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thou-babbling-brook · 7 months

Text

Cold Feet

AO3

Rating: G

Word Count: 2216

Tags: Davenport Homestead, Assassin's Creed III, American Revolution, Canon Compliant, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, "The Wedding" Mission

Summary: Connor convinces Myriam to start her new life with Norris. Set during "The Wedding" Homestead mission between the chase sequence and the wedding scene. Hope you guys enjoy!

Connor would be the first to admit that he knew little to nothing about colonial wedding customs. Aside from a few comprehensive history and culture lessons from his teen years when he first traveled to Achilles, Connor knew nothing about the complexities of colonial weddings. Father Timothy had been kind enough to explain a few key details, such as “giving” Myriam away at the altar (which Connor was more than happy to do for his old friend), but details slipped Connor’s mind from time to time over the next several days of intense planning and preparation.

But there was one thing that Connor was sure they did not include: chasing the bride in question through the snow-covered trees minutes before her wedding.

The day began with as much chaos as one would expect. Before the roosters began to crow, nearly every member of the Homestead bustled about preparing for the joyous celebration. Oliver and Corrine worked hard preparing their finest wines for the occasion while preparing the livestock meat and crops gathered by Warren and Prudence – and of course, little baby Hunter, who cooed excitedly against his mother’s back. Once finished organizing the food, Prudence and Corrine joined the ladies in adorning Myriam in fine, comfortable fabrics suitable for the huntress. Ellen poked needles into the sides to ensure the stitching was up to par, while Diana and Catherine squawked at Connor and Norris for accidentally stepping near the bride’s suite (which Connor did not dare remind the ladies was his home).

In the meantime, Big Dave and Lance worked tirelessly to adorn both the inn and the church with banners and decor fit for the Homestead’s very first wedding. Big Dave lifted the chubby woodworker up to pin the wooden posts on the side of the inn, waving to Terry and Godfrey as the lumberers warned Norris of the horrors of marriage to come.

“You’ll ne’er be right ‘bout anythin’ again, ya hear me, boy?” Godfrey teased as he slapped his palm against Norris’s back.

“Aye, and forget about havin’ the covers to yerself! You’ll be shiverin’ like a leaf!” Terry explained. Norris merely laughed and shook his head.

In the church, Dr. White and Achilles aided Father Timothy in preparing his short sermon, arranging the pews, and finishing the final touches hours before the wedding. Even the Assassin recruits were more than happy to help with the preparations. Stephane set to work in the kitchen alongside Oliver to cater the large meal ahead. Duncan, ever the Catholic, assisted Father Timothy in rehearsing his sermon. Jacob offered his wisdom for marriage while he straightened Norris’s hair, while Dobby stood guard outside Myriam’s dressing room in case of wandering eyes from stray men. Clipper and Jamie helped Mr. Faulkner and the crew of the Aquila find their drunken ways to the church, all while Connor wandered about and assisted where he could.

So, given the day’s chaotic events, it was not surprising to Connor as he announced happily to the pacing Norris that all was in order that Myriam was “missing.” After all, the ladies had only just left her room. How much trouble could the huntress find herself in?

Apparently, thought Connor as he raced through the trees and leapt through the branches, quite a lot.

“Leave me be!” Myriam shouted as she jumped to the next branch, a stray branch slowing her down as it caught on her white dress. It was not enough to stop her, but it was enough for Connor to come within speaking distance.

“Why do you run?!” Connor replied, his voice echoing through the forest with concern lacing his tone. He swung to the next branch, careful not to slip and even more careful to ensure Myriam did not.

“Leave me be!” Myriam exclaimed. She crossed over to the next tree in an attempt to throw Connor off her trail. “I’m no housewife!”

Connor’s brow furrowed. While he could not necessarily speak for the entire Homestead, “housewife” would be one of the last descriptors attributed to Myriam. She was a huntress, and a respectable one at that. Through his confusion, Connor quickly ducked through another tree and sprinted across the large, sturdy branch. “No one thinks you are one!”

Myriam slid down a fallen tree, stumbling into the snow before whirling around to face Connor. “That’s what all of this means!”

A silence passed between the two as flurries of snow cascaded around them. Myriam sighed, grabbing her crown of flowers and tossing it to the ground. She sunk to the snowy ground and hid her face in her knees.

Quietly, Connor knelt beside Myriam. Lifting the flower crown into his hands, he joined her in the blanket of snow. He said nothing, only silently thumbing the daffodils adorning her crown. The two sat for a moment while gazing over the rushing river, watching as it cascaded over weathered rocks. Myriam reached forward and threw one into the water. When it sank to the bottom of the river, she huffed angrily through her nose.

“I don’t want to be some housewife that sits around waiting for her husband to come home,” she explained, tossing her hands into the air in frustration. “That’s not who I am. I’m not… I’m not some lady wanting to be kept pregnant and barefoot!”

“No one thinks you are one,” Connor repeated gently. Myriam shot a glare at the hulking man, Connor shrinking in on himself in response despite his size.

“That’s what this means! This whole wedding! Shoving me into this stuffy dress, preparing me to take vows, giving me away!” She stood, pacing by the riverside. She gave Connor an apologetic look. “No offense. If I want anyone to give me away, it would be you.”

Connor rose and nodded his head. “None taken. But what is it that causes you to believe that you will become a housewife?”

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Myriam groaned before settling her hands on her hips and staring out into the river. “I… I don’t know!” She tossed her hands in the air again, rustling her hair and pacing back and forth. “I don’t belong inside a house cooking and cleaning and caring for a husband and an entire brood of children. I belong in the open air, in my hunting blinds, with my rifle in my hands!” Her hands formed the gesture of her weapon in question. Then, they fell to her sides. “If I marry Norris… I’ll be leaving behind all of my freedom that I worked so hard to gain.”

Stepping closer, Connor laid a hand on Myriam’s back. “That is not true,” he murmured quietly. “You know that better than I. Norris wants only for you to be happy.”

“Do I?” Myriam asked. Her voice faltered and she turned her nose to the rushing river. “What if, when we get married, all he wants is for me to sit at home and… I don’t know, wash his feet?”

Connor unintentionally wrinkled his nose. At the very least, the gesture provided a quick laugh for the two hunters. The uncomfortable silence returned soon after, broken only by the sounds of quiet chirping and rustling bushes.

“Norris did not fall in love with a housewife,” Connor finally spoke up. He met Myriam’s gaze with his own, gentle eyes. “Why would he expect such?”

“All men do,” Myriam sighed.

“I do not.”

“You are not all men.”

Connor glanced down at the flower crown in his hands, thumbing over the white petals. “Perhaps I am not.”

Myriam pinched her nose again. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend–”

“No, it is alright,” Connor assured her. His brows furrowed in thought while Myriam squinted into the horizon. Then, a candle sparked in his mind. “How much do you know of my people, Myriam?”

“I don’t see the point of your question,” Myriam remarked tersely. When Connor gave a serious expression, she sighed. “But to answer it, not much.”

He moved in front of Myriam. “I think you would like it very much. For my people, it is the women who lead. We may have chiefs and war councils, but these men are voted upon by our women. Clan Mothers lead the village. We trace our ancestry through our mothers. For women, marriage is not just a union of the husband and wife, but of the village to the couple.”

Myriam raised a brow. “Your point?”

Placing the flower crown upon her head, Connor continued. “You are not a housewife, but even if you were, it would not change who you are. You are a skillful leader and hunter. Norris knows this. He marries you because of it, not in spite of it. He admires you for who you are. You need be nothing else. And by marrying Norris, you unite our friends as a whole, too.”

Silently, Myriam adjusted the crown and tucked stray strands of hair behind her ears. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so.” He cracked a rare smile. “Besides, you are a better shot than Norris. If anyone will be the housewife, it will be him.”

Myriam snorted. “The bad part is that I think he would enjoy being a housewife.” Her shoulders shook as she began to laugh. “Could you imagine? Me, coming home with a pipe of tobacco sticking out of my mouth, my rifle on my back, and hares in my hands while Norris cooks and cleans?”

Connor chuckled, then gently led Myriam towards the path leading to the church. “But you cannot imagine such a fate until you are wed.”

“No,” Myriam smiled, “I suppose I can’t.” As they reached the church, Myriam turned to Connor with a mixture of fear and excitement.

“I’m scared.”

Connor nodded. “I know.”

“What do I do?”

“What do you do when you face a cougar?”

“I shoot it. Are you suggesting I shoot Norris?”

“No, but I am suggesting that you face him like you would any animal.” He laid his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently. “You are a strong, cunning woman, Myriam. He loves you deeply. He would not be marrying you if he had no intention of respecting you.”

Myriam inhaled sharply. “How do I get over it?”

“The fear?”

“No, the weather – what else would there be?”

“You won’t,” chimed a gentle, soft voice. Prudence and Ellen emerged from behind the church. Ellen offered Myriam her bouquet of flowers while Prudence wrapped a white shawl around her shivering shoulders. Prudence patted her cheek. “When I married Warren years ago, I was terrified of our future. But you learn, in marriage, that you are both equally frightened.” She giggled along with Ellen and Myriam.

Ellen took Myriam’s hands in her own. “My marriage was an unhappy one,” she confessed. Connor looked on solemnly, catching Ellen’s somber gaze for a mere second before Ellen mustered a smile. “But I can offer this wisdom: a good husband will cherish his wife for her talents, her wit, her love, her devotion, and her faith. Norris practically worships the ground you walk on. He will make a fine husband.”

Myriam sniffled. “Fuck,” she cursed. “I can’t believe I’m crying like some… some old hag!” Prudence and Ellen laughed, rubbing Myriam’s shoulders before holding her tightly.

“Besides,” Prudence cooed, staring over Myriam’s shoulder into Connor’s watchful gaze, “once we have you and Norris married, we can finally focus our attention on finding Connor a wife.”

Cheeks flushing, Connor brought his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. “That will not be necessary.”

“Oh, hush, Prudence,” Ellen giggled. “We mustn't scare him from the prospect yet.” She turned back to Myriam, kissing her cheek. “We have to go back inside, but we will support you no matter what.” Prudence nodded in agreement before waving goodbye, giggling alongside Ellen as they hurried into the church.

Myriam rubbed her arms and faced Connor, walking with him up the steps. “You will be there every step of the way?”

“Every step,” Connor assured.

“Okay.”

“How do you feel?”

“Terrified. Like I want to run away again,” Myriam chuckled breathlessly. Connor hummed and looped his arm with hers.

“I will be there regardless. I am sure Norris will be as well.”

Myriam smiled. “Thank you, Connor.”

“You do not need to thank me. You are my friend.”

She stood on her tiptoes, pressing her frigid lips to Connor’s freckled cheek. “No, but I will. Thank you.”

Blushing, Connor cleared his throat and led Myriam to the entrance of the church, where the guests began to rise as they spotted the bridge.

“Prudence and Ellen are right, though. We must find you a bride,” she whispered, doing her best to ignore the endless amount of eyes upon her and Connor.

