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cryingoverafictionalcharacter · 3 years

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Prompt: Veritaserum is one of the most powerful potions in the wizarding world, a few drops able to make the one who takes it to reveal their deepest secrets with no hesitation. So of course Fred and George learn how to make it for a prank, however it quickly backfires when they test it out on Y/N, who happens to have a crush on the older Weasley twin.

Warnings: swearing? Kind of angsty for like two seconds, That’s it really.

A/N: Sorry I haven’t written in so long, finals are kicking my ass and I barely have time to myself anymore. That being said, I hope you enjoy! This idea has been rattling around my brain for a while.

You sat in the Gryffindor common room, sipping hot coco and enjoying the rare silence as you read a book. You had just gotten to the end of your chapter when a pair of red haired boys walked in, interrupting your solitude.

“Hello Y/N” George greeted you, sitting in the open spot next to you, George following his movements on the other side of you.

“What do you want?” You asked, not looking up from your book. You could tell by Fred's’ tone that he was planning something, and you had no interest in being a part of it.

“Now dear Y/N, why do you think we want something from you?” Fred asked, having a very similar expression to his brother.

Instead of replying you simply gave Fred a look as if to ask ‘do I look stupid?’ Fred got the message and his face shifted from a fake casual look to a smile.

“You know us so well” He laughed, causing you to shake your head and close your book.

“Unfortunately” You sighed, putting your book to the side to give the boys your full attention.

In fact, you did know the twins well, almost better than they knew themselves. You had met them in your first year, and when you were sorted into Gryffindor, the three of you became inseparable, in fact, you were one of the only people who were able to tell them apart. However, you couldn’t deny that you and Fred spent a bit more time together, whether it be in class or on the quidditch pitch, you were constantly making each other smile and laugh, and you knew you could tell him anything. Well, except for the fact that you also happened to have a massive crush on him since fourth year. That would remain a secret.

You watched as the boys moved to sit on the couch across from you, now facing you with a similar smile on their faces.

“We have what could quite possibly be, the best prank in Hogwarts history” George said, trying to sell you on their idea, which you still haven't heard.

“What would you say” Fred started “if you could ask Snape any question you wanted. Anything from test answers to the color of his underwear-”

“Eww” You interrupted

“Exactly! The blackmail potential, the humiliation, the revenge. What would you say?” George finished looking at you.

“I would say you’ve both lost your marbles. Snape hardly speaks let alone confesses those types of things” You said

“But what if... We had a way to make sure he did” Fred asked.

You finally put the pieces together, your jaw dropping to the floor. “How did you-”

“Snape has a book of rare spells and potions” George started

“And we checked it out for the weekend” Fred finished.

“So you stole it” You stated

“More like borrowed, for educational purposes” Fred argued

“Its all set up. We’ll sneak it into his pumpkin juice before class, spread out the word and by second period tomorrow, we’ll have gotten revenge from all the torment. All you need to do, is make sure the potion works” George said, making your eyes widen.

“I’m not taking that!” You practically yelled. You trusted the boys to not ask you any questions that were too personal, that being said, there was still a lot of room for embarrassment, or for the potion to go completely wrong.

“Oh come on Y/N, worst case scenario it doesn’t work” George defended, but Fred could tell you still weren’t convinced.

“Hey” Fred said, leaning forward and gently grabbing your hand, squeezing it comfortingly “I promise we wouldn’t ask if there were risks that could hurt you”

You were to focused on containing the butterflies that had erupted in your stomach from Fred’s touch to notice how George looked between the two of you, or how he suddenly seemed to have an idea.

“Ok fine” You said, causing the two boys to cheer, before George turned and dug out a small glass vial from his bag.

“Two drops should do the trick” George said, adding a few drops of the liquid into your drink from earlier.

You picked up the drink and eyed it, considering backing out but the thought of finally getting back at Snape for humiliating you, and so many others took over. Taking a breath, you finished your drink and set down the mug.

“How long until it starts working?” You asked after a few seconds, not feeling any different.

“It should take effect immediately” Fred said, looking at you for any sign of discomfort or change in mood. “What’s two plus two?”

“Four” You said

“You need to ask better questions than that! Something to prove she can only tell the truth” George said, turning his attention back to you “How old where you when you had your first kiss?”

“Fourteen” You said, surprised at how the words seemed to tumble out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“What’s your most embarrassing story from Hogwarts?” Fred asked

“I once accidentally called Professor McGonagall mom in front of the entire class in first year... fuck you weren't supposed to know about that. Stop asking embarrassing questions you git!” You yelled at the older red head, who simply laughed and shook his head.

“No, I think this is quite fun actually” He said, before George continued.

The questions went on for a few minutes, asking you things from what your favorite color was, to the worst date you’ve ever been on, but finally, the two red heads seemed convinced.

“Alright, it seems like its working” George started, but the glint in his eye showed that he wasn’t quite finished yet. “Who do you have a crush on?”

You couldn’t cover your mouth fast enough. You couldn’t think to run away before the name was tumbling from your lips. You couldn’t do anything but sit and watch in horror, as you answered the question.

“Fred Weasley”

The room went dead silent, the only sound coming from the clock in the corner of the room.

“Y/N I-” Fred started, but you stood up and ran out of the room before he could say anything else.

“I knew it!” George shouted with glee once you were out of earshot, causing Fred to whip his gaze to glare at his brother.

“George what the fuck!” Fred yelled, anger evident in his voice.

“What? You’ve been pining over her like a sad puppy for over a year. Now you finally know” George defended, watching as his older brother quickly stood to follow you.

You had ran as fast as you could, weaving through students and running through corridors before you finally found yourself sitting at a hidden spot by the black lake, finally letting the tears you had been fighting go.

You had liked Fred since fourth year. You had been yelled at in front of the whole class, and were so humiliated you skipped the rest of the school day. Fred had found you, and talked with you all day, making you laugh and smile, not leaving until you finally felt better.

Ever since then your feelings grew. This last summer, you had spent the summer at the Weasley’s and found it a bit hard to sleep one night. You had gone outside to watch the stars, and Fred had joined you. You spend hours talking about life, your futures, your friendships, and at one point, he had looked at you in a way that made you wonder if maybe your feelings weren't one sided. Now you could see that wasn’t the case.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching you. Without looking up, you already knew it was Fred. You were now sitting with your knees pulled into your chest, your chin resting on the tops of your knees as you looked out at the water.

“This spot taken?” Fred asked, motioning to the spot beside you. You didn’t answer, just shook your head, giving the boy permission to take a seat next to you.

“The potion should have worn off by now, so you shouldn’t have to worry about it anymore” Fred said softly, as if not to spook you.

“You don’t have to do this you know” You mumbles, still refusing to meet Fred’s eyes, who were now looking at you with confusion.

“Do what?” He asked

“Try and make me feel better. I know were friends and everything, but I know you don't feel the same way, and I’d really rather just be alone then pretend everything is ok between us.” You said, trying not to let anymore tears fall.

Fred heard these words and felt his heart break. Fred, unknown to you, had also shared your feelings. Your smile could light up any room. You were so unconditionally kind to everyone you met. Your laugh was his favorite sound, and he had made it his goal to try and hear it as often as possible. He had been trying to drop hints, flirtatious comments, or small gestures, and that one night at the burrow, where you were under the stars, he thought he had finally made it clear how he felt. Apparently not, and he didn’t want to waste any more time trying to be subtle.

“See, now I know the potion isn’t working anymore” Fred chuckled, causing you to look at him with a confused expression.

“What?” You asked

“I do feel the same way” Fred said softly

“Fred... you don’t have to say it if you don't-” You started

“Hold on” Fred interrupted, digging through his pocket and pulling out the same small vial from earlier, before tilting his head back and taking a swig. “Now ask me”

“Oh my god, Fred I-” You asked.

“Ask me who I have a crush on” Fred said simply.

“Fine... Who do you have a crush on Fred?” You asked quietly, almost afraid of what the answer would be.

“Y/N L/N” Fred answered, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“You do?” You asked, a smile forming onto your lips.

“Yes” He replied, a smile growing across his face as well.

“Well why do you like me?” You asked, a hint of teasing to your voice.

“Well, you’re beautiful, you’re the funniest person I’ve ever met, you are so kind to everyone you meet, you’re super smart, you have a great ass- wait fuck that wasn’t supposed to come out” Fred said, about to continue but you kept him from going on by finally closing the space between you and pressing your lips to his.

Fred responded instantly, smiling into the kiss before moving his hands to your waist, while yours went to hold his face. You stayed like this for a moment, moving in sync with each other before finally pulling away for air.

“Told you I liked you back” Fred said, making you laugh before re connecting your lips but only for a moment.

“So I’m the funniest person you’ve ever met?” You asked.

“Yes... hey not fair!” Fred complained, making you laugh once again.

“Ok ok fine” You said, allowing Fred to reconnect your lips once again, before breaking away again.

“You think I have a great ass?”

“Yes- Y/N!”

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A/N: Hiiiii! I hope you guys enjoyed! I’ll hopefully be writing more in the future since the school semester is slowing down a bit, but until then check out my other work if you want or leave a request. Thank you all for reading!

#fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred fanfic #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fic #fred weasley headcannon #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine

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wandsandwheezes · 3 years

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Sleep Tight | F. W

T/W - none its literal pure fluff unless you’re scared of clowns then pennywise

A/N // 1.2k // massive thank you to @n3ssm0nique for tis request, it was so cute to write ahhhh // “reader is spending summer at the burrow with the weasleys and one of them have the great idea of watching a very scary movie at night and reader gets super scared and basically cuddles into Fred and he promises to keep her safe.. and later that night reader comes into his room cause she can’t sleep? “

taglist; @weasleysflowr @theweasleysredhair @whiz-bangs78 @hufflepuffgirly @sarcasticallywitty15

"Come on, Y/N it wont even be that scary!" Fred teases, pulling you down to sit next to him. Ginny had the fantastic idea of having a scary movie night, which to everyone but you seemed like a bit of fun. You were absolutely terrified of clowns so the thought of watching 'It' made you want to curl up under the covers out of fear.

Arthur had set up a small TV after Hermione had suggested it would make for a great bit of summer entertainment, especially knowing how unpredictable British summer was. Harry had helped the pair in setting it up, with Arthur marvelling at the muggle invention of moving pictures.

When the movie started, you found yourself curling up into Fred's side, his arm draping over your side, pulling you into him. It's crazy that you'd faced trolls and dragons but yet a clown on a TV screen made you cower in fear. You did at least try and watch the movie, however the moment you'd started trembling, Fred brought his hand up to your head, pulling it into his chest, gently smoothing your hair down in an attempt to comfort you.

Fred had never seen you so scared and a part of him wanted to pull that fear right out of you and make you ok again, he pressed a small kiss to the crown of your head, whispering an ‘I’ll protect you.’ into your hair as you slowly drifting off in an attempt to try and skip out of watching the end of the film. Fred's chest was absolutely perfect for that, warm and comforting and you could hear his heartbeat lulling you off to sleep like the perfect lullaby.

When the movie ended, Fred had gently shook you awake, causing you to flutter your eyelids open with a smile, stretching your limbs a little, looking up at him fondly, thinking about how amazing it was to wake up to such an incredible man. The siblings all started discussing the movie, with Ron trying to throw pieces of popcorn into Harry's mouth, Ginny and George having a rather loud debate over their movie theories. You were reminded of how amazing this family was and how lucky you were to be surrounded by them.

The group had headed up to bed one by one as time rolled into the early hours of the morning. The others found it easy to fall into a well needed slumber, you however were still shaken up; the image of pennywise the clown springing up in your vision every time you shut your eyes. You contemplated rummaging through your bag for a vial of sleeping draught you had brewed in anticipation of any insomniac struggles, but decided against it, rolling onto your front, burying your face into your pillow with a sigh. No matter how hard you tried to push the vision of clowns from your mind, each image rattled around your brain at an antagonising pace, unmoved by any and all attempts. This caused you to toss and turn restlessly on the mattress you were laying ontop of.

Without really thinking, you’d slipped out from under the covers, shuffling quietly out of the room as not to wake Ginny and Hermione. You found yourself drawn to Fred’s protective hold, tiptoeing down each creaky step to the first floor, pushing open the door to the twin’s shared room, thankful that George was asleep, because knowing how much of a light sleeper he was, you were sure he’d be sat bolt upright and awake. You pulled up the covers, cuddling into the tall boy’s side, causing him to stir slightly, wrapping an arm around you. “I must be dreaming, lucky man I am to have an angel like you in my bed…” he muses, causing you to giggle softly, this wasn’t the first time you’d crept into Fred’s bed in the middle of the night and although he hated to admit it, he always slept a bit better with you right next to him.

You and Fred had never put an exact label on what you were, not that you needed it but you had both realised that you were more than just friends, sure you slept together occasionally but you weren’t exactly ‘friends with benefits’ because there were most definitely a hell of a lot of strings attached. You wanted to be in his arms all the time and he loved kissing you just casually but even more than that; you were emotionally connected. You’d both be lying to each other if you said there wasn’t something there

“I can’t sleep, Freddie” you whispered, burying your face into the crook of his neck. His hand soothingly rubs your arm, shushing you softly. “You’re still shaking, Princess, I’m not surprised.” You always felt safer in his arms and the pet name he gave only perpetuating a warmer feeling in your stomach. It was as if he had the ability to wipe away any bad thoughts and wash comfort over you so that you could finally find some rest. Not even having time to register or process his faint whisper as you fall asleep. “I love you, Angel, sleep tight.”

You woke up the next morning to Fred still snoring his head off, taking in a moment of sweet bliss as his soft breathing perfectly complemented the summer warmth and chirping birds, making your morning that much more perfect. You pull yourself from his arms, despite not truly wanting to, in an attempt to beat the morning rush for the burrow’s highly demanded shower. Being under the warm droplets of water, made each and every muscle relax, relishing in the feeling of being at ease.

You weren’t sure when or how Fred had managed to sneak in behind you but a sudden presence forced you to spin around, you noted that he looked absolutely delicious in the mornings with messy hair and groggy eyes, however not before smacking him in the chest for scaring you with his presence. He laughs a little, pulling you in by the waist, his other hand pressed to your cheek in a slow and tender kiss, for a moment you felt like you were in a movie rain pouring over both of you as you kissed and you just knew you were enamoured with him. The kiss was perfect, the way his lips moved with yours with no rush, made you feel like the only woman in the universe, his thumb was running over your cheekbone and despite how tender and loving the kiss was, it was filled to the hilt with all of the passion the boy could muster.

“I meant what I said last night when I said I loved you, because I do. Something yesterday clicked for me and made me realise that you’re the one, I know it’s not the most romantic me asking you out in the morning shower but I knew it had to be now.” Your smile was beaming ear to ear as he spoke, you didn’t realise just how in love with him you were. You were laughing now because truly, was it Fred if he wasn’t doing it in the most unconventional way possible. “Oh, Freddie you big teddy bear, I love you too.” you press your lips to his again, unable to shake the feeling of pure love coursing through your veins. He proceeded to help you wash your hair, him laughing as he had to bend down when you attempted to return the favour. As if you couldn’t fall more in love with the Weasley boy who had your heart, with every pining look, you fell just that little bit harder.

#fred weasley #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fluff #fred and george #weasley twins #harry potter #harry potter fic #hp writing

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forthehpfanboys · 4 years

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Intact

Pair: George Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Life goes to hell when your mother, who happens to be Bellatrix LeStrange AND a Death Eater, finds out you joined the Order of the Phoenix with your boyfriend.

Warnings: Swearing, child abuse?, I guess it's more like assault? Dark, probably graphic??

Notes: 100/10 on this one. Honestly it was fun to write-

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

You knew the moment you stepped into the house she knew and it wasn’t a good thing. The house was borderline destroyed from the glass shattered on the floor from the ‘family portrait’ on the floor to the burn marks across walls. Your shoes crunched as you walked across the remains of the crystal chandler that's been in the house for generations. You entered the living room and was immediately struck with a spell that had your black slamming into the wall.

"You rat! You sniveling, useless, pathetic little rodent!” Her hoarse voice revealed how long she’d been screaming. She kicked the coffee table in the center of the room off to the side. “I should've known!" your mother screamed, her wand tightening in her hand. Her arm stayed stretched out, showing her lack of hesitance and empathy toward you. "You were always so ungrateful! So unbelievably selfish!" You held your head in your hands. A headache was throbbing beside your temples- you must've really hit your head on the wall- and her screaming was not helping it out at all. Her yells echoed in the house, almost shaking the shattered windows of the living room.

"What are you going on about?" you asked, finally raising your head to look at her. Her makeup was messy, her hair was an actual rats nest and her eyes were darker than you've ever seen. She looked insane, more so than usual.

"Don't act like you don't know! You betrayed the Dark Lord for that.. That boy!" Bellatrix screeched out, making long steps across the shard covered carpet to corner you. "Honestly! A Weasley, (Y/n)! A blimey, no good for nothing blood traitor! I raised you better than that!"

You stared at her with wide eyes. She knew. Oh, of course she knew who you were sneaking out almost every night to see! She probably found out herself or maybe Draco tattled, that coward. It didn’t matter how she knew, she knew you were with a Weasley, sneaking out almost every night to see him, the other Weasleys and the Order.

"Raised me? I'm sorry, raised me?!" You genuinely had to laugh at that. "You can not take credit for how I came out! You didn't raise me! No, no even close! You dropped me off at the Malfoys like a stray dog.” You didn’t even flinch when she jabbed her wand right under your chin, a sneer growing on her features.

You tried to ignore how much it hurt to be ditched by your own mother, forced to swivel and basically praise the Malfoys for taking in someone like you. You were nothing compared to Draco. Everyone wanted a compliant son like Draco, but no, you had to be different, see your mother for how she really was. You could remember when she showed up one random day after graduating your 4th year, claiming she loved you, missed you, how times got too tough to have a baby boy around the house. The thought now made you sick. She didn’t care about you for fourteen years, but suddenly she does. Since then, life has been hell. Except around George.

“I should’ve left you on the streets.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she grabbed your shoulder. Her unusually sharp nails seemed to phase right through your shirt. “I should’ve drowned you in a river, I should’ve given you to the Dark Lord himself.” Her nails dug deeper into your skin, puncturing it, leading to small droplets of red to seep into the cotton of your shirt. Your pain must’ve made itself known because she smirked and tossed her head back in loud laughter that made your temples throb again. “I should’ve killed you myself.” She pulled away from you, stepping back a few paces before turning swiftly to face you once again. She did a curtsy, not taking her eyes off you.

“Clearly, there’s a lot we both should’ve done.” Your voice cracked as you pulled out your own wand from your pocket, holding it tightly. You stepped forward a few spaces and bowed, understanding what she wanted. She wanted you to suffer. She casted a spell before you could even blink, her laugh echoed in the house again.

“Crucio!”

Your body slammed against the wall a second time, except this time, it felt like your heart was actually going to stop. It felt like every nerve was being ripped in half one by one, like you were being burned alive but drowning in an icy river at the same time. You physically couldn’t stop the scream of pure agony that ripped from your throat.

You crashed to the floor as your muscles tensed up. The spell lifted before another scream could fly from your lips, giving your now aching muscles a break. You curled into a tight ball, your knees to your chest, as your.. ‘Mother’ let out yet another cackling laugh. Honestly, you weren’t sure she ever stopped.

“What’s wrong, (Y/n)? Too much for you? Maybe I should just call you Weasley. You’re just as pathetic and dimwitted as they are.” She giggled, bouncing on her feet, before doing a spin. “Oh, I do love your scream though.”

You were trying to blink through the tears and ignore the way your gut was twisting itself up. You officially envied anyone who said crap about Longbottom's parents- they didn’t deserve this. Through the tears, your eyes landed on your wand, just in arms reach. With a shaky, weak hand, you reached for it, an equally shaky breath leaving your lips when your fingertips grazed across the wood. It was so close. that was, until a heal came to rest into the back of your hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry, my insane rambling is too boring for you, is it?” Bellatrix spat out. She lowered herself onto one knee, putting testing her weight against the bones in your skin. You sucked in a breath, your eyes squinting shut. While she was down there, she decided to go on a tangent on how her life was so difficult, how she couldn’t have her love with her, whoever the fuck that was, and how she was a good mother.

“You’re such a bitch.” You whispered out. While the witch was so worried about your hand and spitting all over your face with her sob story, you’d managed to grab your wand. You threw a punch, right to her crooked grin. The punch wasn’t your strongest, but it gave you enough leeway to wiggle your hand free and aim your wand at her, casting stupefy to throw her back. Before she could do anything else, you booked it out the door, running as fast as you could. You didn’t look behind you when she started screaming again.

“Ingrate! Go run off to those pathetic blood-traitors! You deserve to be with your own kind! A bunch of filthy low-lives!”

You rounded the corner and apparated to where you knew they would be, where you’d be safe. With a crisp pop, you were in front of the door of none other than Sirius’ Black’s home. You didn’t bother knocking, you didn’t need too. You stumbled into the house, effectively cutting off everyone’s casual conversation in the living room. You ignored Molly’s gentle calls and Remus trying to see if you were ok. You just sprinted up the stairs, calling for your boyfriend.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until your body collided with George’s, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist while the other went straight to your hair. He rocked your back and forth, his voice whispering everything was going to be ok in your ear. You didn’t even notice the crowd forming behind you.

“Cupcake, I’m going to need you to tell me what happened, ok?” He gently pulled you from his chest, his hands cupping your wet cheeks to wipe away your tears.

“She knows. Someone told her- or- or she followed us but she knows and-” You took in a shaky breath, being gently dragged back into a hug by the ginger. You couldn’t see it, but George, while never usually one to jump to violence, was close to throwing hands.

“LeStrange?” He asked, wanting clarification over who the ‘she’ actually was. When you nodded into his chest, his arms tightened around you. “Ok,’ he whispered, “ok, how about we go assess the damage, hmm?” He guided you down the hall, ignoring the questions about what happened, and taking you straight to the clean bathroom.

George shut the door once you were sitting on the edge of the bathtub. He wasn’t quite sure if he was more heartbroken over the fact that you were shaking, struggling to breath and bouncing your leg rapidly or pissed that she dared to lay a hand on you. He knelt in front of you, a sad smile across his lips as he rubbed your knees. “What did she do, love?”

You told him about the wrecked house, the yelling, the headache, the tiny scabs on your shoulder and how she fucking stood on your hand. You left out the curse, worried he’d actually go over there himself and hex the daylights out of her. No one would admit it but any Weasley could easily go from lovable dorks to murderous slayers in 3.4 seconds if provoked correctly.

“Can I see your shoulder? I want to make sure it won’t get infected with whatever she carries.” His fingers gently pulled at the hem of your shirt, his eyes staring into yours as he waited for your approval. You suddenly found it hard to speak. He wasn’t gentle all the time, but when he was, it always stole your breath.

When you finally nodded and raised your arms, he slipped your shirt over your head. The fabric slipped from his grasp as he stared at your bare chest, shoulders and arms. You could see every emotion flickering past his irises- worry, sadness, anger.

“What?” You followed his gaze. Along your chest, stomach and shoulders, a bright red pattern of welts had formed. How you didn’t notice, you weren’t sure, but now that you were looking at them, they started throbbing. The marks seemed to mimic lightning bolts, but rounder, breaking apart and covering your body, but they all started at one spot. An angry lopsided organic shape stood out below your right peck, just on your rib cage- that was where the spell hit. The marks didn’t stop at your shoulders, or your neck. They traveled down to your very fingertips and a few made themselves known just along your jaw and across your cheek.

