#love u darling purple heart anon

[fluloa]

first chapter of si fpom and it's already a masterpiece ur amazing flo🥰

and why do i feel like si fpom angst is coming😧 im scared💀

-💜

HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH just you wait

LOL

[thebadgerclan]

Unknown

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x reader

Requested by Purple Heart Anon

Summary: Your daughter is sick, and the cause is unknown...

As soon as the missive had arrived, Aleksander was running.  Running to his horse, running home to you, to your daughter, Stella.  Stella is ill, it had read.  They don’t know what’s wrong.  Please come home.  No signature was needed, your husband recognized your hand, shaky as the words were.  He was in Ryevost, easily two day’s travel from the Little Palace, but he rode hard, not stopping once.  Thunder was exhausted, he could tell, but still, he rode on.

It was well past midnight when he arrived, yet a groom was waiting at the gates.  “Moi soverennyi,” she greeted.  “My wife,” Aleksander said.  “Where is my wife?”  “Your chambers, I believe.”  He didn’t hesitate taking off in a sprint into the Palace.  Guards and Grisha alike sprung out of his way as he passed, not bothering to ask what was the matter; they already knew.  As soon as Aleksander rounded the corner, he heard you, and his heart shattered.

“Where is my husband?” you cried, anguish in your voice.  “I want my husband!”  “We sent the missive, moya sovernnyi, that is all we can do now.”  “I want my husband, I want my little girl to be alright!  How do you not know what is wrong with her?”  You were shouting now, presumably at a Healer.  “You’re a Healer, for Saints’ sake, isn’t this what you do?”  Aleksander continued his sprint, only stopping when he was in the doorway.  You were hysterical: your hair frizzy, your eyes bloodshot and red, your shoulders heaving with exertion.

“Aleksander!” you cried, running to him.  “Y/N,” he said, staggering as you threw yourself into his arms.  “I came as soon as I heard, I–”  Your wail of torment stopped him, and your husband tightened his hold on you.  “Shh, shh, I’ve got you, my love.  I’m here now, I’m right here.”  Aleksander turned his face to the Healer, whose hands were folded behind his back.  “Report,” he said, voice clipped, so unlike how he’d spoken to you.

“Moi soverennyi, approximately 15 hours ago, Stella complained of a stomach ache.  20 minutes later, she began vomiting, unable to keep anything down.  Shortly thereafter, she became weak, fatigued, incoherent, and dizzy.  Initial examinations yielded no results, so we elected to observe her.  However, Stella fell unconscious at 2 bells this afternoon, and has not awakened.  We have tried, but we cannot find what is causing this illness.”

Aleksander felt like he could be ill himself.  Grisha don’t get sick, he thought.  So what the hell was happening to his daughter?  “Can I see her?”  The Healer nodded, and Aleksander, keeping his arms around you, entered his daughter’s bedchamber.  The room was lit by a few candles, and Stella lay in her bed, covers tucked to her chin.  She was ghostly pale, still as a stone, and your husband released you to kneel at her side.  “Oh, my darling,” he whispered, brushing a strand of her hair from her face.  “Please be alright, my love.”  His heart was already in pieces from your anguish, but seeing his little girl so ill made it break all over again.

He stood, turning to face you.  Your cries had gone silent, but the second Stella’s door was closed behind you, you snapped.  “Why is my baby sick?” you shrieked.  “Fix her!  Find out what’s wrong and make her better!”  You began hyperventilating, and Aleksander took you in his arms, holding you tight around the chest.  “Breathe, my love, you must breathe,” he soothed, but you were far too aggravated to listen.

“Let go of me!  I want my baby!  Sasha, they’re not helping our baby!”  “Y/N, I know, but you must breathe, you have to calm down.”  You thrashed in his arms, screaming incoherently.  “Do you have a calming draught?” your husband asked the Healer, who nodded.  “No, no, no!  Aleksander, do not, don’t you dare!  I need to be here, I need to–Stella!”  Reason had left you, making way for hysterics, and Aleksander knew he needed to intervene.  For your own good, your own health, needed to be calmed down.

The Healer uncorked a vial, which he handed to Aleksander.  It was a struggle, but he managed to tip the liquid down your throat.  It took effect instantly, your struggling reducing to soft sobs and whimpers.  “Aleksander,” you cried.  “Aleksander, Sasha, please.”  What you were asking for, you didn’t know, but your husband nodded.  “I know, my love.  You’ve been so brave, but I’m here now.  You need to rest.”  “No,” you replied, your words slurring as the draught took full effect.  “Don’t wanna.  I need to be here.  With Stella.”  “You have been.  Let me take over, so when our little girl wakes up, she’ll have her Mama at her side.”

Aleksander swept you into a bridal carry, lying you on your bed.  “I am going to speak with the Healer, but I promise, I will be here when you wake up.”  You nodded, a tear sliding down your cheek.  “Promise?”  “I promise.”  He stayed at your side until you were asleep before returning to the sitting room, where the Healer still stood.  “I need you to be honest with me,” your husband said.  “Will Stella live?”  The Healer pursed his lips.  “I truly cannot say.  This is unlike anything I’ve seen.  Medically, she is fine, but something else is amiss.”

Aleksander opened the door to Stella’s room, once more kneeling at her side.  He took your daughter’s hand in his, kissing it softly.  He knelt there for a few minutes before something struck him.  Whenever Aleksander touched Stella, he felt her power brushing against his, called by his amplification.  But now, there was nothing.  Aleksander staggered to his feet, stumbling to the door.  “Send for my mother,” he said, and the Healer nodded, running from the room.

Baghra was nowhere near pleased to be pulled from her bed at 4 bells in the morning, but when she found it concerned her granddaughter, her disdain faded. “I can’t feel her power,” Aleksander informed her.  “When I touch her, normally I can feel it.  But there’s nothing there.”  His mother nodded, crouching at the little girl’s bedside.  She took her hand in hers, closing her eyes in concentration.

“Oh, it’s there, alright,” she informed.  “Weak, very, very weak, but there.”  “Is that what’s causing this?” the Healer asked.  “It’s a block.  When was the last time she Summoned?”  Aleksander thought, trying to recall the last time Stella had called the wind to her command.  “Saints, I don’t know.”  Bagrha nodded, tsking as she did.  “That’s it, then.  A block this severe is rare, but she’ll be just fine, provided we take care of this now.”  “What do we do?” Aleksander asked, kneeling at his mother’s side.  

“Normally, I’d work with her to break the block herself, but seeing as she’s unconscious, we’ll have to do it for her.  And to do that.. Well let’s just say it won’t be pleasant.”  Aleksander frowned.  “What do you mean by that, Mother?”  “We have to pull the power out of her, and it won’t want to come willingly.  Stella might be in a fair amount of pain.”  “Is there another way?” your husband asked, wanting to spare your daughter any discomfort.  “Do you wish to lose your child, boy?  No, this is the only way, and I have to be the one to do it.”

“Why?”  Baghra huffed.  “You couldn’t feel her power, and I felt a scrap of it.  That, and I’ve done this before.”  “Did the children live?”  “Of course they lived!  Cried to their mothers for a few days, but they lived.”  Aleksander breathed deeply, thankful he’d sedated you, thankful you wouldn’t have to witness whatever was about to happen.  “Very well,” he said, and his mother nodded, taking Stella’s hands in hers.  “I suggest you stand back.”  “Not a chance.”

The woman felt for her granddaughter’s power, and when she found it, she pulled on it, hard.  The block was deep, and sweat soon broke out on her brow.  For several, unbearably long minutes, nothing happened, then, a breeze began to flutter around the room, despite the windows being firmly shut.  “Mother, is it-”  “Hush,” Baghra snapped.  The breeze grew into a wind, the wind into a gale, and the gale into a hurricane.  Wind whipped around the room, sending furniture flying, Stella’s toys blown into a corner.  The very walls shook, the window panes rattling.

Just when Aleksander thought the Little Palace might collapse, the storm ceased, and his mother slumped back.  Everything was still for a moment, and then Stella stirred.  “Papa?” she croaked, and Aleksander released a sob.  “Oh, my little love!”  He stood and ran to her, having been blown across the room during the storm.  “You’re awake!”  He clutched Stella to him, holding her tightly to his chest.  “I’m tired, Papa.”  “I know, sweet one, I know.”