Connor chuckled, patting her hand. “I can only hope she is not as fast nor agile as you.”

“Ha, ha. Who knew you had such a sense of humor?”

Years later, when Connor would find himself fidgeting in front of his betrothed’s longhouse, Myriam would loop her arm with his, kiss his flustered cheek, and walk him into the longhouse with the same kindness he had shown her before.

Luckily for Connor, his wife did not run into the trees. How fortunate he was indeed.

#assassin’s creed #ac3 #connor kenway #ratohnhaké:ton #fanfiction #my fanfic #assassin's creed fanfic #davenport homestead #myriam #norris #prudence #ellen #terry #godfrey #pretty much everybody in the damn homestead #that random cut from the chase sequence to the wedding bothers me so fucking much #so I simply decided to fill in the blanks #I hope you guys enjoy!#I love Connor sm he's a good friend

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bebeyeyo · 1 year

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g!p momo hcs next please? 🥺

enjoy! <3

POSSESSIVE AF

far worse than nayeon

she’s sexy and she knows it

but she can be a lil softie every now and then

does so much for you

she mainly will cook for you (ever since watching her cook in that manager episode it’s just so ugh 😍)

likes to shop with you for new clothes

loves to try new foods with you

likes to go out to eat with you

you both are just foodies

surprised not really surprised but she can be very shy

so the teasing that comes from the girls about you makes her very flustered

whenever you’re mentioned she gets shy even

buries her face into your shoulder when she gets shy

you tease her about where her confidence went lol

likes to have her arm around your waist when you’re both out

selfies are a yes

even has photos of you sleeping

has you as her wallpaper

you laugh whenever she’s struggling with her japanese

you love watching this woman dance

you truly believe she was meant to be up on that stage dancing her heart out

kisses you randomly

you’ll be watching something and you’ll feel lips on yours

or talking to one of the girls and you’ll suddenly be met with a momo who’s got her lips puckered

forehead kisses

i feel like momo is a person to wear perfume some days and a little bit of cologne on others

she’s shy about her singing voice so you give her that confidence boost

will make you dress in her clothes no questions asked just do it

wearing her clothes will make her hard ngl

is big and she flexes it very hard to you

her smirk will be the end of you

doesn’t even try to hide her bulge that’s there and she knows you’re staring

is actually very nervous for your first time

asking you if you’re sure and if you want to take this next step with her

“you can always say stop.”

she makes you feel so loved and cared for that night; vice versa

in the morning you both make breakfast while she sways with you at the stove

although i have a pet peeve of smacking, i wouldn’t mind it coming from her :]

will mumble ‘i love you’ into your neck or whisper it in your ear

you both take walks with boo/demon dog and dobby

just wants a content and happy life with you away from chaos (uhm, dispatch, sasaengs and paparazzi)

#darlinggtwice #hirai momo x reader #hirai momo x fem reader #twice momo #momo headcanons #twice headcanons #twice imagines #gp!momo

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milkybonya · 1 year

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crush ☆ doyoung

order 069, anon: large taro milk tea with strawberry popping boba for treasure Doyoung

! : suggestive (kissing), explicit language (swear words)

# : bad boy!doyoung (but he's really just tsundere) x gn reader, ft. best friend!Jaehyuk

[💌: since hello era... doyoung and junghwan be hitting differently like THESE BOYS ARE ALL GROWN MY BBYS :( also anon i hope u like this one i'm sorry its so late T_T and on Haruto day?? not me posting a Dobby fic on Haruto day hehe HAPPY RUTO DAY]

there's no bad boy that makes you as weak in the knees as Doyoung. you have the fattest crush on him but no one will ever know. not even him. well, no one except for your best friend, Jaehyuk.

you keep your eyes straight ahead as Doyoung loudly enters the classroom, slamming the door accidentally (?) behind him and loudly pulling out his chair in the back to sit down.

you watch Jaehyuk wriggle his eyebrows as you from two rows ahead. then, you steal a glance back at Doyoung. he's leaning back in his head, facing the ceiling, revealing his attractive neck--

okay, seriously. you've gotta stop. how can a neck be attractive? well, his can.

you gulp as you face the front, trying to focus on the lesson. but... the teacher doesn't show up. so, as always, the kids start causing a ruckus. Doyoung keeps his head down in the back and you sigh as you sift through your homework, trying to find something non-violent to do.

just as Jaehyuk approaches you to have a conversation, he gets pushed aside by one of your class's rude idiots. he falls to the ground.

"y/n, is that the homework? can i borrow it?" they ask, leaning way too close.

"fuck off," you mutter, annoyed.

"huh? did you say something?" they ask, leaning even closer.

you sigh, trying to decide if you should fight back or just give them your homework--when you hear the legs of a chair scraping against the floor from behind you.

"just piss off! leave them alone," Doyoung yells at the rude idiot. "if you care about homework that bad, why don't you actually do it, hm?"

"yeah, he's right," Jaehyuk pipes up, finally getting up from the floor.

"and what if i don't leave them alone?" they challenge Doyoung, who makes some kind of quiet snarling sound before he bounds over to you.

"fuck. off," he says, shoving the person with each word.

they fall backwards onto a desk and Jaehyuk cheers.

your heart is racing, both because of the adrenaline the situation is making you feel, and because Doyoung is so... damn attractive while he's shutting these idiots down. his jaw is clenched and the outline of it is sharp. his lips glisten under the ceiling lights from when he licked them moments ago, trying to hold back his anger.

Doyoung turns to you, his ears red and his hands in his pockets. his dress shirt uniform is unbuttoned, revealing a black shirt underneath.

he doesn't say anything, just scans your face with slightly furrowed brows before walking to his spot in the back. once he's gone, you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. then, you race to Jaehyuk, making sure he's okay.

"i'm fine! are you, though? your knight in shining armour totally just saved you--" Jaehyuk starts, wiggling his eyebrows.

"shut up!" you whine, slapping his arm.

you can't help but smile, though. as you look back to glance at Doyoung, you watch his head immediately jerk away from you.. as if his eyes had been on you before you looked at him.

you shrug it off as the teacher finally walks in.

Doyoung watches you for the entire lesson. he's never paid much attention to you until today, when those idiots were harassing you. usually, he doesn't get involved in class drama. but for some reason, he got so angry this time. he wonders why. he needs to know why.

the whole day you feel someone's eyes on you. every time you turn around, you see nothing. there's always so many students everywhere, so you don't pay it much mind. that is, until you notice something.

Doyoung is always there, in your line of vision, when you turn around to see if someone is watching you... but it's probably just a coincidence. it isn't until he joins you and Jaehyuk at the cafeteria to eat that you think maybe it wasn't a coincidence.

you're both stuffing your faces with food when he smoothly slides his tray in next to yours, sitting down and poking at his food.

"can we help you?" Jaehyuk asks, seeing how you're too stunned to speak.

"no. keep eating," Doyoung says somewhat coldly.

he watches you from the corners of his eyes.

"well, anyways, i think it's so dumb that we all have to do an outdoor activity this weekend and write a story about it. that's what little kids get assigned to do!" Jaehyuk complains, ignoring Doyoung.

"whyyy? i think it sounds so fun and cute! we could go on a picnic and both write about it--"

"i'm coming, too," Doyoung blurts out. he's shocked by his own words.

"why would you come?" Jaehyuk questions, maintaining (or trying to) a friendly tone.

"because... i don't know what else to do for the project either," Doyoung grumbles.

you stare at his lips, stained with the strawbery milk he just took a sip of.

"stop drooling, y/n," Jaehyuk says.

"shut up!" you screech, slapping your friend.

Doyoung chuckles and catches himself in the act. why was he so amused by you? he's never cared about a single living soul at this school before.

all three of you show up to the park with hands full of goodies... except, Doyoung's 'goodies' are just his skateboard... that's it.

Jaehyuk shakes his head, sighing as he lays down the blanket and one side of it folds in because of the wind. you're too busy staring at Doyoung as he sets his skateboard down to notice your own friend struggling.

"hello? a little help here?" Jaehyuk whines, but you still can't hear him.

the wind blowing through Doyoung's hair and rustling his clothes makes him look incredibly attractive. your knees feel weak and you decide to help Jaehyuk to distract yourself.

before you know it, you're being stopped by Doyoung himself.

"no, let me," he says in a deep voice, taking over and helping Jaehyuk with the blanket.

eventually, everything is set up and the three of you are sat surrounded by snacks and your notebooks.

"well.. we can't just write that all we did was sit here and eat. what should we do?" Jaehyuk points out.

"how about a game?" you ask excitedly.

you peek at Doyoung to see his reaction, but he's staring off into space. you pout and Jaehyuk notices.

"hey, Doyoung! what do you think?" Jaehyuk asks.

"yeah, sure. if y/n wants to, let's do it."

you feel butterflies within you as you grin as Doyoung.

"how about truth or dare?! Jaehyuk first! truth or dare?" you say.

"truth!"

"boring," you and Doyoung say at the same time. you both look at each other and you watch the boy's lips curve slightly upwards.

"i pick truth. now ask me something."

"have you ever liked y/n?" Doyoung asks, lazily.

your heart races at the question, even though you already know the answer.

"i did before, actually. i confessed but.. it didn't work out.

"how long ago was that?" Doyoung asks, brows furrowed.

"Doyoung, your turn! it's one question only," you say.

he presses his lips together before choosing 'dare'.

"i dare you to eat all those strawberries in one minute," Jaehyuk says.

you slap his arm, telling him that's too much, but Doyoung goes for it. you watch as his cheeks fill with the red berries, his face puffy as he chews. he starts laughing when you both laugh at how funny he looks, and he isn't able to eat them all because he laughs so hard he has to spit everything out!

"y/n, your turn," Doyoung says softly.

"mmm.. okay what will my truth be and what will my dare be?" you ask.

"dare is you kiss Doyoung and truth is do you like Doyoung," Jaehyuk asks.

your jaw drops and Doyoung smirks, amused.

"you--"

"pick!" Jaehyuk urges.

you sigh and choose dare, thinking that'll be the safer option.

Doyoung's face is slightly red as you turn to him.

"kiss! kiss! kiss!" Jaehyuk chants like a kid.

"shut up!" you say before turning to Doyoung, gently cupping and squeezing his cheeks so his lips are puffy, and pressing your own lips to his.

the kiss is soft, his lips are plump and his mouth tastes like strawberries. as if instictually, Doyoung's arm wraps around your waist, but Jaehyuk's giggles make you pull away.

"well, won't i have quite the situation to write about!"

"shut up, Jae," you say, nervously.

you still feel butterflies and you can feel Doyoung looking at you. every time you look at him, he looks away.

a few moments later, Jaehyuk gets up in search of a washroom. you and Doyoung are left on your own.

"i'm sorry if you didn't want to do that kiss--" you start.

"no. i wanted to," Doyoung replies sweetly.

"oh?"

"did you want to?"

"yes," you reply.

"do you want to do it again?" he asks while leaning back his weight rested on his arms.