“(Y/n),” His use of your first name unnerved you, “what aren’t you telling me?” George’s hand reached out to gently touch where the bitch’s spell hit you while his eyes flicked up to yours. You stayed quiet, your chest shaking as you took in another nervous breath. You licked your lips, thinking over your next words carefully.

“She may have used the Cruciatus Curse on me.” You looked down at your hands, fiddling with your fingers. You heard him take a sharp breath. He whispered a quick ‘can you give me a moment?’ before walking out of the bathroom. You heard his heavy footsteps travel down the hall before a door slammed open, rattling the mirror hanging on the bathroom wall.

“Freddie, I’m going to fucking lose it!” George’s voice carried easily through the hallway, causing you to jump. “No, I will not calm down! Shut up and listen!” The younger twin never spoke to his brother like that. “The crucio curse, Fred! The fucking, the, you know! For- I swear-” The door to the shared room slammed shut, the rattling mirror doing it’s thing again as you sat awkwardly in the bathroom alone. George kept going on and on about stuff you could no longer make out, but you could assume they were death threats sworn to come true.

After about 2 minutes, George came back, Fred trailing right behind him, a baggy Irish themed quidditch shirt and a pair of red sweatpants in his arms. George set the clothes down while Fred looked at the marks.

“Bloody hell.” Fred sat down next to you. “Do they still hurt?” He let out a sigh of relief when you shook your head no. “Thank Merlin for that.”

While Fred was chatting away, George had knelt in front of you again, his hand on the ball joint of your shoulder, his wand in his other hand. He whispered a quick healing curse on the five scabs before handing you the Irish t-shirt.

“You ok?” George asked once the shirt was on. His hands had come back to your knees at some point and you weren’t quite sure when, but you appreciated the familiar warmth.

“I don’t know. “ Your eyes were cast downward at the marks across your forearms and wrist, your eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “I… Don’t you think they’re.. Meeeh?” You raised your arms a little, referring to the scars.

“Really?” The red-head trouble makers asked in unison, causing you to turn between them a few times.

“What?”

“Sunshine.” George spoke up from the floor, his hands twiddling together as he got your attention. He smiled a little when your eyes looked down into his. “Remember Umbridge?”

“Of course I do. I was there- I left with you guys-”

“Hush, I’m trying to be inspirational.” His words cause you to grin and snort. “Well, then you must remember the quill.” He brought his hand into your view, showing what he thought was oh so important he told you to hush. The scars from the quill were still there, only faded, but still extra pale against his normal tone. “You could hardly see ours anymore, love.”

You reached out for his hand hesitating, but in the end, you were running your fingers across the skin, noting the change in textures. You turned to Fred, who flashed you the same grin and held his hand up, revealing the same scars.

“Right..” You smiled, turning back to the twin you called yours. “They fade but-”

“-let you tell stories that strengthen you.” The twins finished, a wider smile on both of their faces. Fred stood up, ruffling your hair before heading out of the bathroom. George stood up after handing you the sweats.

“I’ll let you get dressed here, cupcake. Come on back to the room whenever you're ready.” George planted a kiss to your cheek before planting one swift one to your lips and heading out of the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind him.

“What would Molly say?” You asked, changing your pants and confirming the scars did run down to your ankles.

“After what you went through? She wouldn’t have the heart to make you stay anywhere else.” George called through the door before walking down the hallway to his room. You splashed some cold water on your face, hoping to wash away some of the trauma today would leave behind.

Once your face was dry, you walked from the bathroom, to the shared room with the twins. You didn’t bother knocking once again, knowing you were more welcomed here than anywhere else. You plopped yourself on the bed, besides your boyfriend and snuggled into his side. Sure today would leave scars, mental and physical, but as George’s arms wrapped around you, you realized he was all you would need to stay intact in the end.

And yeah, George did keep his promise for revenge in the end.

#george weasley x male reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley #hp imagine #hp x reader #x male reader #male reader #fred weasley #Ronny Writes #fic #hp male fic #hp fic

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karlnapity · 3 years

Text

(tws: manipulation, emotional abuse, panic attacks, agoraphobia)

Even after this long, there are still people Eret needs to reconcile with, and people they likely won’t ever, and they’ve made peace with that.

Tommy is one of those people.

It’s not that they don’t want to. It’s been a combination of things, from continuous wars, to exiles, to Tommy’s complete and utter stubbornness, to a hell of a lot of avoidance.

So they’re a bit taken aback when Puffy suggests it, but she seems set on the idea.

“I think he’s probably the one whose experiences are most similar to yours,” she says, in that therapy voice she uses when she’s trying really hard to convince you of something.

They almost want to laugh at that. Tommy’s been through hell, more than they can even imagine, and it’s laughable to think their experiences are at all on the same level.

But, all the same, it’s an excuse to try again to amend their wrongs, and they’ve been trying to get better at confronting their issues.

So, they shoot him a whisper, and wait in the throne room with anxiety they haven’t felt since the prison gained a guest.

It’s hard to break free of habits they gained. It’s hard for them to relax, even when they’re on their own, because who knows if they really are. Who knows if they’re being watched, who knows if this is just a test.

They shake their head, let themselves relax a bit into the throne, let their robes crinkle around them.

And that’s when Tommy enters. They quickly reassemble themselves, garner their royal expression, make themselves look as dignified as possible because that’s what he demands.

They’ve got to stop doing that, but it’s so much easier to fall into old habits.

“So?” Tommy asks, as demanding as always, and Eret holds back a chuckle.

“Here, let’s go somewhere more comfortable,” they say, and sweep off the throne, lead him down a few hallways to the garden. There are a few benches, and they occupy one, Tommy taking the other.

This was the closest thing they had to the outside for months, and they say as much, try to get Tommy comfortable. He makes a sound.

“What do you mean?”

They sigh. “Puffy wanted us to talk. She thinks our experiences with him are similar.”

It’s not like they need to say his name. They’re not sure they can.

“Ok? And?” Tommy asks, huffing, but they don’t miss the way he tenses, just a bit, the same way they do when they’re trying to hide anxiety.

“He stopped me from leaving the castle for months. Told me I could only go out when he said I could. This was the closest thing I had.”

Tommy’s staring at them. They can tell he’s trying to find the safest thing to say, that he’s trying to decide whether to share anything of his own.

“Oh,” he settles on. “I get that.”

They nod, and sigh. “I don’t think my experiences compare to yours. You had it a lot worse. But I wanted to have a chance to explain everything.

I know you don’t forgive me. I don’t blame you, believe me. But trust me: you know what he’s like. He had me from the beginning. And it’s still hard not to let myself be influenced by him. So I thought… if we could commiserate, or something. That it might help.”

They don’t look at him, but he lets out a sigh of his own.

“Ok, then.” And he huffs a laugh. “Then stop talking to me like a king, alright?”

Their head snaps up, and Tommy is smiling, a rueful little thing that forces a small smile onto their own face.

“Ok.”

He grows a bit more serious. “Then why did you betray us?”

They shrug. “I guess, in the beginning, I did want more power. I thought being king might help us become more powerful. I should’ve known he wouldn’t have let that happen, but… I was hopeful.”

They clear their throat. “I was manipulated.”

It’s still hard to say, they still feel like it’s dramatic, but Puffy’s been encouraging them to tell the truth. Tommy nods.

“We both were.” He looks like he wants to make a joke, but he doesn’t. “When I was in exile, he told me I was the only person he could trust. All that fucking shit.”

Guilt floods them, heavy and painful. They push through it. “I should’ve done something. I’m sorry.”

He pulls a face. “Then I shoulda done something! Back when it was fucking Manberg, or whatever.”

They sigh, shake their head. “It’s not the same… but thank you.”

He shrugs. He stands, looks around the garden. Eret can tell he’s just trying to keep moving.

“He just… he just fucking convinces you you can’t rely on anyone else. That he’s the only one who can help you, or hurt you, or anything. That no one else cares. Did that happen to you?”

They think of nights where he’d pull off their crown gently, where he’d treat them like a person and give them gifts and nice food, and even nights where he’d let them roam outside the castle alongside him, where he’d lay new, soft robes on their shoulders, where he’d hand them speeches he’d prepared so they didn’t have to stress, where he’d tell them they looked like a king, where he’d say he made the right choice in choosing them.

“It did,” they say, quietly.

“That’s what makes it so fucking hard!” Tommy exclaims, throws his hands up in the air. He looks like he wants to punch something.

“It makes it so hard for it just to be hatred,” they say, nodding. “When you’re wearing his clothes and living in a place he helped build, and when you’re eating the food he provided.”

He throws himself down on the bench next to them, looks them in the eye with a sad grin. “I’m so glad you get it.”

And then he pulls a face, waves his hands. “Not like that! I’m just… it’s hard to explain to people who haven’t gone through it.”

They let out a rich laugh, something that’s so rare these days. He told them it was undignified for a king, but they push down the shame that bubbles in their stomach. “I get it, I get it.”

“I’m glad too.”

Gardening’s been a strangely soothing activity. It keeps their hands busy, keeps their mind off things they don’t want to ignore, keeps them feeling accomplished. Sometimes, on the good, good days, they can even plant outside the castle, on the sprawling lawn, but it’s rare.

Today it’s just the garden within the castle. Their hands are coated as they kneel in the dirt, fancier robes exchanged for more casual clothes, almost humming to themselves in contentment, when they hear the voice behind them.

“King Eret?” The voice is quiet but unmistakable. They jump, turn around. They stand, brushing their hands of dirt, and offer a small curtsy, skirt blowing a bit in the wind.

“George,” they welcome. They’re not close with the ex-king, though there’s less bad blood than might be expected.

They have more in common than first assumed.

George looks out of his element, standing awkwardly in the archway. They wave him to the benches.

“What brings you here?” They ask, settling their skirt around them. Royal etiquette dies hard, and they suppose even after all this time the poise hasn’t leaked out of them.

“I wanted to talk,” he says. He fidgets with his goggles. “And I wanted to apologize.”

They tilt their head, expression pinching. “For what?”

“For…” He gestures around, vaguely. “All of this. Kingship shouldn’t have been pushed on you. I shouldn’t have tried to usurp it. I should’ve stepped in, I should’ve stopped him-”

Eret can recognize mounting anxiety, from experience as much as anything. They lean forward, lay a hand on his knee. “It’s ok, take a breath.”

He reigns in his breathing after a moment, lays hands over his face. “I’m sorry.”

They sigh, smile gently. “Don’t worry about it. I think… we probably share experiences, after all. I don’t blame you at all.”

He shakes his head, looking down at his lap. His hands twist. “Do you think he ever intended to actually make me king?”

“No.” It’s an easy answer, but there’s no point hiding the truth.

“I didn’t think so.” There’s a deep sigh. “I just feel like… I should have realized, earlier.”

They lean back, peer at the clear sky above them. The sun feels soft on their skin. “When he was around, controlling me… I knew he was horrible. I knew he was the source of my problems, my fear, everyone else’s pain, everything. But all the same… I wanted to follow him. It wasn’t just out of fear of what he’d do to me, or anyone else. It was easier. It was easier to do what he wanted, because then I didn’t have to think. I didn’t have to be scared.”

They look to George, who’s nodding.

“I guess it’s sorta like that. It was just easier to follow orders, I suppose.” He purses his lips. “All the same, though, I’m sorry.”

As much as they want to rebuke his apology, insist it really isn’t his fault, they don’t. They’ve learned that sometimes it’s easier to apologize, even if the other person doesn’t need it.

“I forgive you.”

On very, very hard days, it’s hard to leave their room.

He wouldn’t let them leave it first thing without first checking them over, making sure they were presentable, making sure everything was in order. And, even now, it’s hard to leave without that first assurance.

They still feel like he’s going to pop out of the shadows, like he’s going to yell at them for getting breakfast without his go-ahead first, like he’s still there critiquing his every move.

In a way, it was assuring. It was simple, having everything decided for them. They were like a doll, positioned every way he wanted them to be. They needed to think over everything and nothing.

On the worst days, they felt inhuman. Their mind went on autopilot, doing everything he requested without even thinking, simply moving through the course of the day without even processing.

He especially approved of them, those days, always saying how he appreciated it when they didn’t speak, didn’t make noise, just stood and acted and followed him around exactly how he wanted them to.

The gaps in their memory disturb them, but all the same some part of them misses it, wants to avoid having to think about it all.

They really are a coward.

They curl deeper in their blankets. Today is one of those days where they don’t move from sun-up to sundown, just wallow in the memories and the self-pity. It feels pathetic, but all the same they can’t bring themselves to move.

There’s a knock on their door. Their entire being screams to stand, to pull on robes as quickly as they can, to make themselves presentable before he sees them, before he yells at them, but they still can’t even roll over to face the door.

“Eret?” It’s Puffy. They want to tell her to come in, or to go away, they’re not sure, but their tongue feels like lead.

The door creaks open, and she comes in.

“Having a rough time?” she asks. There’s a dip in the mattress where she sits beside them.

Puffy is perhaps the only person they can entirely relax around, and even then sometimes it’s a struggle.

She doesn’t judge them. She tells them their feelings are justified, helps them figure out everything. They’re not sure what they did to deserve someone like her.

She rests a hand on their shoulder. “If you want to talk, let me know. If not, I can stay here.”

They put a hand over hers. Stay.

They’re not sure how long they sit like that, but eventually they’re able to pull themselves together enough to eat breakfast she brought. She makes easy conversation even as they can’t, and they rest their head gently on their shoulder as she talks.

At the end of the day, they’re able to say one thing.

“Thank you.”

Leaving the castle is a constant struggle, one that most days they can’t bear. Most people have learned, at this point, to come to them if they want to talk.

Somehow, Niki seems to have forgotten, they think as they stare at the letter.

It tells them to meet her at her base, that she wants to spend time with them but can’t miss a day of work.

She’s been working hard, lately, to rebuild, to rediscover her life much the same as they have.

Their hands tremble. Her base is close to the furthest they’ve ventured, and even then that was on one of their best days, and even then they had a panic attack on the way there.

They could just miss it. They could just pretend they didn’t get the letter. They could just pretend they were busy.

No. They want to see her, desperately.

They crinkle the paper in their hands as they start to pace. They already feel the mounting panic at even the thought of venturing that far.

They’d need someone to go with them. They’d need someone to watch them, make sure they didn’t just have a meltdown, but Puffy’s busy and they don’t want to bother anyone else, and they’re likely too embarrassed to ask anyways.

No, they’ve got to do this. Puffy told them to push themselves. This counts, right?

They dress in some of their nicest robes. If they’re going to have a panic attack, they’re at least going to look good doing it, and there’s some comfort in looking as kingly and dignified as possible, even at this juncture.

And they make it to the gates before their confidence starts to waver.

It’s not uncommon for them to stand here, to people watch, but they barely make it past the door most of the time.

Ghostbur passes by within the ten minutes they’re standing there. He catches their eye, and he waves ecstatically before heading to stand next to them.

“Hello, Eret!” he exclaims.

It’s still odd to hear Wilbur’s voice, so similar and yet so different. Eret’s not sure they talked to him again before November sixteenth, and even then he only ever commanded them as a group.

“Hello, Ghostbur,” they return with a smile. “Where are you off to?”

“I wanted to see Niki,” he says, and Eret feels like they could collapse with relief.

“What a coincidence. I do too,” they say, and before their anxiety can get the better of them, they continue. “What do you say we head there together?”

Ghostbur nods happily, extending a hand, and Eret takes it.

They get about ten feet from the door before the anxiety kicks in.

They feel a bit bad for Ghostbur, considering how sweaty their palms are already getting. Their heartbeat’s loud in their ears.

It’s as frustrating as it is terrifying. He’s in prison. He’s not here, and there’s no way he could be here. Sapnap and George stopped reporting to him months ago, and the both of them apologized directly, so there’s no way they’d tell him even if they saw them.

So why are they so fucking scared?

“Are you ok, Eret?” He asks as they walk. They wave him off, but breath is already coming hard for them.

They can remember the first time he caught them. It’d been months into their sentence, as it were, in the castle, and they’d snuck away in the dead of night to see Fundy.

He caught them only a few feet from the door, but he’d been furious. It had taken hours of him teasing, threatening to hurt Fundy, hours of them begging on their knees for him not to do anything, and in the end they’ve never been sure whether he did. They can’t bring themselves to ask.

He’d hardly ever threatened them. If he wanted to hurt them, he did. He always threatened to hurt their friends.

And it was so much worse. What would he do if he caught them now?

They can’t breathe. They let go of Ghostbur’s hand, crumble to their knees. They knew this would happen. They shouldn't have even tried.

Ghostbur’s calling their name, they’re pretty sure, but it’s too much, because if he calls their name too much he might hear where they went, he might be able to find them, and he can’t find them because what is he going to do to their friends, they were trying to find Niki so what would he do to her if he found out, he might hurt her, they were an idiot for even trying to leave and they should have just stayed where it was safe for everyone-

And they’re being hauled to their feet, someone is leading them somewhere. They don't fight back, because it's probably him, and if they fight back it'll only make it so much worse for everyone. They just let themselves be led.

It always takes them a long time to come back from a panic attack. The first thing they become aware of is someone humming, The second is how bright it is. No matter how much they seem to add to their castle, it’s always dim no matter what.

They open their eyes. They’re sitting on a bed, Ghostbur to their right. And Niki’s bustling around on the other end of the room, back turned.

They whisper her name, and she whips around, face softening before she pulls them into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, and they hold onto her, tightly. “I’m ok.”

They ask everyone to say that they're ok, after they panic. It was embarrassing, initially, but it really, really helps.

She pulls back a bit, and they grip her arms. She brushes hair out of their eyes. “I’m so sorry, Eret, I should have known not to ask that of you, I wasn’t thinking.”

They shake their head. “No, I wanted to. It’s- I wanted to challenge myself.”

She nods. “I’m glad you got Ghostbur to come with, so he could let me know and I could come get you. I support you pushing yourself, but be careful, ok?”

They smile, nod, and push themselves off the bed. They’re still a bit shaky on their feet, but they look around all the same. “This is gorgeous, Niki.”

As she and Ghostbur show them around her new base, the anxiety doesn’t fade. It might not ever, when they’re outside, and it might not ever even if they follow the rules.

They can’t undo what Dream has done to them, but that doesn’t mean they can’t do the best they can to work past it. They have people, friends who are willing to work with them, and people who care, and even when they’re in their castle it seems so much brighter than before.

And when Niki drops them back off, they don’t worry whether she’ll be ok. They know they both will.

#personal #eret #dreamwastaken #tommyinnit #ghostbur #wilbur soot #niki nihachu #georgenotfound #dream smp #dsmp #mcyt

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ijustwant2write · 4 years

Text

Different Worlds-Fred Weasley x Muggle! Reader

(GIF credit to @avocadosalad2)

Masterlist

Prompts List

Requested by anonymous: 'Could you do a Fred Weasley after the war imagine (where he doesn’t die) and he falls in love with a muggle'

Summary: (Y/N) may be a muggle, but she was introduced to the hidden magical world once she realised her best friend was a witch. Years later, after they have both graduated, she finds herself drawn towards the magic, as well as a particular person.

Characters: Fred Weasley x Reader, George Weasley x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Lots and lots of fluff

(A/N: Beatrice is a made up character)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As I stirred the milk into the mug of tea, I continued listening to Beatrice babble on about the rude man on the train, who had insisted that she was sat in his seat, when she had clearly reserved it. I smiled, picking up the mugs and heading back into the living room, handing one to her. She blew on it, testing how hot it was before taking a tiny sip.

“But anyway, enough about twats in London.” Bea waved her hand.“I’ve got some exciting news!”

“Yeah? What is it?” I put down my own mug, ready to squeal and jump about with her.

“You know that shop I had my eye on?”

“The one in um...oh what’s it called? Diagonal street?”

She laughed.“Diagon Alley.”

“Ah, right.”

“Anyway, I went for another viewing the other week, and I got a letter through this morning to say that it is now mine!”

I grabbed her hands, squeezing them.“That’s fantastic! Oh my god, you’ve been wanting your own shop since we were kids!”

“I know! I’ve already had new flooring put down, it’s just been painted too. Now all that’s left is to organise how I want the furniture and to put stock out on display.”

Bea had always loved her fashion when she was younger. She would always complain about how basic her uniform was (even pointing out how boring muggle uniform was as well), and always added different accessories or made her own clothes. This hobby carried on, she became a great seamstress (the magic probably helped), knowing that this was something she wanted to do. Now she was opening a clothes shop that would also sell things like accessories, notebooks, pens etc.

“I’m so happy for you.” I hugged her.

“You know, I am going to need help moving in...”

“Wait, you want me to come with you?”

Bea nodded.

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“No, don’t be silly! You’re with me, and you’re only visiting. Plus you’ve known about all of this since we were twelve. I haven’t used the Obliviate spell on you, and I’m still not in trouble.”

“Sorry, you haven’t what?”

“Don’t worry about it. So, you want to accompany me to little old Diagon Alley?”

A couple of days later, Beatrice visited me again, leading me out of my little flat and onto the tube. We practically had to go to the other side of London, making me feel bad when she visited me all those times. When we finally got off, and after walking for another ten minutes, we stood in front of an abandoned building stuck between a record and book shop. Glancing at Bea, who was staring at the uninviting building, I wondered what I had got myself into.

“Uh, Bea, we’re not going in there are we?” I asked as she dragged me towards it.

“Just trust me.”

She pushed open the door, which made a worrying creaking noise, and I was scared that if we shut it too hard, the whole place would collapse. However, instead of a dusty room with broken floor boards and bending beams, we seemed to be in a pub. There were a few people already in here, sat at various tables with their drinks. A worker walked past, waving their hand which made some scattered chairs tuck underneath the table. My eyes widened as I watched, realising that I had stepped into a different world. Beatrice laughing at me brought me back into reality as she held onto my hand again.

“Alright Tom?” She called out to the bartender.

“Ah, here once again Beatrice? Oh, this the muggle you were on about?” he replied as he leaned against the bar.

“Yep, this is she. I’m taking her to the shop, which I now own!”

“Ah, congratulations! Head on back then.”

They said their goodbyes and I was being steered away again, this time outside. There was a wall blocking us, and to anyone else it would be a dead end, but I knew something was about to happen. Bea revealed her wand, tapping it around a part of the wall where bricks were missing. Stepping back, my eyes widened as the bricks started moving, separating to reveal a busy street.

“Oh, this is just too precious. Wish I had captured the moment.” Bea said.

I must have stuck out like a sore thumb; I couldn’t shut my mouth, checking out everything around me, eyebrows furrowing as my mind tried to comprehend how this was possible. Men and women passed me in long robes, some sporting the stereotypical witches hats. There were broomsticks, animals such as owls and cats, things floating by me. My brain was well and truly frazzled.

As we came to Bea’s new shop, I was still in awe, my eyes landing on a bright orange shop, with an animatronic of a man who was putting on a top hat. I could see lots of younger children in there. Explosions of light appeared, objects were flying around, I could hear the laughter across the street.

“Kind of hard to miss right?” Bea giggled as she unlocked the shop.

“Yeah. Looks amazing in there.”

“That’s Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. I went to school with the guys who own it. Onto more important matters, after you.”

I walked into the shop, grinning as I looked around. It wasn't huge, but it had a vintage look to it; the floor was a dark wood, and the walls were painted a lighter cream colour to contrast it. Currently it was empty, in one corner were mannequins, display tables and railings to hang the clothes on.

"I've got everything mapped out, I just need to move bits around." Bea said.