“What in the name of the Saint’s is– STELLA!”  You were standing in the doorway, wearing an expression of utter elation.  “Mama!”  You flew to your daughter, snatching her from your husband’s arms, holding her greedily to you.  “Oh, thank the Saints!  My love, you’re alright!”  Baghra was easing herself to her feet, a small, almost invisible smile on her face.  “Lucky she’s not an Inferni,” she said before leaving.  “Mama, what’s happening?  Why is everyone so upset?”

You let out a sob, but this was a happy sob, one of relief.  “We’re not upset, malyshka.  We’re happy.  Happy you’re alright.”  Stella hadn’t a clue what you were talking about, but her mother was happy, so that was alright.  “Mama, I’m tired.  Can I go to sleep?”  “Of course you can, little one.  But…is it alright if Mama sleeps in your room tonight?”  Stella cocked her head, but nodded.  “Yeah,” she said softly, and Aleksander kissed your temple.  “I guess we're having a sleepover.”

Stella soon drifted off to sleep, holding her stuffed firebird to her chest, but you remained awake, lying on a blanket on the floor, your husband’s arms around you.  “What was it?” you asked.  “What had her so sick?”  “A block,” he replied.  “It was a power block.  Mother was able to break it, thank the Saints.  If she hadn’t…”  Aleksander didn’t need to finish that sentence, and you didn’t want to hear it. 

 “Our little girl is fine, Y/N,” he said, smoothing your hair and kissing you sweetly.  “Stella is just fine.”  You nodded, looking over your husband’s shoulder to look at her: sleeping soundly, her shoulders rising and falling with her breaths.  “She’s fine,” you repeated, mostly to convince yourself.  The day had struck such fear into your heart that when you managed to fall asleep, you didn’t dream.  When you woke, it was to Stella, poking your cheek, sweetly asking if she could have waffles.

[weasleylangs]

secrets i have held in my heart - f.w

Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Summary: Everyone in the twins’ lives mix them up once in a while, except for Y/N. Fred is dying to know how.  Warnings: Some angst with a happy ending, yes I wrote oblivious Fred again with miscommunication issues, what about it, some swearing, brief mention of the war but obviously this is a FredLives!AU :D, mentions of sex but nothing descriptive it’s like one line, - everyone is 18+ by the way!  Word Count: 4k

A/N: For the anon who requested super secret mutual pining with some angst where the reader is the only person who can tell the twins apart! Thank you so much for requesting. This has also been cross-posted on AO3 (frederickweasleys) as per the anon’s request! 

Also, I didn’t want to write about a 17 and 15 year old pining after each other, so I made everyone older and it’s postwar, however I was like 2000 words into the fic when I remembered George got his mf ear blasted off in DH so…. U do not see that it’s not canon in this fic thank you

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

The sun is blaring down on The Burrow and everyone is starting to wonder the likelihood of getting heatstroke. They’re in the south-west of England and the weather doesn’t usually get above the early 20s in the middle of August, however, mother nature has decided to wreak havoc and today is almost 30°. 

Y/N is looking at the pages in her book but she’s not processing anything on the pages. She’s so appreciative of the relaxing life she and all her loved ones finally have. The war ended last year, and while Y/N isn’t family, Molly and Arthur are always insistent she’s welcomed at The Burrow for their Sunday roast dinners. 

So she sits under a tree, the muggle fantasy novel in hand as Molly is busy prepping dinner and her friends all play quidditch. Hermione’s been refereeing them despite having no actual knowledge of the rules, and right now, she’s waving Harry’s copy of ‘Quidditch Through The Ages’ at one of the twins trying to prove a point, fully aware she’s going to get nowhere with him. He’s laughing at her and he raises the hand holding the beater’s bat as he threatens to (softly) hit her with it when he looks over her shoulder and spots his favourite girl perched under the tree with his mum’s homemade lemonade. 

Before Y/N knows it, the bat’s been thrown in her direction, barely missing her and hitting the tree behind her, and when she looks up, she immediately recognises the twin as Fred. Fred and Y/N are almost two sides of the same coin and their friendship has always been considered unlikely. Fred loves mischief and pranks and he’s extremely exuberant where Y/N is a ‘stickler for the rules’ (Fred’s words, not hers) and she’d much rather spend her day reading than playing quidditch. But their friendship blossomed and eventually for Y/N her feelings evolved into more. 

But Y/N is one of Ron’s best friends, and having a crush on her best friend’s older brother is weird, even if they are 19 and 21. 

“Hi Freddie,” she says, dog-earing the page and closing her novel, accepting now that Fred’s in her presence, the book isn't getting read again until tonight, “no more quidditch?” 

The ginger gives her a shit-eating grin and completely ignores her question, “Darling, I’m George.” 

Y/N squints at him for a brief moment, second-guessing herself but the longer she looks at him the more she’s sure it’s Fred, not George in front of her. “No, you’re Fred. I’ve known you for how long? Just accept I can tell you apart.” 

Fred mutters a ‘fuck’ under his breath as he sits down. He’s always loved that Y/N is the only person who can tell them apart, his own family struggling sometimes and especially when they’re apart. But no matter what, she somehow gets it right every single time and he’s dying to know how.

“You’re never going to tell me how you do it, are you?” He questions and she replies how she always does when he asks, blaming it on intuition and that she doesn’t know how she does it. As always, he doesn’t believe her. Y/N secretly does have a way of easily telling the twins apart, not rooted in intuition in the slightest but she doesn’t want to tell him. 

The truth is, the way her heart races when Fred looks or speaks to her is her way of telling them apart. Fred always has a mischievous glint in his brown eyes and the way he looks at Y/N makes her feel like she’s the only girl in the world. George is sweet, loving and exceptionally kind- he was there as a source of comfort and calmness for Y/N when the trio disappeared during their 7th year to hunt Horcruxes, when she and her family went into hiding. She loves George like she would love a brother, like how she loves Ron and Harry, but the love Y/N has for Fred is different and the catalyst for her ability to tell them apart.

“I’m going to get you one day. One day George and I will swap and you’ll get it wrong and as a reward for finally tricking the oh so wonderful Miss Y/N Y/L/N, you’ll tell me how you tell us apart.” 

-

It’s not even an hour later when Fred and George come down wearing each other’s clothing. Y/N’s well aware Fred prefers to wear warm and bright colours while George likes to wear the dark colours in their coordinated clothing, so seeing Fred walk down the stairs in George’s purple shirt and vice versa is funny, despite the fact they’re identical twins, Y/N thinks they look ridiculous and unfamiliar.

“George put the purple back on. You look weird in orange,” she says, as she goes back to help Molly with the vegetables for dinner and soon after she speaks, she hears someone angrily kick the table. She looks up from her potatoes she’s been peeling to see an entertained George and Fred who looks like he’s going to throw a child-size tantrum. 

“How!” He exclaims again, pulling the shirt up over his head, shoving it in George’s hands and stomping back upstairs to change. Y/N is about to follow him, genuine concern for Fred in tow. She knows he’s most likely just being dramatic to cause a ruckus but there’s a small part of her that considers he might be serious. 

“He’s fine, Y/N,” George states, changing his shirts and throwing Fred’s orange one over the back of the chair as he sits down, “I think he’s trying to rile you up into telling him how you do it.” 

She laughs at this, knowing that while she might not have told him, the look in George’s eye hints that he’s picked up on her feelings for his twin brother. But before she can say anything, Ron comes bounding down the stairs and right into the kitchen, Harry in tow. They’re both looking for food and when Ron’s hand makes his way towards the ham, Y/N smacks him.

“Don’t spoil your dinner,” she scolds which causes Harry to laugh. 

“But, mum,” Ron mockingly replies, “All the quidditch got me hungry!” He might be 19 but he’s sulking like a 10-year-old boy and Y/N thinks temper tantrums might run in the Weasley family. 

When Molly isn’t looking, however, Y/N sneaks him a piece of ham and Ron jumps up quickly, smacking a kiss to her cheek, “You’re the best!” he whispers as he quickly shoves the piece of ham in his mouth to not be caught by his mother. 

Soon enough, everyone’s crammed into the small kitchen and Molly waves them all out except Y/N, who she insists stays. She thinks it’s because she was already helping with the vegetables but when she’s about to ask for her next task, Molly has a rare mischievous glint in her eye.