"y-yeah."

and that's how Doyoung kisses you so hard that you fall onto the picnic blanket, Doyoung's arm also catching you as you fall. you place a hand to his chest to keep yourself grounded as butterflies rage inside you, but feeling his heartbeat makes you melt even more.

"hey, i leave for one second and come back to this?!" Jaehyuk says in disgust.

quickly, the two of you pull away.

Doyoung's face is red and he clears his throat.

"well... to avoid this from getting awkward, i say we end the picnic here," Jaehyuk announces.

after cleaning up everything, Doyoung pulls you aside to ask if you want to hang out with just him some time.

"i like you, y/n. something about you just keeps drawing me to you," he says, caressing your cheek.

"i-i-yes.. let's meet! this weekend! wait, it is the weekend... maybe some time this week after school?"

Doyoung laughs, a rare sight. "sure. let's meet after school."

you and Jaehyuk walk home together and the whole time he's teasing you, but you couldn't be happier.

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chaifootsteps · 5 months

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the change to Stolas' VA has another unintended problem, too: previously all three Goetias had pretty noticeable British accents (old Stolas and current Stella more than Via). It's cliche but it marked them as a set and it worked for the whole posh nobility vibe

Now Stolas doesn't have much of a British accent at all. it's like every aspect of the character that he would naturally have from being raised royal has been scrubbed clean.

this kind of thing happens with writers but especially mid liberal ones a lot - they want to have a privileged or powerful character or have a setting in the past but the writers are either worried the audience won't like them or are uncomfortable interrogating the politics of power themselves, so they write that character as having the same attitudes and education levels as everyone else.

it really broke my immersion how hard they do this for Stolas. he's literally dressed and waited on by imp butlers from childhood but he's magically enlightened enough that he bows to Blitz and talks to him like an equal? at that age he would already know that he's higher on Hell's pecking order without the show heavy-handedly having Paimon drill the notion into him, kids aren't dumb about that kind of thing. even if we want to pass the buck and say Paimon raised him into the kind of attitudes he displayed in s1, he never learnt better he just magically ditched all of that offscreen when Blitz didn't immediately love him back by the time Ozzie's happened

I agree with your earlier response about JKR's writing at least being more consistent than Vivzie's, but the framing of class issues reminded me of it again. HP has this notion that keeping house elf slavery going is fine and only Dobby can be freed from it because he's the one elf the audience knows and cares about, and everyone else will just have to stick with it because they aren't Harry Potter's one special friend. The way HB is going, Blitz will become Stolas' consort/lover and be compensated for being stuck with Stolas forever by getting some of Stolas' protections/luxuries in his life while the rest of the imps stay stuck on the bottom & the show will do its best to act like this is acceptable & hide the fact that Stolas still has imp servants (and has no intentions of giving them up) who don't get treated any better but who just have to lump it because they didn't realize getting better treatment means having to let Stolas fuck them literally on top of the way he already does economically

sorry for the long ask! this rant ended up in a waaaay different place than where it started

I mean, both Stolas voices gave him British accents, but I always preferred Brock's and there's a very good reason for that. It's because Brock's Stolas was basically Brock doing his best Anthony Head impression, and that's fucking glorious to me.

Like, come on. Tell me this wouldn't have made the best Stolas and Via MVs after it became common knowledge that that's what Brock was going for.

youtube

Agreed about the house elves though, and your prediction for the future. It's just going to get grosser from here on out.

#Anonymous #helluva boss #Helluva Boss critical #Stolas #actual blog post #video reply

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starlingflight · 22 days

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Drunk prompt for Miss. Starlingflight

Harry gets Dobby’s restraining order processed through the Ministry

Dobby challenges Harry Potter to a duel for Ginerva’s affection using carrots as swords

🧟‍♂️

A/N this is officially the stupidest thing I've ever written. Congratulations @dobnny you've show the world the real Holly and she's unhinged:

It had really gone too far this time.

Harry didn't know what he'd expected when he'd walked into his house to find his carpet strewn in rose petals… well, actually, the problem was that he did know what he'd expected.

And it wasn't Dobby laid out on his and Ginny's bed draw-me-like-one-of-your-french-girls style, with only a very thin sheet to protect his modesty. And Harry's eyes.

“Master Harry! You were not supposed to be home yet!”

This much was true, Harry was supposed to be on a mission for at least another two days by his own estimate, but, for once luck had been on his side and he'd been able to return early. Or at least he'd thought it was luck until the moment he'd opened the door on an almost-naked house elf.

He sighed, accepting that life would always have a new challenge to throw at him, before inclining his head towards the door. “Dobby, get dressed and I'll meet you in the kitchen.”

He turned and headed for the hallway without awaiting a response.

The trouble, as Harry saw it, was that Dobby was Not Like The Other House Elves. He would always find a way to skirt Harry's orders and continue to pursue Ginny. And, really, Harry couldn't blame him, for there was little he wouldn't do for a sliver of Ginny's attention either.

What was any male, Wizard or House Elf, supposed to do in the face of Ginny's allure?

Ginny would probably say that was sexist. Harry simply thought it was a problem to be solved given Dobby's increasingly unhinged behaviour.

A loud crack permeated the kitchen and Dobby appeared, thankfully fully clothed in a sweater vest, denim hotpants and bright red Wellington boots.

“You wanted to see me, Master Harry?”

“Yes,” Harry agreed, eyes casting around the kitchen for anything that might be useful in this situation. He needed to appeal to Dobby's deep sense of honour, without doing anything that might injure the hapless elf. His eyes fell on a bunch of carrots on the counter. “Dobby, I challenge you to a duel. The winner gets Ginny.”

She would definitely divorce him if she ever heard such a sentence come out of his mouth.

Dobby looked uneasy at the suggestion. “Master Harry,” he said, a hint of apology in his voice that had definitely not been there ten minutes ago when he'd been trying to seduce Harry's wife. “House elf magic is more extensive than Wizard magic. It would not be a fair fight.”

Harry nodded, pursing his lips together as though he were deep in thought. “We won't use magic,” he said slowly. “Or swords. We're going to duel by a far more ancient tradition which relies upon one's skill with root vegetables.”

#im not tagging this #if you find it its the way god intended; by accident #also i just realised i read the prompt wrong #but we're on glass 6 so idk what ya'll expected

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wisteria-blooms · 2 years

Text

long hair & tattoos (bill weasley & reader) (15/15) *complete*

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

CHAPTER 15: The day before Bill is set to depart for Egypt, you are torn between two thoughts: to convince him to stay or to let him go. Luckily, help and love come from the unlikeliest of places. (8.5k words) TAG LIST MOVED TO THE BOTTOM!

A/N: Thank you guys for following along on this ride! It's certainly been a fun one. I'm grateful for all your comments and feedback; it really inspires me to write more. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the ending! Of course, feel free to leave any thoughts. (:

CHAPTER 15: THAT'S ALRIGHT WITH ME

Being back at Malfoy Manor wasn’t favourable either. You’d have rather hopped on a train somewhere and disappeared into the forest to be left alone with your thoughts. However, this was better than being confined with Fred and George and being teased relentlessly about Bill. Every question they had pushed you to the precipice of admitting the truth and you didn’t want them to hear it. If anything, you wanted Bill to hear first.

“(Y/N)!” Narcissa exclaimed when you walked in the doors just before lunch. She was dressed like she was going out to town later this afternoon. “What are you doing here?”

“I can tell you’re absolutely delighted by my presence.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I am,” Narcissa corrected, her left hand gliding on the stair railing as she descended the steps. “I just wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

“I’d like to spend a night or two here before,” you stammered, “the big move.”

“Well, it is your home.” Narcissa pursed her lips. “And speaking of the move, your father wants to see if you need an extension on that lease on the penthouse. We can’t imagine Shell Cottage is very comfortable in the winter.”

“Yeah,” you responded non-committedly.

“Are you joining us for lunch?” she inquired on the last step down.

“I already ate,” you lied. That was enough to satisfy your mother’s question.

“Then we’ll see you at dinner,” she said, passing you and turning the corner. “I’ll have Dobby prepare another seat.”

You nodded. “Sure.”

When your mother was out of sight, you ran up the stairs and turned the corner to your room. You flung the door open to your room and the weight of the past week hit you like an avalanche. You scrunched your face, trying to alleviate the tingle in your nose that you knew all too well—there were tears behind your eyes.

Your mind reeled back to the pleasant memories you shared with Bill, trying to look for little hints and clues. There had to be a flicker of love in those eyes, even if they were just for a split second. Maybe you were a fool for convincing yourself of it because it was clear that Bill didn’t care; he was moving back to Egypt and didn’t consult you or offer the courtesy of letting you know. You. Didn’t. Matter. The weight of that thought was cruel and punishing on your heart.

What was holding him back? Why shouldn’t he fall in love with you?

Then you realized.

Most people started off a new relationship revealing just bits of themselves—little fragments—and kept their skeletons tucked in the closet. You, however, sped full force ahead, running all the lights because the thought of falling in love with Bill never crossed your mind. You dove headfirst and put the bad and ugly on full display like it was a theatre show. You picked apart your family at every given chance, only to realize too late, when you’d irreversibly fallen for him, that he was searching for someone kind and familial. While he was cherishing time with his siblings, you were picking fights with Draco and your cousins. You felt sick.

Bill was probably ready to settle down, probably ready to have children of his own. You were still a child, directionless and going about your days with no goal in end. How could he like someone who bar-hopped with his younger brothers every summer? You were also barely four years in the working world, Bill was teetering on thirteen. Age, especially the gap between you and Bill, was never an issue for you and you’d never even thought about it. Now combing through all the reasons Bill wouldn’t like you back, it was blaring red.

You laughed blithely. It was your fault. You had fucked it up. You felt the first tears pooling in your eyes. Just a little, you promised. Then you’d stop crying.

You scooted over to look for the tissues in the drawer, but instead, your fingers found Bill’s letter he’d sent the morning after the first dinner. That fated dinner felt like yesterday and ages ago all at once. You were never going to get that back, the first meeting, the comfortable friendship you’d built with Bill. If he mentioned he was trotting off to Egypt back then, you wouldn’t have batted an eyelash. Now, things were complicated beyond repair.

Against better judgement, you began to read.

‘My love….’

Instantaneously, you came to a devastating realization that you’d never hear those words out of his mouth. And the thought of that burst the damn. There were hot tears running down your face now. You tried to keep quiet, but your heart amplified what you felt: sheer pain.

The one thing abating the pain was you letting yourself go and dissolving into a cathartic mess. Bill Weasley had reduced you to a lovesick fool and you’d sworn you’d let no man do it.

Feeling uncomfortable after sitting on the ground for so long, you moved up from the carpeted floor to the bed. You reached from the tissues on the nightstand and just laid there, twitching as sporadic sobs racked your body. You remained immobile otherwise, the net result of two opposing forces acting on you: one, telling you to go to Bill, and the other advising you to let it go.

Let him go.