"It's going to look great when it's finished. I bet you're so excited to open."

"Are you OK by the way? I just realised how much this must all be."

"I love it here! I'm surrounded by magic, what more could I want?"

We spent the next few hours moving the furniture around, trying out new things to see what worked, where it would be best to display the stock. People passed by the window in large groups, but now there were less, the sun was going down, and shop owners were starting to close up. We followed suit, putting everything back in the corner before leaving the shop.

"Hello neighbour." a man called out across the street.

We turned around, seeing a tall man in a suit outside of the shop I noticed upon arrival.

"Oh, I forgot I would be seeing you every day." Bea groaned, obviously joking.

"You don't have to lie to me, we're one of the reasons you bought the place."

Bea began walking towards him, I followed behind."Fred, this is (Y/N). She's a friend of mine."

"Nice to meet you." he smiled.

"You too." I replied, wishing I didn't sound so quiet.

"Already got your staff sorted then?"

"(Y/N)'s an old friend of mine. I had to show her the shop. And Diagon Alley."

Fred caught on, realising that I wasn't a witch."Oh, right. Welcome to the other side."

"Thanks. It's been amazing so far."

“Well, it couldn’t have been that good, I didn’t see you in our shop today.”

“He’s so humble, isn’t he?” Bea rolled her eyes.“Well, that’s just another reason for her to come tomorrow, isn’t it?”

“I look forward to seeing you then.” Fred casually winked before saying goodbye to us both, realising his name was being called from the shop.

“OK, what just happened?” I gasped, feeling extremely flushed.

“Those Weasley boys are natural flirts. But that was very interesting.”

“There’s more of them?!”

Bea just shook her head, looping her arms through mine as she lead me away from the shop, telling (not asking) me to return with her again tomorrow. I didn’t hesitate to say yes.

With Bea unaware, I had immediately gone to choose an outfit for the next day as soon as I made it home. I just wanted to look a little more presentable, it definitely wasn’t because I wanted to present myself well in front of anyone. Once I had decided on a casual outfit, though something that still showed I had put some effort in, I settled down for the night, lying on the sofa with my dinner. Even with the TV on in the background, I couldn’t concentrate on the programme. It felt strange to be back in my world, not surrounded by magic. I was half expecting objects in my flat to start moving by themselves.

Bea had told me about her being a witch when she received her letter to Hogwarts. I wasn’t supposed to know, especially at a young age, but Beatrice had been so scared to lose our friendship. Her parents were muggles, so where the magic came from was a mystery. I missed her extremely, hating that Hogwarts was a boarding school. But once Bea was old enough to use magic outside of school, she graced me with all the spells she learnt, it was so enchanting to watch. Bea had returned to the muggle world for a few years once she finished her education, but now that her dream of owning a shop was coming true, she wouldn’t be living near me anymore; that’s what was really weighed on my mind.

Bea and I returned to her shop the next morning. I didn’t mention anything of my thoughts from the night before, not wanting to ruin the day. Seeing the other shop owners setting up for the day set a different atmosphere, some who were outside greeted us along the way. Bea got out her keys, but hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, suddenly worried.

“Nothing. I just think we should pay my fellow businessmen a visit.” she said, a wide smile on her face.

“No, cause you’ll just embarrass me!” I whined.

“No I won’t. Honestly, you need to see their shop, it’s bizarre.”

I knew she had a scheme planned, but part of me wanted to go along with it. As we approached, I glanced at my reflection in the window, tucking away any strands of hair that had fallen out of my up-do. Before we could knock on the door, Fred appeared, swinging it wide open.

“Ah, our most loyal customers are here.” He grinned letting us in.

“Good morning George.” Bea waltzed in.

Oh, this was his twin.

“Fred has told me all about you, (Y/N), right?” George extended his hand.

I shook it as I nodded.“Yes, Sorry, I forgot you there were two of you for a moment.”

“Double trouble is what they are.” Bea mumbled.

“Welcome to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” he exclaimed, presenting grandly with his arm.

Cautiously walking around, I ducked out of the way as a Frisbee flew past me, smiling at what looked like mini fireworks before scrunching my nose up at a box labelled ‘Puking Pastels’. I explored everywhere, going upstairs to search further. The amount of jokes and prank items they had seemed endless. Looking over the railing, I saw Bea chatting away to George. It made me wonder where Fred was, but that question was soon answered.

“Do you come here often?” Fred slid up to me, leaning beside me on the railing.

I chuckled.“Funnily enough, this is my first time here. And did you really just use that line on me?”

“Works every time.” he winked, causing me to look away as I blushed.

“This shop is amazing Fred.” I sighed in content.“Are those really Love Potions down there?”

“Ah, caught your eye?”

“I mean, how could it not? Doesn’t everyone want a love potion to make their lives so much easier?”

“It’s not permanent. Besides, falling in love is the fun part.”

I didn’t question if he had been in love. It was too soon to be asking things such as that.

Fred continued.“Can’t believe Bea waited so long to bring you here. She talks about you all the time.”

“She does?”

“Yep. I probably know more about you than you think.”

My eyes widened jokingly.“I don’t know if that’s good or not.”

“It’s very good, trust me.”

“I don’t think I would ever want to leave now. Couldn’t stop smiling when I was home.”

Fred opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by Bea calling up to us.“Come on you two, it’s my turn now.”

Not knowing what she meant, we headed downstairs, realising that Bea wanted to show the twins her shop. Making our way across the road, Fred and I walked behind the others as they continued talking, even as Bea unlocked the shop.

“I mean, you’ve still got quite a bit of work to do Bea.” George joked as they walked around the empty space.

“I know that. But that’s why I have (Y/N) here to help me.” She smiled at me.

“It’s a good space. You got everything planned?” Fred asked.

“Yeah, we moved the furniture around a few times yesterday, so I’ve got options. And of course I had my wonderful assistant to help.”

“She didn’t even buy me a drink after.” I said.

“I can pay you.”

“What? Don’t be silly.”

“No, I’m serious. Because I need to know if I have to put you on the payroll.”

“Bea, what are you saying?”

She grinned but I could see she was nervous.“How would you like to work here with me?”

My mouth dropped wide open, eyes bulging out of my head. I was shocked, speechless even. Out of the corner of my eye I saw George nudge his brother, smirking at him as Fred looked annoyed.

“Oh, this is making me anxious.” Bea whispered, gripping her hands together despite her happy expression.

“You really want me to work here? But where would I live?”

“With me obviously!”

“Is that allowed?”

“Yes, I checked. Oh (Y/N) please, you always say you’re not happy with your job and that you want to live somewhere nicer.”

“I’ve never said that.”

“OK, but I can tell you’re not entirely happy.”

I took a deep breath as I smiled.“Bea, I would love to work here.” She squealed, running towards me and throwing out her arms, embracing me tightly. I squeezed her back, feeling very emotional. Bea wanted me here. She trusted me to live in this world of hers, she wanted to share her dream with me.

“Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.” George said as Bea and I ended the hug.

“Looks like.” I wiped my eyes, hoping I didn’t look like a sap for crying.

“Right,” Bea put her hands on her hips,“well, we best get on with the day. Catch you boys later?”

They nodded, already making their way out. Bea smiled at me one last time, disappearing into the backroom. As I looked around the space, I noticed Fred still by the door, hesitating to walk out.

“You alright there Fred?” I asked, approaching him.

“Yeah...um,” he closed the door, coming inside again,“so,now that you’re living here, once you’re settled that is....do you fancy going out sometime?”

I was taken back, flustered which caused me to stutter.“Uh, y-yeah, I-I would love to!”

He nodded, pleased with the answer.“Good, it’s a date then.”

I awkwardly waved as he left, watching him enter his own shop. He turned around, seeing me still looking, sending yet another wink my way. He already knew how to embarrass me. Feeling my heart flutter, I slowly turned around, only to see Bea standing there.

“Oh, I am so good at playing Cupid.”

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter one shot #harry potter x reader #george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines #george weasley one shot #george weasley x reader

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coffeestainsandcashmere · 3 years

Text

Let No Man Steal Your Thyme - Chapter Eight (sfw)

I hope those few of you who follow this blog even remember this story!! It's being posted on here as a WIP, so technically you're all my beta readers :). Sorry it's taking so long to work through, but I'm really busy with other writing work, plus actual work, and some life stuff, but it's not abandoned!

In this chapter, which is a bit of a filler chapter, Hermione gets a pleasant surprise visit at the Kneazel and Quill, and she learns what Draco is doing with himself all day at the Manor, and why he has the hands of a potion master. Meanwhile Draco is quietly freaking out about what Scorpius will think of his kindling relationship with one third of the legendary Golden Trio...

As always, looking forward to hearing your reactions and thoughts!

___

The bell above the door of the Kneazel and Quill jangled, and Hermione looked up to see a very familiar figure wearing practical, Muggle clothes, and a tired but genuine smile.

“Harry!” she shrieked in delight, rising and scuttling around the desk. “When did you get back? I thought you were on assignment in Sweden til —”

He raised his eyebrows. “Wednesday? It’s Wednesday today, Hermione.”

“So it is,” she laughed, and pulled him into a hug. “Cup of tea? You look wiped out.”

“I’m only staying if you’ve got custard creams…”

She snorted. “I must have known I’d need them — I stopped at the Tesco Express on my way in this morning.”

“Maybe Professor Trelawney was wrong about you and ‘the sight’ after all?” Harry grinned and she shook her head, curls bouncing everywhere for want of a hair-tie.

Seated in the cramped back room of her second hand bookshop, Harry looked at her and cocked his head slightly to the side.

“What?” she asked, dunking a biscuit into her tea.

Quietly, Harry said, “There’s something different about you.”

“No there isn’t,” she retorted, scoffing her custard cream down and reaching for another. “I’m the same washed up old hag I’ve always been. Now, tell me about Gothenburg! I’ve wanted to go back ever since we went there for that conference — must be, ooh, what, twelve years ago now? Gods, how time flies.”

“Ok, first of all, you’re nothing like a ‘washed up old hag’, so don’t you dare talk about yourself like that, and secondly, Gothenburg was amazing.”

She smiled, and let him tell her what he could about his assignment.

“Bet Ginny’s glad to have you back,” she said.

Harry’s face shifted into what Hermione called her favourite ‘Harry being soppy for his wife’ expression, and he flushed. “Yeah, probably. Apparently Lily’s been flying around the garden at Grimmauld and it’s giving Ginny kneazles. Lily’s been pretending to be the next seeker for the Harpies or something…” Raking his hand through his messy hair, he sighed. “Who’d have ever thought I’d be sitting in your bookshop, talking about my daughter learning to fly, eh?”

She smiled, but Harry’s expression cracked a little.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Hermione scowled fondly and reached across to take his hand in hers. “Harry… we’ve been over this a thousand times.”

“I know. I just…” he drew in a long inhale and then said, “So are you going to tell me what’s changed in your life since I’ve been away? You’re practically glowing. Did you meet someone?”

Hermione bit her lip and drew back, cheeks heating damnably.

“You did? Who is it? Do I know them?”

“Yes,” she said carefully. “You do. But if I tell you who it is, I need you to…” she puffed out her cheeks and finished off in a rush, “I need you to promise not to freak out first of all, and then promise you won’t tell a soul. Not even Ginny just yet, ok? It’s really important.”

Harry looked wary and worried at that.

Taking one more breath for courage, she said quietly, “It’s Draco Malfoy.”

For a moment, Harry fell utterly still, his green eyes wide and disbelieving. He looked like he was expecting Fred and George to pop out of the bookshelves with party streamers and tell him he’d been pranked, but when he saw her anxious expression, his shoulders dropped a fraction and he whispered, “You’re bloody serious.”

“Yes.”

“How?” he blurted. “I mean… the man’s a hermit by all accounts. How did you even meet him, let alone… you know…” he grimaced and she bit back a snicker. It looked like he’d swallowed a toad whole.

A tiny smile crept onto her lips and she relaxed just a little. “It was back on the first of September,” she said. “I went with Ginny to wave James and Albus off, and —”

“— of course, Scorpius started this year too.”

“Exactly. Draco was there to see him off. Ginny was amazed that he’d left the Manor, but he’s… Gods, Harry, he loves that boy so much.” She paused, recalling Draco's stricken expression as the train had pulled away from the platform, and of his fears about losing Scorpius because of their relationship.

Harry watched her with a quiet intensity for a moment and then asked, “So… Uh… how’d it happen?”

She laughed. “I invited him for a drink at the Leaky, fully expecting him to refuse. I think he surprised himself when he accepted. We had lunch together and honestly…? It was really nice. He’s changed, Harry.”

“I know.”

That surprised her, and she sat up a bit and frowned.

Chuckling softly, Harry ran a hand around the two-day stubble on his jaw. “You remember the attack on the Manor?”

“Little Scorpius yowled in my arms for hours while you questioned his father, Harry. I couldn’t forget that.”

Harry acquiesced with a sideways nod of his head. “Well, he wasn’t the same Malfoy from school in that interview room, Hermione. I don’t know what I was expecting, but when I could get him to focus on something that wasn’t the whereabouts of his son, he was articulate and helpful… Still arrogant and snappy, but…” Harry shook his head. “He’s definitely different.”

Hermione bit her lip to try and stop herself from crying, which failed, and when Harry looked up, his face fell.

“Hermione? What’s wrong?” He set his mug down and rose from his battered old armchair, crossing in two strides to kneel beside hers.

“I was so afraid you wouldn’t understand,” she whispered, shaking and overwhelmed.

All the tension left Harry and he hugged her.

It was awkward because of the furniture, but Harry had always given the best hugs no matter the situation. “You deserve to be happy, Hermione. And you’ve always known your mind. If Malfoy can keep up with you, and keep you happy, then…” he shrugged without letting go, “I’ll support you. If he hurts you though, I will use every curse I’ve ever learned as an Auror on him.”

“Thanks, Harry. You promise you won’t tell anyone yet?”

He nodded.

And then someone cleared their throat from the doorway into the main shop, and Hermione jumped. Harry sprang back, hand going instinctively for his wand, but he stopped when he saw who was standing there.

“Theo!” Hermione exclaimed, smearing the last of her tears off her cheeks. “What are you doing here? I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Too busy sobbing onto dear Potter’s shoulder,” he said without barb. “Everything alright?”

She nodded. “Just getting emotional about something as usual. What’s up?”

“Just came to see if you wanted to grab lunch, but I can see that England’s favourite Auror has returned. How was your trip, Potter?”

“Good,” he said, suddenly every bit the awkward boy he’d been at Hogwarts. “I just finished debriefing and thought I’d stop by for a custard cream and a chat with Hermione before I head home. I’m on leave for a week now.”

“Nice,” Theo smiled. “Any plans?”

Harry shrugged. “A few casual rounds of quidditch with Ron and the others,” he said. “Time with Ginny and Lily. Might pop up to Hogsmeade and see if I can visit James and Albus at the weekend.”

Conversation stalled, and Harry rocked back on his heels before putting his mug down and turning to Hermione.

“Look, I’d better get going,” he said. “But… Come over for dinner this week, alright?”

She nodded. “I’d love that. Tomorrow any good?”

“I’ll check with Ginny, but I can’t see why not. I’ll owl you.” He paused and then grinned. “C’mere,” he said, and pulled her into another enormous hug. With a hand briefly on the back of her head, he murmured, “I won’t tell a soul.”

“Thank you,” she said, squeezing him so hard he wheezed.

“See you, Nott,” Harry said with a polite nod as he left.

Once the bell had fallen silent again, Theo turned to her and crossed his arms loosely over his chest. “Everything alright?” he asked again now that they were alone.

“Yeah,” she said and rolled her eyes. “I told him about Draco and bound him to secrecy. I was so relieved when he took it so well that I just burst into tears.”

Theo laughed at that and finally seemed to relax. “I’m honoured to have known before Potter, then,” he said. “And what, pray, are those?” he added when his eyes landed on the custard creams.

“Muggle biscuits,” she said, picking up the plate and holding it out to him. “They’re delicious.”

Theo looked as if she’d offered him a plate of slugs and held up his hand. “Thanks… I’ll, uh, pass.”

“You’re such a snob, Theodore Nott,” she laughed, bustling off to tidy the mugs and plate away. “What did you want, anyway?”

“Lunch,” he said.

“It’s three in the afternoon,” she countered.

“Mmm. I had a deposition that went on forever. I’m starving.”

“Theo, I do actually have a business to run,” she said. “Isn’t today Dan’s day off? Can’t he go instead?”

“He’s already reserved us a table and is probably halfway through his steak and rioja by now,” Theo groused. “I’ll bring you a doggy bag if we have any leftovers,” he added affectionately.

“Thanks?”

Pausing on the threshold to the back room, Theo fixed her with one of his rare, intense and sincere looks. “I’m glad things worked out with you and Draco. Potter was right; you both deserve to be happy.”

She swallowed thickly, feeling tears prickle at her eyes again. “You won’t tell anyone? He wants to tell Scorpius himself. He doesn’t want it coming from someone else first.”

Theo dragged his thumb across his heart in a cross and nodded. “Drinks on Friday? Draco said he might come.”

“I’ll be there anyway,” she promised, and Theo left with a friendly wink that only he could get away with.

She and Draco continued to see each other, mostly using the seclusion of his London apartment, though they did sometimes go back to hers. There they watched the 1946 Great Expectations. To Hermione’s surprise, however, Draco informed her that it wasn’t his first time seeing a muggle film. That, naturally, led down a whole rabbit hole of questions, ending with the discovery that Draco had built Scorpius a warded playroom inside Malfoy Manor that was shielded from the effects of magic and thus allowed Muggle technology to function perfectly.

“But… you need electricity!” she’d blurted.

Laughing and looking far too smug with himself, Draco said, “Indeed.”

“But… wizarding households don’t have electricity!”

“Granger, you’re glorious when you’re baffled. I must make more efforts to confound that brilliant mind of yours more often.”

“Tell me!” she’d shrilled, pinching him in the ribs as they sat on the sofa together with the end credits rolling away in the background. When he’d just sat back with his mouth quirked into an infuriating smirk, she had straddled him and raked her fingers through the slightly shorter hair just above his hears on either side of his head, scrunching the silver-white waves until he’d groaned and bucked upwards slightly into her. “Tell me, Draco Malfoy, or no more kisses.”

“You drive a hard bargain, my beautiful, brilliant witch,” he purred, slightly breathless as she continued to hold him in her grasp, head tilted back a little, throat exposed. His hands landed reverently on her hips and he closed his eyes, clearly enjoying the contact.

Naturally, Hermione kissed him on the lips and he smiled. “Perpetual shock charm,” he said when she drew back. “I made a generator.”

“That’s… That’s so simple it’s genius. But surely you had to look up —?”

“I’m fairly certain I could get a job as a muggle ‘electrician’ now,” he snickered, chasing after more kisses. “But I choose not to.”

“What do you do with yourself all day?” she asked. “Running Malfoy Manor and the estate can’t take up all your time, surely?”

He went a little tense beneath her at that and then chuckled, embarrassed. “I… I’m on the board of a number of charities,” he said, “And I’m currently conducting research into a number areas in the field of Potions. I did a postal course to get my NEWTs in Potions, and shortly after that, attained my masters.”

“Huh,” she said, sitting back a bit. She reached down and brought his hands up in front of her. Pressing a kiss to each of his scar-flecked knuckles, she murmured, “That explains a lot. You’ve got the hands of a potion-master, Draco.”

“Too many spills and accidents,” he snorted. “And not enough dragon hide gloves.”

“What are you researching?”

“A number of projects,” he said evasively.

“Come on,” she laughed, dropping his hands again and beginning to nuzzle at his jawline and neck. He was utterly weak to that, she’d discovered to her absolute delight, and she was not above using it to her advantage. Beneath her, he shivered and went limp, turning his head with a sigh of pleasure as she raked her teeth over his pulse and then kissed him.

“I’m working on… ah… on a recipe that… oh gods, Granger…”

“Go on,” she crooned.

“A recipe to make the wolfsbane potion commercially viable,” he panted.

At that, she did pause, but only for a moment. Next thing Draco knew, Hermione had flung her arms around his neck and was squeezing the life out of him like a boa constrictor.

“Granger?”

She just shook her head, thinking of what Remus Lupin would say if he knew what Draco was working on now on behalf of his kind. “Why?” she eventually croaked without removing her face from the crook of Draco’s neck.

His hands skated gently up and down her back, the heat simmering back down to something calmer; something fond and affectionate. “Because,” he fairly growled, “Fenrir Greyback tormented my mother when he lived with us at the Manor, and I had no idea that werewolves could be functioning members of society with the right help until I met Remus Lupin. It was just another area where if I’d only known more at the time, it would have made so much difference to my perception of things.”

He sighed and kissed the side of her head.

“I can make a difference now. I’ve got a state of the art potions lab in one of the dungeons at the Manor, and Severus left his entire collection of books and notes to me in his will. He must have known I always wanted to be a potions master, even when I didn’t think I’d live beyond the end of that awful year…”

That was probably the longest continuous speech from Draco she’d heard since they’d started seeing each other, and the emotion in his voice, lingering beneath the surface like a hidden current, moved her deeply.

“You’re a wonderful man, Draco,” she whispered as she kissed his temple. “I wish the world could see you for who you are now…”

“You see me,” he said very quietly. “That’s enough.”

___

To be continued! Don’t forget to let me know what you think, and help a relative newbie (at least to contributing anyway) to the fandom out by reblogging!

writing masterlist | Ao3

#hermione x draco #dramione fic #draco malfoy #hermione granger #older dramione #older dramione fic #hermione granger x draco malfoy #let no man steal your thyme

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feelyourhearttakingroot · 3 years

Text

The Reader's Guide to Avoiding Redfly (and how to have a good time doing it)

“How’re you doing, kid?” Tom murmured in your ear. Your skin hadn’t started crawling yet, but it definitely would soon.

“Redfly, leave the girl alone.”

A third voice - the voice of God himself, if it meant that Tom would let you go.

Summary: Your friend Dina is dating Benny Miller, and drags you along to one of his fights before a night at a bar. His friends meet you there - Tom ‘Redfly’ Davis, who is too busy trying it on with you to think about his wife; Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia, who is a god made flesh; and Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales, who agrees to help keep you out of Redfly’s clutches. But Frankie is not without his own charm...

Relationships: Frankie Morales x reader, side Santiago Garcia x Original Female Character, side Benny Miller x Original Female Character

Rating: First chapter is Mature, but it will be getting Explicit after that...

Author’s note: I saw Triple Frontier last week for the first time and it has occupied my every waking thought since then. This is my first ‘x reader’ fic, so feedback is appreciated. Benny is my darling boy and I want to write him a loving af relationship even if it’s in the bg of this fic. I also don’t mean to step on toes but Redfly is the worst man and deserved to die a lot earlier than he did in the film. I am also obviously obsessed with Frankie Morales. Sorry if the formatting is fucked, this is the first fic I’ve posted directly to Tumblr in many’a.

Warnings: 18+ for frequent language, she/her pronouns, future smut but this chapter is just teasing.

Read on AO3.

Chapter One

The Fight

“The fight ends at 9pm, so we’ll be good to get to the bar by 9.30,” Dina said, leaning to within a hair's breadth of the bathroom mirror. Your arms twitched, hands opening and closing as you watched the safety pin come even closer to her eyeball.

“Dina, do you have to- the fight?”

“Yes, I need to separate my eyelashes, and yes, the fight.” She said, tongue peeping out between her lips. “Benny is fighting and he’s going to come with us to the bar afterwards.”