“How do you tell my sons apart?” She enquires and Y/N groans. She hasn’t been asked how she tells the twins apart this often since she was at Hogwarts and before she can speak, Molly continues, “it’s just no one can besides us, and even then, sometimes I catch myself calling George, Fred sometimes.” 

Y/N sighs. She loves Molly like her own mother, but she loves to meddle like every mother. 

“I just know, I wish I had some excuse like a mother’s instinct, but I just know,” Y/N pauses and thinks how to word her next statement without spilling too much for potential eavesdroppers and Extendable Ears to hear, “They have different energies. I think I pick up on it easily.” 

Y/N hopes that’s enough for Molly to drop the conversation at hand and while Molly hums in agreement, she reads between the lines. She’s known for a while that Y/N carries a flame for the oldest twin, after all the way Y/N looks at Fred is the same way she looks at Arthur, so she’s hoping for the day they both stop dancing around their feelings. 

She already loves Y/N like a daughter, and she’d like it to be official one day. 

-

After dinner, the girls are all holed up in Ginny’s room. She loves staying at The Burrow. Y/N never grew up with sisters and her friendship with Hermione and Ginny are the closest she gets to them. They usually gossip, who’s dating who, who’s already getting married, sometimes it gets juicy and someone’s pregnant. 

When Ginny and Harry, and Hermione and Ron finally got together, they gushed for hours about how it finally happened and how excited they all were.

Tonight, unfortunately, the topic at hand is Y/N and Fred.

“When are you going to tell him?” Ginny enquires as she smooths out her face mask. Hermione’s braiding Y/N’s hair and when she doesn’t reply, Hermione grasps some hair and gives a hard tug. Y/N yelps and while Hermione mutters an apology, she doesn’t miss the wink she gives Ginny in the mirror.

“Tell Fred what exactly?” 

“About your feelings for him,” Ginny replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the world that everyone should have known. Y/N starts to stutter, trying to find words to deny her feelings but these are her two best girl friends, her sisters and she can’t lie to them no matter how much she wants to. 

“Okay fine, they exist but he’s never knowing,” she states, a matter of factly as if it’s something to be proud of, “and he’s never finding out. I’m looking at you, Ginevra.” Ginny inherited her love to meddle from her mother, and if Y/N is positive about anything it’s that Ginny is going to meddle to get her best friend and brother together. 

“I’m pretty sure he likes you back,” Hermione says. She prides herself on being observant but even she didn’t notice Ron’s feelings for her until he quite literally put his lips on hers. 

“I’m just his little siblings’ best friend, Hermione, I doubt it,” she says as she grabs the tiny elastics to secure her hair. “Besides, I think he has a thing with one of the girls from his year at school.”

“You’re choosing now of all days to get the wrong twin? George is dating Angelina. Fred hasn’t even been seen with a girl since he slept with one of Fleur’s cousins at the wedding.” Ginny says and something about this makes Y/N blush, almost happy that Fred’s been single for as long as she has, but the jealousy is in the back of her mind.

“... Shut up,” Y/N laughs as she grabs the nearest pillow and smacks Ginny over the head with it. This causes chaos in Ginny’s tiny bedroom and soon enough all three girls are defending themselves with pillows and jumping around the bedroom.

What none of the girls knew, however, was Fred standing outside of the bedroom, eavesdropping. He’s always been curious about what the girls talk about when the boys aren’t around and Fred reckons if he doesn’t have to hear about his little siblings’ sex life, it doesn’t hurt anybody. 

Except it does, and he hurts himself. He arrived just in time for Ginny to question why Y/N doesn’t admit her feelings to someone. At first, Fred was hopeful, especially when the conversation steers in the direction of her liking one of the twins. After all, Bill’s married, Percy’s… Well, he’s Percy and Charlie isn’t in England enough for him to believe Y/N was able to develop feelings for him. 

So that leaves himself and George from context clues. He’s always had a crush on her ever since they were in school, but he was always worried about coming off as creepy, pining after someone two years below him. 

But then Y/N says ‘I think he has a thing with one of the girls from his year at school’ and he walks off before he even hears the rest of the conversation, hearing the apparent confirmation of Y/N’s feelings for George. 

-

The summer is still sweltering hot when she decides to visit Diagon Alley three days later. She’s shopping for her nephew when she ends up in Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Fred was unusually quiet when she said goodbye to him on Monday morning before she floo’d away to her job at the Ministry and she’s hoping to catch him at the shop during quiet hour. 

When she walks in, she’s met with a bell ringing and the voice that calls out ‘Hi, how are you today!’ doesn’t make her heart race so she immediately knows she’s caught the wrong twin at the counter.

“Hey, Georgie!” She makes her way over to the counter. It’s a Wednesday morning, so the shop has a lull in customers and he’s doing what Y/N assumes is a stock take of whizbangs. He gives her a nice smile as she potters her way over to him. She stops in front of the love potions, smelling the familiar scent of cinnamon, fireworks and something that can only be described as happiness in the small bottles. She’s so entranced for a moment that she doesn’t even notice George make his way up next to her.

“You don’t need one of these, by the way,” He whispers as he winks, looking behind him and seeing Fred standing on top of the spiral staircase not looking the happiest. 

“You’re the second person to tell me that this week,” she mutters, quickly putting the love potion vial down, “I don’t know what any of you mean.”

George chuckles at her obliviousness. It’s been obvious since they were teenagers about the feelings both Fred and Y/N harbour for each other but he can’t help but admit it’s just the tiniest bit funny. Like it’s a joke they’re all in on except the oblivious couple themselves.

“It’s because we’re more observant than you, darling,” George says, absent-mindedly fixing the display so it looks presentable. Y/N’s about to question him when someone clears their throat behind them- an elderly gentleman shopping for some grandkids when George excuses himself with the promise ‘this isn’t over’. 

Fred watched the interaction from the staircase and while he didn’t hear anything, he feels like he’s gotten punched in the stomach. He knows he’s never directly told George about his feelings for Y/N, and George is dating Angelina anyway and he’d never betray her, but he can’t ignore the slight feeling of upset he feels when he sees them interact.

-

“I think Y/N likes you,” Fred says nonchalantly and George almost chokes on his tea. It takes him a moment to fix his breathing before he looks at Fred like he’s got three heads.

“No, she doesn’t?” George questions, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world and that upsets Fred slightly. He’s not upset at George, he never has and he never will be upset with George, but it seems like his comment was brushed off without any deeper consideration.

“No, I think she does,” Fred says, twiddling his quill between his fingers as he stares at the tax invoice in front of him. Wednesday night is budget night and Fred knows he’s not going to get any work done if his mind is stuck on Y/N and her feelings for George.

“No, mate, she doesn’t,” George huffs and Fred notices the eye roll George gives him. George only ever gives him eye rolls when he’s being oblivious. Like when Fred spent 20 minutes looking for his wand last week only to find it in his pocket.

Fred’s convinced George is just being oblivious, blinded by his new relationship with Angelina that he hasn’t noticed Y/N’s feelings for him. “Do you wonder how she can tell us apart?” 

George huffs in annoyance as a reply and Fred pouts as he attempts to go back to his taxes. He’s reread the same line three times when George finally speaks.

“I think it’s got something to do with her feelings for us. She feels differently about one twin.” George is intentionally being coy, hoping to Godric that Fred caught the pointed stare and the emphasis but Fred wasn’t looking and the longer he dwells on what George has said the more he’s convinced he doesn’t have a chance with Y/N at all.

- 

It’s the weekly Sunday roast again and Fred isn’t expecting to floo into The Burrow and be met almost face to face with Y/N. He’s planned on ignoring her today, purposely volunteering to do any work needed at the shop while George floo’s to The Burrow early in the afternoon. 

It teeters on 5 pm when Fred finally arrives and he’s quickly engulfed in a hug by his mother with his father behind him telling him to stop working on Sundays as ‘Sundays are for family’. With a kiss to his mum’s forehead and a promise to his dad that he’ll force George into doing the Sunday work next week, who throws a piece of stale bread at Fred’s head while exclaiming ‘you offered!’ he quickly makes his way away from Y/N.

Molly’s quick to serve up dinner now Fred’s here, complaining he’s starving already. He quickly steals the seat next to Ron and pulls George down next to him- not wanting to allow Y/N to sit either side of him. Usually, she sits between Ron and Fred and when she turns the corner and the only available seat is the furthest from Fred, her heat sinks a little.