It was probably hours that you’d cycled through napping and crying. You fancied daydreams where you pretended your bed was the same bed you slept in Nice, and that you’d never left the comfort of being by Bill’s side, of being close to him and the water. When you woke up to a different room than you envisioned, you grimaced and cried. In between, you had dreams of someone calling your name repeatedly.

The sun was low when you’d woken up for the umpteenth time. Your eyelids felt heavy, and you knew they were probably red and swollen. You still heard calls for your name, and you quickly realized you weren’t dreaming.

“What are you doing in there?” a sharp voice called from outside the door. “Didn’t you hear the call for dinner?”

You sat paralyzed. It was Draco.

“I’ll come later!” you yelled. The last person you wanted to reveal your weakened state to was your menace of a brother.

“We’ve been calling you for the last half hour!” he stated impatiently. “What’s wrong with you? Come down for supper.”

You panicked. You really didn’t want to be questioned or seen by anyone right now. “I’m fine! Go on, eat without me!”

Draco knocked again. “I don’t believe you one bit. Let me in!”

“I’m fine!” you repeated. “Mind your own business!”

“I gave you a fair enough warning. I’m opening the door.”

“I swear I will kill you if you do,” you threatened.

He jangled the doorknob with more force. “Then open it yourself! You’re acting like a petulant child, (Y/N)!”

The will to fight with him was leaving your body. You were tired, beaten down, and parched for water and even someone to confide in. You didn’t imagine it’d be Draco, but at some point, you needed to let someone in and offer you guidance. You pushed yourself off the bed, your head feeling heavier than the rest of your body. You trundled the steps to the door and opened it slowly.

As if it were a joke, you looked at Draco with your tear-stained face, bloodshot eyes, mussed hair, and forced a wide smile. “Happy?” You knew he’d mock you endlessly, and this front was the best way to shield yourself against it.

You weren’t sure what to expect, but you didn’t expect Draco to take a step back. The snarl on his face quickly dissolved into a soft expression of surprise.

He had swallowed whatever he had wanted to say and instead asked, “What’s wrong?”

Your tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine, obviously.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I haven’t seen you cry for ages. Not since you broke your leg at Hogwarts after that stunt you tried pulling with your friends.”

“I was fine,” you murmured. “Same difference.”

He asked, without missing a beat, “Does it have to do with Weasley?”

You feebly shook your head.

Draco peered at you in disbelief.

A sob in your throat threatened to rise and manifest into a cry. You urged Draco into the room. “Shut the door,” you demanded.

Draco closed the door behind him and walked in. “You’re lying. I always know when you’re lying,” he immediately fired. “Much like I always know when you’re upset about something, or who it’s about—”

He stopped when your nose scrunched up again. Flustered, and probably not used to dealing with a crying sister or crying women in general, he grabbed a tissue from your nightstand and handed it over to you.

“So, it is Weasley,” he concluded.

You said nothing. You found it hard to honest with him; there was little trust with how often you went behind each other’s backs. But at some point, both of you needed to let your walls down and get to root of it all—you were siblings, after all.

“I take that as a yes,” he finished for you. “What happened? Has he not been treating you well?”

“No,” you blew into the tissue, “he’s moving.”

“Where? The cottage?”

“Egypt.”

“Egypt?” Draco repeated incredulously, then whispered under his breath, “What the fuck?” He looked back at you. “Is this a joke? I’m trying to be serious here with you, (Y/N). So, quit joking around.”

You looked at him with bleary eyes and shook your head. “I’m serious. I wish I wasn’t.”

“Have you discussed this together?” Draco continued. “That’s a rather large decision to make without your input.”

“He doesn’t need my input,” you said as you squeezed your eyes shut, wringing out more tears. “I officially do not matter to him.”

Draco looked at you, puzzled. “What do you mean? Have you broken up?”

You shook your head and paused for a while. You were fighting with yourself to tell Draco the truth, but there was still a chance that he’d be a righteous ass about it. Your resolve to rekindle your relationship could easily backfire on you. But the genuine look on his face swayed your decision.

“It means you were right. It was all a farce because I didn’t want to date Crabbe and I wanted to get mother and father off my back at the same,” you admitted with a grimace, cracking one eye open to gauge his expression. When he remained quiet, you continued.

“So, yeah,” you finished with a hiccup. “We’re not actually together.”

“What?”

You rolled your eyes and pushed his arm. “Don’t tell them please,” you pleaded weakly. “Mother and father.”

Draco shook his head and stared at you. “I can’t believe it.”

“I know.” You fell back on the bed. “I think we did too good of a job, didn’t we? I’ve even persuaded myself to be in love with him.”

“No,” Draco corrected. “Truthfully, I thought I was mistaken near the end, in France. The beginning was a different story. I saw you kicking him under the table and his arm fly up.” He smiled when he saw you laugh through your clogged nose—at least his commentary was taking your mind off things. “You’re also an awful liar.”

“That’s because we’re family,” you explained. You motioned from your eyes to his with two fingers. “I’ve been your sister forever. I also know when you lie. I’ve been observing you for twenty-one years. I know you wet your bed when you were six, when we shared a bed in Switzerland, so don’t try blaming it on me again.”

A rare smile snaked its way on his face, then fell again. “I,” he looked away, embarrassed. “I know we haven’t had the best relationship the past couple of years.”

“And whose fault was that?”

Draco paused, not used to taking the blame for anything. So, you took the chance to speak to him, sibling to sibling. “I’ve never stopped caring for you, you know. You’re my little brother.” Your voice caught. “I could never imagine being cruel to you, but at times, it was the only way to talk to you.”

“I… somewhere along the lines, I was….” He paused, a glitch in this new sentimental and human Draco. “Too uptight and thought you were smearing the family name with who you associated with.” He shuffled a little. “But you’re my sister, you’ve always been there for me, whether it was sticking up for me in front of our parents or getting Pansy off my back. So, I’m….”

“You’re?” you egged, the corner of your lips lifting.

“I’m sorry.”

He obviously wasn’t used to these foreign words rolling off his tongue, but you accepted his apology regardless. You knew he meant it.

You peered up at him. “Truce?”

He nodded. “Truce.”

Then he added, “And I wasn’t serious about Crabbe. Even I find him revolting. Truthfully, I haven’t talked to him in years. I was mortified to have that goof as a friend.”

“You don’t want Crabbe as your brother-in-law?” you pressed.

Draco made a face. “I would actually hope you’d get disowned if that ever happened. You’re miles above him in any sort of league.”

“I don’t know,” you said, fiddling with your hair. “Father seems to approve of him.”

Draco’s face contorted in disgust at the thought of Crabbe as family. “Whatever happens with Weasley, just know you’re too good for him, too. If he fucks up, then it’s his loss.”

“You’re serious?”

“Have I ever said anything so nice to you?”

“Never!”

You propelled yourself off the bed. “Can I have a—?” you asked, reaching your arms out.

Before you could finish, Draco rolled his eyes and pulled you into a hug. He was a little stiff and robotic, but it felt just like the old days.

“Don’t expect this all the time,” he scoffed, one of his hands giving you a pat on the back of your head. He looked up at the ceiling in embarrassment. “It’s only because you’re upset.”

“I will expect one every day from now on,” you mumbled, heart bursting with love for your baby brother. It felt good to have him back just like things were. “Three every day if Bill moves to Egypt.”

“He’s not moving,” Draco reiterated, his voice holding firm. “Not if you have anything to do with it.”

You reached up to ruffle his perfect blonde hair. You were so glad you’d come home first. At home, you’d realized, there was always someone’s arms to cry into. Most of the times, it was your mother’s, but you welcomed change.

You sprinted in record time to the penthouse entrance after arriving at the gardens outside of it. Draco’s words renewed your confidence and pointed you in the right direction. There was no way you’d let Bill leave without him knowing how you felt. And Draco had affirmed that it was his loss if you he let you go. Bill’s loss. He was losing you, not vice versa.

You were hoping to catch Bill at home before he departed to the Burrow. You might’ve still gone there, but to have to confess your feelings to him within earshot of his family would be something you’d never live down.

You rushed past the concierge in hot pursuit for the speaker. You pressed one palm flush against the cool metal, the other finger shaking as you hammered down the numbers to connect to his suite. A voice responded after you hit the call button: “Hello?”

“Hello, Bill?” you called out frantically.

“(Y/N)?” he responded, voice fuzzy through the speaker. “What are you doing here?”

“I think,” you lied through deep pants, “I might’ve left something in your suitcase.”

“Okay,” he responded without question. “Come on up.”

Your heart was beating a thousand miles a minute on the lift. You did a final one-over of your appearance and it looked like the enchantment did a swell job at fixing your puffy and red eyes. You repeated everything you were going to say in your mind, a jumble of words sewn together into a somewhat coherent speech on your way here.

You mulled over the conversation like it was a looping film reel in your head, black-and-white and chock full of static. You were going to sit on the couch with Bill, your tone calm like you were an actual adult. If he craved maturity, then that’s what you were going to give him. You were going to listen to him. You were going to be rational. You were going to say, “Bill, I have to admit, I’m disappointed that you hadn’t talked to me about moving to Egypt first. Because, over the months, I’ve developed feelings for you,” and let the conversation carry on.

When the lift doors opened, a bubble of anxiety swelled in your chest. The penthouse was almost bare. Was it like this the first time you arrived? No, there was a French press on the counter and pans and tasteful Percy-picked paintings adorning the walls. There definitely weren’t full cardboard boxes tucked to the side.

“Hey.” Bill ran down the steps with a roll of tape in one hand and a flat box in the other. “What can I help you look for?”

Bill’s weight—rhythmic thuds—on the stairs reassured you he was real, still here beside you and not three thousand miles away. This time tomorrow though, he might not be. The thought triggered a stinging behind your eyes. The sorrow quickly turned into frustration as you realized in the past week, he hadn’t even bother to initiate conversation. He was acting like France was nothing more than a dream, that he didn’t spend most of his time beside you, sharing tender laughs and honest conversations. Why was it you who had to do all the legwork?

‘Compose yourself, (Y/N),’ you scolded. ‘Be mature, be rational.’ You were going— no, there was no chance of that as soon as the thought of Bill never being by your side again infiltrated your head again. Despite thinking you were wrung dry from the morning, you felt tears streaming down your cheeks.

It was Bill’s turn to panic. “Hey,” he said, setting up the folded-up cardboard box against the wall and running over, “what’s wrong?”

“Why?” was all you could choke out. The rest of your rehearsed speech washed out of your mind immediately when you saw his face.

“Why what?” Bill repeated.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?!” you exclaimed, voice pitching up as more tears leaked out of your eyes. There was a patch of hoarseness quilted in your voice but you continued, strained, “Why would you move and not tell me?”

“What?” Bill said. His face contorted in confusion. “I thought you knew, (Y/N).”

“The thing is, I didn’t know!” You gasped for breath. “You don’t need my permission to do anything, but you could’ve at least told me!”

“I think,” Bill’s hands cupped your cheeks, his thumb stroking a tear away, “we need to sit down and talk because I don’t think we’re on the same page.”