Your heart sank, just a little. Benny was a great guy, and you were happy for Dina, but it was always harder to get into bars when Benny ‘Brick Shithouse’ Miller rocked up with facial wounds and an ego after inevitably winning the fight.

Apparently their post-fight sex was insane.

“So it’s you, me, and Benny?” you asked flatly, and she rolled her eyes in a way that made your hands clench into fists, with a vivid mental image of the pin sinking into her eyeball. She ignored you, of course, and started on the bottom lid.

“No, you prick,” she said, teasing each lash apart. She paused, and winked at you through the mirror “Ha. Prick! Get it? Sandy, Amy and Kelly are joining us - and Benny is bringing his friends.”

“William and Tom?” You were trying so hard not to be a downer, you really were, but you’d met William and Tom before and it was not a great experience. William - Benny’s brother - was aesthetically pleasing, and a lovely guy, but way too earnest about the purity of combat, while Tom was… a douche. A douche who clearly enjoyed his nights away from the wife a little too much. “Great.”

“Not just Will and Tom,” she chided, finally putting down the pin and fluttering her eyelashes at her reflection. “A few of his old squad guys are coming too.”

“OK then,” you said, and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Dina called.

“To get another drink.”

Based on the MMA prelude, you decided to rethink your outfit to something a bit less… showy, and had poured yourself into a skintight skirt with a shirt that helped accentuate your decolletage just right. So right, in fact, that you’d forgone a sensible coat in favour of a leather jacket that didn’t even close properly. The clothes did little to shield you from the cold, which explained why you had chugged nearly half a bottle of Smirnoff in the cab over.

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

Dina looked every inch the fighter’s girlfriend, she really did. You didn’t even know she owned a faux-fur coat. Her meticulously-separated eyelashes were currently fluttered together, shielding her eyes from her cigarette smoke.

Not that it helped. Your buzz was fading fast with every second you stood out in the freezing cold parking lot.

Sandy hadn’t bothered to change her outfit - “Fuck it, it can’t be any dirtier than the bar.” - and was leaning against the arena wall wearing a mini dress that practically showed what she had eaten for breakfast. The woman had legs up to her neck, and more than one man had slowed his passage into the arena to get a good look. Sandy, with legs that long since she was fifteen, and a face that had been beautiful her whole life, flipped each one off with a casual laziness you could never hope to emulate.

The three of you were standing outside the arena waiting for Tom and the others to arrive. The crowd was known to get rowdy, and Benny had been very firm with Dina about going in with his friends. William was already inside with Benny, prepping him for the fight.

It was so cold you were nearly tempted to ask Dina for a pull of her cigarette, just to feel some warm air, when -

“Dee!”

Your face locked into a grimace, and you looked down to kick a loose pebble from under your shoe, trying to regain control of your facial muscles by the time Tom got close.

“Tommy!” Dina yelled. “You’re late, what the hell?”

“Don’t blame me,” Tom said, “Blame these assholes.”

Two sets of denim-wrapped legs stepped into your view, and you huffed out a little sigh before looking up. Tom was standing in front of you, with his friend on his right.

His friend. Who was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. He smiled at you, and you felt a small laugh escape you.

What was that face? He looked like a Latino George Clooney. How did he get taken seriously in life?

“Hey, tiger,” Tom said to you, his lopsided smile showing a little too much teeth on one side.

“Hey… Tom.” you replied, raising a hand in greeting. He made a little ‘pfft’ sound and pulled you in for a hug, enveloping you in the smell of… dear god, was that Axe?

You heard the crunch of gravel, and a movement out of the corner of your eye told you that the devilishly handsome man was currently introducing himself to Sandy.

Probably wouldn’t have worked out with us anyway.

“How’re you doing, kid?” Tom murmured in your ear. Your skin hadn’t started crawling yet, but it definitely would soon.

“Redfly, leave the girl alone.”

A third voice - the voice of God himself, if it meant that Tom would let you go.

“This is my girl right here, Frankie.” Tom said, and the proprietary tone in his voice made your stomach turn. You should have just met them at the bar.

“Crazy, I thought your girl was sitting at home looking after your daughter and -” the second half of the sentence was in mumbled Spanish, and you heard a bark of laughter from the handsome man. A quick, rough pat on the back and Tom released you, already walking into the building as if nothing had happened.

The speaker was standing in front of you; a tall-ish man wearing a blue plaid shirt over a grey tank top, with a beat-up baseball cap on his head. Just as the phrase ‘hillbilly trucker’ crossed your mind, every thought in your head promptly vanished on looking up into his face. A pair of warm brown eyes were gazing down at you, creasing gently at the corners. He wasn’t built like Tom or William; they slanted more towards beefcake, where this guy was toned and slim. He was older than you - not a surprise, William and Tom were in at least their mid-40s - but it was a very manageable older. Unruly, curling brown hair peeked out from under his cap, and the man smiled, a shadow of a dimple appearing on his cheek.

The other guy was crazy good-looking in a movie-star way, the sort of hot that had made you laugh because it was almost unreal. This guy was the perfect side of handsome, mortal enough to take your breath away just a little and not make you feel stupid about it.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m Frankie.”

Maybe it was the dimples, maybe it was the fact that he had just saved you from a fate worse than death, or maybe the cold had finally gotten to your brain. Whatever it was, you barely knew what you were saying until you’d said it:

“And I am so fucking yours.”

So much for not feeling stupid. His smile widened, and your heartbeat quickened just a bit.

“Ignore Redfly,” he said. “He just doesn’t have good manners.”

Another burst of Spanish from behind you, from the dark-eyed Adonis near the door, and Frankie replied in kind, with an evocative hand gesture that you were pretty sure meant ‘fuck off’.

You finally turned to get a good look at the other man. He was standing in front of your friends, angled towards Sandy in a way that boded well for her. He was terribly good-looking.

“Hey, how’re you doing?” he leaned toward you, and took your hand in his. “Santiago Garcia.”

The man was on another level. You felt like you were meeting a politician. You told him your name as if in a dream.

“That’s a beautiful name,” he said, looking into your soul, and you felt that laugh bubble up again. This was too much all at once.

Dina blew out one last plume of smoke, and threw her cigarette butt on the ground.

“Come on guys, it’s fucking freezing out here.”

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

The arena was chaos. Tom was nowhere to be seen, but he could have been standing two feet from you and you wouldn’t have seen him. He could have been behind you.

As the thought crossed your mind, a hand came to rest on your hip and you jumped sideways, ready to kick Tom in the fucki-

It was Frankie, hands suddenly up and visible, mouth framing a ‘whoa’ that you could never hear over the din of the crowd. You grimaced, mouthing sorry.

He gave you a tight-lipped smile, uncomfortable, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He craned his neck to look over the crowd, toward the ring, and you stepped quickly toward him. Your hand raised, like you had the right answer in a classroom, and you tilted your mouth up towards Frankie’s ear. He scrunched his face and bent his head towards yours.

“Sorry,” you said into his ear, trying not to deafen him at this range. He smelled warm, and clean, a welcome respite from the arena’s smell of old beer and sweat. “I thought it might be…” one of your best friends, whom I loathe. “... a creep.” you finished lamely.

When you pulled away, he was looking at you so intently that a blush started to creep up your neck. Hands still in his pockets, he rocked back and forth on his heels as he processed what you said. His tongue worked in his mouth, pushing out his cheek, before he winked ever so slightly, and nodded.

He knew. He damn well knew.

Frankie grinned and pointed towards the ring, to where your friends had disappeared, before nudging you forward.

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

Dina and the others were sitting ringside, by Benny’s corner. Dina had shrugged her coat in the sticky closeness of the arena, and was adjusting her top for maximum cleavage. Beside her was Sandy, deep in conversation with Santiago, and Tom sat beside Santiago next to an empty chair.

The single empty chair.

Fucks sake.

Tom saw you both coming, and had a look of fake disappointment on his face that your hands twitched to slap off. He held his hands up in defeat, before patting his thigh. A quick scan showed that this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in the arena; the place was jammed so tightly that you counted at least seven people on laps in this section alone. A fire hazard, and a pain in the ass.

You’re fucking kidding me.

You went to take a step, and felt a hand grip your arm. Frankie was sliding past you on your right, pivoting to sit in the empty chair. A shit-eating grin slid onto Tom’s face, and he patted his thigh again.

You’re fucking kidding me.

Frankie still held your arm loosely in his left hand. Reaching over Tom, he nudged Santiago, who broke off from his conversation long enough to pass him a beer. Settling back into his seat, Frankie spread his legs a little too wide and steered you into the space between them.

He looked up at you under the brim of his cap, his face out of Tom’s eyeline. The corners of his mouth curved downward and one shoulder shrugged, as if to say ‘Why not?’.

Lightheaded, floating on a mental chant of fucking hell fucking hell fucking hell fucking hell, you perched on Frankie’s knee, your knees pressing against his other leg. A quick glance at Tom’s face nearly made you yelp. The ham-coloured man was staring sullenly out over the ring, lips pursed around his mouthful of beer. The smile was nowhere to be seen.

Frankie shifted slightly, and with one hand on your waist pulled you closer until you were sitting mid-thigh. When he was satisfied, his hand moved to settle against your lower back, keeping you upright. The shape of the seat had his body angled away from you, allowing you to sit upright without being nestled against him. He leaned towards Tom and said something in his ear, something you could barely hear over the din. It was as if he’d forgotten you were there.

But not quite. Slowly, as if you were a wild animal he was trying to tame, his hand started to move in gradual, broad strokes, forward and back, forward and back.

Your stomach muscles locking tight was your only visible reaction, and you thanked baby Jesus and all the angels in heaven that Frankie couldn’t feel the way your pulse had suddenly picked up. Though that might not be far off; there was a warm throbbing between your legs that definitely hadn’t been there two minutes ago.

Forward and back. Forward and back.

This was totally normal. This happened to you every day. Every day you met hot guys and sat on their laps. Every day you got mildly turned on by hot guys stroking your back.

Looking over at Dina, the two of you locked eyes. Her grin was positively wolfish.

Fuck off, you mouthed.

You looked around, hoping that the people-watching fodder available would help take your mind off the hot man you were sitting on and what his hand was -

As if Frankie could hear your thoughts, the rhythm of his strokes changed. Now, instead of moving forward and back, his palm started sliding up and down, with every pass downward bringing his hand closer and closer to the curve of your ass.

For a fraction of a second, your breath caught in your throat, and the pulse between your legs kicked up a notch. Trying to keep your cool, you casually - so casually! - looked over at Frankie.

Still absorbed in conversation with Tom. Fine. He clearly had no idea what he was doing, no idea of the effect he was having.

Your awareness was steadily narrowing down to where his hand touched you, to the vague sensation of warmth that each pass left on your skin. Reaching the hem of your jacket, he paused almost imperceptibly, before reaching under the leather to rest on the back of your shirt.

Dear god, were you disappointed he wasn’t touching your ass? Were you actually sad that this stranger wasn’t -

A radiating sensation on your back, so warm and firm, and suddenly you could feel every little movement his hand made, the way his fingers were flexing against your skin so gently -

Air you didn’t realise you had been holding escaped your lungs in a whoosh.

“Getting bored up there, tiger?” Tom’s expression wasn’t as friendly as it normally was, and you were reminded why all of this was happening. This was purely for Tom’s benefit.

“No, it’s fine. It’s…” you looked down at Frankie as he took a sip of his beer. His eyes met yours over the rim of his beer cup, and a smile crept across your face. When the cup left his lips, you took it deftly from his fingers and lifted it to your mouth. Your gaze didn’t leave his. Tom may as well have been part of the furniture.

The beer was not good, but you finished it, and ran your tongue over your lips. Frankie’s eyes tracked the movement, and you felt his hand pause, felt his fingers splay wide across the small of your back.

“It’s great,” you said, winking down at him. “But I think we need another drink.”

You placed a hand on his knee for leverage, and stood. Dina saluted you with her nearly-empty drink, and tapped at the low liquid level with one long fingernail. You nodded, and flashed the OK sign.

A broad chest blocked your view, and the smell of Axe surrounded you. You glanced up at Tom, who was shaking his own empty cup.

“I’ll come too,” he said. “I could do with another-”

“It’s cool, man,” Frankie stood, easily slotting himself between the two of you, and gently but firmly took hold of your shoulders as he turned to the exit. “I got it.”

Empty cups and debris were strewn across the aisle, and you were beginning to regret wearing your heels for what was shaping up to be a fucking obstacle course. But you felt Frankie’s presence behind you, and if you put a little more sway into your walk than normal, so what?

Between a few stragglers at the bar, there was a gap just wide enough for the two of you to lean against the counter. You rested on your forearms, and flagged down the bartender.

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

“Two beers, and a whiskey and coke.”

“Make it four,” Frankie said. “I know it may not seem like it, but it is better to get Redfly liquored up. After about,” - his hand made a see-saw motion - “six drinks? He’s going to get real maudlin, start missing his wife, and go home.”

“Oh, yeah,” you replied, “He’s really missing his wife when he’s trying to put his hand up my skirt.”

His eyes flickered up and down your body, and he cleared his throat. One hand came up to scratch at his moustache, before smoothing it back down.

“You know, I don’t blame him,” he said. “That skirt looks great on you.”

A low warmth pooled in your stomach, and you smiled. He smiled back, those beautiful eyes twinkling as he turned around to face the arena, elbows back on the bar.

“If I… go too far, in there,” he said, face suddenly serious. “You can just punch me in the face. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

The bartender laid your whiskey and coke down in front of you, and pulled out two cups for the beer.

“Two more of those, please,” you told her, and took a sip of your drink. You knew you were a bit of a savage for drinking whiskey with coke, but your sweet tooth demanded nothing less. “Frankie, I’m not really OK with the idea of ‘being saved’.”

“That’s fair,” Frankie turned to the bar, and rapped a quick tattoo on the wood. “When we get back in there, you take the seat and I’ll -”

“But,” you raised a finger. “Your lap is pretty comfortable. And if you’re OK with having my ass on your knee all night, then I’m happy to stay there.”

A laugh escaped him, and you found yourself appreciating the way his moustache framed his lips so perfectly.

“I think you’d be hard pushed to find a man who wouldn’t be OK with that deal.”

The bartender laid down four cups of beer. “$25.60.”

Frankie laid out three $10 bills, and pulled the cups closer.

“Do you think you could make sure Tom doesn’t put his hand up my skirt?”

He was intent on arranging the cups in a way he could carry them, to the point that you thought he hadn’t heard you. Just as you were about to repeat yourself, he flashed you a wicked look.

“Well sweetheart,” he smiled, “I’ll just have to get my hand there first.”

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

As soon as you sat back down, it was like a switch had flipped. Your conversation at the bar had been light, to the point where you’d nearly forgotten that you’d actually been turned on a little at sitting on Frankie’s lap.

When you got back to your seats, and Frankie had handed off the beers he was carrying, he sat and pulled you down onto his lap in one fluid movement. No more tentative movements; he held your waist firmly, and pulled you even closer than before. And now, not only was his hand stroking your back again - he had put it under your jacket straight away - but his other arm was now resting on your leg. His beer cup sat on your knee, below where the hem of your skirt rode up, and he rotated it gently on your bare skin, almost teasing you with the cool feeling of the condensation on the base.

It drove you just a little short of wild. Though part of you wanted to shift against his thigh, wanted to feel some pressure right where an ache was steadily building between your legs, you kept it together fairly admirably.

A wet patch on Frankies jeans probably wouldn't go down too well anyway.

A murmur from the crowd rolled towards the ring, and Pantera’s heavy guitar riff blasted through the speakers.

Benny was here.

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

Ringside seats were… certainly something.

The smell of blood hummed in your nostrils, and you felt the impact of every punch.

Benny was a monster. He had swaggered into the arena, head and shoulders above everyone, and proceeded to hammer the shit out of his opponent once the bell rang. Watching the way Dina was looking at him, you were very, very glad they were going back to Benny’s place tonight.

The six of you were standing at the ring edge, screaming and roaring with the crowd. Your blood was singing. Sitting on Frankie’s lap, his hands leaving trails of fire wherever they touched you, had rattled you something fierce, and the adrenaline from the fight was getting to you too. You didn’t think your pulse had slowed for about ten minutes, and you were breathing like you were climbing a mountain.

It was the last minute of the last round, and Benny was flagging.

You guessed. You really had no idea who was doing better, both fighters were covered in blood and looked tired as fuck.

Santiago, Dina and Tom were rattling the cage, howling through the wire at Benny. The man was intent on his opponent, never taking his eyes off him.

As you watched, Benny did an odd movement, stepping back, rotating his shoulders and head as his feet danced. You heard roars come from your friends, but were completely lost.

“He’s about to kick the guy’s head off his fucking shoulders,” Frankie’s voice was low, and close. You felt his nose brush the outer shell of his ear, and you suppressed a shiver as his breath ghosted over you. He was standing behind you, so close that you felt his warmth up your body from ankle to neck. He reached over your shoulder, and pointed up at Benny’s right foot.

“You see that?”

Benny’s foot was moving in a fan shape on the floor of the ring. He dodged as much as he needed to to evade blows, but whenever he was still his foot moved in that fan shape.

“Why is he waiting?” Turning your head, your nose brushed against Frankie’s jawline. He smiled down at you.

“Not long now, sweetheart,” he said. “Watch.”

He stepped closer until he stood flush against your back, and crossed his arms over your chest to grip his own elbows. His beard brushed against your cheekbone, and you found yourself nestling further into his hold. He was just so warm and solid and -

Benny moved like lightning. His opponent came too close, ever so slightly unguarded, and Benny pivoted on his left foot and -

“Fuck!” you screamed. Benny’s opponent hit the floor, and the arena erupted.

===> Chapter Two

#triple frontier #frankie morales #francisco 'catfish' morales #santiago 'pope' garcia #william 'ironhead' miller #benny miller #tom 'redfly' davis #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #fic #santiago garcia x ofc #benny miller x ofc #The Reader’s Guide to Avoiding Redfly #trgtar

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inglourious-imagines · 4 years

Text

Arrogant Lover (Joe Liebgott)

Requested by: @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant

Summary: Secretly in love with each other.

Prompt: 51 - Rumour has it, I make you nervous.

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @floydtab @meteora-fc @eugenesmorphine @band-of-brothers-cz @real-fans @not-john-watsons-blog @tealaquinn @ok-roemanov @mrseasycompany @punkgeekchic @wexhappyxfew @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @rarmiitage @hihosilvers @mavysnavy @easynix @stressedinadress @georgeluzwarmhugs @easy-company-tradition @immrsronaldspeirs @snafus-peckuh

"We have heart in order not to die from the truth." - Nietzsche

"Luz, I'm gonna give you 5 bucks if you shut your mouth right now." Y/N groaned desperately. Her head was full of her friend's conspiration theories, ideas and nonsense bullshit that she'd rather never heard.

"Oh c'mon!" George smirked, "just admit I'm right and you won't hear a word from me for the rest of the march."

Y/N looked at him curiously, taken back by the sudden offer and slightly suspicious if he's serious or not.

"You wouldn't last 5 minutes." she retorted laughing ironically.

"You have my word, Y/N," Luz affirmed his offer again raising his eyebrows at her.

She shrugged giving in after two long hours of George blabbing about what a great couple she'd make with Joseph Liebgott.

"He's fine, Luz. Definitely not as annoying as you." Y/N stated casually as she tried to hide the truthful confession behind a joke.

"I knew it! I knew it! I saw the way you looked at him!" the soldier exclaimed with a huge grin on his face - he was clearly satisfied with the end of his mission.

"Damn it, George, keep it down! And I'm not looking at anybody in any way."

"Your cheeks are more red than a tomato itself and that's enough for me, baby."

Y/N groaned to herself in frustration, angry with herself that she revealed this kind of information to Luz. It was hard for her already to deal with her emotions and how to handle them when there was a war going on all around them and the big D-Day jump coming up.

•••

Y/N was just checking out all of her gear, counting quietly to herself, completely irrelevant to her surroundings so when a familiar voice spoke up right next to her, she almost let out a scream. "The rumour has it, I make you nervous, private."

Y/N was so caught off guard that she wasn't able to get out any words for a couple of seconds. It was after Joe nugged her side smirking that she finally woke up from her trance.

"Don't believe in yourself much. I just said it to Luz to shut him up." Y/N tried to brush it off with a nonchalant smile but she could swear her voice shook a bit.

"So if I touch you, it won't do anything to you." Joe whispered into her ear purposely so close to her that his lips brushed against her skin. Y/N shivered under his sudden touch and his warm breath was causing goosebumps all over her body.

Y/N swallowed slowly and it took everything in her not to pant under his tender hot touch.

"S-see? Nothing." she tried to play innocent one more time glancing at Joe next to her who had a playfull devilish sparkle in his eyes.

"Oh really?" he smirked, "you stuttered, your voice is all unstable, your hands are shaking a little bit and your heart is beating so fast I wonder it doesn't really jump out."

It was at this moment Y/N realized that he's been holding her hand the whole time measuring her pulse. After this comment her cheeks blushed even harder than before and she looked at the ground nervously.

"It's a funny thing, Joe, really," Y/N chuckled after a few seconds turning directly to him, "because your heartbeat fastened as well."

If he wants to play this game, then he shall have it.

Liebgott glanced at her in disbelief but burst out laughing right after shaking his head as he refused to believe this actually happened. "God, you're perfect."

"I know, that's what people say."

The duo stared at each other suddenly so lovingly, completely forgetting about the soldiers around them while only a few meters away from them Luz was telling Perconte what a great cupid he is.

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years

Text

Winifred – Howlin’ For You – One Shot

Description: Y/N tries to understand Bucky’s contentious relationship with his mother, Winifred.

Pairing: AU - Biker!Bucky x Fem/Reader

Word Count: 3,700

Howlin’ For You - Masterlist

Read the series or you will not know what the fuck is happening.

Y/N was reading a book on her couch.

Bucky was on the other side of the couch. He had put on a hockey game.

But she could tell he wasn’t actually paying attention. His arms were crossed tightly and there was tension in his shoulders and neck. There was a furrow in his brow, and he was to trying to make it seem like it was from concentrating on the game.

Y/N knew him better than that.

He’d been off for a couple of days now. Y/N tried to link it to something. And all she came up with was the phone call he’d had recently with his sister, Rebecca.

For a moment, she flirted with the idea of texting Rebecca herself, asking her if something happened. And Y/N knew Rebecca would tell her. They’d grown close rather quickly and were only growing closer.

But Y/N stopped herself, not wanting to make Bucky feel like she was snooping around in things he wasn’t ready to talk about.

“Buck?”

“Mhmm?” She hummed without taking his eyes off the screen.

“You OK?” The concern in her voice finally made him whip his eyes to her.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he forced a small smile to reassure her.

She raised a brow. It said more to him than any words could. She was silently telling him that she knew he was lying, but she also wasn’t going to push him to talk about it if she didn’t want to.

Bucky just turned his attention back to the TV.

Y/N nodded, mostly to herself, and went back to reading.

Guess they weren’t talking about it.

Another half an hour went by of them silently but comfortably sitting in silence together.

Bucky finally sighed. “Doll?”

She kept her eyes on the book, “Yeah?”

“Come here,” he requested. “Please,” he added quickly. Y/N smirked at him but crawled over the couch. She decided to be cheeky and straddled his lap, facing him and putting her back to the TV.

It didn’t catch him off guard, but it still earned her a side grin from him.

His hands automatically went to her hips, pulling her closer – if that was even possible.