Dinner is pleasant, it always is at The Burrow. Hermione and Y/N talk about the ministry while Ginny tells stories of her Holyhead Harpies tryouts she had during the week. Y/N might let slip she works with the coach’s sister-in-law and overheard some high praise for a certain Miss. Weasley and Ginny’s eyes fill with tears when she hears this. 

There’s a quick lull in conversation as Molly waves her wand and the now empty plates make their way into the kitchen, children following behind them ready to help wash up but Fred makes his way outside. He likes to watch the sunset, the sun slowly dipping behind the hills where he learnt how to play quidditch as a kid as the sun becomes shades of orange. 

He’s sitting under the tree when Y/N follows him out. She’s shouting his name trying to find him. He slipped out without anyone noticing and that’s unusual for Fred so something is wrong. When she spots him, she starts jogging over and she can’t tell if he’s ignoring her or can’t hear her calling his name, so she tries something.

“George?” 

Fred turns, a smirk subconsciously forming on his lips and Y/N finally feels seen by him in a week. “It took me calling you your brother’s name to get your attention?” She asks, kicking sticks out of the way before she takes a seat next to him. 

“No, love. Just shocked you finally got us mixed up,” he replies, shoving her a little with his elbow. He knows she only did it to get his attention, but he’s Fred Weasley and he’s going to use this to his advantage. “I believe I told you when you get us mixed up, you’re legally required to tell me how you do it. I’m all ears.” He wiggles his eyebrows but deep down, he’s scared George’s assumption is right.

She rolls her eyes, but the love she has for this boy in her heart can’t be kept a secret anymore. This week she’s felt like he’s been ignoring her and while she and Fred are no means ‘best friends’, not like she is with the others, she’s felt a little piece of her universe missing knowing he’s been upset.

“You and George, I… I feel different about you to how I feel about George,” she starts and Fred’s breath hitches. He doesn’t know if he’s going to storm off or throw up so he just sits and stares at a rock. “George makes me feel comfortable. He’s always willing to talk to me about anything, feeds into the fact I can speak for hours on end about any topic if you let me,” she laughs and her nervousness is in her throat. She notices Fred isn’t looking at her and it’s making her want to run away.

“But you, you feel like home, Freddie. The way my heart races when I hear you speak or when you look at me. It’s the biggest indicator of how I tell you guys apart. George and you may be identical but the way you both make me feel is so different.” She’s whispering now and she’s realised Fred is looking at her so intently that the Earth might open up and swallow her whole. 

“Like, home?” 

She smiles softly and takes his big hand that’s been messing with rocks into her small ones. “Like I can tell you anything and you’ll never judge me. I could be having the worst day of my life and one joke from you can make me smile even if I’ve been crying for hours.” Her thumb starts to rub along the top of his hand and the way he shivers doesn’t miss her. 

“I’m trying to say, in a round-about kind of way, that I’m in love with you, Freddie,” her voice is shaky but there’s no backing out now. “I’m in love with you and this past week where it’s felt like you’re mad at me has me so confused because I don’t know what I did.” 

Fred feels incredibly guilty now, he was so caught up in his own feelings that he didn’t stop to think how his actions would affect Y/N. “I thought you liked George,” he whispers, and he feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “I thought you liked George and not me and I didn’t want to be near you knowing that.” 

She giggles and drops his hands to run her fingers through his hair. It’s still short but she thinks she can convince him to grow it out again. “Me? George? Not even for a second.” 

“Why not?” The joking in Fred’s voice is there but so is the genuine curiosity. 

“I don’t know. It’s just always been you, ever since I was 11 and you were bullying Ron into performing a spell to turn Scabbers yellow.” She laughs at the memory, watching scrawny Fred bully his small brother on the train platform. 

Fred looks down at her, her hands now playing at the hair at the back of his neck and he feels goosebumps rise across his skin. He wants nothing more to lean down and press a kiss to her lips and when he realises he never actually admitted his feelings to Y/N back, he starts to lean down, hoping to convey everything he feels for her through a kiss.

She’s quick to catch on and she leans up so quickly they almost bump noses. It’s messy, like most first kisses are, especially in an awkward sitting down position but the love they have for each other is there and obvious. They pull away when they’re barely kissing anymore, just smiling and laughing into each other’s mouths. 

“Does this mean we’re dating now?” Fred asks. It’s a dumb question, they both know it but when Y/N pretends to think he stands up and hauls her over his shoulders and starts swinging her around. The giggles that erupt from her make Fred’s heart swell and he’s about to put her down just to get down on one knee himself and propose right then and there.

“Yes, Freddie, if you want me to be your girlfriend then I’m yours.” Y/N replies and Fred smiles, he loves that. Not Y/N being his, he could never believe she’s an object, but she loves him and he loves her and now he understands why George was rolling his eyes at him.

“As long as you don’t get George and I mixed up in bed, I’m all yours.” He says it jokingly, but the smack he receives from Y/N is no joke and when he starts swinging her around again, he’ll forever make dumb jokes like this if he gets to hear her laugh like that for the rest of his days.

[wizkiddx]

without making this a sap story ive had some not so great news from home and am in one of them moods to not talk abt it. but i need a tom h to hug me , pls could u write something like that?

hey anon - i am sending u all my love, and hope things get a little easier for u as soon as possible. if u ever do wanna chat abt nothing or rant just send me a pm x  I hope this is at least somewhat what u were looking for <33

summary: life is sometimes not good, but your fave boy makes it just a little easier to deal with (with some original help from his brother too)

a bit angsty but i promise mainly fluff (and a popcorn fight?)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What drew you out of the sort-of-trance was a two soft but firm knocks at the door - well Tom’s bedroom door. You’d been relaxing with him and Harry, watching the new ‘Line of Duty’ when your mum had called for the daily catch up. Admittedly, she had already tried to call you twice today but somehow you’d managed to miss both of them. On reflection, possible not that shocking because you’d been at a charity golf day with the boys which involved a fair amount of noise, chat and competition. 

Thankfully the boys had both done pretty well, Tom coming slightly ahead but that was the norm between the two. It meant they were both happily basking in their relative victories and not moody and grumpy like they are oh so often when things go wrong. Because to them, against your pleading, begging and sometimes lecturing…. golf was not just a game.  

You and your mum had always been very close, so usually speaking to her was uplifting and made you feel a little bit more complete - what with travelling with Tom for work, her voice was a slice of home. This time though, it was not so much the case. It was just sad news about your home town. Nothing directly to your family or close friends but still, it makes you feel generally down. 

Who knows how long it’d been since you’d hung up on the phone, just staring at the wall opposite. Everything felt just hollow and empty, lacking in meaning somewhat. You weren’t necessarily thinking, more like devoid of emotion, of thoughts, of anything. Just a bit cold. 

“Y/n…Y/n?” His voice sounded hesitant, as though scared he was interrupting your call. When you didn’t respond, the door cracked open and his fluffy head poked in, not that you noticed - your brain was still half absent. Tom on the other hand, was instantly looking you up and down, very much confused as the why you looked so rigid and not present. Noticing the phone was lying quiet on the bed in front of you, he felt safe to enter. He made a beeline for the bed, perching himself down on the edge, in-front of you - so he was blocking your fascinating view of the grey wall opposite. 

“What’s going on in that little head of yours?” His voice was soft and gravely, choosing not to put much energy into his vocal box as he rubbed up and down one of your arms. 

“Hmmm? Sorry, was miles away.”

“Could tell darl.” As he chuckled his eyes crinkled round the outside. “How was your mum?”

“Yeh…um okay, I-I guess.” As much as you wanted to shake yourself out of it, it just wasn’t that easy. Everything was laced with this underlying chilliness. 

“You sure? You dont really sound it?” 

“No, I um…well I’m not sure. I think I’m okay?”

“What happened?” You shook your head in response, making Tom press his lips together with a small nod. “ Don’t wanna talk about it huh?” 

“Not… not right now. Please?” 

With a permitting nod, Tom stood up and squeezed your hand, urging you to follow. Trailing behind him into the living room, he then instructed you to take a seat on the sofa adjacent to Harry, Tom himself disappearing back into the house. It made you pout a little, you wanted him to just look after you a little this evening but that self pity wasn’t allowed to last long - because a piece of popcorn flew into your cheek. You whipped your head around, with mouth open feigning shock, to see Harry smirking at you cradling a bowl full of other possible missiles in hand. 

