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potter-imagines · 4 years

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Best-friends to Lovers (Fred Weasley x Reader)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: can we get like... a lil fred weasley, you guys are good friends and you don’t usually go back for the holidays, and Fred invites you back to the Burrow to spend the break there and y’all like totally fall for each other 🥺

Warning: None (I switched it up just a tiny bit to where they’ve already developed some feelings but they finally admit them sooo hope you enjoy!)

Word Count: 4.5k

It was a flurry and cold winter night, the kind of night when every breath stings the lungs and every exhale chills the lips. The frigid air, the slippery ground and the sheet of white covering the once green grass. All signs winter was here and cold times were ahead. Even in the highlands of Scotland, the winters were ferosus and unforgiving. You despised the freezing temperature, but Fred was far too convincing and a midnight walk with him was something you couldn’t find the words to turn down.

For the first time in the five years you had spent at Hogwarts, and the five years you had been best friends, you had finally accepted the twins offer on spending Christmas at the Burrow with their family. It was a turn of events in your typical holiday plans which were mostly spent alone at the castle. Your first two years at school you had traveled home for Christmas. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t exactly a ‘jolly’ time either. Family time came few and far between. The sparse time you did spend around your family had grown… awkward. Being the only witch in your family didn’t help much either. As the years dragged on, you felt like a stranger in your own home. Your parents spent their entire year with your younger brother, so he had undoubtedly grown to be the favorite and the prized child. They still loved you of course, it just felt forced to engage with them at times.

So it came as a pleasant surprise when you walked into the Weasley’s home and were engulfed in a warmth you had never known. Molly Weasley was the first to greet you, popping out from the staircase with a shimmering grin. Before you could register what was happening, she pulled you into a bone crunching grip rambling on about how good it was to meet you. Arthur hugged you as well and teased about how much the twins would talk about you, especially Fred. Fred would turn bashful but he didn’t deny it.

Ginny showed you around the house, beating Fred and George to the chance. Molly set up a mattress on the floor next to the youngest Weasley’s bed, something Ginny was over the moon thrilled about. She had been longing for a sleepover with you for years now. Ever since her first term, she followed you around like a little puppy. So your first night at the home, Ginny coerced you into a slumber party immediately.

The twins, mainly Fred, weren’t too happy at this. They were the ones who invited you yet their little sister was stealing all your time. Fred was bitter when you hurried off from dinner to go join Ginny upstairs, not even bidding him a farewell.

George insisted his twin was being dramatic- they had an entire month for Merlin's sake! The feelings his brother developed for you, their best friend, was clear as crystals to George. They both shared a crush on you for the first year at Hogwarts but George’s feelings quickly shifted to a friendship, sister love. Fred on the other hand, well his crush only evolved further. George noticed it the second Fred started combing his hair before dinner and always placing himself the closest towards you. It was a topic they danced around for quite some time. He teased his twin for years until the idea came to him that Fred still felt this way towards you even after years. George had devoted his previous two summers to breaking Fred into admission. All he wanted was to hear his twin confirm his suspicions. Not that he needed that really, other people were beginning to notice as well.

One of them being your temporary roommate. Ginny was a top notch observer. During her second year, she started to catch on to the elephant that followed you and Fred into every room.

That first night, Ginny shed light on her theory by offhandedly making a rather large claim late that first night. While the two of you were chatting softly in the dark, the young girl declared out of the blue,

“I think my brother is in love with you.”

In an instant, your whole body froze over like water on a lake. You were thankful for the dark, it kept Ginny from seeing your wide eyed stare of shock.

“What?”

It was now you could see her small frame adjusting in her bed. Even with the lack of light, you saw her sitting up on her bed, propping her weight on one elbow. It could be assumed she had a devilish smile as she probed on.

“Fred… pretty sure he’s in love with you.”

“Why, what makes you think that, Ginny?”

“Quite a laundry list of things, actually. First, he never shuts up about you. Second, he’s always trying to be around you. Third, he’s always staring at you… bit creepy. Fourth, he’s told our nanna about you! Lastly, and most obvious, I heard him telling George right before school started.”

Laying back down, you fixed your eyes on the ceiling taking in her words. Does your best friend really share the same feelings for you? It was too good to be true, it couldn’t be true, you thought. This kinda stuff only happened in the movies and your life definitely was not a film gracing the silver screen. The butterflies went rampant in your stomach, fluttering about wildly. For a moment, you had forgotten Ginny was there, or that you were in her room, until she spoke again.

