’s no place safer than hogwarts during these times.”

harry stopped walking, and tonks stopped too and looked back at him, finally making eye contact. “you’ll be all right, won’t you tonks?”

“yeah, i will be,” she said, but didn’t tell him anything else—she simply turned to harry and spoke:

“listen, harry. metamorphmagi are born, not made,” she began, and harry wondered why she was telling him this, because it wasn’t the first time he was hearing it. “i’m telling you this because you’re the same way. the boy who lived was born—prophecized to be the chosen one, or maybe not—but either way, the boy who lived was one year old when his legacy became attached to his story—a story that would follow him relentlessly no matter where he went. but you, harry, you are made, not born. you are made from the loss of your parents and the fame you didn’t ask for and the circumstances you were placed under in which anyone else would fall, but you rose. you took your situation and decided to be kind as well as brave, thoughtful as well as heroic. the boy who lived is a legacy, but you are a hero. remember that.”

she then cast her wolf patronus and they parted ways.

in seventh year, harry simply metamorphized into dudley dursley and left the house with two order members polyjuiced to look like petunia and vernon. there were no seven potters, and there was no death. george didn’t even lose an ear. everyone arrived safely at their intended destination.

when harry, ron, and hermione went hunting for horcruxes, the outcome was the same. they were often successful, but it was difficult work and the power of the horcrux around harry’s neck drained him of his metamorphic abilities. the stress he was under made him unable to transform like he used to be able to, so when the trio was caught by snatchers they were still brought to malfoy manor and with the triumphant cries of those who had finally captured the boy who lived.

they still went back to hogwarts to find the lost diadem, and were present during the battle of hogwarts.

harry came out of the war feeling like he lost more than he gained. he had watched tonks and remus reach each other after searching for so long and then in the span of a few hours, he watched as everything they built fell apart. he kneeled next to tonks in the room of requirement, her eyes closed but her mouth slightly open like she was about to say something... harry kept waiting for the familiar half smile and her favorite greeting of “wotcher” to fall from her lips, yet he knew she would never speak. her hair was no longer the shade of bubblegum pink he had come to recognize as comfort, but the brown that told him something he had never known: when a metamorphmagus dies, their features return to their original state. he wished he didn’t know the answer anymore. he wished he didn’t have to look at her and know. but he remembered what tonks told him: the boy who lived is a legacy, but you are a hero.

he didn’t feel much like a hero surrounded by the casualties of the war he felt he had caused.

then he thought about it and realized what she said. she didn’t just say he was a hero, she said he made himself into what he was. he was born the boy who lived, but he became the boy who loved, and in order to honor the people he loved and make the world better for those who lived, he began his path to the forbidden forest in which he would meet death at last.

he felt the same curse hit him that did when he was one year old but this time it felt different. it knocked him off his feet and sent him into what at first glance he deemed the afterlife, but it was cleaner and emptier and brighter, and didn’t feel like he thought an afterlife ought to feel, so when he had the choice to board the train on, the decision came naturally to him. he died for his people and now he wanted to live for them—live with them.

years after the war was over harry could be found living in a nice house with a small boy by the name of teddy lupin. he had a million different shades of color in his hair because the only thing that made his godson happier than watching his own hair change colors was the two of them changing their appearances together. harry couldn’t help but smile.

#hi this is really long and kinda shitty #but i hope you like it #harry potter #metamorphmagus #nymphadora tonks #tonks #harry potter au #hp

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