“And what was that for?” He shrugged his shoulders, turning his head back to the TV.

“You looked sad.”

“…” Your mouth was open, no words coming out though, as you looked at the frizzy haired boy in bemusement. Sometimes you thought you understood how his head worked but at other points, the boy was a bloody mystery. Instead of explaining his thought process (because there almost certainly wasn’t one), he just smiled evily at you - wiggling his brows. And I know you know what that meant.

Sure enough by the time Tom reentered the room, arms full with different objects he’d collected round the house, the floor had been littered with popcorn kernels. You and Harry were squealing at each other as handfuls of the snack were catapulted vaguely at each other as you chased him round the room. It took Tom shouting at the both of you for you to freeze, slowly lowering your hands in ceasefire with a giggle. 

“I leave you alone for two minutes.”

“ It was his fault!” You protested, causing a 5 minute of ‘ he said-she said’ between the two of you, even if Tom wasn’t listening to the bickering. Instead, he quickly whizzed round the room picking up all the obvious popcorn bits and then spread out all the blankets he’d got from round the rented house on the sofa.

 You knew Harry, in his very own and special way, was only doing all this to cheer you up and you couldn’t appreciate it more. Your relationship with him had recently got so much closer, thanks to Tom being busy on set actually filming - while you and Harry just had some quality ‘almost sibling’ times. And now living with him too - naturally he had grown to know your tells almost as well as Tom. 

“Alright children calm down… thought we could watch movie?” Plopping himself down on the cream seat, Tom made grabby hands to you which of course you had to comply with. 

“I’ll um… I’m gonna leave you to- well to the being in love shit. It’ll make me chunder”

“We love you too bro” Tom called to Harry, who was already on his way out - but the tone of gratefulness in his voice was evident, he appreciated Harry noticing that the two of you could do with time together. 

“Don’t make it weird!” Harry’s response had you sniggering, as you pulled the fluffiest blanket over both you and Tom and nestling into his side. 

After a few minutes of Tom pretending to argue with you about film choice, before ultimately agreeing with your choice of ‘La la land’ as he always planned on letting you. The Holland boys were both very talented at subtly being a shoulder if needed, and yes you knew it was all an act - but you weren’t about to call him out. About halfway through he kissed the crown of your head and murmured. “Can tell you’re not watching darling.” He wasn’t wrong to be fair. Yes, you were looking at the screen - but your mind was far away from the plot line. 

“Sorry I um… minds like a runaway train sometimes.” Tom released a breathy chuckle at that before murmuring a ‘come ‘ere’ to you as he all but lifted you up from sitting by his side. You ended up lying almost onto of him, with both of Tom’s strong arms holding you tightly to him. Smiling into his chest, you nestled closer so the soundtrack to the movie played over the top of his constant thudding heartbeat. It took a few moments of you both just staring into the screen, completely contented for Tom to speak, squeezing you slightly tighter whilst the two of you watched Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone twirling on the road.

“I gotchu now lovie” 

And you swore then that all the thoughts racing in your mind were outpaced by those of a different kind. Still intense ideas, ones that buzzed round your brain, but these were happy. Thoughts of ‘how could I be so lucky’ and ‘I love this man with my whole heart’. 

Apparently these thoughts were also a comfort because when Tom looked down at you after what must’ve been at least half an hour, you were spark out. Breathing deep and unchanging, eye locked shut and mouth slightly squashed against his chest so your lips were pressed together. But what made the boy physical pout was the way you relaxed hand was loosely balled round a fistful of his purple hoodie. As if you were clutching at him to keep him as close to you as possible. 

He felt so grateful - not only for you, but also for the fact that he had the ability to make it a little better. You didn’t need him - Tom swore you were one of the most fiercely independent people he’d ever met - yet it was clear you wanted him. You wanted him when you felt down, the same way you wanted to be around him when you were overly hyper and chatting pure rubbish. You didn’t want him because he was the ‘Tom Holland’ you wanted him because he was Tom. 

He couldn’t fix what was going on back at your home (I mean right now, he still didnt even know what was going on). But he did know how to make everything just a little less shit. He knew how to be your person. 

And that would forever be job Tom was most proud of.

once again sending u all lots of love (esp u anon 💕)

would love to know what u guys think if ya made it this far ;)

tagging (link to join) : @hallecarey1 @hollandfanficlove

[angry-slytherin]

Hiya! I’ve seen a couple of post 16.16 jokes family fix-it-fics where Alex comes back quite soon after leaving to discover jo had / was having his kid! I was wondering if anyone (you or any of the other jokes writers you know) would be keen to write a similar one but way further in the future with a teenage jolex kid - possibly jo moved away and raised their daughter but 15 or so years later they have to return because of Link and by this point Alex (seperated from izzie) has moved back! Pls do

Anonymous said: Fanfic request: would anyone be keen to write a future fic with jo + alex teenager?? (who Alex doesn't know exists). I just think a teenage child with the jolex combo attitude and humour would be hilarious but also would love to see some angst between the kid and Alex as they finally meet

hello anons!! I hope you enjoy!!

+

“Mom! I can’t find my purple shirt!”

Jo sighs, gripping her cell phone, knuckles white. “It’s on your dresser!” She calls up the stairs. It’s the only damn thing left, Jo thinks to herself. She hears feet shuffling, and the floor boards creak. God, she can’t wait to get out of this place.

“Let’s go, Grace!” Jo calls, frustration dripping from her every word.

“I’m coming, geez,” Grace rolls her eyes as she comes down the stairs, a tan purse hanging from her shoulder.

“Did you have something to eat?” Jo asks, unlocking the door.

“You packed up the-“

“Before I packed up the food, obviously, Grace,” Jo sighs. Why did her daughter have to be so much like her?

“Yeah, I had a bagel.”

“Don’t take that tone, Grace Anne.”

“Don’t move me across the freaking country, Ma.” Jo runs her temple before locking the door behind them.

“I used to live in Seattle. We lived there until you were eight.”

“You were trying to escape there too then? My life is in Boston, Mom!”

“Your father is in Seattle.” Grace opens her mouth, but shuts it again.

“You really loved dad?”

“Too much,” Jo kisses her daughter’s hairline. “Don’t worry, he’ll love you.”

“He’s a bastard. He left you.”

“Darling, it was complicated. He- I-“

“I know,” Grace pulls open the passenger’s side door. “You don’t have to explain it again.” There’s no malice, just remorse.

The drive to the airport, as well as the flight, are uneventful. Grace listens to music virtually the entire time, while Jo picks off the remaining nail polish from her fingers, eats three bags of baby carrots, four bags of potato chips, and counts the number of trees they fly over. She’s not nervous at all.

*

“I had forgotten how wet Seattle is,” Grace huffs, adjusting the hood of her rain jacket.

Jo grins, “How could you? It only rains every day here.” Grace just shudders, ignoring her mother. The pair had decided to meet Grace’s father at a cozy diner Grace and Jo had lunch at often when Grace was a little girl. They wait for the crosswalk light to turn to the walking figure, before crossing the street, holding their hoods safely on their heads. They reach the diner, slipping inside. A bell jingles above their heads.

“Table for three please?” Jo asks the woman at the counter.

“I’ll say...Jo Wilson?” The woman grins at Jo, making the young man behind her look up. “And little Gracie? Oh my goodness!” The woman gives Jo a grand hug, before giving a flustered Grace one too.

“Jeremiah?” Jo looks behind her friend to see the suddenly shy boy.

“Hey, Ms Wilson, Grace.”

“Hey,” Grace mumbles. Jo nudges her daughter.

“Jen, why don’t you get us that table, and I’ll let these two catch up,” Jo winks at Grace, before following Jen to a small booth.

“Any specific reason for returning to Seattle?”

“Alex.”

“Do Link and Meredith know?”

“They do,” Jo says awkwardly. Jen searches her face. There’s a pause before, “He wants to see Grace. Maybe I shouldn’t, but Alex somehow saw my Facebook...and I couldn’t lie. She deserves to know him, if she wants to.”

“You’re braver and kinder than I am, sweetheart.” Jen hands her three menus, before Grace comes up behind her. Grace takes a seat next to Jo.

“So?”

“He’s just as funny as I remember. I got his number,” Grace’s face reddens, and she buries her nose in the menu.