You just nodded, Bill’s calm tone abating your anger and your desire to ask whose fault it was that you weren’t eye-to-eye. You sat down on the couch facing the window on his left. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, its red hues seeping into the room, and you knew dinner at the Burrow was about to start soon.

“Firstly,” Bill said, reaching for a box of tissues on the coffee table and offering you to draw one. You reached for one but kept your face turned the other way towards the kitchen, unwilling to let Bill see you like this. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

You bit your lip, mind flittering between whether or not to tell him the truth.

Eventually, after a few seconds of silence, you relented. “If I tell you, will you promise not to say anything until I’m finished?”

From the corner of your eye, Bill nodded.

“Okay.”

“You,” you mumbled quietly at first. You had decided: fuck it. If Bill was moving to Egypt, then you should just say everything that was on your mind. It wouldn’t matter if he rejected you since he was going to be miles away.

His face was pensive, eyebrows knitting and eyes squinted, like he was combing over everything that’s ever left his mouth. He laid his right arm motionless on the armrest.

“Was it… something I—?” He quickly stopped himself when you gave him an irksome glance, and he realized he’d broken your first rule of the conversation: don’t speak.

Your voice gained traction and you took advantage of the momentum to admit, “It wasn’t what you said, it was everything you didn’t say.”

“Bill,” you continued, turning your head to look at him. Everything you wanted to say, every feeling and secret you kept locked up in gold chains for the past few weeks, snapped and was spilling out like a torrent. “I know I can’t change the year I was born. And trust me, I’ve been in a right state because I can’t be older or more mature like you. I can’t change who my parents are or who I am or how we get along. I can’t be what you want. And I’ve never even considered any of this to be important or ever thought about it, but in the past week, it’s all I ever thought about, and—”

You squeezed your eyes shut and blotted your tears onto the tissue in your hand.

“When I think about why, it always loops back around to you. Because you’re all I can think about now. It pains me to be something you don’t want, like I’m a puzzle piece that doesn’t belong. And it pains me that I matter so little to you that you can’t even share what goes on in your life with me. And it’s alright if you don’t feel the same way, but it’s taken such a toll on me, knowing you don’t care about me the way I care about you.”

Bill remained silent, his lips pressed tightly together. His hands were unmoving.

“Okay, I’m done,” you added quietly after taking a deep breath. You still couldn’t muster the courage to face him.

At the same time, Bill exhaled. “I don’t know what to respond to first,” he admitted. “But let’s go one by one, okay?”

Your body tensed. You liked talking a mile a minute, hoping that Bill would forget the barrage of words you hurled at him; Bill wanted to break everything down gently. Now, everything was in his hands and he could steer the conversation either way. You were dying for some semblance of your feelings being returned, but you were mainly preparing to be let down. At best, you would get closure before he left.

You sniffed, lips curving downwards, and nodded.

“Firstly, there’s no need to change yourself,” Bill reminded. “You are lovely the way you are.”

“That’s not true,” you said with a shake of your head. “I’ve only shown you the worst parts of me, well, the real parts which are also the worst parts. For example, you’ve always talked so lovingly about your family. I’ve only talked mine down.”

“On the contrary,” Bill stated. “I think you have an excellent relationship with your family.” Bill shuffled slightly closer to you, trying to get you to look at him. “But tell me, (Y/N), what is this sudden fixation on our families?”

“I—you,” you stuttered, both at Bill’s inching closer towards you and the unabashed words that you were going to say, “you think it’s important, so it’s important to me.”

Bill chuckled. “People can be close to their family in different ways.”

“Can they?”

He nodded. “Have Fred and George told you? Mum was more upset than I’d ever seen her when they dropped out of school just months shy of finishing. She scolded them that entire week, then turned around to tell the neighbours how brilliant her boys were, the unconventional route they took and their success and all.”

He added, “She tells me women are turned off by my hair and earrings, then the same afternoon, tells her friends at her sewing club that I’m England’s most eligible bachelor. Doesn’t make any sense, really.”

You let out a nasally laugh that was more akin to a snort. “Really?”

“Really!” Bill affirmed with a smile. “You never know what your parents are saying behind your back.” He tilted his head, trying to see more of your face. “In France, your dad wouldn’t stop talking about you during the golf course. I thought he was boasting to your uncle Theodore as a game strategy, but he’d say the same to me in between holes.”

Bill continued on. “Draco told me you always stood up for him in front of your parents, and to his estranged lover.”

“Estranged—?”

“Pansy, I think her name was?” Bill filled in. “He was really mumbling the words out. Reckon he didn’t want to admit it.”

“Oh, right,” you said with a laugh. “She was a lot. Still a lot. Still in love with him.”

“You’ve had it harder than me, but that doesn’t mean you don’t love your family,” Bill stated. Then his tone bordered on teasing. “And (Y/N), there are other qualities I like in a woman, not just their relationship with family. I hope I’m not that one-dimensional.”

“I can imagine!” you sputtered, spinning around. “It was the only thing you told me and the only thing I had to go off of. I tried extrapolating the rest, but…”

You stopped talking when you realized Bill had your gaze in a headlock. That look in his eyes had you weak, some form of genuine curiosity and tenderness sparking in them. It was dangerous. It beckoned you to answer any question he asked.

“And what did you come up with?” he asked.

You grinded your teeth behind your sealed mouth. It was best to just say it, having already gone far past the point of no return. Still, you couldn’t help but feel mortified.

“I’d imagined you with a more mature woman. Someone who holds their liquor and doesn’t need assistance down the steps after a wedding. I’m the same age as Fred and George. They’re your younger brothers. Surely, you think of me the same.”

“I mean, yes, you are the same age, but I don’t think of you as a younger sister,” Bill explained. He scoffed before saying, “I mean, that would be unsettling if I did because—”

“Because?”

Bill’s lips suddenly quirked up into a sheepish grin. It was now his turn to be reluctant and quiet. His blue eyes shifted to a random corner of the room.

“Because what?” you fished, your palm flat on the couch in anticipation. Inside, your heart was erratic, pounding against your chest. You just needed to hear the right words to push you over the edge.

“I do fancy you.”

You jaw lowered slightly. Did you hear that right? He did fancy you. Suddenly, you were floating. Your ears were ringing, blood was rushing through your brain, euphoria cycling through your veins, and you felt almost delightfully faint. He didn’t just say that, did he? You were definitely imagining it. But you couldn’t have been, given how Bill’s face, and the flush of red by his ears, slowly dappling his cheeks over his freckles, was so clear.

“Can you say that again?”

Bill burst into laughter at your reaction. “It was hard enough the first time.” He remarked the pleading expression on your face before obliging. “(Y/N), I do fancy you quite a bit. I hope it was more obvious than not.”

“I didn’t want to get my hopes up,” you whispered. “Because it would kill me if you didn’t feel the same.”

“Do you remember what we said when we were at the shop, planning out,” he used air quotes, “our future?”

“What part of it?”

“When I said familiarity was uneasy.”

“Yes.” You could recall that perfectly. It was when he asked you why you didn’t choose his brothers to play out your schemes with.

“I’m glad we met under the pretenses we did,” Bill recalled. “We were able to show each other everything, no secrets or lies. And like I thought, there was nothing bad about you to uncover anyway.”

“I’m glad,” you sighed, feeling the last bit of stress dissipating from your body. “Because I thought I’d lost you for the same reason.”

Bill cleared his throat. “So, your age matters little to me. What matters to me is that you are intelligent, kind, and delightfully mischievous with your schemes,” the corner of his lip crooked up into a smile, “not to mention, you are really quite beautiful.”

Your eyes softened and your heart was beating erratically against your chest; you were just elated that Bill loved parts of you that you didn’t think he did.

Well, that was before he added, “And how could I forget? I do love your tendency to enjoy debauchery in the form of books.”

“Will you,” you grabbed a pillow beside you, “stop bringing,” and chucked it at Bill, “that up?!”

“There’s nothing wrong with that! It just means you are well-read,” Bill reasoned, evading the cushion flung his way. “If anything, learning to iron robes and how to best polish oxfords can be very useful.”

You gave him a pointed look.

“Not that I expect you to know,” he clarified quickly, horrified at how you could’ve interpreted it. He pointed to his chest. “I was keeping it in mind for myself.”

“You better not!” you chided, though a wide grin was breaking out across your face. You didn’t look intimidating in the slightest.

With Bill’s joke dispelling the tension, the air cleared enough to ask him another question, another itch only his words could scratch. “If it wasn’t my age, or my family, or even me, then what was, or is, stopping you from...?”

“I…” Bill trailed off. “You know, it’s never a good idea to get into one relationship too quickly after another. You could be using someone to satisfy a void.”

“Right,” you agreed without thinking. But what did you know? Bill had been previously committed, and you’d never been attached to anyone past three dates.

“I’m human, I’ve made mistakes, I try to learn from them.” His fingers ghosted over your temple before brushing a renegade hair from your face. “It would be unfair to drag you into something because I was selfish and unsure.”

“But it’s been almost a year now, surely?” you said. “I thought most people did this rebounding thing right after. I’m not saying it means you should be ready, I’ve just heard—”

“I know, I know,” he agreed. “But you’re just,” he stopped, looking down at you with a gentle and lopsided smile that made your legs wobbly, “something I wanted to take my time with. I don't know if I could live with myself if I hurt you in the slightest.”

You pressed, “Has your opinion changed at all? Since then?”

Bill grinned. “Of course it has.”

You felt more at ease now. “What’s changed it?”

“I missed you in the days we were apart. I really did, (Y/N).” His face showed calm but there was something frantic in his pulse, his words, his entire being. “All summer, Gringrotts wrote to me and wanted me to stay in Egypt as I was doing a fairly good job over there. The European branches sent Fleur to convince me to move to Belgium instead. But when I came home, I realized I missed being with my family.”

You listened wordlessly, wonderstruck at the fact that someone like Bill Weasley existed.

“With mum and dad getting older, I knew I needed to stay home and take care of them if anything happened. They’ve already lost Charlie to Romania and Percy to the Ministry.” He ended the statement with a chuckle.

“Bill, that is so very considerate of you,” you spoke through shallow breaths, “but after all this, you’re still moving?”

“Yes, but it’s not very far away.”

You raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Egypt is over three-thousand miles from here.”

“Egypt?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Where did you hear I was moving to Egypt?”

“From George, I—”

“I mean, I was considering it, but I’ve ultimately decided to stay here.” He pointed down with his index finger. “Shell Cottage is a very easy floo away from home.” Then, with an impish smile, he added, “But you know, my family wasn’t the only thing anchoring me.”

“It wasn't?”

A serious expression eclipsed Bill’s face. “I thought of you.”

He thought of you.

“You seem to have an influence over my decisions.” Bill leaned over and in a near whisper, continued. “I thought that if there was any chance that if we,” he looked right at you, “worked out in any sense, me being in Egypt would not make anything easier.”

“Why would we not work out?” you said, apprehension creeping in your voice. If Bill expressed any doubt this far in the conversation, you weren’t sure how you’d take it. He couldn’t take back a confession, he just couldn’t.