Now that Bucky had her close, had her in his arms, he didn’t feel brave anymore. He didn’t know how he was meant to start or what he should say.

Y/N’s finger traced over the frown on his brow, massaging it until his face finally relaxed under her touch and it disappeared.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Bucky Barnes?” She asked him quietly, almost in a whisper.

“My ma found out about you,” he finally spit out.

Y/N tried not to show shock, maintaining a composed expression. Bucky had filled her in about his relationship with his mother.

Winnifred Barnes. A strong and independent mother, who raised two children without their father. George Barnes had passed away when Bucky was barely even four. Rebecca was still a baby. He had a rare heart disease, unusual for someone so young and healthy and happy. But death was rarely ever fair or logical.

It was almost a blessing how young Bucky and Rebecca were. Rebecca had no memories. Bucky barely had any more, many he convinced himself he’d made up.

Bucky had told Y/N how his mother was constantly disappointed in him – his choices, his mistakes, his lifestyle. She wanted what every mother wanted for their child: the very best.

Bucky and his mother didn’t see life the same way.

To be fair, Bucky was a rough teenager to handle. He was lost and angry, without a father to look up to or guide him. Winifred was just thankful he had a kind and good heart. Winifred was even more thankful for Steve, who kept her son out of trouble by getting into worse trouble himself that required Bucky to protect him. But she knew the two of them came from a place of good morals.

She struggled with knowing how to discipline him and guide him in the right direction. The two of them butted heads.

When Bucky joined the army, he thought his mother would finally see that he was making an effort, that he was cleaning himself up and growing up.

But she lost it. She threw a fit, cried her eyes out. She was convinced her son would only come home in a coffin.

Bucky had nothing to say to his mother that night. The truth was that he couldn’t bare the idea of Steve – small and fragile Steve – enlisting by himself. Bucky had to look after the punk. Plus, what the hell else was he going to do with his life?

Things got better when he finally came home for good. Winifred was just grateful that he came back with only scars and burns. It was better then him not coming back at all.

But then Bucky started turning into some kind of local vigilante. His friends started getting called a biker gang, when they had originally just been a family who rode motorcycles. News traveled fast and Winifred was no fool. She heard the stories about bikers helping people in need, going above the law, and not being afraid to use force and violence if necessary. And it didn’t take her long to put together that her son was behind all of it.

She didn’t approve.

Things reached a new low when Bucky went to jail.

Even when Rebecca explained to her mother that Bucky was helping the Feds, that he was playing a part as an informant, Winifred didn’t care. Because she knew the Feds wouldn’t have picked her son if they didn’t have something on him too. They also wouldn’t have picked him if he didn’t play the part so well. No mother wants to realize that their son fits into prison nicely.

One time, Y/N finally had the courage to ask Rebecca for her side of things. She had smiled sadly. But it was clear she loved both of the people that were brought up. “At the end of the day, Bucky is a momma’s boy through and through. He just thinks it’s too late to ever redeem himself. Buck’s convinced he’ll never make her proud.”

“Oh, yeah?” Y/N finally responded to Bucky’s confession. “How’d that happen?” She tried to sound casual.

Bucky’s jaw clenched at the question. “Probably Rebecca. Or Steve opening his big mouth.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, he lives close to her. He sees her every once in a while.”

“So Steve sees your mom more than you do?” Y/N asked. Then she winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

“I know, doll. Doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’re right.”

Y/N just waited, knowing that this was all leading to something.

“She wants to meet you,” Bucky stated.

“OK…” Y/N didn’t know what Bucky wanted.

She knew this was hard for him. It wasn’t just a matter of her boyfriend introducing her to his mother. It was far more complex. Y/N had already met the rest of his family: Steve, Rebecca, The Howlies. It wasn’t like Bucky was trying to keep her hidden, like he was ashamed of her or something. This was about his relationship with his mother.

Silence.

“Is that what you want?” Y/N asked gently. “For me to meet her?”

“I…I don’t know,” Bucky admitted.

“Scared she won’t like me?” Y/N teased. But Bucky instantly answered with seriousness. “No. No, she’ll love you. She’ll know you’re too good for me just like everyone else does.

Y/N was about to open her mouth to argue, but he continued.

“It’s just…when my mom and I are together, things are…”

“Tense?” Y/N offered.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “It’s not great. Even Rebecca gets uncomfortable. I don’t want to make you have to go through that too.”

“Well, for the record, some awkward family time is no big deal to me. That’s kind of a part of being in a relationship.” Then she laughed. “It’s not like my family is perfect. They were assholes to you when you first met them. And look how that’s turned around.”

Then her mouth twisted into a thin line and Bucky knew she had something else on her mind, but she didn’t want to say it.

“What is it?” He encouraged.

“It’s just…” Y/N paused, making sure she chose the right way to say it. “I know things aren’t great between you and your mom. But I do really want to meet her. Maybe this isn’t the time, but I just can’t imagine never getting to do that.”

Her eyes turned dark and sad as she looked down.

It was then that Bucky realized this was more about his insecurities and damaged relationships.

“Whatever you think of your mom or what she thinks of you…” Y/N continued. “I still want to meet the woman who raised you.”

Then she had a cheeky smirk slip onto her lips. “Because I happen to really love the bastard.”

Bucky chuckled. Then he gripped her hips tighter and swung her around, maneuvering their bodies so her back was on the couch and she was caged in by his body hovering over her.

“Bastard huh?” He growled.

But Y/N just giggled at his antics. “Yeah, I’m crazy about him.” He leaned down and kissed her. His lips crashing against hers. The scruff of his beard scratched her soft skin, but she didn’t mind one bit.

“Alright. We’re gonna do this,” Bucky breathed between kisses, like the contact was giving him courage. He sounded like he was convincing himself more than her.

Y/N cupped his cheek. “Bucky, it’s gonna be OK.”

————————————-

Two weeks later, Y/N was holding on tight to Bucky as he drove them to his mother’s house.

Y/N suggested taking his motorcycle instead of her car, hoping it would ease him a bit.

Rebecca had offered to be there with them, hoping to ease the tension. But Bucky thought this was something he had to do without his sister.

When they pulled up, Bucky was slow to turn off the bike and put down the kickstand. Like he wanted to just make a run for it.

Y/N took his helmet off for him and quickly kissed him.

“Come on, Buck. We’ve faced scarier things than this.”

Bucky nodded. They sure the had.

“I just…I just don’t want you to see me differently after this,” he finally admitted.

Y/N had seen Bucky strong, he always was. He protected her. He protected people he didn’t even know. He was brave. He’d do anything to keep her safe.

But this was Bucky scared. And Y/N was realizing that this was one of the few moments where she could protect him.

She cupped his cheek. “Maybe I will see you differently. But I know I’m going to still love you, OK?” She waited for him to nod.

“You two just want to have dinner in the driveway?” A voice said from behind them.

Y/N quickly turned around to see a middle-aged woman leaning against the porch. She was beautiful, aging in a way that Y/N could only dream she would. Her hair was a dark red, which explained the unique coloring to Bucky and Rebecca’s brunette hair.

Her arms were crossed, and an amused, yet daring, expression was on her face.

It had Bucky written all over it.

Y/N gave her a warm smile. She would’ve tugged Bucky excitedly toward her, but he was already guiding her anyway.

“Mom,” Bucky cleared his throat. “This is Y/N.”

Y/N expected to be met with coldness or the same disapproval that had already been given to Bucky.

But Winifred seemed to be looking inside Y/N’s soul, already finding what had enamored her son.

She gave her a very subtle, but warm, grin.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Barnes.” Y/N offered sincerely. But she didn’t know if a handshake or a hug was appropriate. She thought a handshake was safer.

Winifred didn’t seem to find it weird and shook it firmly.

“Please. No ‘Mrs. Barnes.’ Winifred will do just fine. Or even Winnie, really.” Then she eyed Y/N for a moment. “It’s nice to finally meet to you, Y/N. Becca has said nothing but wonderful things about you.”

Y/N was taken aback by the kind words. Winifred had the same forcefulness and sincerity with the way she spoke that Bucky did.

“Come on in,” Winifred waved. She glanced back at Bucky’s motorcycle. “I see you got him to finally start wearing a helmet.” Clearly she was talking to Y/N.

“Well, when he started getting bossy about me wearing one. It wasn’t too hard to point out the hypocrisy,” Y/N smirked at Bucky.

“Did more than I could do…” Winifred sighed and then gave Y/N a subtle wink.

She led them into the kitchen.

“Would you like some coffee?” Winifred asked.

Bucky scoffed playfully. “Y/N’s never said no to a cup of coffee in her life.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and instantly said please and thank you.

Once coffee was settled, Winifred addressed Bucky directly for the first time since they got there.

“I’m planning on dropping off some things at Good Will this week. James, can you make sure there’s nothing up in that old room of yours that you’re not too attached to. Take it or I’m giving it away for good.”

Bucky sighed. “Haven’t slept in that room for years. Can’t imagine there would be.” But he got up from his seat anyway.

As soon as his footsteps disappeared around the corner and up the stairs, Winifred’s entire energy changed.

“Now that’s it just us girls…”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle.

Winifred didn’t waste any time asking Y/N every and any question. But somehow Y/N never felt like she was interrogated or tested. It was like Winifred was scared this was the only time the two of them would have together. She wanted to know everything she possibly could about Y/N.

Y/N tried her best to ask Winifred just as many questions, but it was quite hard.

Eventually the conversation slowed long enough and Y/N spotted a photo set nearby. Two pictures side by side in a duel frame.

Y/N got up to get a closer look.

It was Winifred, obviously much younger than now. Maybe even younger than Y/N was. But it was the other person in the photos that Y/N stared at. A man, young and handsome, and clearly related to Bucky.

“George…Bucky’s father,” Winifred explained quietly.

“I see where Bucky gets his handsomeness,” Y/N thought aloud. Then she quickly looked at Winifred. “But he has your eyes.”

Winifred smiled at that.

“Bucky told me a bit about him. I’m sorry for what happened.”

“It feels so long ago now. Like a different life. The memories feel the same as trying to remember a movie you only saw once or twice.” There were no tears that filled her eyes. She had come to terms with the loss long ago. She lived it every day.

“I’m just sorry for what it did to James and Rebecca. For them to never have a father. I saw how it effected James, how it still does. But there was nothing I could do.”

Y/N gave her a sympathetic look. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you did a great job.”

“He didn’t want to come today, did he?” Winifred asked.

“I think he did want to come. But he was just worried and… scared.”

Winifred took in a deep breath. “Things haven’t always been easy between James and me,” she started. “I just wanted him to be the best person he could be. The world already has far too many bad men in the world. I know you’re well aware of that. I didn’t want him to be another one.”

“Bucky is a good man, Winifred.” Y/N urged. “Before I met him, I didn’t think – well, I’d kind of given up on finding someone.” She took a breath. “I know Bucky’s made some mistakes in the past. But we all have. And I know he’s done things that you don’t approve of. But he did them because he thought it was the right thing to do.”

Once Y/N’s little speech was finished, Winifred just watched her for a moment.

Y/N wasn’t quite able to read what she was thinking.

Winifred smiled sadly. “He was lost for awhile. His heart’s always been in the right place. But he just never seemed to find his direction.” Then Winifred playfully narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “Meeting you today makes me think that’s changed quite a bit.”

“I love your son a lot.” Y/N’s eyes glazed over with tears. “And I know he’s tries to be better every day.”

Winifred reached over and squeezed her hand.

But Bucky had played his part of “looking through his old bedroom” long enough. They heard his purposefully loud footsteps come down the stairs.

Y/N quickly sniffed and straightened her posture, trying to hide any signs that she had almost started crying.

“Found these in the corner of my closet,” he announced as he tossed something to Y/N.

It was a small pile of old t-shirts. Some of them were bands, others just had a vintage vibe about them.

Y/N almost exclusively wore Bucky’s t-shirts to bed or just when she was lounging around the house. Clearly these were too small for Bucky’s now fully-matured and muscular frame. But they would still be a bit baggy on Y/N.

She grinned. “I’ll add them to my collection.”

“Oh, speaking of which…” Winifred got up and shuffled to a closet around the corner.

When she came back, there was a leather jacket in her hands. It was clearly from the 90s, but remained in pristine condition. It was broken in and lived in, but still taken care of.

“It was your dads. I found it in an old box I’ve ignored since – well, since he passed away. I thought you might want it.”

Bucky seemed very taken aback by both the jacket and his mother’s gesture.

“You should take it,” Y/N urged him gently.

He nodded, trying to hide his emotions and stepped forward, carefully taking it out of his mother’s grasp.

“I’ll get started on dinner,” Winifred announced. If she’d noticed Bucky’s emotional reaction, she pretended not to.

Y/N stepped to his side. She placed her hand on his back, rubbing circles soothingly.

“You OK?” She whispered.

He nodded, grateful to have her with him.

She gave him a quick but gentle kiss.

Winifred pretended not to see that too.

Dinner went rather smooth. Bucky was on his best behavior, not wanting any sort of argument or tension to make Y/N uncomfortable. Winifred seemed to be on the same page.

After dinner, Winifred got Y/N sucked into old photo albums of Bucky’s childhood.

It gave her and Bucky some time alone as they washed dishes and cleaned the table. Y/N made a fuss about not being allowed to help because she was a guest.

“The shop doing OK?” Winifred finally broke the silence.

“Better than OK, actually.” Bucky admitted sheepishly. “You treating that girl right?”

“I’m trying to.”

“I thought Rebecca was being dramatic when she described how you look at her. Now I think she was making light of it.”

Bucky looked over to see that his mom was smiling playfully now, teasing him.

“I know you think I’ve messed up a lot. But when I look at her, I can’t help but think that at least I did one thing right.”

“I know I’ve been hard on you, James. And we’ve had our disagreements. But that doesn’t mean I’m not still proud of you.” Then she put down her dishtowel and turned to fully face him. “James, no matter what has happened or what you will inevitable do, I’ll always love you… you know that, right?”

Bucky’s eyes glazed over and he dipped his head as he gripped the edge of the sink.

“I’ll always love you, James. You hear me?”

Bucky nodded.

“Winnie?”

They turned around to Y/N standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Could I take this and make a copy? I promise I’ll bring it back,” Y/N asked with a beaming smile.

It was a photo of Bucky. He couldn’t be older than 5 or 6. He had on a little denim jacket, his hair was a mess, and he was in mid-laugh when the photo had been taken.

Y/N, of course, thought it was the cutest thing ever.

“Course you can, sweetheart.” Winifred smiled.

“We should probably get going,” Bucky announced slowly.

Winifred walked them outside.

“You be careful on that damn deathtrap, James.” She warned lowly, like it was a battle she’d lost long ago but stills wanted to make her feelings known.

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky replied.

Y/N turned to face her. “Thank you so much for having us. It was…it was so nice to get to meet you.”

“You too, sweetie.” She pulled her into a hug. “Take care of him for me, will ya?”

“Always,” Y/N muttered into her shoulder.

Winifred went back inside before Bucky even started his motorcycle.

“You OK?” Y/N asked Bucky as he handed her helmet to her.

He nodded and then paused, staring at her.

He clutched the side of his face and kissed her deeply.

She was caught off guard by it.

Bucky finally broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against hers. “Y/N, I love you so fucking much,” he whispered.

She grinned. “I love you too, Buck.”

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

Shoutout to the anonymous person who asked about this originally and miraculously inspired something within me.

And for anyone who was curious my fan-casting for Bucky’s parents were Julianne Moore and Billy Crudup.

Let me know what you think!

#howlin' for you series #howlin' for you one shot #biker!bucky #biker!bucky x reader #howlin' for you bucky barnes #biker!bucky reader insert #howlin' for you #howlin' for you universe #howlin' for you drabble #bucky barnes x reader #biker marvel au #biker bucky au #winifred barnes #bucky barnes and his mother #bucky barnes mom

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paradisewithinpain · 4 years

Text

How They Respond to "I'm Fine"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆●☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

⚡Harry⚡:

Not even gonna lie, this boy can be OBLIVIOUS

can tell something's wrong but won't push it once you say you're fine

(he doesn't like it when you snap at him)

ANYWAY

he eventually forgets about it and carries on with life

but after a while, he starts to see you're progressively getting worse

and every time he asks about it?

"i'M fiNE"

he starts to get worried and will think he's doing something wrong

poor boy

asks you to meet him in the astronomy tower

the two just sit in silence before he starts apologizing

you stare at him

"the fuck are you on about?"

he explains he's seen your behavior and how he thinks it's his fault

you stare at him for a minute then you start laughing

HARD

poor boy is over here like 👁👄👁

when you calm down you explain what's been going on

he just listens to you rant for a solid 20 minutes

he's just nodding along, agreeing when needed

when you're done, you feel as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders

you kissed and thanked him before leaving

harry has no idea what he did but he's glad it worked

♟Ron♟:

LEMME TELL YOU

if there's anyone more oblivious than harry

IT'S THIS BOY RIGHT HERE

probably wouldn't even notice until Hermione or Ginny or sOMeONe wHO iSN'T oBLiViOUs points it out to him

then it all clicks

the distance

the quietness

the fake smiles

it hits him like a tRUCK

he doesn't know what to do at first

then it hits him

what is it that you both love with a passion?

FOOD

asks you to meet him outside your common room

shows up with the invisibility cloak and he leads you to the kitchen

you find a small picnic like space in front of the fireplace with all your favorite snacks

even the ones you adore but he finds absolutely repulsive

you throw your arms around him, a small thank you slipping past your lips

the two of you talk and eat till morning

when breakfast comes, the house elves find you curled up against each other, asleep

📚Hermione📚:

y'all

this girl is probably the only reasonable one

she'll figure it out pretty fast but she'll drop hints that she's knows something's up

SHE WANTS YOU TO COME TO HER

IS PATIENT AS FUCK

when you finally do come to her, it's in a secluded corner of the library

she's doing the extra extra credit

you find her and sit in front of her

THIS GIRL PUTS DOWN HER QULL SO FAST

she tries not to show it but she's freaking out on the inside

you start off with apologizing for your distance and she brushes it off, telling you it's ok

it's silent for a minute

then you RANT

she just sits and listens to your problems

and when your done, she offers reasonable solutions

best girlfriend honestly

🌵Neville🌵:

BABY

BOY

sorry

this boy (like Hermione) would probably pick it up pretty quickly

BUT HE WOULDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO

this boy will straight up get frustrated about what to do

should he get you a gift?

but what if you dont like it?

should he ask if you want to talk about it?

but what if you dont want to?

HE'S SCARED

you would notice he becomes very on edge around you

you confront him about it and this boy just spills

your heart swells as he explains that he wanted to do something but didn't want to upset you further

🤧

you start explaining what's going on and he understands completely

the two of you just start talking and end up having a mini therapy session

I HAVE THIS IDEA THAT NEVILLE GIVES REALLY GOOD ADVICE

when you peck his cheek and tell him you would like to do this again sometime, he gets all flustered again

🦁Ginny🦁:

It doesn't matter who you are

YOU CAN'T LIE TO THIS GIRL

"Ginny, I'm fine-"

"I SMELL CAP"

literally will not take any of it

it doesn't matter how many times you tell her

SHE

WON'T

LISTEN

she's not gonna push you but she certainly will not put up with the crap you're giving her

you end up ranting to her after a quidditch match

gryffindor had won against slytherin and of course there was a party

you obviously wanted no part but you let your friends drag you to the gryffindor common room

you sat quietly in the corner until Ginny came and took your hands

you expected her to lead you to the dance floor

but instead she led you to her dorm

she sat you down on the bed and took your hands in hers

"talk to me, (Y/N)"

YOU WERE BOARDER LINE SIMPING FOR THIS WOMAN

but you stayed strong and explained everything

she just listened and rubbed her thumb against your hand

I'M SIMPING FOR SOFT GINNY

when you finished, she smiled and laid with you, pressing soft kisses on your temple

you cuddle till the sun came up

🎆Fred🎆:

I have a mighty fine feeling that this boy is just as stubborn as his sister

"Fred, I'm fine"

"And I'm Filch's favorite student"

thankfully for you, he let up on his pranks so he could spend time with you (much to George's dismay)

he's also really good at making you laugh

it doesn't even have to be a prank

he'll just say or do something stupid and no matter how mad or upset you are

this boy never fails to make you smile

but despite his dorky demeanor

he is SOFT

he took you out to the quidditch pitch one evening to watch the sunset

cliche

i know

BUT YOU LOVE IT

you had been doing slightly better due to Fred's constant jokes

but he was not about to let you go by without explaining what got you so down

he casually brought it up and you knew there was no running away from it now

when you told him about what was bothering you, he cracked the occasional joke but never really tried to derail the conversation

when you finished, he took you in his arms and told you how much he loved you as he pressed soft kisses to your neck

you swore you had never simped harder in your life

🧨George🧨:

this little mastermind

so I have this idea that fred is the one who comes up with the ideas for the pranks but george is one who kinda puts it together

ANYWAY

he'd come up with some weird elaborate plan to make you feel better

it'd probably involve multiple parts and A LOT of glitter

but in the end, you watched in awe as glitter danced around you

(if you don't like glitter it'd probably be water or smth)

you immediately knew George was behind it and you followed the trail of glitter or water

it led you to a hidden passageway and at the end of the tunnel it was no surprise you found George waiting for you

you laughed at his glitter/water covered appearance and helped him clean up

only to get some on you as well

it eventually turned into a full blown war with glitter/water bombs being thrown at every turn

in the end, you two laid out of breath by the shrieking shack

"so are you going to tell me what's been going on or do I have to go commando on your arse again?"

you laughed but explained yourself in the end

just like his twin, George threw in a joke or two but never drew any attention away from what you were saying

when you finished ranting, George took your hand in his and kissed it, making eye contact with you the whole time

"you're a badass, you know that?"

🍏Draco🍏:

ANOTHER PERSON WHO

DOES

NOT

TAKE

SHIT

I'm pretty sure the only reason he caught on so fast is because he does the same thing

ALL

THE

TIME

"(Y/N), are you ok?"

"I'm fine-"

he was dragging you to the room of requirement before you could even finish your sentence

when he opened the doors, you gaped in awe at the small bedroom that lay before you

he led you to the bed and sat your ass down

"Spill"

you tried to convince him you were okay but he still wasn't having it

he even pulled his iconic, "my father will hear about this" line

"dray, your father doesn't give two shits about me."

"Mum does. And you know she'd haul your ass faster than I could"

you knew there was no getting out of this

as you explained your troubles, draco's demeanor kept shifting

when you talked about someone getting on your nerves, he looked ready to murder

when you talked about how little sleep you were going, he went all soft

when you finished, he held out his arms for you

you knew how much Draco despised physical contact sometimes so this was a huge win for you

as you laid together, you felt a small kiss fall upon your head

"If you ever feel like this again, let me know, okay?"

"Just as long as you don't beat anyone up."

"..."