“That’s my girl,” Jo laughs. She picks up her own menu, skimming it. Not much has changed in the kitchen since the last time she’d been here- eight years ago. She hadn’t seen Alex in nearly seventeen.

Jo hears the bells jingle again, and her attention shoots up to the doorway. Her heart races, and anxiety pools in her gut. It’s an elderly couple. She lets out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding, but her heart still pounds in her chest. The bells ring again. This time, it’s him. It’s her ex-husband. Jen points towards Jo and Grace, so Jo looks down at the table.

“Hi,” he says.

“Alex,” Jo looks up. She wants to throw up. “Grace, this is your father,” she swallows.

“Hi, kid,” Alex smiles at Grace. His same awkward smile she’d known all those years ago.

“Hello,” Grace whispers.

“Mind if I take a seat?”

“No,” Grace shakes her head. “It’s nice to meet you.” Jo’s proud; she hears slight malice in her sweet, shy daughter’s voice.

“I should have known your mother would teach you well. I’m sure you know how fiercely she walks through life. From what I’ve heard, so do you,” Alex looks at his daughter.

“Yeah,” Grace grins, “she taught me everything I know.”

“You’re lucky, you know?”

“I am,” she nods, “Mom says you have two other kids?” Grace looks to her mother.

“I do. Alexis and Eli. They’re twenty-one now. Eli goes to U-Dub and Alexis goes to UC Berkeley.”

“I want to go to Princeton, like Mom.”

“That’s a good goal. I’m sure you could do it. You’ve got at least half good genes there,” Alex scoffs self-depreciatingly.

“She’s got some pretty great genes,” Jo amends. She may hate him for what he did to her, but she hid his daughter from him. Maybe they both deserve a little grace. Funny, she thinks. That’s exactly what they have.

[yandere--stuck]

10 or 12 with Chahut,please?? (am such big gay for clown titties)~ u///u anon

"SweeThearT, I have To mark you. How else is everyone gonna know you’re mine?” The troll's painted face flashed with a smile, showing off her razor-sharp fangs.

Your body shook with fear, trapped below her as she almost straddled - almost. If she actually had, she would have most certainly crushed youn Chahut was huge, gigantic. Even if you had the will to force your jelly-like limbs to move,  you were sure you wouldn't have gone far, if anywhere at all. You were hyper aware of every inch of her body touching yours. Even if you both still had clothes on, it all felt too close, too intimate.

And she moved closer, still. Her mouth opened wide, inching closer to your vulnerable neck. If Chahut hadn't gone on and one about how much she loved you, you would have been certain she meant to kill you, ripping out your throat - a part of you wasn't sure that's not what she was aiming for.

A whimper escaped your throat as her hot breath hit your exposed neck. The purple troll coped and clicked comforting noises in hopes of calming you. If anything, it worsened the frightened tremors that wracked your body. You were sure your heart was going to give out with how it drummed against your chest.

"Don't worry, Darling," Chahut cooed sweetly. "This is for The besT. This for us. Now everyone will know you belong To me."

You held back a pained cry as her teeth slowly sunk into your flesh, marking you as hers. All hers.

[coreastories]

Hi, finally you’re back! I love long updates and the queen’s dresser is so long and i super love it. I love their jiu jitsu part, so funny. I wish they have a gym scene in tkem, I’m so curious abt that but u made it. Thanks for that. Tucking part was also my fav, and the break of the fourteenth rule really touch my heart, huhu really I love how lee gon being a supportive husband and trust her in everything she did. I love them so much. thx for the update, have a great day author🥰-purple anon💜

Thanks, darling purple anon! 💜😊

I wanted a dojang scene too! So I had to write one. I have more upcoming 😁

[pinkykitten]

bruise

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington x Hargrove! female reader

Warning: abuse, violence, cursing

Specifics: angst, fluff, romance, one-shot, hargrove! reader

People: steve harrington, billy hargrove, max mayfield, susan, neil

Words: 1,741

Requested: By anon Hello! I'm literally in love with your blog and the way you do it. It's amazing. I was wondering if I can request one with Steve Harrington, where the reader is Billy's sister and one time, he hits her because they were arguing so in school Steve noticed the bruises and ask her what is going on and make it kinda angsty but with a fluffy ending? I understand if it's too much or if it's too weird but I had this dream about it and that. Love you so much!

Authors Note: agghhhh this is so nice! tysm darling! i swear dream requests r like the best because i can tell u i have the most mundane dreams or they r like they dont make sense and im like high lol. this has violence and abuse in it so just beware and just a warning. also one scene i got inspiration from a star is born where they go to the supermarket and he patches her up with frozen pears i luv that scene. anyway im gonna be opening up my requests so requests r open again! 

Being Billy’s sister wasn’t easy. He had a temper on him, and where there were good times with him when he didn’t get what he want his anger would consume him. After your mother and your father split life wasn’t easy. It was difficult with them together but now it was just impossible. Billy didn’t want to move, he didn’t want to leave his friends. And your father found someone new. Her name was Susan, she had red hair and she was timid to your father’s actions. She was the quiet housewife. She brought some baggage with her though it may seem to others but to you, she was a gift. It was a little girl, around 13, her name was Maxine, but everyone called her Max. She was a joy. You and her found to spend the most time together. You both understood one another. She felt compassion for you with your brother and father and you felt sorry for her with your brother. He was a jerk to his stepsister, you tried your hardest to stop him but once Billy hates someone, he most likely will hate that person forever. So you intervene when they have their arguments, almost always picking Max’s side. 

From California all the way to Hawkins, Indiana you all went to enjoy or try to live a new life, with the new family. 

“This place looks and smells like shi*,” Billy whined as he smoked a cigarette and placed his hands in his jean pockets. 

“C’mon Billy, it can’t be that bad. Trust me you’re gonna make a lot of new friends, I just know it. Things are going to work out for all of us.” You tried to sound enthusiastic because your father and his new wife were right next to you but you had your doubts as well. “Yeah see, y/n knows what she’s talking about,” your father laughed as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. 

Your father was abusive towards you and Billy, sometimes you wondered if that’s what made Billy that way towards people. Its uncomfortable to hang out with your dad. He was nothing like a dad to you. A father doesn’t smack his child in the face leaving them a bruise, a father doesn’t belittle his children. You just felt stuck. 

Then you met Steve. Steve was probably the best thing that’s ever happened to you. He was your best friend at first but then you started to grow a little crush on him. You think he doesn’t like you back like that because you’re Billy’s sister, and you know Billy bullies Steve. You always try to stop Billy from doing so. 

“Billy would you just give it a break man!” You shouted. You were alone with Billy, the family out for dinner. You and Billy were having an argument about where they currently live, Steve, and about Max. 

“Oh you wan’t me to give you a break, y/n I hate living in this shi*hole!”

“Oh my god Billy, shut up! You complain about everything, Max is not a nuisance, not even Steve is either,” you muttered the last part as you sat on the couch.

“I don’t want her as a sister! Dad keeps forcing this life on me, but I don’t want it. He doesn’t even deserve happiness.”

“Sometimes Billy things happen in life that we cannot change, but in the end you make do with what you got.”

Billy frowned at you then raised a brow, “yeah just like you’re doing Steve. Tell me, how does it feel to be in bed with the king of high school?

With that you stood up, furious. You felt like punching Billy, your fist raised in the air, but you stopped your actions and considered the consequences. “Don’t ever talk about Steve like that again.”

Billy walked closer to you, his face mere centimeters apart, “no one, tells me what to do.” With that he hit you on the face. It was so hard that you fell back and hit your head on the plush couch. Your eye stung and so did your cheek. As you looked at Billy’s face you could already tell he regretted what he did. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry, I,”

“I hate you!” You screamed, tears running down your face as you ran to your room. You locked the door and cried on your bed for the rest of the night. 

When you woke up you looked in the mirror to see that it now became a bruise. You tried covering as much up as you can with makeup. It was time to go to school and you walked there, not wanting to ride with Billy. 

“Hey y/n,” a smile appeared as Steve walked to you. He put his arm up on your locker and saw that you weren’t your usual cheery self. “Hey what happened?”

You took your books out and shook your head, faking a grin, “nothing. I’m fine really.”

Steve knew how Billy was and was always on your side. All he wanted to do was protect you and to make sure you were safe. “If anything were to happen between you and your brother, you would tell me, right? I do care about you a lot y/n, I don’t want to see you hurt.”