“(Y/N), you have to admit,” Bill began, catching your gaze again. You felt your heart stutter at his intense look and those mesmerizing baby blues. “It’s been confusing for me, too. You chose me as your fake lover based on things you were opposed to: my hair, tattoos, my age. Especially my age, I’ve heard. How was I supposed to ask you about it?”

“What?” you blurted out. “Bill, I adore the first two things and I’ve stopped thinking about how old you were. It never even crosses my mind anymore unless someone is bringing it up.”

You took one of his larger hands, heart swelling at how natural it felt, and urged him to look at you. You were trying to convey your thoughts earnestly through touch, like your hands were intertwined with his heart.

“The goal was to make my parents upset, and I thought it worked but it turns out they really like you, especially the golf abilities you’ve kept hidden for thirty years,” you admitted. You reached out to gingerly stroke Bill’s hair, the short locks softly sliding past your fingers. “I truthfully adore all these things: your long hair, tattoos, piercings. And if it were up to me, you’d never cut your hair again.”

“Shame,” he said. “I was starting to like the length. It’s rather airy in the summer.”

“Just the summer, then. I’m willing to negotiate.” You pointed to the fang earring. “But this,” you gently touched it with your free hand, “is non-negotiable. In fact, you could use another piercing or two.”

“Noted,” Bill responded.

“And please, keep these rings,” you mumbled, your fingers falling to admire the bands of silver taut on his fingers. Your voice was now barely audible as you whispered to yourself, “This is quite literally the most attractive thing I’ve seen on a man.”

“What was that?” Bill asked, leaning in unbearably close now. You felt a spark on your lips where was looking.

“Nothing, I, er,” you fumbled, trying to redirect his attention. When you looked up, you saw it: the last object of your adoration. It was his eyes – those blue lifelines to his heart. You leaned in, just inches away from him and the closest you’d ever been, and placed a hand softly on his face, unknowingly flittering over a scar. “Your eyes are beautiful, I… there are no words to describe them.”

He brushed a loose strand of your back and tucked it behind your ear. “Then don’t.”

That was all he said before he closed the short distance between you. Your heart soared when you felt the rougher texture of his lips on your soft ones. You knew at the very least, you had to close your eyes like he had, but you wanted to see him for just another second. You wanted to soak in Bill like he was the sea, let him wash over every sense—sight, touch, taste—you had.

Bill was gentle, gradually easing you into the kiss, giving you air when he felt you needed it. The thing was that you didn’t need air, you just needed more of him. He chuckled when he felt you nudging him closer.

Half of you knew he was physically here, while the half was wondering if you were in some daydream. So, you treaded along precariously, trying not to disturb this lucid dream you found yourself in. Merlin knew how much you would’ve given to kiss Bill Weasley just a month ago.

You drifted from the kiss slowly to confirm something. “So, does this mean…?”

“I’d like to have you as my girlfriend, if you’d have it.” He stated it like there was any chance of hesitation on your end, which there wasn’t.

“Bill,” you exhaled with elation, letting out a relieved breath. “That’s not even a question.”

He moved both his hands to caress the back of your head, fingers tangling with your soft locks. His grip was firmer when he pulled you back towards him. Your lips met again, but this time, he deepened the kiss, was a touch more dominant than he was just seconds ago. You obliged immediately, waltzing with him in the intimate dance. Surely, you weren’t as experienced as Bill was, but he guided you perfectly, urging you to part your lips with a gentle prod of his tongue. He tilted his head to gain better access just as his hands slithered down your body. He gripped your waist firmly, and then did something that sent a shiver down your spine.

He let out a low, guttural groan.

“You are worth the wait,” he breathed huskily. “You’ve been driving me insane for months, (Y/N).”

Before you could flush even deeper at his words, he quickly pulled you over his lap so your legs were splayed out on each side of him. Your pulse grew frantic as both you and Bill shed any sense of slow and steady and replaced it with fast and vigorous. If you weren’t already overheated, you sure were now, feeling the harder parts of him against parts of you that were aching, hearing his desire for you aloud. You unknowingly grinded into him, trying to dissipate the want building. You were a mess of heat and occasionally, the clashing of teeth, which even if imperfect, spoke to the feverish pitch things were reaching.

His hands travelled past the hem of your skirt, doting the back of your thighs until they were positioned on your rear. He kneaded the soft skin and it was your turn to groan.

Bill’s eyes darkened slightly as you straddled his lap. His fingers tightened on your skin until you were sure they’d leave red marks. “I’m a man, (Y/N). I have my own urges to act upon, but.”

“But?” you asked, feeling whiplashed at Bill’s sudden stop.

“But, I do think I should take you somewhere nice first.” He slicked his hair back and tilted his head up to look at you. “That’s only proper, isn’t it?”

“I suppose?” you responded with an inflection, your heart fluttering in hummingbird beats, much too fast to speak coherently. You still felt like you’d ascended to the heavens, your mind in a state so blissful and delirious that you were half-responding to Bill. “I don’t mind either way, really, I…”

“Alright,” Bill agreed. “Then we’ll sort out how you’d like to proceed after the dinner I promised mum to go to.”

“The dinner,” you repeated. You’d forgotten all about it in the heat of things. You were just overjoyed it wasn’t a farewell dinner for Bill. “I can wait until you’re back.”

“What are you talking about?” he questioned with a laugh. He pushed himself off the couch with you in tow and your legs wrapped around his waist. “We’re going to the dinner.” Then he leaned in again, his breath fanning your face. “Together.”

“Are you sure?” you asked shyly, nervous at the prospect of facing the entire Weasley family and more. “I mean, a family dinner. It seems like a big thing, doesn’t it?”

With Bill hoisting you up, you were finally taller than him. You were privy to things you didn’t normally get to see, like how his long lashes framed his eyes, how sturdy the bridge of his nose was, and how tempting his lips looked pulled into a smirk. If you had a say, you’d forego the dinner and kiss him all night instead.

“You took me to one,” he countered.

“Under false pretenses,” you said, scrunching your face up.

“Okay, consider this a family dinner that is actually entirely truthful. This is a second chance to do things right and not lie about anything.”

“Who said I was lying about anything?” you snickered. “Maybe I do want seven children and to never retire and to fly around in the Ford Anglia everywhere.”

Bill shook his head. “I don’t think anyone would be happy with oil leaking from the sky. Kingsley would tax you for environmental damages under the new green law.” He tossed a wink your way, knowing exactly how to counteract your sarcasm, and said, “But I would be happy to oblige your other requests.”

“No!” you yelped, clasping your hands over your mouth. The thought of the rest of your life inundated by seven kids and little Freds and Georges clinging to your sides was a nightmare. How did Molly do it? Bill was forcing himself not to laugh. You knew he was only joking, but you couldn’t help but give him a little slap on the arm.

You looked directly at him. “In all seriousness, should we tell them one-by-one?” you asked.

“What about?”

“About us,” you responded. “We shouldn’t give your mother a heart attack.”

“(Y/N),” Bill assured with a breath-taking smile, spinning you around in his arms. The look on his face was luminous. He really was the sun that broke the storm. “We’re going to tell the whole world tonight.”

Epilogue

Standing on the hilly and grassy entrance of the Burrow, Bill was appraising you with concern. He could sense the rigidity in your body as he held your hand.

“How are you feeling, love?”

“Relieved and nervous,” you explained. “Relieved because this isn’t your farewell party. Nervous because it’s your family.”

“You know my family,” Bill reminded. “There is nothing to worry about.”

“Are you completely certain this is a good idea?” you asked. “I don’t want to overwhelm them.”

“I’ve never had a bad idea,” he boasted with a toothy smile.

Bill pushed the creaky wooden door open for you, his hand still clasped on yours, unwilling to let go of your fingers in case you wanted to escape. He ducked under the doorframe as he entered. You followed him into the Burrow—Bill’s childhood home. You’ve been here before but this just felt different, like you were now a part of the family and not just an extension of it. You shied away, thinking Molly would be right there. She wasn’t. You saw Percy in the living room, turned away and nose in a book. Charlie, who you were surprised to see had returned from Romania, was pouring himself beer from the pitcher. Molly was snipping herbs from her potted plant by the windowsill, oblivious to your arrival.

Charlie was the first to look up, being the closest to you, at you and your hands intertwined. A slow, devious, and somewhat knowing smile creeped up on his face. Bill shushed him and Charlie covered his mouth with his free hand. Of course, Charlie remained silent, tempted to see how his mother would react.

“Hi, mum,” Bill called from across the room.

“Bill, darling,” she responded offhandedly, preoccupied by the finishing touches she was putting on her vegetable roast. She was slow to turn around, more focused on carrying a heavy dish with her oven mitts. And when she did, her eyes landed on your faces first.

“(Y/N)!” she called. “How nice of you to bring her, Bill.”

Her eyes were still locked on your face and hadn’t made the connection. Your breath caught when Molly’s eyes began trailing downwards in what felt like an eternity.

You didn’t know what to expect, but you didn’t expect to cause such a scene. Molly literally dropped her dish on the floor at the sight of your hand in Bill’s. The ceramic dish shattered and the vegetable roast flew in all directions. Percy jolted from his position on the couch, his cry overshadowed by the stew boiling over and the kettle wailing beside it.

“I knew it!” she exclaimed. She seemed so flustered she didn’t know which way to go—to embrace you or to clean up the mess on the floor or to turn off the stove with the overflowing stew. “I had my suspicions, oh, I—”

In desperation, she called out for her husband to help with one of those tasks. “Arthur!”

He quickly ran in, cheeks rosy, and out of breath.

“What’s the danger?” he panted, looking left and right.

“Oh, Arthur!” Molly exclaimed with a roll of her eyes, her hand on her hip. “There’s no danger.” She pointed to where you stood. Arthur, still unaware, looked over. Bill raised your hand and gave it a little shake. Molly couldn’t control her excitement, so she ran over. You imagined she was tumbling towards Bill, but she chose you instead. You let go of Bill’s hands to hug her.

“My future daughter-in-law!” she exclaimed, patting your cheeks. “Oh, I knew it! I just knew it. You are just so perfect for my Bill.”

“I think that’s an approval from mum,” Bill said to Charlie who was standing offside.

“She’s already making Christmas sweaters for your children,” Charlie teased with a snicker.

“Bill! Come and help me with the vegetables,” Molly commanded, sending over an apron from the closet that was likely too small for him.

Bill looked at the flimsy piece of fabric in his hands. He only had a couple inches of string to work with. “Mum, I think this is Ginny’s—”

Then, Molly pointed to her spilt dish. “Arthur, sweetie, clean this up. And (Y/N),” she guided you by the shoulders and towards the couch where Percy was, “you just sit here and Percy will bring you a beverage.”

“I told you, mum’s a modern feminist,” Bill said to you with a wink. He managed to get a tiny knot from the apron. “How do I look?”

“You look fit,” you complimented. The tiny apron was accentuating all the right muscles. “And in regards to your mother, rightfully so. Millicent be damned.”