“So, what do you think of him?” She asked innocently. Tugging the fluffy blue blanket closer to your chest you replied,

“Pardon?”

Ginny wasted no time and reached over to flicker the light switch on her bedside lamp. A bright light broke through the pitch black darkness of the bedroom. You groaned at the act but Ginny spoke over your sounds of protest.

“Are you in love with Fred?”

Running your hand over your face, you let out a sigh. It was getting too late to be thinking about such heavy topics. You had a great friendship with Ginny, you really did, but if you couldn’t even deal with these emotions on your own, you really didn’t want to throw your thoughts on her.

Turning over on the mattress, you rolled your eyes.

“Ginny, I’m not even dating Fred.”

“But you want to.” She confirmed stubbornly.

“I mean… I-I don’t know, Ginny. Can we talk about something else, please?” You wanted to hide under a blanket and avoid the question for all of eternity. She had caught you off guard and although the feelings you felt towards Fred were strong, it wasn’t something you felt ready to face yet. It wasn’t easy being in love with your best friend- there was so much risk, so much to lose if things went south. You settled on keeping Fred as a friend rather than gamble the option of rejection and a change in your relationship forever.

Ginny perked her brow, opened her mouth as if ready to rebuttal, then deciding against it. The corner of her tip twitched to a smirk as she replied,

“Hmm, okay.”

The topic was dropped for the rest of the night as Ginny went to bed shortly after, but it wasn’t completely over. From then on, you began noticing the constant little redhead attached to your coattails. You noticed each time Fred shooed his sister off and demanded she find something better to do. He was edging closer and closer to his point of eruption. This break was supposed to be time for him to spend alone with you and finally confess his feelings. Not Ginny being your shadow and George tagging along for every outing.

Now on your walk almost a week later, your mind hadn’t stopped wandering to that conversation. Ginny hadn’t brought it up again, at least not vocally. During breakfast the next morning after your talk while you're placed between Fred and George joking around with them, she’ll send you knowing looks, giggling to herself. Harry started to pick up on this as well and you noticed Ginny whispering to him afterwards. It didn’t help that Fred would take any opportunity he could to make you laugh and be in your presence.

Last night you found yourself sitting in front of the fireplace with George, Ginny, Ron, Harry and Fred. A steaming mug of hot cocoa was clutched in everyone’s hand. After about an hour of talking softly and sharing stories, Ginny, Ron and Harry decided to call it a night and trudged up the stairs together. You waved to them as they disappeared up the wooden steps, the sound off their feet turning quieter with every second.

As the three of you sat closely, it felt like you were back at Hogwarts in the common room. George was gushing about a Muggle film you had shown him earlier in the day and Fred was silently listening in, a small smile kissing his lips. You were sat at Fred’s side, your backs against the couch and his arm thrown casually around your shoulder. George was laid on the smaller couch across from the two of you, rambling on to himself. As his talking continued, Fred slowly worked to move your body closer to his and nearly in his lap. He did it so naturally you almost failed to notice. The loud, booming tone of George simmer out within minutes. His voice seemed to sooth him into a slumber as his harsh snores suddenly cut through the air, having talked himself to sleep. This caused the both of you to start laughing. Fred’s arm gripped you tighter as his body shook with chuckles. The sensation sent an odd shiver down your spine. It felt… nice, really really nice to be in his arms.

Fred wondered if now was the time. It was the first chance he had gotten alone with you for almost a week, so there was a good probability he wouldn’t get another for a while. He needed to make a move, something at least! Fred hated not having the bravery like the Gryffindor he was to fess up and spit out the words to describe how he felt about you. Closing his eyes, Fred took a deep breath then peeked his gaze open once more. The nerves had calmed and for the first time, he felt ready and he knew he had to act on it. But as he looked down at you, all the confidence had vanished with one glance. His throat dried as your eyes met and a faint precipitation budded in his palms. All the words he had been rehearsing for a year now simply slipped out the back door.

You took note of the ghost white paleness that took over and immediately sat up, removing yourself from his arms to ask,

“You alright, Freddie?” The concern dripped from your words as you examined the face of your best friend. His eyes were lowered, glued to the flickering flames of the crackling fire.