You closed your locker and placed your hand on his cheek, “I’m fine Steve, you have nothing to worry about.” As you spoke you scratched where the bruise was at. You winced and looked away. 

“Wait, you’re hurt.” Steve turned your face so you can look up at him and thats where he saw the bruise. His jaw clenched as he saw the purple wound. “Who gave you this?”

“Steve its nothing really I-”

“How did this happen?” Steve was getting angrier and angrier by the minute. You didn’t deserve to be treated this way, you deserved way more. 

“Funny story actually, I fell down the stairs and I got this.”

“Bull shi*, its your brother isn’t it? Its Billy?” Steve asked but in reality he knew it was either your father or your brother. 

Tears started to form in your eyes again, “yes, it was Billy. We had an argument and he got mad.”

Steve was so irate, he almost ran to the entrance of the school but you stopped him by pulling his sleeve, “no Steve please. Don’t leave me, I, I need you.”

Steve saw the desperation in your eyes and that you did need him at this moment, you were hurting and he knew that he needed to be there for you. 

“C’mon we need to get that taken care of.”

Steve grabbed your hand and he led you to the cafeteria. “Steve we’re gonna miss class.”

“Screw class, right now I’m only worried about you.”

He led you to the frozen area and brought out frozen bag of mixed vegetables that they serve at lunch. “Those things are pretty disgusting,” you chuckled as Steve looked for tape, he laughed as well, “yeah they kinda taste like as* to me so I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

Once Steve found the tape and brought the frozen vegetables he stopped by the refrigerator. “We also need these.” He then stacked up on chocolate pudding. 

“Oh my god Steve! My sister’s friends love those!” 

Steve grinned and still holding your hand managed to hold all the items, “they are essential to making you feel better.”

“You do know there is a clinic near by that I could of gone to at the school?”

Steve shrugged, “yeah but all they would of done was dab some hand sanitizer on that and call it a day. I can’t have them doing that to you, you need more work done.”

You lightly bumped into him playfully. “You’re so silly Steve Harrington.”

“I try to be for all the pretty ones.” He gave you a playful wink. Your heart was beating fast with him. You liked Steve a lot but you thought it was just not meant to be. 

He brought you to the science class. It was empty and it would be since it needed remodeling done. 

“What are we doing here Steve? We’re not supposed to be here!” You tried to knock some sense into him but he just held onto your hand and brought you to the desk. You sat beside him. You two sitting next to each other. 

“We need to take care of the bruise.”

Steve brought the frozen bag out and lightly placed it on your bruise. You winced a little at the pain and Steve apologized. He was so close to your face! Then he taped it. You looked up and saw what he did, making you laugh, “I look ridiculous!”

“I think that kinda suits you.”

You shook your head and the vegetables in the bag shook, “Oh my god why are we doing this? Why are you doing this?”

Steve placed his hand on yours and lightly brushed it, “Because you were hurt, and you don’t deserve that.”

Your eyes twinkled to him, they were like stars. You couldn’t handle it no more. With a leap of faith you moved closer to him on the chair and planted your lips on his. At first he was surprised but then he deepened it himself. It was a passionate kiss, you walked forward and placed yourself on his lap, deepening the kiss. When you two separated your breathing was harsh. 

“Wow, that was amazing,” Steve was breathless, looking no where else except your face. “God you’re beautiful.”

You looked away bashful, “even with this ugly bruise?”

Steve kissed you again, “nothing could ever make you any less beautiful.”

You, still sitting on his lap, wrapped your arms around his shoulders, “you don’t know how long I wanted to do that.”

Steve kissed your bruise, or more like the frozen bag, “I’m so glad you did, I’ve wanted to be with you ever since I saw you.”

You two missed classes that day and he told you to stay at his house for a little bit until you’re ready to face Billy again. You were now the king’s girlfriend but none of that mattered, all you cared about was Steve and your love for him. 

You two enjoyed chocolate pudding in that empty science room, talking about everything. You were finally happy and thankful for all that Steve had done for you. 

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[professional-benaddict]

uuuuuuh idk if u still want prompts but... mafiaboss tony and kept boy peter? peter's been kidnapped by another gang and was just rescued and brought back to his daddy.

I do, love! Keep the prompts coming👌🏻👌🏻

I hope this is to your liking anon💕

Maria boss Tony, 18+ kept boy Peter, kidnapping, cuts and bruises, crying, comfort

—————

The boy just cried and cried, so much so that Tony feared his tears would overflow the ocean itself soon.

It had been quite a task, the older man had to admit, to find Peter and then rescue him. However, there was nothing the most feared Mafia boss in the states could not do, he just needed time and lots of guns.

”Shhh, my sweet darling. You’re safe now, I am here.” Tony comforted as he carried a beaten and bloodied Peter to their hidden headquarters. A step behind the pair was half a dozen armed men, who only obeyed Tony’s command.

Finally arriving at the boss’ private rooms, one of the men opened the door as Tony had his arms full with a sobbing boy. The older man set Peter down on the bed gently, kneeling in front of him.

”It’s all right, Pete darling. You’re safe.” Tony repeated that phrase over and over. Perhaps both to comfort himself and his boy.

The boy did not answer, as he had not spoken a word since being rescued and just looked blankly and Tony.

Turning to his men, Tony barked orders at them. ”Get me a first aid kit, one wet towel and one dry, water and food.”

”Uhm, what kind of food, Sir?” One of the men asked, visibly flinching when Tony shoot him a glare.

”You know what he likes! Just ask around, I don’t give a fuck. Leave us!” Tony barked again, gesturing with his hand to make his point. The men scrambled out of the room and finally the pair were left alone for the first time in nearly a week.

Tony wanted to vomit at what they had done to his boy. Both of Peter’s eye sockets were swollen with dark blue bruises, his nose bleeding and blood running over his burst bottom lip. On his cheekbone, he had another nasty bruise with a bleeding cut. Tony feared what else was hidden under the boy’s ripped and dirty clothes. Looking at his boy’s bony wrists, he found rope burns and in some spots the skin had been broken. The older man anticipated that he would find the same kind of rope burns around Peter’s ankles.

”Hey.” Tony spoke gently and slowly, Peter raised his gaze to meet Tony’s. ”I am going to undress you and clean you up, yeah? Then you can have some food and get some rest.”

Once again, the boy did not reply. Swallowing away his own exhaustion and fears, Tony stood up again and moved to gently pull Peter’s bloodied t-shirt off. Then, he unzipped and pulled the jeans and underwear off, leaving Peter completely naked on the bed. Bruises in shades of blues, purples and reds covered most of Peter’s porcelain skin, but none of them looked too big nor too dark to indicate serious internal bleeding. It seemed like the boy had shrunk so much in just one week, just an echo of his usually bubbly and chatty self that Tony so loved to have on his lap. Retrieving one of the many blankets on the bed, Tony put it around Peter’s shaking shoulders. He had started crying again.

”Boss?” There was a knock by the door and Tony called out for them to enter, shushing the men when they made too much noise. Peter was upset enough already and Tony would snap if his own men upset him even further. Luckily the men left quickly, so Tony did not have to waste his breath on telling them to leave and instead spoke sweetly to his baby.

”Shh, it’s okay, my love. Cry it out, baby. It’s okay. It’s okay.” Tony shushed, picking up the glass of water and bringing it to Peter’s bloodied lips. The boy took a small and careful sip before pushing Tony’s hand away with a weak arm.

Then, very gently and carefully, Tony began washing Peter’s face with the wet towel, apologising under his breath when the boy whimpered in pain. It was a slow process, but eventually Peter was looking much cleaner, with bandages and band aids covering a large portion of his body. Tony felt anger pooling in his stomach. Someone did this to his boy. His baby. His Peter.

The ones at fault were long dead, but it did not ease the violent energy Tony felt surging inside his guts. The bruises and cuts would take at least a month to heal and would be a constant reminder for Tony on how he failed to protect the most precious thing in his life.

Shaking his head to clear his mind from the anger, Tony looked at his boy and found him to be more exhausted than ever. The food would have to wait.

”Have some more water and then you can sleep, baby. Come on, do it for me.” Tony encouraged as Peter grimaced at the glass of water, but he let Tony bring it to his mouth once more. After nearly finishing it, Tony put the glass aside and guided Peter to lay down under the blankets. The boy whimpered, as the moving hurt most of his bruised body.