“I’m not opposed to her tips in the later chapters,” Bill added with a smirk, causing your face to flush.

“I’ve read it so many times, I have it memorized,” you assured. “You’ll have to find out later.” Bill’s mouth rounded in surprise first, not used to this side of you, before morphing into a more smouldering expression.

“Hey!” Charlie interjected from across the room. “Just because you’re together doesn't mean we all have to be subject to this.”

“You’ve read this book, Charlie?” Bill asked, steering his brother away. “Let me tell you all about (Y/N)’s favourite author…”

“Watch it,” you whispered in the most intimidating tone you could muster.

Bill quickly spring into action with his mother who was appraising his domestic skills. You admired his tall figure, his fingers lithely paring a potato with a peeler.

Bill’s tall figure was quickly replaced by Percy, who looked abashed as he brought a beer over to you.

“I….”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. “I know. I’m a selfish person, I’m working on it.”

“You’re not selfish. I shouldn’t have jumped to assumptions,” he conceded. “It’s a bad habit of mine.”

“It’s not,” you reassured.

Percy nodded and let a moment of silence linger over you before asking, “Say, how did you arrange that meeting with Rookwood?”

“Would you like to know?” you said with a smile. “I can set you up.”

At dinner, Bill sat beside you. You didn’t need much integrating or any introductions; you’d been here already and there was already a seat for you. Occasionally and to your pleasure, he’d take your hand under the dinner table, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“So,” Molly started as she sat down. She looked directly at you two. “I’d like to know this happened.”

Neither you or Bill could contain your laughter, given the wild story you were about to tell. You were the first to recover, and slowly, you began, “It started, around a table just like this…”

After dinner and dessert was had, you and Bill departed for the backyard. You were swinging with him on a hammock, away from the commotion inside, and watching the stars. They were exceptionally clear tonight, or maybe it was that being with Bill made the world slightly brighter.

“Bill?” you asked, snuggling in closer to him to shield yourself from the cold.

He turned to you. “Hm?”

“You’re coming to Nice next year, too?”

“Of course,” he responded, like there wasn’t even a flicker of doubt.

“And the next?”

“And the next,” he affirmed. “I wouldn’t even question it.”

“Good,” you said with a blissful sigh.

Under the starry night, you counted your blessings and thanked the heavens as you soaked Bill in. After days and weeks of fluxing emotions, he’d made it clear tonight: he was yours, yours for the rest of your life if you made sure of it.

Unbeknownst to you, the twins sat on the couch inside murmuring amongst themselves.

“You cheated,” Fred accused. “He wasn’t going to Egypt anyway.”

“That wasn’t one of the rules, Freddie. It’s not like I made them kiss or anything,” George said with a shrug. “I only accelerated what was going to eventually happen.”

Fred cursed under his breath as he gave George galleons he lost. That was a good whole month of pay, all gone!

“I thought she’d be a little more resilient than that.”

“Hm, shows you don’t know her that well,” George said with a smirk, depositing the money in his pockets.

“I hate to say that it was well-played, but poor (Y/N). You did a number to her heart there.” Fred said with a pout. “I think she really thought he was moving to Egypt.”

“Now our poor sweet (Y/N), stolen by the treacherous grasp of our eldest brother,” George lamented.

“Not like she would’ve chosen you anyway.”

Fred placed his hand over his heart, offended. “Nor would she you.” Then he leaned back on the couch, watching you from outside the window, swaying on the hammock with Bill. You’d been out there for almost an hour.

George spun the gleaming gallon on the table.

“Now, next on the list of affairs to bet on: when’s the wedding?”

<<CHAPTER DIRECTORY (READ IT AGAIN!)

TAGLIST: @inpraizeof @milkiane @lovesanimals0000 @alisslahey @milfodyssey @itscheybaby @lookingthroughmirrors @stiles-argent24@aki-ham @my-current-fandom-is @salvatoremuse @nimue-lady-of-the-lake @agathne @benbarnesismybaby@bangbaang @venus-d-vinyl @lexxxtacyyy @pink-hufflepuff @unicornicopia1@itsrhyann@awesomeowlbook @bamboozledflamplant @howpeculier @jaix-8102 @vilentia @sophneedsfandoms @dontbesuspiciousss @sugarrush-blush@actuallyade @thatgoodolswitcharoo @kakorrhaphiphobia @cigaretttes-aftersex @pandoraneverland @theluvcafe@eternally-ineffable@winterishfallinknowledge @tygecjjd @southernraven @roroswitherose

#bill weasley x you #bill weasley x reader #bill weasley imagine #bill weasley x y/n

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hatakemrs · 9 months

Note

Your writing is really fun and cute! You do an amazing job coming up with scenarios for characters meeting the reader. I hope you continue having fun writing :)

If it's okay to request, could a platonic Luna Lovegood x Hufflepuff reader be possible? It's completely okay if it's not possible ^_^

Luna Lovegood x Hufflepuff Reader (Platonic)

A/n: Thank you so much <<<3 your words mean a lot to me 😭 And I love Luna! so I'm more than happy to write about her <3

Warnings: None.

You and Luna were in the same year at Hogwarts but unfortunately you weren't in the same house.

But did it stop you from being best friends?

Never! (In Fred's and George's voice)

Despite being in different house, you guys got close during your Third year in the 'Care of Magical Creatures' class. You both shared a similar interest towards these intriguing creatures. You found Luna's stories about Nargles and other magical creatures intriguing.

People made fun of you both but who cares? If magic exists then why can't creatures like that? And besides it's never a waste of time to come up with crazy theories with your friends.

Anyways, You always support Luna and everytime someone hides her shoes you make sure to go find them with her. (Or maybe jinx the person who did it, when you discoverd the culprit)

Luna's dad loves you for being so kind and good to his daughter. He invites you to their house over summer , where you three have fun cooking challenges without using any magic.

Xenophilius narrates stories for both of you and you listen to it with shinning eyes. At this point he considers you his own child.

In your fourth year, both of you got close to the golden trio and with Ginny. You , Luna and Ginny formed your little friend group . You all would go to Hogsmeade together and visit different shops, especially Zonko's.

Luna and You visit the kitchen often (Perks of being a Hufflepuff) and the Elves love you! They would give you so much food even after you tell them you don't need that much.

Dobby would adore you two and Winky would warm up to both of you because of the pure warmth you radiate.

Being Friends with Luna also includes dressing up as Lions for Gryffindor Vs Slytherin Quidditch Match and chanting "Weasley is Our King"

During your O.W.L.S. you would take care of each other. You made sure that Luna had eaten well , throughout the exams and you reminded her to take rest.

She also does the same for you, making your socks and sweater more warm by putting a charm on them so you could study the whole night without being uncomfortable.

If platonic soulmates exists ,you knew that you found yours and you weren't ever letting this friendship break.

A/n: As a fellow Ravenclaw, I had so much fun writing it! Hope you liked it <<3. Take care <3

#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts fanfiction #luna lovegood #hufflepuff #hufflefluff #hufflepuff reader #platonic #ravenclaw #luna x reader #luna lovegood x reader #harry potter #harry potter x reader

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i-know-you-wanna-kiss-me · 8 months

Text

Elle Fanning Style Guide

this one wasn't requested by anyone in particular, but i wanted to thank @soulsforsales, @d1or4nge1 and @themoonlightislace for encouraging me to do it. ily all 🩷 this is also the guide that's most similar to the way i dress in real life. i hope you guys enjoy this and feel free ro request one if you want

flowy white dress

she wears a lot of these. usually paired with ballet flats or heels

this airport look

for some reason, i always thought that this was a scene from 'all the bright places'. it is not. anyways, i really really love this two piece set and her glasses

has a matching skirt ^

leather jackets

paired with black mini dresses for a darker look and white floral for a lighter one. i would 100% recommend buying leather jackets second hand from vintage shops. they're the best kind. but do check for rips and flaking leather in the older looking ones

black tshirt dress

cable knit turtle neck

its pretty much always cold and rainy where i'm from, so this is probably the most practical (i never dress weather appropriate though lol). i think that it's cute and simple, and great for cold days

cable knit jumper

jeans

ruffle top and mini skirt

ugh, this is exactly my style. everything about it is so perfect. it's also really weird to see a celebrity (especially one that's the face of a huge brand) outfit repeat. so that's cool

top

skirt

shoes

baseball look

pleated denim skirts are the absolute cutest. i also love her hair here

dodgers shirt

mini skirt

Baby blue

very quinn fabray

dress

Ballet looks

these are pretty standard things that i would wear for ballet. very cute

school uniform

my uniform is actually not too bad, but hers is literally so adorable. i swear, american uniforms are so much nicer than the ones they have here.

my favourite looks of hers

Overall style notes

high suede boots

tennis shoes

light mini dresses

pastel colours

dresses and skirts over trousers

as always, if you have a request, just leave it in the comments or send it into the ask box! (you can send it anon if you want ♡) and i'll get right to it. i'm currently working on serena van der woodsen and ballerina off duty. ily guys xoxo

#elle fanning #style guide #girlblogging #coquette #just girly things #feminine beauty #coquette community #dollette #styleinspo #divine feminine #this is a girlblog #just girly posts #fashion icon #style

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alovelyladyblog · 9 months

Text

I need season 6 Adrien to have the most absolute worst fashion sense. He needs to be mixing patterns, accessories on top of accessories, and looking like he’s dressed for a 2010s Disney channel show. Marinette can try and guide him all she’d like but doesn’t that go against her principles of self expression? Does she really want to burst his little Dobby bubble?? He looks so happy….

#miraculous ladybug #ml #adrien agreste #ladybug and chat noir #marinette dupen chang #ml ladybug #ladybug #ml spoilers #chat noir #mlb season 6 #possibly ml spoilers

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foreverrandomwritings · 1 year

Note

ൠ ◉ & ♡ for fanboy/mickey please?

🚨!!!18+ in the middle!!!🚨

My sweet cinnamon roll of a husband!😍

ൠ Random Headcanon

~We’re going with ♒️ Cooking/Food Headcanon for this.

~So onto the food!!

~He grew up with authentic homemade Mexican food.

~He will not go to a Mexican restaurant.

~He has however found a little food truck that is close to his dad and Abuelas food.

~Smelled it one day when he was on a jog and couldn’t resist it.

~He has the recipes from his Abulea and sometimes he attempts to make it but it never tastes just right.

~His go to breakfast is not at all healthy.

~He will literally eat like pop tarts or a granola bar or just a protein shake.

~Lunch however is usually healthy.

~Fruit, salad, steak, chicken, fish, vegetables, rice etc.

~He will sometimes grab a little debbie cake or candy bar or whatever from a vending machine if he has a bit of a sweet tooth at lunch.

~Dinner will normally be sushi, wings, pizza, something home cooked or whatever.

~He keeps it spontaneous.

~If he has a significant other though the man will love to cook for them and I know that for a fact.

~His go to snacks is normally like peanut butter crackers or carrots and peanut butter or celery and peanut butter.

~A lot of peanut butter okay?