“Of course, love. I’m sorry, was just thinking.”

“Aw, Freddie, we talked about this. You know thinking is no good for you- you’re brain can’t handle it, darling!” Fred’s heart leaped at the adorning pet name. Only recently had you started calling him more loving names, and it drove him absolutely mad. No girl could ever get his heart racing with just one word like you could. He loved hearing such names coming from your mouth, and directed to him. There was only one name he would die to call you and that was his.

“Can I take you for a walk, love?” The request came abruptly, completely out of the blue. Your eyes widen at his question. Any other time you’d say yes without a second thought. Although, it was late and the land was not a territory you were familiar with like Hogwarts.

Your eyes fell on the window behind the couch. Large white snowflakes swirled from the sky and coated the grounds. The heavy black winter jacket you packed was hung up neatly by the door, not having been touched for at least a day.

Turning your attention back to Fred, you realized his eyes were already trained on your face. At your glance, a hopefully smile reached his cheeks.

“It’s nearly midnight I… actually, why not? Sure. But if we run into any wolves, I’m sacrificing you to them, Weasley.” He laughed at your response and quickly jumped up. You set your hands to your side, readying yourself to stand when suddenly, Fred’s large hands attached to your sides and lifted you up to your feet. You stumbled trying to gain balance but once again, Fred was right there to help you.

Unexpectedly, his left hand extended out and intertwined his fingers in yours. Just as you had predicted, his touch was warm, addicting in a way. It set off a pool of security and protection. Instead of fearing what may lie in the open land outside his house, you trusted Fred.

The tall boy walked you towards the door and pulled your long coat from the hook then threw it around your body. You slipped your arms into the fuzzy material as he yanked his heavy jacket on. Watching the never ending snowfall outside, you worked your hands into the black mittens you had stored in the coat pockets. You hoped it wasn’t as bone chilling outside as it looked.

“Here, I think you might need this, love. You can use my scarf too if you’d like. Don’t want you freezing to death, that’d be hard to explain to George and the rest of our friends.” Fred placed an extra winter hat of his on top of your head. Heat slapped your cheeks at his movements. Fred was commonly sweet towards you but lately, he had been extra sweet. Small gestures here and there were adding up and raising a bit of questions in your mind.

You knocked Fred jokingly on the shoulder and remarked,

“Reckon they’ll send you to Azkaban for that one. I’m a saint, everyone loves me, Fred.” You teased him playfully before accepting his offer with a thank you. Instead of handing you the maroon and gold striped scarf, Fred leaned forward and wrapped it snug around your neck. Once finished, his fingertip tapped against the tip of your nose, grinning to himself.

“You’re not wrong about that. We should get going though. The killer trolls will rise from the ground soon!”

“Knock it off!” You scolded him in a hushed tone, careful not to wake his sleeping family as you chased out of the house after him. Running down the steps, you saw Fred waiting near the car for you. There was an open path behind the car, a makeshift road but the kids used it for a walking guide.

He motioned you over waving exaggeratedly.

“C’mon, darling! You’re taking forever.” Fred moaned on dramatically as he waited for you to catch up to him.

“It’s freezing out here, be patient.” You waddled over to his side and stood close to his frame, egar for warmth. Fred took in your shaking body and wrapped his arm around your shoulder and tugged you towards his side.

Snowflakes landed on your eyelashes, conflicting your view. Despite the coldness of the winter air, the landscape was beautiful. There were miles and miles of open plains on all ends of the Burrow. In a way, they were isolated, but the atmosphere was live with activity. It was impossible to be bored when the Weasley siblings were around. There was so much to do, in an exploring sense. You had never felt so free, so open before. It was refreshing to spend time at Weasley's home. As the two of you walked together in the crunchy snow, Fred pointed to a large field, a makeshift pitch if you had to guess.

“Charlie and Bill taught George and I how to play Quidditch over there the summer after our first year. Percy hated playing with us! We’d all gang up on him- even if he was on our team- and try to knock him off his broom. I don’t think he’s played with us since! You would’ve died of laughter seeing how angry he got.” You watched as Fred’s features scrunched in laughed at the memory. His contagious chuckles infected you as you laughed along. It was a recollection you could imagine perfectly, even if you weren’t there. Percy was an easy target but he had done it to himself so there wasn’t much room for blame.