🐍Blaise🐍:

Sarcastic little shit

I love him

ANYWAY

this boy is SO OBSERVANT

you literally can't get anything past him

so it's really no surprise to you when he calls you out on how you're acting

you brush him off but this boy is so ambitious

he watches closely how you wince when someone is too loud or how often your eyelids droop

so because of his dedication to you, he comes up with a brilliant plan

it starts out with you meeting him after classes are done for the week

he takes you to the library where you finish up your homework for the weekend (he gives most of the answers)

when you're done, he leads you back to your common room and tell you he has a suprise for you tomorrow

when breakfast comes around, a letter is dropped in front of you and your smile grew as you read the familiar handwriting

Following the instructions in the letter, you came down to lunch dressed up slightly

during the midday meal, Blaise is no where to be seen

but before you can look for him, Malfoy approaches you and leads you to the great lake

you jaw drops as you take in the small picnic set up before you

Malfoy leaves as Blaise appears out of nowhere in a nice black button down and black slacks

he leads you to the blanket set out and hands your flowers

"(Y/N), you know I'm not good with emotions but I wanted to show you that I cared. I might now be able to understand but I can still listen."

so that's what he did

he listened to you talk for almost an hour as you went from ranting about your troubles to rambling about your favorite things

you somehow found yourself with your head in his lap, hands waving around as you explained the way airplanes worked

he just sat, admiring you

and he just listened

🦡Cedric🦡:

He lives because I said so

ANYWAY

this boy is literally one of the softest human beings on the earth

you better believe he can see right through your little charade

so what does he do?

he does ever little thing that's ever made you happy

doesn't matter how big or small

he's just looking to make you smile

because it hurts his heart to see you upset

will literally show up outside your class with one of your favorite snacks in his hands

or will hand you your essay completely finished so you can spend time sleeping instead of writing

doesn't matter what it is

this boy LIVES for you

so one day you're having a particularly rough day and you find yourself waiting outside Cedric's class

when he spots you, he immediately ditches his friends and makes his way over to you

the bags under your eyes are evident and anyone could tell from a mile away that your literally on the verge of exhaustion

Cedric takes your hands and leads you to the prefects' bathroom

he leaves you to do your thing, promising he'd be there when you finished

when you were done, the two of you made your way to his dorm and you laid together

you started talking out of the blue and Cedric being the admiral man he is

listened

when you finished ranting, you realized you had gotten up and started pacing about halfway through

you groaned and put your face in your hands as you sat back down

Cedric was not having it

he pried your hands of your face and littered it in kisses instead, a message of encouragement in between each one

you're so kind

kiss

you're smart

kiss

you're crazy good at transfiguration

kiss

you make me happy

kiss

I love you

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆●☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

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jamilelucato · 4 years

Text

Stay — George Weasley

Pairing: George Weasley x Gryffindor!reader

Requested: yes

hello hehe, i saw ur recent post and can i request a hufflepuff/gryffindor reader? idk but completely uty, also! for song recommendations idk if youre a fan but maybe change my mind or 18 or once in a lifetime by one direction? ahh hope this helps

Summary: (based in Change My Mind, by 1D) y/N is Gryffindor student sad because she’s no longer a first year, but the Weasley twins promised to help her feel like every day is better than the last — and with George by her side, she thinks it’ working.

A/N: Not one of my favs because I just didn’t know how to end? I guess I’m just really bad at writing short fics lol

Words: 2.435

It's funny remembering when you were one of the first years, walking in Hogwarts surprised and excited, staring at every detail and corner, anxious to walk around and discover new things.

But now, as a sixth year, things were slightly different. Firstly, nothing was a surprise — in fact, thanks to Fred and George Weasley, you knew every corner of the castle. Secondly, because you were starting to get sad. You'd soon be leaving, and you loved the school too much to think about a day you wouldn't come back to Hogwarts.

You were watching the kids get sorted — two had already been selected to Gryffindor, and your table was cheering still — when George poked you.

"What's wrong?" he asked, in a low voice.

His eyes were sparkling joyfully, but he seemed worried about you. You shrugged.

"Can you believe that just six years ago, those kids were us?" you said, looking at the new Gryffindor boy, who was happy with his house, "And next year will be our last?"

George proceeded careful, noticing that it was a delicate matter to you.

"Don't think of it like that. We still have a lot to enjoy — it's only the first day of two long years to come," he pointed out with a sympathetic smile. "Stick around Fred and me, I'm sure we'll make every minute an adventure."

His lasts words made you smile. Those boys were generally trouble, but you would give anything to spend more time around them, especially George.

He had no idea of your crush, of course, because you would never gather courage for that. You liked the way you were; close friends to hang around and make jokes. You didn't want to ruin it for a thing you were sure was not mutual.

"Thanks, George," you sighed, giving in. "Do invite me to your messing around," you continued but regretted at the same time.

What were you thinking? That sounded incredibly odd!

"Yours and Fred's pranks, I mean," you quickly added, hoping to have fixed it.

He didn't seem to care, giggling even at your embarrassment.

"Sure, y/N, I'll be in touch."

***

You were thankful for having a friend in Ravenclaw. Anna was a short girl, with freckles all around her face, but she had an extra cute accent. She became your friend after being paired with you to the Transfiguration's classes, and seeing how untalented you were for that class, she offered to help you — in that way, your duo would never be behind.

You two were currently in the Library, going over the last thing Professor McGonagall had taught. We were actually doing well with those lessons, and even Anna was surprised.

"I think my help might be working," she commented, smiling.

Anna had left, she had some things to do, but you stayed in the Library, rereading everything she had helped you study, in hopes to stick the content in your mind.

Fred and George Weasley walked in, with confident smiles. They looked around, and you waited in silence, pretending not to be interested.

George did stick to his promise — every time he and his brother planned some mischief, they asked you to tag along, and you did, happily.

You had lost count of how many pranks you helped them with, but the funniest was, no doubt when they Engorgio Professor Flitwick —he was about to start the class; there wasn't a student that didn't start laughing.

You weren't surprised when they took a turn to your direction. Fred sat at your side and George in front of you, gazing at your eyes.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, gentlemen?" you asked, faking an accent you did not have.

"We need your assistance, ma'am," said Fred, his voice a pitch higher than his brother had become recognizable for you over the years.

"For, so, we have a problem," George continued, copying your fake accent, "and we heard around these parts that you are the one they say is good with the Potions."

You raised your brows, letting your lips shape a smirk.

"I might be able to help you, gentlemen," you said, diverting your eyes to each of the twins, "but I will need to be convinced I will be saved by your secrecy."

"We will make sure thou, miss, are protected," George responded, smirking too.

Fred sighed, giving up the play.

"Ok, ok, now that we have your 'yes'," he said, in a rush looking around to see if anyone could hear you, "we need to start as soon as possible."

The older twin got up, and, with the help of George, they packed all of your spellbooks that were over the table. Fred took the ones that were from the Library and walked to return them to their places, leaving you and George alone for a while.

George took your backpack, throwing it over his shoulder, and he pressed his lips together, as if he wanted to say something, but didn't know if he should.

"What have you guys planned?" you asked. You couldn't stay in silence around George, it made you too nervous.

"Fred wants to prank Malfoy," he said, shrugging, "then we are heading to the kitchen to get some food for Harry."

You stared at him, confused with what Harry Potter had to do with it.

"He had an excellent score at the first task of Triwizard Tournament, remember?"

You looked at him, squeezing your lips together while you shrugged.

"You stayed in during the task?" he asked, losing his smile.

"I had to study," you replied, not really caring about missing the spectacle.

"No, you didn't!" he raised his voice, seeming to be angry. "I thought you were with your friends, that's why I didn't go looking for you. But now I see I should've."

"Don't be too bothered — I bet Harry was awesome, so I wouldn't have seen anything too new," you pointed out, trying to calm him down and being thankful when Fred reappeared.

"Ok, who's ready?"

***

The potion Fred and George wanted you to prepare was theoretically simple, but it would take at least two days to be ready, so they gave up on pranking Draco Malfoy that night, postponing it to when you managed to finish the potion.

George still looked bummed out for not noticing you weren't at the Triwizard Tournament first task, but he didn't scold you anymore.

The kitchen was rather quiet since the feast was over. Gryffindors were instructed by the twins to eat not much because they'd be able to do it at Harry's surprise party later.

You had a way with house-elves, they seemed to like you very much, and Fred thought it was good to have you around to get extra food.

"Stay away from these, do you hear me?" he said, pointing to some sort of candy he was dropping a liquid on top.

"Sure, chief" you giggled, scared of what magic could that be.

George still had your backpack in his back, even when you said you could carry it yourself.

You three walked in Gryffindor common room and came across a lot of students, wearing casual clothes, all possibly waiting for the party to start.

Fred took the snacks and started talking to Lee Jordan about where to organize everything, but you and George were left behind.

"I'm sorry I missed the task. I didn't know it was that important," you said, looking down, avoiding George's eyes, "I'll be there for the next one."

"You don't have to apologize — I just overreacted," he replied. "It's not up to me if you watch the Tournament or not."

"Don't worry; it's nice knowing you care," you smiled, trying to convince him you weren't mad at him.

He gave you your backpack back, and you rushed to your room to leave it there. Someone shouted Harry Potter was coming and you all stayed in silence, to surprise him.

You were next to George, sat down at one of the couches.

"SURPRISE!" someone shouted, followed by a thousand others, when Harry walked in, followed by Ron and Hermione.

That was the kick the party needed to start. Everybody started eating, talking, joking, some were playing card games by the fire. You didn't get up from the couch next to George, too scared of losing an opportunity to be next to him. But you two didn't stay there for longer. He put your names to the next round of games with cards, and after the game, you were playing judge for the twins — they wanted to see who could eat more in one minute.

"Sorry, Georgie, but Fred won," you said, checking your chronometer one more time.

George didn't look upset, but his twin looked beyond happy.

"I won! I won!" he shouted melodically.

"Maybe a glass of water?" you offered George as Fred walked away screaming.

"Thank you," George said after you gave him the glass. "maybe next time I'll beat him."

You giggled and said, "I hardly doubt that."

"You don't think I could have won?"

"Well, based on the way you were just now, no," you answered.

"You disappointed me," he pretended to be shocked, positioning his free hand over his heart as you sat down next to him. You both laughed hard.

***

The party went on until 1 a.m., but you and George were so focused on your game that you didn't even notice everyone gone.

"Are you guys staying?" Fred asked before going up the stairs.

"We have to finish the game," Geoge answered, not looking to his brother.

You looked at Fred and smiled, "He says he can win me, but that's a lie!"

It was just five minutes after Fred left that you won the match.

"I won!!" you shouted.

George looked worried at you. "People are sleeping, y/N."

"You're just mad because you are not the winner," you replied, crossing your arms.

"I let you win," he crossed his arms as well.

"HA! As if!" you shouted, rolling your eyes.

You both started laughing, so distracted at the moment that you didn't even care that it was late in the night. However, even if you had noticed it, you wouldn't have changed a thing — having George around was I you wanted, you weren't going to waste it.

"Maybe we should go," George said, getting up.

You didn't want the moment to end, so you stayed sitting on the floor, and hugged your legs.

"One more game, how about it?" you suggested, quickly thinking of a way for him to stay. "You can try to win me."

He paused, stopping close to the staircase. You couldn't tell what could be going on inside his head. Did he want to stay? Was he thinking of a polite way to say 'no'?

"Do you want me to stay?"

"Of course!" you answered without giving much thought to it.

Then it hit you. The way he asked — how his eyes gazed at yours with expectation. George wasn't just asking if you wanted to play again, he asked if you wanted him to stay. It could have sounded simple, but it was far from that — and even if he wasn't thinking between the lines, now you were, and your heart was beating so fast you thought that George had a big chance of winning, but not just the game.

He was still staring at you, but this time, he was sitting on the floor next to you. You slowly let your legs down.

"So, huh, the game..." you said, trying to diverge your eyes from his, but failing.

"The game, yes," he repeated and reached for the cards. "Aren't you tired?"

Boy, I'm more than wake! you thought but said nothing, swallowing nervously.

"Tired? A bit," you gave in, "Which is lucky for you, 'cause you might be able to win me."

"Maybe I don't want to win you," he says, as if a confession, "not in the game, at least."

You didn't know what to answer. It couldn't be real; you were going to wake up in your room. George, the George Weasley, your crush since he helped you find your class in the first year, was now showing reciprocity?

"George," you used a warning tone, "if you don't mean it, please don't continue."

"What?" you had caught him by surprise.

He was very close to you, your faces just centimetres away and you wondered, looking at him so confused, you thought perhaps you were reading too much into it.

"If you are..." you elaborated, breathing hard with his proximity, "being a prankster right now, if you don't mean what you are going to say, then just don't. Please."

He swallowed. "I'm not pranking right now if that's what you wanna know..." he replied, "unless.."

"No 'unless'. If you mean me, I'm serious. I'm always serious."

"OI! JUST KISS ALREADY!" a voice shouted from upstairs, and you thought it was probably Fred.

You and George exchanged looks, before giggling at his twin. And, catching you by surprise, George reached for your chin, pulling you closer to him. His lips met yours in what felt like an explosion — of anxiety, of desire, of passion.

George tasted just like you imagined it — sweet. But he wasn't delicate; he seemed hungry, hungry to pull you closer, to tie you in his arms, to hold you, squeeze you. You liked that passion, especially because it was something you didn't imagine George like.

His touch, all over your body, sent chills all over your spine, and you wanted more, more and more.

You didn't know how long you stayed there in the common room kissing, but you were thankful to be from the same house as him, in that way, the kiss could last more; you didn't have to rush to your house.

When you finally pulled way was because you were, officially, tired.

"Thank you," you said, pulling away.

"Thank you?" he repeated, in a mocking tone. "I should say that."

You giggled while getting up with his help.

"Same time tomorrow?" he proposed and you smiled, feeling your cheeks turn red as his hair.

You nodded your head a 'yes'.

"IT WAS ABOUT TIME!" Fred shouted again, and you started wondering if he could have watched the whole snogging session.

"Somewhere else, tho," you added, tilting your head towards the direction of Fred's voice, meaning that you didn't want him around.

"Definitely," George agreed, pulling you for just one more kiss before you went to bed.

#george weasley #Fred and George #Fred and George Weasley #fred and george imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley x gryffindor reader #george weasley imagine #george wealsey fic #hp #hp fanfic #hp imagine #Harry Potter #gryffindor #gryffindor reader #fred weasley

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marueonmain · 4 years

Text

WINDFLOWER

part eight ~ the chance to pipe ~

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (part six) (part seven) (part eight)

A/N: We are in it now; thank you for sticking around. Messages/Asks are open and greatly appreciated.

Summary: Alex seeks Will’s support and advice for how best to shoot his shot with Y/N. He also takes his first shower in 72 hours.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Language.

Word Count: 2.6k

He arrived at Will's apartment, still wearing the mindless grin that Y/N coaxed out of him. Alex walked through the unlocked front door and straight to his friend's bedroom. It was bright, not near as cave-like as his own, and there was the lingering scent of a candle burned recently. Will sat at his desk: a second chair set-up next to him: scrolling through the youtube analytics for his most recent video.

It seemed that CPM was up – good news for the video and its one-million views. Will cleared his throat, causing Alex to freeze just two steps inside. Without lifting his head or dragging his attention from his screen, Will said with a flat and ominous tone, "I warned yous."

"What?"

"About being late." Spinning his chair, Will revealed the blue spray-painted plastic bat sitting in his lap. He kept his stern face for another five seconds before breaking into his usual toothy smile and laugh.

Rather than scrambling together a witty remark in return, Alex chuckled along. To that gag as well as the other usual playful abuse about his laziness and tardiness. Will finished the last one-liner he had prepared in the extra time he was made to wait for Alex to arrive, and his expression faltered. Not that he did not appear cheerful anymore – the smile remained – but it relaxed as a single eyebrow raised.

Will asked, "What's got you all giddy?"

Looking down at his hands, Alex chuckled again, though it sounded more akin to a humorous scoff, and gave no answer. He buried his hands in his pockets and took the seat next to his friend.

"What is it?" Will pestered on. "James Charles unblocked you, did he?"

Alex punched him in the arm as hard as he could (not hard). "Fuck off."

Will rolled his eyes before turning to the camera. He hit record and, putting on his boisterous presentation voice, shouted, "Right! Hello, welcome back to the second channel – welcome back to oddly satisfying. It's been a..."

Top posts for that month included photos of symmetrical flower arrangements, videos of tape-peelings from miniature canvases, woodworking gifs, beautiful block calligraphy, slow-motion capture of a sewing machine, and animation to fulfill the desire to sharpen a pencil to a perfect point every time. Alex gave out ratings of nines and tens like he had a quota to fill. As the video continued, Will argued the scores with him more and more. None so much as he did with the seven Alex gave to a real shit submission of ping-pong trick shots.

It was not an average filming session (unbeknownst to Will); it was a game where with each passing minute, Alex was building up his courage for what he wanted to talk about after the video was over. George had been the one person in the friend group he told about his feelings for Y/N, and that had not gone over well. But Alex thought he might now be able to explain it better – explain himself better – and be supported. Will was, after all, behind the act of snakelike behaviour, a very caring person who had held Alex's hand while he fixed himself several times over.

"What do you give the paw-print painting then, Alex?"

"Hm?" Torn from the bed of his subconscious thoughts into the waking world, Alex darted his eyes to the screen and to the camera. "Uh, ten. Definitely a ten."

"Right. Anyway, we'll end on a good note. Be sure to hit that like button for more reddit videos and go subscribe to Alex's channel—"

"It's really epic!"

"—link will be in the description. And we'll see you guys later!" Will gave a terse salute to the camera and, once the outro was finished, dropped his voice to normal and asked, "Care to do a second one while we're here?"

"Why not?"

Springing from his chair to his feet, Will crossed the bedroom to his cupboard and began to change. Giving the illusion of there being a more significant passage of time between filming. Taking off his beanie revealed his dark unruly hair, which he covered again with his 'crisis actor' hat.

"I was wondering if I could get your advice on something?" Alex began not moving from his seat at the desk. Neither did he turn his attention much from the screen, to give Will some privacy.

"What's that?"

"There's this girl— Well, um, this woman rather, that I am interested in approaching – romantically – and—"

"Why you talking like an android?" Will stripped himself of his black and green shirt. Interestingly enough, the same black and green shirt as Ethan wore when he last had the sidemen member over for a video. "Could you be normal for a minute?"

"I like her. Ok? What now?"

He pulled on a shovel hoodie and grabbing another turned to Alex. Gesturing to the pink zip-up jacket, he asked, "You have a decent shirt under there or want to borrow one of these?"

"I'm fine. But about the girl. Should I even bother?"

"How do you mean? If there's the chance to pipe – you got to take it."

"No. Like if I just end up fucking it up, why—?"

"Stop thinking about the end. We're at the beginning, alright? You're a good-looking lad, even got a decent trim for once in your life." Will ruffled Alex's hair as he returned to the seat beside him. "You're verified. All you got to do is slide into the lass' twitter DMs, and you're in."

"I'm not verified," he said with a bit of a huff. "You're verified."

Will shrugged. Pulling his phone from his pocket to check messages. "Whatever. You ready to record?"

"Not yet. What if she has a boyfriend?"

"Chin him."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I. If there's not a ring and a date...well...it isn't really all that important, is it?" Will scrolled through the next ten posts on r/oddlysatisfying, before changing his mind, scrolling back up, and switching to another subreddit. Adding to his previous comment, "Unless it's Mia we're talking about."

Alex sucked his teeth. "Unfortunately, it is."

"Shut it. I'm having none of that." He pushed Alex's shoulder with one hand and wagged a jokingly accusatory finger. "Let's get back to it."

"Alright. Alright."

Will turned to the camera and, as quickly as he had dropped it, picked up his presentation voice, shouting, "Right! Hello, welcome back to this incredibly ad-friendly youtube channel. Instead of rating sand-cutting and slime, today we're gonna be rating dogs again. So this, welcome to r/aww. There should be some decent content here..."

It was nice sifting through the top posts of the week: a golden retriever taking care of baby bunnies, deer fawns sleeping under lawn furniture, an albino skunk, and a lot more ducklings and birds in general than Alex remembered being popular on the subreddit. Their last filming was full of constant challenges and debates, but when Alex gave nine and ten ratings for animals Will agreed whole-heartedly – save for a single dispute over a cat picture. It was cute; Will just was not terribly fond of cats.

Alex simultaneously commentated for the video and pondered – now that he had his friend's blessing – how best to shoot his shot with Y/N. He beamed with excitement and energy, and the evidence was in the light blush of his cheeks. It was not soft happiness like he felt when sitting on the rooftop of his apartment building, with a sausage roll in his stomach and a decent buzz. It was sharp happiness like the entire world had been dragged into photoshop and had the contrast shot right up to one hundred. All the dust from the corners of his mind was gathered, swept up, dumped in a bin, and set ablaze.

Before Alex could think of anything, it was the end of the video.

"Thank you very much for watching! Hope you enjoyed. Check-out Alex's channel and the WillNE main channel, links in the description, and we'll see you guys later." Will stopped the recording, dropped the act, and pulled out his phone again. There were dozens of messages; his fingers flew across the keyboard, shooting off response after response. "Thanks for helping out the cause."

Alex returned Will's fist-bump. He stood from his chair just to walk the single step and sit on the edge of Will's bed. Any distance would do in helping him ease into the details of his situation; after all, it was not just any woman that he was after.

He started, attempting to sound casual, as if the topic was organic, "What do you think about Re—?"

"Red and Sammy?" Will asked distractedly. Believing he had finished the question how Alex meant to, he took it upon himself to answer it as well, "Haven't met Red to be fair, but Sammy is a solid bloke."

"You think?"

"Yeah, Gee wanted to rearrange some furniture, and Josh and I were useless. I rang Sammy, he came round, practically moved everything himself – even brought beers. You did well good picking him, Lex."

At what was likely intended to be a genuine compliment, Alex felt himself shifting a single step closer to his internal self-destruct button. Of course, Alex knew. He knew that it was not healthy for his mind or mood to be so fragile or rather so easily swayed, but there he was – fuming with misplaced anger.

How could he tell Will? How could he explain he wanted a chance with one of their mates’ girlfriends without coming off as a bad person? Was he a bad person?

Did he care? When he came into the world running a race where he was made to wear sandals while everyone else got trainers. Alex stood from the bed and readied to leave.

Attempting to lighten the mood despite likely not knowing why it dimmed, Will added, standing to throw an arm around Alex's shoulders, "And who said you have no friends?"

"You do."

Will chuckled. "Huh, I must be dead smart me."

"Alright, well..." He intentionally trailed off, ducking from under his friend's arm.

"Are you off?"

"Yeah, I'll sees you later." Alex left the bedroom with quicker and heavier steps than was his usual gait; the difference, however, was not enough for someone outside himself to notice. It was frustration. It was: a set jaw. : an unnatural heat rising from his core to all his extremities. : and a mouth pinched smaller than what seems humanely possible.

If he were a 2D cartoon character, as comments under all his videos would suggest, his irises would be redrawn in the shape of flames. Steam might have even come from his ears.

George likes Sammy. Will likes Sammy. James (or at least drunk James who met him) likes Sammy.

And Alex wanted to steal his girlfriend. Fuck.

He raced through the flat to the front door; just through the threshold and into the hall, he stopped. Waiting to hear the latch bolt behind him. Like the clap of a hypnotherapist bringing their patient back from a breakthrough session – the sound drained him of his anger.

It was not helpful to him to be angry at the situation: angry with himself.

Alex walked the hall to the lift and stepped in. During his descent, he looked at the warped reflection of himself in the metal doors: the prickle of hair on his upper lip, the trim which was different but somehow identical to all his previous, a picture in pink – and also red.

It was the reflection of a man. Despite how his followers portrayed him in collages and fanfics, he was an adult man. Confronting that distorted image altered his perception: what he knew himself to look like: his conscious image.

How interesting he must look in the strange light of an average person's perception. How confused. How tired.

DING of the sliding doors opening, ripped his warped reflection in half. Alex exited half-expecting for Y/N to be there on the other side, considering she was everywhere recently. Luckily, she was not. But that fleeting thought of Y/N snowballed as he walked the hall to his apartment. Outside the door, he stopped and stood Blair Witch style facing it but not moving to unlock it or get the key from his pocket just yet.