”There, there. It’s okay, baby. Daddy’s here.” Tony whispered, laying down beside Peter and kissing his forehead gently as not to hurt him. The older man wanted nothing more than to squeeze Peter’s much smaller body against his own, but he knew that would only hurt him. But he did manage to manoeuvre the two of them so that Peter’s head was resting on his chest and with a gentle touch he began massaging the boy’s scalp.

20 minutes of silence and Tony thought Peter had fallen asleep, until he heard whispered words that made his infamously cold and rigid heart swell.

”I knew you would rescue me, Daddy…”

[pokemagines]

future child. (hríd x reader)

anon asked: “Can your write Hrid meeting his and Summoners future child” and “cccan we get a hríd future child prompt, please & thank u still haven't summoned ice ike but i'm tryin. maybe he'll come home if he sees our beautiful child”

a/n: this is my last push for y’all who don’t have ice prince.... hopefully he’ll come through !!! --mod touko

other future child fics: alfonse // sharena \ fjorm & gunnthra // loki \ michalis // shigure \ zelgius // chrom \ ike 

tagging @lunalove25 c;

   you had loki right where you wanted her, the trickster’s traps seeming easy compared to her usual dark magic she used to fool you and the order. it seemed like all was over, her magic rendered useless as lachesis uses her slow spell to keep her from simply darting away, as she always did.

   a cornered animal has the deadliest bite, or so they say.

   you shout for hríd to back down, your grip tight around his midsection as you ride with him on his horse. the telltale venomous smile was etched across her pearly features, something was wrong. he heeds, slowing his pursuit towards her. loki merely remains in place, not trying to move out of the way of your attacks on her. she merely taps a finger to her chin, her deep purple eyes boring holes into yours. she beckons you forth with a finger, knowing you’ll come. you hate the fact that she knows you’ll listen. 

   “i’ve not come to fight.” she states simply, and your grip on him tightens. hríd seems to notice, and he shoots you a wary glance. “i’ve come to bargain.” you swallow the lump on your throat, starting to dismount his horse. you jump down, him helping you part of the way by holding your arms. letting go, you shoot him a nervous smile, and he mouths a ‘you got this’ to you.

   “what do you want?” your eyes narrow, and she eyes you innocently. the rest of the small team that went with you watches cautiously from beside hríd. 

   “oh nothing really, moreso i have something for you.” her honeyed voice seems innocent, but you know there something more. nothing is free when it comes to loki. “i have something, or should i say, someone that would be of interest to you... and you.” she points at hríd, and you feel your heart hammer in your ears. who could this person be that she was talking about? 

   “what do you mean?” you ask, and she absentmindedly twirls her staff. “i don’t think i follow?”

   “of course you don’t darling,” she smiles, “after all, they haven’t been born yet!” she says with a wink, and you feel your cheeks warm. hasn’t... been born yet? was she implying that she had your child... yours and hrid’s? 

   “what are you saying, witch?” hríd snaps, and you turn around, seeing ylgr grabbing onto his arm to keep him from reacting brashly. her expression falls, rolling her eyes before diverting her attention back to you.

   “i think you’ve connected the dots at least.” she muses, and you fidget anxiously with the sleeves of your cloak. “what’ll it be, hun?”

   “what’s in it for you?” you retort, forcing your voice to remain steady. any weakness shown around loki would sure be your downfall. “how do i know you aren’t lying?”

   “have i ever steered you wrong?” loki chuckles, playing with her long nails. when you don’t respond, she knows she has you. “all i ask in return is a favor from you. not now, but sometime later. do we have a deal?”

   “don’t do it.” hríd warns, feeling his hand on your arm. you pull out of his grip, your mind already made up. she wouldn’t go through all this trouble and have it be nothing. stranger things have happened, and you knew of a few other comrades who had summoned their children, despite them not being with child in their world. it was just crazy enough to be true.

   “i have to.” you reach your hand out, and she shakes it. her devilish smirk grows wider, and you suddenly feel small. 

   “pleasure doing business with you,” and with a wink and a fog of smoke, she’s gone, no sign of her except for a cold, green orb left in your hand. you turn it over, carefully, entranced by the sight of it until a pair of strong arms snap you back to reality. 

   “are you okay?” he asks, and you gently shift your gaze to him. despite his earlier warning to you, he doesn’t seem angry at you for not listening. he looks moreso concerned, scanning your face for any signs of injury by her. you knew hríd didn’t trust her at all, he hated it whenever she was near you -- not only from jealousy because of her obvious attraction to you, but because she has disguised herself as his sister and helped surtr with his plans in destroying nifl. 

   “i’m fine...” you glance up to him, trying to push aside your thoughts of what she would do with her favor. “let’s see if she was telling the truth.” 

   when you and hríd arrive to the summoning pedestal, you feel your heart’s pace quicken. on your way back to the castle, you had explained to him all that loki has implied to you, but had remained silent, not knowing what to do. surely, if this really was your child, he would accept them.

   right?

   “wait,” he says, watching you place the bright green orb in the pedestal. “just... wait.” he tugs at your arm lightly as he looks up at you on the alter. “i want to let you know that whatever happens... i want us to have a future together.” his porcelain skin dusts pink, sharp blue eyes conveying so many emotions -- anxiety, curiosity, but most of all reassurance. he loved you, that much was so clear. “and... if somehow this is our child, well... i’ll love and protect them with all that i am.” you jump off the pedestal, unable to keep your hands to yourself. you place kisses all over his cheeks, before pulling back and kissing his nose. he smiles at you, easily holding your weight with his strong arms. 

   “i love you so much.” you say, trying your best to contain your emotions. he doesn’t want to let your go, but he has to, and he gracefully sets you on the pedestal. 

   “and i you, princess.” he says gingerly, the blush having spread to the rest of his face. 

   setting aside your anxiety, you take a deep breath, and use breidablik’s power to call forth the hero locked in their own world. mist surrounds the stone, and out of the mist pops the head of a teenage girl, green tome clutched to her hip and curious, steely blue eyes scanning her surroundings. when she locks eyes with you, you feel the rush of a familial love that you didn’t know you possessed in your heart. storge, you remembered some book you had read back on your world, was the word for it. she rushes forward, her braided [hair color] locks bouncing all the way as she tackles you into a hug. hríd joins the two of you as she sobs into your shoulder, arms cradling the two of you safely.

   this was home.

[artnerd1123]

Hey fusion idea: Evangel and Mara bc Mara's a demon and Evangel's name literally has the word angel in it so--

right u are, anon :D tho evangel is literally nothin like an angel lemme tell u-

but!!! onwards to fusion, talk, shall we~

this particular fusion might not seem like it’d work v well at first, and indeed, it might have a rocky start. but that doesn’t mean things don’t work themselves out. especially after evangel starts feeding off of mara’s chaotic confidence to make it her own... 

they like to be called solani (means nightshade in latin, its a pretty flower, but highly deadly)

pale skin

pointed ears

icy eyes with piercing green slit pupils

dark purple hair that tumbles down around their waist like a wild waterfall

are those claws or just really sharp manicured nails???

i can’t tell if i saw a tail or if my eyes are playing tricks on me

short, sharp, black horns

usually smirking

they’re extremely full of themselves, vain, and pompous

always trying to catch someone’s eye

crave attention, as long as they’re in control of the situation

quite the master of manipulation and tugging on heartstrings

they’re after everyone’s heart, and not just for the love. they like breaking a few here and there

stubborn, bullheaded, and extremely stuck in their own way of thinking

enjoy wearing fancy outfits, like the ones you’d see in those murder shows where the client in question’s husband disappeared under mysterious circumstances, and of course they’re still grieving their darling husband... they say as the seduce mr detective man

eyeshadow n mascara ftw

has a silky way of speaking that makes u slightly on edge but wanna listen more

in it for the fun of messing with people, and bc they need people to acknowledge them always

terrified of fire/bright lights

actually need someone’s approval/recognition or else they feel horrid

tries not to think about consequences

close friends who? i’ve got at least a hundred other friends i can turn to if you don’t like me

dark magic makes them giddy, and makes em p much unbearable (yet irresistible) to be around. gives dark veins over their normally pale skin, but they fade after awhile. 

literally they bring out the worst in each other this is a super villain fusion