~He drinks a lot of water. Like never drinks anything besides water unless it’s at the Hard Deck or occasionally with dinner.

◉ Any other question of your choosing

~I’m gonna choose ✿ Sex Headcanon for this one.

~Ughhhh. Just the thought of sex with my husband makes me weak in the knees.

~Mickey is a switch first off.

~Likes to be called good boy or sir.

~The man prefers to be more of a sub though.

~Will beg you to use him however you feel.

~Begs and pleads for you to ride his face.

~Will be a sobbing, red, tired, stuttering, puddle in bed.

~He will have 0 brain cells left but will have a dobby fucked out smile on his face.

~Likes being tied up and edged.

~Sports the marks you leave on him proudly.

~Tells you how much he loves you.

~Will love to hold your hand while you’re on top.

~Or whenever he’s on top.

~Will whimper and groan while slipping in and out of you.

~Puts his forehead on yours. Sweat sticking together as he’s praising you for taking him so well.

~If he’s being more dominate he’ll be into slight breath play.

~Will have you choke on his cock over and over again.

~A hand around your throat lightly or pushing your head down into the pillow or mattress while he takes you from behind.

~Will ask you repeatedly if you’re okay though.

~The man’s loves role play okay?

~You absolutely will not change my mind on that.

~Aftercare is super important to the both of you.

♡ Romantic Headcanon

~This man is a fucking swooner.

~Complete fucking simp for his significant other.

~Daily good morning texts when he’s at work before you’re even awake.

~Writes to you from the sea.

~Jumps at every chance he has to FaceTime you, call you, email you or anything.

~Forehead kisses, kisses to the back of your hand, kisses on your head, kisses to the cheeks.

~Silly kinda romantic.

~Likes tickle fights, fake wrestling, throwing flour on each other, dunking each other in the pool, throwing ice on each other in the shower etc.

~He will do just about every tiktok trend he can find.

~Dad jokes galore.

~Will be number 1 hype man.

~Begs for you to take him along when you go shopping.

~Wants to go literally everywhere with you.

~Gets a manicure when you do.

~Rants to his Abuela about you all the fucking time.

~Would love it if you’d go to cons with him.

~Especially if you’d dress up as well.

~Would genuinely be the sweetest fucking cinnamon roll ever.

~Can you tell I love him?

Tags(open): @sylviebell @wkndwlff @angelbabyange

Headcanon Ask Game

#love fanboy #Mickey fanboy Garcia headcanon #Mickey Garcia headcanon #fanboy headcanon #headcanon ask game #top gun maverick headcanon #Mickey Garcia smut #fanboy smut

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anne-chloe · 3 months

Text

Underground | VIII |

Jareth/Goblin King x F! Reader

Summary | Jareth makes it known as to why he is the Goblin King

What had you done?

There was nowhere left to run. Everywhere you turned, every corridor that you rushed through, all of them somehow wound back to the throne room. You were exasperated, your mind spinning in a frightening haze as the consequences of your actions finally dawned on you.

Your freedom now lay in the hands of your ex. Your furious ex fiancé.

If only you had thought through the terms of what you were wishing for. Why hadn't you noticed that loophole? It was painfully obvious now that you had realised, but at the time it sounded utterly perfect. You were ashamed that you had fallen into the Goblin Kings trap like this. You really were naive, just like he had said.

After attempting to escape the throne room for the tenth time, you gave up. Every time you whirled down another hall, it only directed you straight back again. You were wasting precious energy. You slinked into the throne room, ignoring the handful of goblins that lazed around, all in drunken stupor and too occupied to notice your presence.

One of them burped, then cackled straight after. You scowled at the boisterous behaviour, and it quickly reminded you of the times Harry would get drunk with his friends and unleash that alpha-male personality that you despised so much. You wanted to slap yourself for even thinking of Harry. You blamed yourself entirely for this mess you had caused—you'd doomed yourself from the very beginning.

Out the corner of your eye, a small goblin approached. The way he was dressed reminded you of Dobby from Harry Potter. You looked down at him, raising a brow in question. Then, he lifted a shaky hand and presented a crystal ball for you to take.

You scoffed. The Goblin King was taunting you, surely. You stuck your nose in the air and faced away from the small goblin, making it painfully obvious that you were rejecting the Goblin Kings gift. The small goblin realised this, a series of grunts and snorts leaving his mouth as he circled round to stand in front of you, pushing the crystal ball into your line of sight again. You frowned, turning away again. The goblin followed.

You did this a few times before giving in. You took the crystal ball from the goblin with a deep grumble of complaints, and focused your eyes into the reflective centre. Through the mist, you squinted, watching as a scenery came to life. It was like watching a video on your phone—only you could not call for the help you desired from this crystal ball.

Harry appeared. You sucked in a deep breath, suddenly finding your knees shake with anticipation. You slowly sank to the floor, back positioned against the wall for support, your legs sprawled in front of you. What is he doing?

Harry spun around in a circle, his hair ragged and sticking up in various directions, a clear sign that he was frustrated and running his fingers through his hair. He was mumbling something under his breath—probably cursing you out—while searching for something to aid him. Harry touched unsuspecting boulders and jagged lines in the walls, treating everything with great caution.

He was still in the beginning of the labyrinth, from what you could tell. And it appeared as though he was having a hard time figuring out where to go and what to do.

You chewed your lip, thinking hard and hoping you could somehow communicate with him telepathically. But your mind and the world didn't work like that—not that the Goblin King would allow you to cheat anyway. He wouldn't allow you to interfere with Harry in the labyrinth. He probably gave you this crystal ball to keep you occupied, to assure you'd stay in one place. Or maybe it was to add to your distress; if you could see Harry's struggle to complete the labyrinth, that would deflate your hopes even further.

Nothing is ever as it seems, you thought, anxious that Harry wouldn't realise this quick enough. If he couldn't understand that the labyrinth played tricks as though it were fully conscious, then Harry could navigate the labyrinth easier than he was. But Harry was always so incredibly pessimistic—a realist. He'd take one look at the straight path with no visible turnings, and he'd decide that it's how the labyrinth was deliberately created. He wouldn't stare at a wall and imagine a gap to be there; he'd stare at a wall and he'd only picture the wall there.

"He's stuck."

You almost dropped the crystal ball. You regained your posture and held the crystal ball to your chest, now shooting a skeptical glare at the Goblin King as he lounged in his throne. One leg was hooked over the arm rest, and his head was leaning against the other. In one hand was a crystal ball, which displayed Harry's position in the labyrinth, and the other he played thoughtlessly with.

"He hasn't moved for the past 15 minutes," the Goblin King teased, his smile wicked and cruel. He was enjoying every second of this. "I think I might give him a helping hand and... get the ball rolling."

With the crystal ball that he played with, he suddenly threw it high into the air. You waited for it to come back down, but it completely vanished. You leaned forwards, eyes wide at the trick. Then, a series of frightened shouts and yells came from the crystal ball in your lap. You raised it up and stared into it, fear gripping your heart as you watched Harry sprint for his very life, a large, jagged boulder chasing after him.

"He'll get crushed!" You protested desperately, now rising so you were sitting on your knees. "You'll kill him!"

The Goblin Kings expression darkened at this accusation, and he now turned his head to look directly at you. You felt his cruel state pierce you, and suddenly you shrunk back in hopes of becoming small and invisible.

"Then he'd better run faster."

You gulped, turning your attention back to the crystal ball.

Harry didn't pick up the pace. In fact, he was visibly slowing down. He didn't posses a lot of stamina; he was more accustomed to spending his days playing online games with his friends, lazing around and doing the bare minimum. The only active thing he did is when he'd go to work—and even that didn't focus lots on cardio.

Your chest tightened in pure panic. Don't stop, you thought out of fear, keep running, please! Find a gap and turn! Look at the wall and turn!

You hadn't realised, but your breathing had become rather intense.

Harry kept running. And running. And slowing down. And the boulder was rolling closer, crushing everything in its path. You grimaced, wanting to look away and hide your face, so you wouldn't have to witness the violent death of your ex—

—Harry threw himself to the side.

You let out an involuntary cheer, relief clouding any sense of judgement and control that you'd had over yourself. The boulder continued to roll past, and Harry remained with his head on the ground, his body sprawled out as he caught his breath.

You hugged the crystal ball to your chest, tears springing to your eyes at how overwhelming your emotions were becoming. You'd almost been the cause of your ex's death. Truly, you wouldn't have been able to live with yourself for that. How could you ever look at yourself in the mirror again?

No... no, you couldn't blame yourself for being in this position. This was the cruelty of the Goblin King. This was his twisted way of entertaining himself. Finding loopholes in wishes and deals and exploiting the powerful emotions of every human that walked through his labyrinth; this was utterly and entirely in the hands of the Goblin King. He knew the severity of your wish before you'd even comprehended it, and he'd played you right into the trap of speaking it.

But for now, Harry was safe. He'd managed to dodge the boulder at the very last second. He was still alive and still had 9 hours to make it through the rest of the labyrinth, the Goblin City and to the castle.

You gauged the Goblin King for his reaction. He seemed expressionless, deep in thought as he tapped his crop against his leg in a rhythmic pattern. He was extremely focused on the crystal ball that displayed Harry. You shuddered, fearing what the Goblin King would conjure up next to make Harry's journey more difficult than it needed to be.

The only time the Goblin King had been cruel during your journey through the labyrinth, was when he had knocked that stone slab from underneath you, resulting in your almost plunging to your death. No other time happened to be as dangerous as that; had the Goblin King gone easy on you? Then again, you were a lot quicker at figuring out the labyrinth than Harry. You'd also received help from a fairy, a worm and a unicorn—so far it seemed like Harry hadn't encountered any creatures willing to be so kind.

"Such a pity," the Goblin King mused out loud, drawing your focus back to him entirely. You waited for him to continue, feeling as though he would only become more unhinged as the 13 hours drew on. "I was almost certain he'd be squished. Perhaps he might make it half way, after all."

"Half way?" You echoed, blinking slowly as the King readjusted his position. "You don't think he'll make it to the castle?"

The Goblin King flashed you a toothy smile, and it was only then that you'd noticed how sharp his canines were. He was like a vampire, almost. A sparkly, glitter obsessed vampire. Only, it was obvious that the Goblin King could venture out into the sun without the fear of being burnt, and he didn't seem to crave blood to keep himself alive.

"What I believe doesn't matter," he tutted in a playful way, "but if you insist, I'm willing to believe that your fiancé will find himself in an unfortunate situation rather soon, one which he'll have no choice but to admit defeat."

"Ex," you quickly corrected.

The Goblin King chuckled. "Of all the things to focus on, you're bothered by technicalities."

"Are you going to interfere with the labyrinth again?"

The Goblin King simply rested his head in his hand, the crystal ball bouncing playfully in his other hand while maintaining eye contact with you. "Oh, my precious dear, I am the labyrinth."

#fan fiction #angst #fantasy #female reader #jareth #the goblin king #goblins #labyrinth #labyrinth 1986 #romance

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