Y/N. Alex thought of Y/N. Thought of first meeting her with her cute ears and flushed face. How she doted on Sammy. Thought of speaking with her in the foyer with her calm aurora and chin-hugging top. How he wanted nothing more than to be cute with her – for them to have a song.

Thought of when she was making waffles with shaking hands and a little wrinkle between her eyebrows. How she dodged his questions. Thought of ~the dream~ and how different he would act if it were real.

He rummaged through his pockets to find his key. When he did, he shoved it in and pulled it out the lock with an equal amount of unnecessary force.

It was late.

Alex had been awake over twenty-four hours, and he wanted – needed – he just needed it to stop. Unable to handle consciousness much longer, he dragged his feet along the straight shot to his bedroom. And into his bathroom.

Not particularly a nighttime shower type of person, Nor a morning shower type of person, Alex was more a when-I-want-to-or-remember-to-shower type of person.

During slight depressive slumps, however, the more accurate category for him would be a once-the-grease-starts-to-drip-off-my-hair-that-is-when-I-will-shower type of person.

Stepping under the showerhead, the warm water wrapped around him. Pelted down on the pale skin of his shoulders and back, relaxing the muscles there. Slender fingers racked shampoo through his tangled hair: it smelled like almonds. Like artificial almonds designed by chemists who had never seen or smelt an almond before. It was nice.

He ducked his head to rinse out the suds and lost his balance, falling forward a bit. Catching himself with his hands on the wall in front of him; it jolted him out from under his somnambulism spell.

Hopping out of the shower, he dried off and wrapped his single towel around his waist. There in the mirror above the sink were those little prickles of a moustache. Alex stepped up, took his razor in his right hand, grabbed the shaving foam off the counter with the left, and looked to his right again to find he had dropped the razor in the sink. His brain was too exhausted to focus on more than one thought – more than one task at a time.

With less than six flicks of the wrist, his upper lip was clean-shaven, and he was trudging along to his bedroom. Alex let his towel drop to the floor; he tugged on a clean pair of pajama bottoms and pitched himself from the other side of the room onto his bed.

"Ow," he muttered to his aching bones. Alex closed his eyes, and for the first time since ~the dream~ appreciated the contemplative silence of his bedroom – and of his head.

Taglist: (message to join!) @angelbabyivy

#imallexx #imallexx imagine #imallexx x reader #alex elmslie #alex elmslie imagine #alex elmslie x reader #eboys #commentary crew #internet sensation #willne

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karlnapity · 3 years

Text

it’s not worth it, achilles.

(tws: manipulation, emotional & slight physical abuse, panic attacks, one very vague reference to suicidal ideation, agoraphobia)

eret is a watcher.

they’ve never wanted to be at the center of the conflict. content with being off to the side, content with taking what’s given to them.

(but are they?)

they care for wilbur, for tommy, for tubbo, for fundy, for all of them. that isn’t a question. wilbur had welcomed them into his nation with open, welcoming arms, and they accepted graciously and without hesitation.

they can see the gears turning in dream’s head, and they can only see those gears growing sharp with time. it’s not much of a question.

and maybe that has something to do with it, but at the end of the day they can’t quite say what made them accept dream’s invitation to chat.

(it was greed, it was the promise of power, it was cowardice and ambition and desperation all wrapped in a disgusting little bundle that rested in their chest, and maybe still does.)

in any case, they find themselves face to face with the man who should be their worst enemy right now.

they hold themselves poised as they can, and for some reason it makes dream huff what must be a laugh. he settles on a block, gesturing for eret to do the same. they refuse.

“so i have a proposition,” dream starts, adjusting his mask to more thoroughly cover his face. he pauses, and eret raises an eyebrow, waves for him to continue.

“we’re looking for a king to rule the smp,” he says, leaning forward.

“i thought you had george for that,” they say. what is this?

“not for now. later, sure, but i’m not sure he’s ready.” that makes eret frown. it’s an odd way to refer to one’s right-hand man, but at the end of the day it’s not their business.

“you’re asking me to be king?” they ask, hesitant.

“i’m not asking,” dream responds, and something in his tone makes them freeze. they take a step back, almost unwittingly.

“i want you to be king, eret. i think you’d do a banger job,” dream says, standing. as he stalks closer, they clench their fists, silently beg themselves not to show their discomfort.

he stops only a few inches away, crosses his arms far too casually for the situation.

“this is how it’s going to go,” he commands, and suddenly eret is far, far too aware of how this man has commanded men, won wars.

whatever he says… they can’t refuse.

> contrary to what everyone says, they don’t want to be a traitor, but if everyone’s going to think they’re the villain they might as well make it sound good.

the final control room goes perfectly. as they find themselves next to dream on the battlefield, dream’s cold, commanding hand leaving a bruise on their shoulder where he holds it proudly, they don’t feel like much a king, and they feel an awful lot like a slimy traitor.

> it’s not a coronation as much as a condemnation. dream places the crown on their head, and they can’t help but flinch away.

they think they hear sapnap stifle a chuckle, and every nerve in their body constricts in barely contained rage.

dream uses his hand to force eret’s chin up, and they refuse to meet his eyes until he squeezes enough to hurt. he nods, patronizingly, lets go and brushes invisible dust off their shoulders.

they pray for it to be over. > being a king has always been a figurehead. they hold no power.

dream doesn’t accept anything less than perfect. not in their posture, not in their robes, not in their voice and actions. they do what he says, and they don’t what he doesn’t.

the others hate them, still, and they can’t blame them in the slightest. they’ve barely seen them, not since the final control room, and they can only hope they’ve pulled themselves together, since.

they’re so proud of tommy. but they can’t say that, not hardly, not when dream’s pacing back and forth in the meeting room.

they stand at the door like a guard, only really there as a pretty decoration, and they’re only forced to listen while dream and the others concoct plan after plan to kill the others.

they’re so tired. > they’re more of a target than anything. dream promised them immunity, and they knew it was a lie then; it’s only brought the opposite.

they’re a figure for everyone’s hatred. dream is still acting reasonable in the public eye, for now, and eret is the crazy one. the one who traded their country for kingship, for power that doesn’t exist.

dream doesn’t let them cry, not when he can see it. they’re more thankful for their glasses than ever.

they’ve gotten real good at hiding flinching, too. > dream doesn’t starten to loosen his hold at all until the election. they don’t think he means to, but with other playthings in the form of a president and an exiled man, he doesn’t have as much time to fuck with them.

but he makes one thing very clear:

“don’t leave the castle without my permission, got it?”

they’ve got it. > fundy is the first to visit, and when the first signs of orange appear at the end of the throne room, they almost weep in relief, almost trip on the edge of their cloak before dream’s words snap them back to their senses, telling them not to act undignified. they still can’t help the giddy smile on their face, and fundy looks them hard in the eye before an awkward “hi.”

they return it quietly. > it’s a hard thing, walking the line between trying to apologize and trying not to reveal anything.

(because they can’t tell the others. they can’t.)

they’re pretty sure fundy suspects something, but they can’t say anything.

not even when they flinch whenever someone raises their voice or moves too fast, or how they’re so much quieter than before, or how they staunchly, staunchly refuse to leave the castle unless it’s an event they’ve been invited to.

dream is playing them like a fucking fiddle, and they can’t do anything about it. > niki is the first person they say anything to.

they’re on a parapet, looking out at the stars, and niki rests her head on their shoulder. they smile down at her. they’ve removed their glasses, and the light from their eyes bathes her in gentle light.

“i’m worried for you,” she says, hooking her arm in theirs. they start back a bit.

“what do you mean?” they ask, trying and failing to reclaim the royal disposition they fall back to in situations like this.

“you’re not happy as king,” she says, moving to fully look them in the face.

(they’re uncomfortable. what do they say? what would dream want them to say? what’s safe?)

“i’m fine,” they say. “it’s just stressful, is all.”

she scoffs. “with what work? eret, it’s obvious you’re not in charge. just please, tell me what’s going on. is it dream?”

they feel the urge to lower their voice like he’s listening in, as silly as it is.

(is he?)

their hands are shaking, and they clasp them to hide it. “i can't tell you anything."

and they don’t say anything more, because dream is there, guiding niki out of the castle, and they don’t say anything to stop it. > they hate him. they hate him, they hate him, they hate him, they hate him, and they don’t say anything about it.

they let dream toy with the idea of replacing them with george, they let him threaten their life, they let him say everything he wants to him, and they take it with grace like they know he wants them to do.

they stand in the center of the room as he paces, feeling so utterly exposed. their crown feels heavy, their robes feel like they’re pulling them to the floor, but they stand composed even as they feel like they might lose a life any moment.

they clench their fists to hide how they’re shaking like a leaf, and it does nothing.

he lunges forward, grasps their chin, and they know now to make eye contact immediately. their eyes reflect off his mask.

he tilts their head, inspecting something, and they don’t flinch even as they know he’ll leave bruises on their cheekbones. he pushes them back, and they try not to stumble.

“you’re an embarrassment,” is all he says. “and if you speak to any of them tomorrow, if you even think of leaving the throne room, i’ll kill you right then and there.”

and they don’t doubt it for a second. > fundy tries to get their attention, and as his ears droop and he spits retorts as he leaves and they pretend to continue reading the book and shift uncomfortably on the throne, they feel like crying. dream is just taunting them. > the next day, it’s niki. she stares them down, tells them not to bend this low, and she leaves. they do cry, then, and dream tells them to stop. and they do. > then it’s sapnap, and they don’t know whether they can talk to him as he tells them about his day. their hands curl on their book, and they don’t know where dream is, and they don’t know if sapnap is safe, and everything feels like too much and sapnap is asking them if they’re paying attention, and then they’re ripping the book with their grip and they’re crying and sapnap is asking them if they’re ok and they still don’t know whether he’s safe and they can’t breathe, and they’re on the floor and sapnap is still asking them if they’re ok and they don’t know.

and dream is there, and for once his hold is soft and he strokes their hair and tells them it’s ok, and of course of sapnap is safe, you’re being silly, and how about we call it a day, and they can’t even help but nod in agreement. > dream tells them to take the day off, and they know it’s not kindness, because as they give up on the latch of the door and wonder whether they can make it out of the window, they see a few people congregating near the castle. they can’t quite make out their names, their faces, or even their voices, but they can tell anger when they hear it. something is happening. > and in front of everyone, the next day, as dream stares her down, niki asks them to join her. they lower their head, stare at their lap as dream chuckles. > but they do. dream tells them he’ll kill them. he tells them he’ll kill niki, kill fundy, kill tommy, kill everyone, but it doesn’t matter. he won’t hurt anyone but them, at least not for now, and they don’t fucking care.

let him do as he pleases, they won’t go down easy. anything is better than this.

they rip the crown off their head, throw it down at dream’s feet, and they leave the castle for the first time in months. > niki cheers when she sees them, and they grin, hug her, grab her and swing her around. it doesn’t matter that they’re both in armor, it doesn’t matter that they’re about to go to war against him, they’re there and they’re out and they’re with the people they love.

even if they don’t love them back. they don’t miss tommy’s glare.

(they deserve it.) > they pity george.

they offer their comfort. they don’t get a response.

(not for months, anyways.) > they retake their mantle, and it’s only a bit easier than before. dream’s control has loosened, but it’s still there, still a looming sense of fear that makes it hard for them to take a full breath.

their friends aren’t there much anymore. fundy is lost in grief, and niki’s doing… whatever she’s doing.

but a new member approaches them oohs and aahs at their castle but approaches them like a person in a way that makes them want to weep.

her name is puffy, and they love her already. > it’s so hard to leave the castle. they still imagine dream popping out from somewhere, telling them to get back inside, and more often than not they don’t make it out of the door. they're loitering in the doorway, fidgeting with their hands when they see puffy. she waves at them, grinning, and they give her a shaky smile back.

“what’s up?” she asks. their chest tightens.

“um. not sure yet,” is all they can muster, and god, dream wouldn’t like that, but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t fucking matter anymore.

she nods. “cool.”

they stand in silence for a few seconds, and then she extends a hand and says, “i’m on a walk. wanna join me?”

it’s clear what she’s doing, and they grin at her kindness. the looming feeling in their chest dissipates, just a little. they take her hand, and soon enough they’re out from under the shadow of the castle, and they’re in the sunlight.

and it's hard, their hands still shake and they get the urge to run back where it's safe even when it's not, but she distracts them every time their eyes stray and when they sit down in the middle of the prime path and hide their face in their hands and scrub tears a voice tells them they shouldn't be shedding in the first place she sits with them and makes them laugh. > “maybe being king can be something good,” puffy tells them one night.

“you think?” they ask, huffing a laugh. “i’m not sure.”

“yeah,” she says, elbowing them playfully. “you’re in a special position. maybe you can use your influence to help everyone.”

“i don’t have influence,” they start, but she interrupts.

“i know, maybe politically, you don’t. but people respect you. you can use that.”

it’s hard to imagine anyone respecting them, after their cowardice. but as they lean against puffy and stare at the crater, they suppose someone needs to try around here. and they will.

(they push down the voice that says it’s retribution.)

#personal #dsmp #dream smp #dreamwastaken #eret #lmanburg #lmanberg #l'manberg #l'manburg #l'manhole #captain puffy #fundy #niki nihachu #nihachu #manburg #manberg #mcyt

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bookishtickles · 4 years

Note

ok but I would love if you could write a fic where Sirius ends up asking Ron about how to cheer Harry up so Ron tells him that Harry's super ticklish so Sirius happily tests Ron's suggestion out when Harry is down in the dumps. It would be super cuuuute fjdkdk thank you in advance

This fic is ignoring some canon haha

Harry has been moping around for days now. Of course, it's not like anyone could really blame though. He was having a hard time dealing with how every mean kid at school seems to be targeting him

He wasn't at all surprised at Malfoy. But nearly every other Slytherin? And he didn't even realize it until the badges against him suddenly appeared on everyone in the school from Slytherins to Hufflepuffs. Even Ravenclaws, who he had hoped would support him in the tournament, seemed to be wearing them. The only people not wearing them were his fellow gryffindors, but they seemed to put him on a very high pedestal and whenever he couldn't reach it, the way they reacted, they also may as well be wearing badges against him

The only people at Hogwarts who seemed to think Harry was worth any time and didn't see him as either useless or a perfect kid were Ron and Hermione. It was both very stressful and upsetting. Harry didn't even know which option was worse; be put on an impossible pedestal or have people expect nothing of you at all

And so now Harry was moping around, despite this being the first holiday he got to spend with his godfather

Sirius really wants to cheer Harry up, but he didn't know how. After all, he doesn't know Harry too well yet. He knew Harry was a 1 year old, but all he really knew about Harry now was that he was a very kind boy who is sad right now and he wasn't going to have it

But Sirius does know someone who knows Harry very well. Someone that has known for almost 4 years now, spent every day with him, even roomed with him and was his best friend. Ron

“Hey,” Sirius says as he sits down across from Ron at the table, eating their lunch. Harry wasn't there

“Hi….?” Ron didn't know what to expect from visiting Harry and Sirius for a few days, but having Sirius talk to him when Harry wasn't there definitely wasn't it

“Have you noticed that Harry is-”

“Depressing now? Yeah,” Ron says, finishing for him

“Well, do you know how I could cheer him up?” Sirius asks

“Well, Ron thinks for a moment and than starts grinning sheepishly, “my older brothers, if they were here they'd know how to cheer him up. Whenever he's sad, they just tickle him and that always seems to work.” He chuckles

Sirius begins to smirk instantly and than stands, already on his way to Harry's room, Ron following and grinning too

When they find Harry laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, Sirius says casually, “Hi.”

“Hi.” Harry says, looking at Sirius now. The smirk on his godfathers face would already be making him squirmy had he been in any other mood. It looks just like the smirk the twins gave him when they-

“I think it's high time you cheer up,” Sirius says, sitting on the bed, Ron leaned against the wall, smirking as he got ready to see the familiar cute sight

“I can't,” says Harry. “I've already tried that.”

“Well now, you have me to help.” Sirius says as he drags a finger up Harry's side, smirking already as Harry gasps and squirms away

“D-don’t do that,” Harry says nervously. He has a feeling that smirk is exactly what he thought it was

“Don't do what, this?” Sirius chuckles as Harry’s already big green eyes grow wide as he jabs Harry right in the belly

Harry makes a very unexpected noise; he squeals and than gets up from the bed, saying, “Uhm, I think I do want lunch actually,” than shrieking when he gets pulled back on the bed and pinned down

And just like that, he already has a hand wriggling in his ribs

“NOHOHOHOHO!” Harry’s laugh is already loud and bright, filling up the room with light. Harry's smile was just as cute, is was big and precious and his eye squeezed shut as he laughed uncontrollably. His glasses even fell crooked on his nose. It was the cutest sight Sirius has ever seen. Even Ron, who has seen Harry like this many times, smiles at his friend as he gets tickled senseless

“I will when I feel you have been thoroughly cheered up,” Sirius says and shakes between Harry's bones lightly so not to hurt him, but not being any less evil about tickling his godson

Harry kicks out as he laughs and pointlessly pulls at his hands to cover his ribs and bat and Sirius away, but if he couldn't even escape from Ron or Fred and George or Hermione tickling him, he stood no chance of escaping with Sirius

All of Harry's squirming has pulled shirt up and a little bit of his tummy was showing now. Ron smirks

“Oh yeah, that's his worst spot.” Ron says

“RON!” Harry says through his laughter

“Oh is it now?” Sirius smirks. “I seem to remember the same being so when you were a baby,” he chuckles

Harry's cheeks turned red fast and he can't stop saying no as Sirius pulls his shirt up even more, than crying out in laughter as Sirius wriggles a hand in his small belly

“RON HEHEHEHELP!” Laughs Harry, his feet kicking crazily

“Nah,” Ron shakes his head. “You're lucky I'm not helping Sirius actually,” chuckling

“Feel free to,” Sirius says to Ron, casually tickling Harry's belly, going to town in the poor, sensitive boy

“Well, if you really want to get him,” Ron grins. “Do that thing when you blow on someone's stomach, that kills him,” Ron says

Harry would have murdered Ron is he could, but unfortunately for Harry, Sirius was leaning down and blowing on to Harry's belly before Harry could kill Ron for telling his godfather

“EEEEAAAAHAHAHAHA!” The combination of squealing, shrieking, and laughter is the only thing anyone would ever want to hear again after hearing it. So much so that Sirius immediately leans down and blows again on Harry's poor small tummy. His beard only pressed in to Harry's soft skin and tickled him even more, causing little yelps and squeaks in his already squeaky laughter

Sirius doesn't do anything else, it would be mean with how tired Harry looks, but Sirius notices that Harry is still smiling widely when he stops, giggling a bit until his breathing comes even again

“Feeling better?” Says Sirius as he ruffles Harry's hair, chuckling at Harry smiling now and grinning just as wide as Harry when Ron can't help but give Harry one last little tummy tickle, Harry yelping and giggling at the prod

#harry potter tickle #ticklish harry potter #ticklish harry

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lifeisdabubbles-undersalmondean · 3 years

Text

La Pomme ~ Chapter Six

Pairing: Sam x OC (eventual Dean x OC and Dean x Castiel. And I mean eventual.)

Series summary: George is a casual French-Mistake-universe Supernatural fan living in no-COVID 2020, who's life is upended when she's suddenly launched between realities, two years into the boys' past (S13E22). What begins as an insane, immersive fan experience turns into more when Jack goes missing and George offers up her AU information to help track him down. Soon it's discovered that she and Sam may actually have history. But that's impossible, right?

Word Count: 6,200

Warnings: {smut, fluff, angst, show level violence, swearing, mentions of suicide} ***Detailed warnings will be tagged for specific chapters.

A/N: Following the events of my prequel Paradise and second story From My Eyes Off. Reading those first gives context but isn’t necessary to start this one.

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Approximately three hours of arguing with herself about staying away from them later, George went to see if Jack and Sam had returned yet. She reasoned that, at this point, they'd been so adamant about her coming that staying away altogether would probably raise a larger red flag than if she just made a quick appearance.

That's not true! I'm just going so that they don't come looking for me. This is definitely the last time. Once I get the kid set up on the games, he'll forget I exist. Then I can slip back to my as-yet-undiscovered-room and wait quietly for Rowena to return and return me home. Everything will be fine. This has nothing to do with the beard.

I have to go to keep seeming uninteresting and innocuous, She reasoned with herself, though she knew it was dangerous. It was also not the real reason she was going.

There was no part of her that believed any of that. Especially as her heart fluttered at the thought of bearded Sam in that tight, gray deep v-neck.

First, she stopped in the kitchen to grab two beers from the fridge. Then she went to check Jack's room. As she walked up to the open door, she heard the two men talking.

"I don't understand why you don't want to tell me what happened." She heard Jack say.

Sam's annoyed huff made her pause, "I did tell you; nothing happened. She passed out exhausted and I didn't know where else to put her. There are so many new people here right now, I don't know what's an empty bed and what's not."

"OK…" She heard Jack's doubtful reply and then a pause before asking, "If Brent had passed out in your arms, would you have carried him to your bed?"

George grinned devilishly at the implication of the question, covering her mouth with her hand to stay quiet. There was a long, intriguing silence before Sam ordered defensively, "Shut up."

George decided to take that as her cue. She stepped into the doorway and cleared her throat, "'Shut up,' huh? Interesting parenting philosophy." She smirked as Sam started a bit and looked over at her. Presumably, he was wondering how much of that conversation she'd heard, and she felt in no hurry to fill him in.

Jack smiled at her and pointed to a surprising amount of booty on his bed and the floor in front of it, "George! They had everything on your list! Oh, except Mario 64."

Looks like the shoe's on the other foot, She thought smugly.

"Wow, really?" Her eyes went wide when she saw the small flat screen TV box leaning against the footboard and she looked at Sam with a surprised chuckle. She guessed Sam really wanted to keep Jack occupied. "And you bought it all, I see, awesome! Did you want some help setting up?"

"Yea, come in!" Jack nodded enthusiastically, waving her in, and then began unpacking his loot. George hesitated for a second as Sam watched Jack lay out all the equipment to start getting it set up.

Bitch, I don't know why you're taking pause now! You brought the damn beer. You planned this; just go in already.

With a quick, annoyed shake of her head to quiet the smug voices, she finally stepped into the room.

When she got close to him, Sam smiled, "Hey."

"Hi," George returned his smile nervously. "I don't remember that being on my list," Sam followed her gaze to the flat screen and then squirmed a bit, guiltily. Motioning to the rest of the stuff, she asked with a chuckle, "Feeling a little bit of dad guilt over something?"

Sam feigned ignorance, "Hmm?"

"I mean, OK, you needed the system and some games but…" Her eyes ran over the huge pile of game cartridges on the bed, wide with judgement. "And the TV? Kinda screams single-divorced-dad overcompensation. And I speak from experience."

"Oh, are you a divorced single dad, too?" Sam joked.

George snorted and corrected, "Raised by one… well, on Wednesdays and every other weekend. And he worked weekends… and most Wednesdays, so…" She trailed off with a what-are-you-gonna-do shrug and Sam nodded, understanding the semi-absent dad thing.

"I can definitely relate to the unavailable father," Sam's tone was serious but there was a smile on his face.

George stared at him curiously for a minute, Supernatural episodes flashing in her mind, and then nodded, "Oh, yeah, I guess you can." She was still getting used to television characters being real people. When he furrowed his brow curiously at her, she quickly said, "Anyway, yea, uh-expensive presents helped ease my dad's guilt about not really being there. That's how I got most of my video game experience." Just as he opened his mouth to respond, she held out a beer with a questioning look and said, "I think I owe you one or two of these? Although, seeing as this one is also from your fridge, think of this as more of a symbolic gesture. Since I can't actually repay you."

He chuckled and took the beer with a soft, "Thank you. And, no repayment needed. Trust me, we're just happy to be able to help. All of you." He was referring to the people from the camp again and she grimaced as a twinge of guilt zapped through her. Lying to him made her feel awful.

While it seemed like Jack was focused on unboxing the TV and not paying much attention to them, she held up the other beer and asked quietly, "Can he? I wasn't sure if you let him, but I brought it just in case."

Sam frowned a little and shrugged, "My brother lets him and I… choose my battles," he finished with a sigh. George smiled and nodded understandingly.

Seeing Jack was still preoccupied, she shrugged after a moment and offered, "Well, I don't normally drink beer but I can just say it's mine? He may not even ask for one."

Sam nodded appreciatively, snapping the bottle cap off his and tossing it into the garbage can in the corner. As she watched him raise the cold bottle to his lips, she couldn't help but stare at his gorgeous, newly bearded face. As he took a swig, her mouth went dry. Luckily, she was able to look away just before he caught her staring and she mentally kicked herself.

He raised an eyebrow at her when he noticed she didn't join him. Setting his drink down on the desk next to him, he reached out to take the unopened beer from her. "Ya know, it's more believable that you're drinking it, if it's actually open?"

"Oh, right," She let out a 'heh' of embarrassment as he popped the cap off and tossed it into the can as well. Taking it back from him, she admitted, "Like I said, not a big beer drinker."

With a teasing expression, he said, "Hmm… but really anything you drink out of a bottle has to be opened first, right?"

She blushed and smirked at his ribbing. Forcing herself not to laugh with all her might-made more difficult by the fact that she could see him trying not to smirk-she simply said, "Well, like I said, I was a latchkey kid. I typically drink strictly from the garden hose."

Jack finally looked over at them, finished plugging the TV in, and called to her, "George, come check the games!"

She grinned at the small "HA!" he let out at her joke. With a small, mental shrug, she lifted the beer and took a swig.

Fuck it, maybe it'll help calm my nerves. She then heard a smug sing-songy voice say, famous last words.

She walked over and looked at the cartridges that were laid out on his bed, "Nice! Oh, no way! Perfect Dark?!" She picked up the game and clutched it excitedly, "I totally forgot about this one!"

"Yea, I picked up a couple extras that weren't on the list. I hope that's OK, they just looked interesting," Jack said nervously.

"Of course it's OK! You might end up hating my game suggestions-not that that's possible because I have the best taste, obviously, but still. I'm glad you have a few to try on your own." Her grin increased as she looked at the game in her hand again, getting lost down memory lane for a moment. This game had gotten her through some rough patches.

She set it down and glanced over the few that were unfamiliar to her. "These ones I've never played before, so that'll be great. You'll get to actually figure out a few on your own."

"Will it be hard?" He wondered.

"Probably. And you'll most likely get so frustrated that you'll want to tear your hair out and throw the console against a wall. But, it'll be so freaking fun you can't stop. As Charles Dickens said, 'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times'."

Sam laughed, picking his beer back up and taking another drink. George couldn't help but grin, drinking hers as well.

Damn if I'm not addicted to that sound.

While Jack was trying to get the console set up, he struggled to hook the system up to the small flat screen he'd placed on his dresser. George came over to help. After a moment, she identified the problem.

Holding up the console's composite cable she huffed, "This TV doesn't have RCA ports!"

"What?!" Sam 'pffted,' coming over to check it, running his hands along the back. When he found nothing, he stood back and put his hands on his hips, "Are you saying we're actually going to have to use our crappy old TVs for this?" He shook his head in disbelief.

George shrugged, "Eh, at least it gives him an authentic experience?"

A short while later they had the system set up on an old tube set and the three of them were playing a few rounds of Mario Kart 64. Jack was sitting cross legged on the edge of his bed. On the floor to his left was Sam, slouching against the bed with his legs stretched out long in front of him. George was to his right, with her knees bent and her feet planted on the ground, sitting straighter upright but also leaning against the bed.

In terms of play, all three were taking it serious. George was a little rusty but her muscle memory helped her quickly grab and keep first place almost every round. Jack was picking it up surprisingly quick but struggled with the strategic aspect of trap setting and disabling opponents. Sam needed a lap to get used to the buttons, but was now smoking Jack and catching up to George with ease.

At the moment they were in the middle of the second lap of their fourth round. Surprising everyone except George and Sam (because they threw it), Jack had won the first round and was very proud of himself. Unfortunately for Jack, he got a little too proud of himself. Her competitive side had roared to life at his boisterous celebration and the boys ate George's dust on the second and third rounds.

Sober George would have known better than to agree to another round. She would never admit it, but Sam had been hot on her tail the entire last round; he'd definitely be able to beat her by the next one. Unfortunately for her, she'd already finished her second beer and was feeling real cocky when they'd both demanded another round of her.

She had warned dramatically, "Alright, but if you're gonna take a shot at the Queen, you better not miss."

George was fairly far out in front and feeling great, when Sam's Peach shot a red shell at her Yoshi and she wasn't able to avoid it. As her Yoshi tumbled, George watched Peach fly past her into first place, a string of inventive curses flew out of her mouth, explaining in detail exactly where she thought Sam could put his red shells. He couldn't help but give her a quick, amused 'wtf' expression at her colorful vocabulary but she was too busy mashing her buttons to get back in gear again.

Just as she was gaining back on him, she gasped when Yoshi flipped over again. Another red shell.

"The FU-JACK!?" Her jaw dropped at Jack, whose Mario drove by and was now in second place. George let out a frustrated screech as the two men high fived each other over Sam's shoulder.

"Looks like we didn't miss, your royal highness," Sam teased, then dodged a kick to the shin with an evil laugh.

When Yoshi was upright and ready to go again, she pressed the A button down so hard her finger turned white. Pulling out all the stops to try and catch up to them again, she finally hit a mystery box. It took all her might to refrain from jumping for joy when three red shells appeared around her kart. Neither Jack nor Sam had noticed. Falsely confident that they'd disabled her, they'd devolved from their joint effort to take her down and were now going against each other. Jack lucked into hitting Sam with a tossed banana peel but Sam was able to out maneuver him on the next few turns and had scooted ahead again already.

George continued to gain on them, using her memory of the course to cut every corner she could and climb her way back up to third place. Sam and Jack were neck and neck, nearing the finish line on the final lap, and smack talking each other. They were barely paying attention to her and she waited for just the right time, before mashing her trigger button. Her red shells launched rapid fire. She watched with glee as Peach and Mario flipped over and stalled mere feet from the finish line.

As Yoshi sailed past them both and crossed in first place, George leapt up from her spot on the floor in triumph, "YES!" Sam and Jack flinched in pain; they were pretty sure everyone in the bunker had heard that.

"Tried to take me out, huh?" She asked Sam, then turned to Jack, "Didn't think I could get back up, did you? How ya like me now?" They were both trying to hide their annoyed grins and she continued, "You want to know why I always play Yoshi? Because he ain't a BITCH, and Neither. Am. I." She mic-dropped her controller onto the bed and did a victory dance in place. "Both. Of. Y'all. Can. SUuuUUuuUUuck. IiiiiIIiIIiiiIIiiit!" She sang joyfully, punching her arms into the air.

"Suck what?" Jack mumbled at Sam in exasperation, bummed that he'd lost again.

"Er-Nothing. It's just a saying, don't worry about it," The other man assured with a nervous throat clearing.

George quickly stepped over Sam's outstretched legs to the open space at the foot of Jack's bed. Jutting out her hip and placing a firm hand on it, she promptly began cat walking back and forth while singing, "Walk, walk, fashion baby. Work it. Move. That Bitch cuh-ray-zee." Jack was far more annoyed at losing than Sam, but they were both incredibly amused at her flamboyant, over-the-top reaction.

Sam watched her display with a smile and, after a moment, commented, "OK, Cindy Crawford, I'm cutting you off."

Pausing her catwalking to victory dance in front of him, she then lobbed, "And why? Don't like having your ass handed to you by a drunk woman?"

"You LUCKED out with all those red shells, George!" Jack argued defiantly.

"Now, now, Jack. Don't be a sore loser," George admonished jokingly, still wiggling her hips in delight.

"Yea, you're clearly only allowed to be a sore winner around here," Sam said pointedly with a chuckle. When George froze mid victory dance, her butt no longer bouncing in front of him, Sam regretted saying anything.

She scrunched her nose at him in offense, holding her hands up in surrender, "OK, fine. Yes. If it hadn't been for those red shells I would have been in third place."

Sam gave her a smug grin and said, "That's right."

She continued sweetly, "And obviously Jack would have won." A triumphant smile spread on Jack's face and he nodded his head in gracious acceptance of her determination.

"Thank you, yes-wait, what?" Sam started to agree with her and then it registered what she'd actually said. He did a double take. She knew darn well Sam would have won that round, but the smirk on her face told him she'd never admit it. Curiously, he was as turned on as he was infuriated.

Then, George added, "But the entire game is luck, dude! Most video games are. If you can't handle this, I would stay away from Mario Party," She warned in a serious tone.

Jack and Sam exchanged a serious look, then looked back at George. They had the same determined expression and Jack said, "Let's do it," while Sam nodded in agreement. He was having fun for the first time in weeks.

Maybe months, he thought grimly. He also hoped she'd say yes so he could do everything in his power to make her win and score another full frontal victory dance.

George laughed a little and nodded, "Alright. But don't say I didn't warn you. It's fun as hell, but no one wins at Mario Party. No. One," She finished ominously.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom before we keep going," Jack got up and headed for the door. He turned back with a thoughtful look on his face and said, "I might go to the kitchen for some snacks, too. Do you want anything?"

George shrugged, "Well, here's the situation Jack: I'm gonna say no but I will most likely steal some of whatever you bring back. So, I would say just accommodate for that and you should be golden."

Sam chuckled and said out of the corner of his mouth, "There's a life lesson in women if I've ever heard one." He avoided acknowledging the dirty look she shot him and shook his head at Jack, "Nothing for me, thanks."

After Jack left, George gave Sam a suspicious look and teased, "No more beer? Hmm, I see what you're doing."

Sam gave her a 'feigned innocence' expression and murmured, "Hmm?"

"You can stop drinking all you want; I can beat you, sober or not," Crossing her arms over her chest, she gave him a mean mug.

He chuckled, but said, "Truthfully, asking Jack to bring me a beer felt a little-"

"Alcoholic single dad?" George finished with a laugh and he joined her, nodding in agreement.

"Right," Sam pointed a quick finger in the air. "Not a great look," He said, standing up with a groan. "Yikes, shouldn't have been slouching like that. The older I get the less forgiving my back is."

"Have you ever tried a massage?" She asked, almost absentmindedly as she was distracted by him. His full height always took her breath away at first; she loved it.

Sam considered her question for a moment. Looking her over appreciatively, he asked with a teasingly incredulous tone, "No. Why, are you offering?"

That snapped George out of her stupor and she blinked rapidly. Thinking she hadn't heard him correctly, she asked "Oh, what? Oh, no! Er-I-I mean, I just, I wouldn't know where to begin. What? No, I mean I wouldn't know what I was doing. Not-no, I know what I'm doing I just-I'm not a professional. I-" Stop talking. Stop talking, now! George felt a bit warm and started fanning herself, "Hoo d'awgy, is it hot in here or just me? Maybe you should cut me off," She finished with a nervous laughter.

He had watched her nervous, adorable rambling gleefully, chuckling once or twice. Whenever he was near her, an eerie pressure would build in his chest that was reminiscent of feelings he'd thought were long since lost to him. He realized it was that feeling that spurred him on to be so flirtatious. At her last statement though, he reigned himself in and answered her question more earnestly to help break the tension and give her a chance to calm down, "I'm not so big on strangers touching me. And I worry about how sanitary those places are," he finished with an exaggerated shudder.

It had been kind of him to cut her a break, but when he started stretching out the kinks from his prolonged seat on the floor, any chance she had of calming down disappeared. She couldn't help but admire his physique. Her eyes trailed his body once over but then quickly settled back on his beard. She could kill the show producers for not letting him be bearded sooner than Season 14. 'Smoldering' didn't even begin to cover it.

She hadn't realized that she'd gotten lost in thought about those sexy whiskers until she heard his throat clearing. Widening in horror, her eyes quickly met his, which looked half amused, half curious.

With a lick of his lips, which made George's brows furrow with desire, he asked gently, "Is there something on my face?"

"No!" Gulping, she blushed from head to toe. After thinking about it for a split second, she heard a buzzed voice in her head say fuck it, you've already embarrassed yourself. Tilting her head to the side, she boldly proclaimed, "Well, actually…Yeah!" A nervous chuckle escaped her lips as she tried to figure out how to say this without giving anything away. In her inebriated state, she finally settled on, "The last time I saw you, your face was less… Hagrid?"

Sam let out a loud laugh, a look of mock offense on his face. She covered her mouth as she snickered, realizing maybe that wasn't the nicest thing to say.

"Oh, wow! Hagrid, huh? I… Well, I'm not sure how to take that. Maybe I should go shave real quick," He teased sadly, rubbing a slow hand over his beard. It made her weak kneed.

"No! Please don't! I'm sorry," She leaned forward and gently squeezed his forearm with both her hands, then let go. "I was just trying to make you laugh! And I couldn't think of an attractive bearded man reference fast enough; Hagrid was the next best thing."

"Nah, you're right. Hagrid was good; you had to do it," He shrugged in acceptance. Squinting at her curiously, he asked, "But, just to clarify, you don't think I look like Hagrid, right?"

She snorted and then looked unsure. As she spoke she slowly craned her neck up, "Well, now that you mention it, he was half-giant!" Another laugh escaped him and she bit her lip to keep from grinning. The sound mixed with the beer was lowering her inhibitions a bit and she ran her eyes over him quickly in appreciation. Before she could stop herself, she assured him, "Seriously, though. The beard looks good. You look…" All the descriptions she could think of were too inappropriate even for her less inhibited state. Finally, she breathed, her eyes wide for emphasis, "good."

Sam gave her a shy, sexy smile and he looked down at the ground for a minute. She could swear the skin of his cheeks near the top of his beard was slightly pink.

Was he hiding a blush behind all that rugged? George wondered, watching him closely. Her stomach was nearly painfully tingling with nausea; she knew she should stop but fuck, when was she ever going to get this opportunity again?

Sam looked back up at her, the look in his eyes making her gulp, and asked with a questioning shrug, "'Good,' huh?"

George could tell he was baiting her but unfortunately her rational side was beating her horny/ buzzed side back with a stick, trying to keep control. So, she simply nodded and gave him a flirty smile, confirming, "Yes. Good." The word came out as a painful purr that caused Sam's eyes to darken curiously. George unconsciously licked her lips; it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

"Hmm," was the noise that broke the silence finally, rumbling heavily from Sam's chest. He was feeling very conflicted. For one, the alcohol was obviously affecting her and he wasn't trying to take advantage. But also, she was causing him to feel a lot of intense and strange feelings, feelings that hadn't been stirred up in years, and he couldn't explain why. He'd just met her! Knew almost nothing about her, yet he was flirting with her left, right, and center like he was… well, Dean! It felt so comfortable around her; he felt a calming sense of ease, as though his life wasn't a giant crapshoot of terrible day in and day out. That feeling should have been foreign to him but it wasn't completely. That's what terrified and confused him.

They'd been staring intensely at each other. George thought it seemed like he was holding himself back; she recognized the look and assumed it was the same one on her face right now. Running a suddenly nervous hand through his hair, he huffed a little and smiled.

"Well… thank you," His tone sounded as sincere as it did nervous. "I-"

Just then Jack came back and broke the tension in the room. George released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and turned to look at him. Balancing in his arms were two packs of red vines, one large bag of peanut M&Ms, six beef jerky sticks, two 'sharin' size' bags of Cheetos, and four Yoohoos.

The intensity of the previous moment paired with the absurd amount of food made her exclaim, "Dude!" The laughter bubbled out of her before she could stop it; she got near tears. Sam joined her with distinct but far less intense chuckles at Jack's attempts to interpret George's earlier instructions.

"What?" Jack asked curiously, "You asked me to account for you wanting some! I figured it was more efficient to just bring you your own."

"Ah, yes, a classic mistake, Jack. Half the fun is eating the other person's food," Sam teased.

George shook her head and sighed out the last of her laughter, "Oh, man. That was great. OK, I have to pee and then we'll have a talk about appropriate food portions before the game. Also, the fact that you brought peanut M&Ms and not caramel is near criminal."

Sam followed her out the door, saying, "I think I've changed my mind on that beer. I'll be right back, too."

"Grab me one?" She requested over her shoulder and he nodded affirmatively.

On her way back to Jack's room, George was wringing her hands nervously. Her mind was racing; she'd barely been able to concentrate on peeing! There was a heated debate going on in her head about what the hell she thought she was doing. A very large, very selfish part of her had not wanted to hold herself back. But she was skating on thin ice. Thin? Try imaginary! You seriously believe Sam Winchester is flirting with you? You have lost your damn mind. You look like a bumbling moron to him. A total Becky! Not to mention, he's a 10 and you're an Idaho six, if we're being generous.

The unnecessarily hurtful arguing in her head silenced instantly when she rounded the corner and found Sam in the hallway, sans beer. He was nervously pacing about 6 feet from Jack's room. She gulped; he looked agitated all of a sudden. Was he about to give her a talk about being inappropriate and how they should just "be friends?" She heard a voice sing-song in her head: I told you so, six.

Forcing herself to move forward once again, she tried to steal herself for the blow. To her surprise, his expression shifted to regret when he noticed her finally.

"Hey," He started, his tone apologetic. "I'm sorry to have to do this to you, but-" he held up his phone with a grimace.

"You have a hunt," George finished slowly with an understanding-and incredibly relieved-head nod. She watched Sam glance back at Jack's room with sad eyes. It clicked after a moment and she added with a less understanding tone, "And you want me to keep Jack distracted while you go?"

Sam gave her an adorable, pleading face, "Yes, please? I already broke the news to him and he's… upset about not being able to come."

George frowned, "Dude, are you seriously leaving me here by myself to entertain him? Sam!" She stomped her foot quietly, mock upset, "I don't know anything about what young adults are into these days. SnapChat? Four Loco? Miley Cyrus?!"

"Hey, look at this as an opportunity to finally play those real deep cuts from Avril," Sam joked back and George punched his arm gently; both laughed.

"OK, but really, do you have any tips for how to handle a teenage boy who's pissed because he can't go kill things?" She looked nervously toward Jack's room. "How do I cheer him up?"

"Well, I think we both know what you're going to have to do," Sam said with a deep, apologetic sigh. George raised an eyebrow curiously. Sam raised both of his and widened his eyes with a pointed head tilt in response. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she began to see where he was going with this and his head started nodding slowly.

"No," George said matter of factly, starting to shake her head. "No!"

"Look, I know it's not ideal, but-"

"I refuse!" She dug her heels in and her arms crossed over her chest.

"Now, now," He began in the same tone you would use to speak to a toddler. "You asked how to make him happy."

"I am not going to debase myself like that, Sam. No!"

"Listen, I know it's hard! But you've done it once already! Was it really tha-"

"Horrible! You of all people should understand why this is a terrible thing to ask! You had to do it once, too!" She uncrossed her arms and pointed at him, demanding, "Look me in the eye and tell me a little piece of your soul didn't die the last time?"

"Oh it wasn't that bad," Sam rolled his eyes dramatically.

"That's easy for you to say, Sam! You're bad at it! But, I have a reputation to protect!"

"OK, Kinicki, well if you want Jack to have fun, you're going to have to suck it up and let him win at Mario Kart!" When she huffed, shaking her head in continued defiance, he rolled his eyes and offered a compromise, "Every once in a while!"

After a few moments of mean mugging each other, neither one willing to give in, they both just started laughing. Once their laughter died down, he gave her a serious, apologetic expression and said, "Georgia, I really am sorry to do this… I was having fun."

As he used her full name, she couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. With a gentle shake of her head, she waved him off, "Don't be sorry; you have to go. And truly, I don't mind. Jack's actually a pretty cool kid…" She trailed off and then furrowed her brow in mock concern, "or am I a lame adult?"

He chucked, then shrugged and said, "Well, if you are then I am."

"Good thing Dean didn't hear you say that," She joked, shooting a finger gun at him. The look on his face in response was indiscernible and she kicked herself. "Shit, sorry. That was insensitive. With Michael and everything, I-I didn'-"

Sam waved his hand in the air and cut her off, "Nah, I know you didn't mean anything by it. I was just thinking how accurate the statement was, yet… you haven't met Dean, right?"

Her eyebrows went up in sobered surprise. Shit. She gulped and stuttered out, "Oh-right-no, that's right. I haven't… I-I just, uh, I know what it's like to have a big brother! He's-he is your big brother, right? I mean, I think I've heard Jack or someone say that…" Sam's brows furrowed further, looking at her curiously and nodding slowly in confirmation. "Right, well, yea. I just-I figured since Dean was your big brother, he'd relish the opportunity to make a comment about you being a loser. I know my brother certainly lived for it." She felt like he could tell she was sweating and it made her sweat more.

"Uh huh," Sam said with a slow drawl, not entirely convinced.

As George watched him she became less nervous, realizing that there was a lot of pain behind his bright hazel eyes. It was obvious that he was really worried about his brother; her heart twinged in empathy.

Without thinking, she placed a hand on his forearm and gripped tightly. With a comforting smile she promised, "Don't worry, Sam. You'll find Dean soon."

Sam felt as if the wind knocked out of his lungs as an intense burst of deja vu hit him. It couldn't be… that had been a dream. A fake dream at that! All part of the trickster's mind games trying to get him to give up on saving Dean. Obviously, there was no way this was the same woman. Yet he knew he'd heard that consolation before. From her, he felt sure. But how would he have dreamt about a woman from an alternate reality?

She jumped when she heard someone shout from down the hall, "Sam!"

George was panicking internally. He'd flinched at her words and the look on his face made her sick to her stomach. She let go of his arm quickly. Had she gone too far? Had she offended him? Was he just disgusted at being touched by her? A million thoughts raced through her mind as a cold sweat broke out on her forehead.

Sam snapped out of his stupor and furrowed his brow a bit. "COMING!" He boomed in their direction and then looked back at her in apology. Though he still seemed perturbed by something.

George smiled understandably, eternally grateful for the interruption, and began before he could say anything, "You have to go! I'll keep an eye on Jack for a while longer. But I swear to God if he starts trying to talk to me about Fortnite or TikTok or FOOTBALL: I'm. Out."

Sam had moved around her, slowly starting to head for the map room, "Football?"

"I just really hate sports," She deadpanned with a shrug, turning her body around to follow him.

He chucked and nodded, "Ah. Noted." He bowed to her slightly as he backed away, "Well, Thank you again. I owe you a beer now… or maybe a massage?" He offered innocently, adding, "I may not be a professional, but I definitely know what I'm doing." He watched just long enough to see her jaw drop, then with a wink, he turned and left.

When she'd mopped herself up from the floor and had finally started breathing again, George looked up to the ceiling and begged, "I have thirty five thousand dollars in savings and retirement and it's all yours for a copy!"

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