Shrugging your shoulders you said,

“I would say poor Percy but he turned me in for being out past curfew so, I’m proud of you, Fred.”

“Sounds like him, just try being related to him. He runs to our parents for everything! Every. Little. Thing. It’s infuriating.” Your cheeks began to sting from smiling so much, but when you were around Fred, it was a given. He had an affect on you that no one else seemed to earn. Even when you were on the brim of tears, Fred always found a way to bring a grin to your face.

But still, you thought about Ginny’s words and the change in Fred throughout your years as friends. Nights were lost tossing and turning over the thought of that prankster redhead who had occupied all your notions.

Lifting your hand up slightly, you grabbed for Fred’s gloved hand. He gladly accepted your gesture and squeezed on your hand as you continued to walk further from the home. Fred’s attention soon dropped as his consciousness drifted once again. Pursing your lips you drew him out.

“Freddie, what’s on your mind? You’ve been different since we got here. I mean, it’s not a bad different. It’s just… something is different with you and you’re my best friend so I wanna know.”

Fred’s eyes snapped up at your concerning voice and the startled expression met yours. This was definitely not a common act for Fred. Your mind raced at the possibility of what it could be but luckily, Fred didn’t make you wait long for an answer.

His pace slowed, but his feet still dragged in the powdered flakes holding your hand. You wanted to hear him speak so bad although you respected the time he needed and waited in silence as you continued to walk. It didn’t take long for Fred to shatter the thin air,

“Can I ask you a serious question? Like one that could change everything.”

“You can ask me anything, Fred. You know this. It won’t change a thing.” You replied seriously. Fred could hear the truthfulness in your words and it calmed him, only a little though. The looming fear, and reality, of rejection was becoming all too real. Even worse than rejection, Fred had a feeling if he didn’t take his chance now, he might never have the opportunity again.

“Do you see me only as a best friend?” The nervousness in his voice broke the peace of the air. Your feet halted at the cavalier inquest. Fred had asked quite the offhand questions before but this, this was new. Mentally attempting to connect the pieces, you tilted your head in confusion.

“Freddie…” The mummer was faint, almost failing to register from your lips. The Burrow was still in near distance and the moonlight provided enough light to search Fred’s face. You weren’t sure what to make of the inquiry exactly, but your heart race excelled in anticipation.

Fred Weasley shifted in the crystalline snow. His hands were shoved deep in his coat pockets and his legs bounced in his stance. You knew him well enough to see the contemplation written across his features.

“Y/n I really really like you. I promise this isn’t a joke or some prank. If you don’t feel the same I can find a way to accept it but I don’t wanna lose you in my life. I just can’t hold it in anymore. It’s been five years of tortue now and… I just needed to get it out, love. I think I might be falling in love with you- if I haven’t already.” As Fred poured his heart out openly, the dripping snowfall ceased all together. It was magically in a sense. The loud slush was now quiet, almost like drizzling rain. His gingerbread eyes were studied upon you, waiting for any sort of reaction to surface. You just gazed up at him scavenging for the perfect words to spill your emotions.

“You’ve liked me for five years?” You asked, stunned. That was impossible. All this time you had spent crushing on Fred and admiring him, stuck in the friendzone, you could’ve just talked to him and been honest. Fred’s eyes darted back to his house then to you anxiously.

“Yeah. I’ve just been too scared to tell you. I don’t want it to ruin our friendship, that’s the last thing I could take.”

Your heart dropped at his words. It was funny in a way, he had the same fears as you. In the same way, you felt guilty for putting him through the same torture you had been going through the last few years as well.

With a surge of confidence, you snapped your head up to Fred and quickly remarked,

“Will it ruin our friendship if I think I’m in love with you too?”

The stillness in the air was unreadable at first. Your gazes trained intently on each other. The uplift gleamed in Fred when he took in your words. All his fears went away like the swish of a wand.

Half out of adrenaline, the other half out of want for years of desire, Fred took one step forward and closed the small gap of space between the two of you by pressing his lips tightly against yours. His hands rested on your face, and the small of your back to keep you steady. This you were thankful for this as his quick actions took you by shock nearly knocking you off your feet.

Your left hand drew up to his hair, finding a tight grip in his shoulder length locks, something you’d been dreaming about doing. The kiss intensified as you indulged in the lock and pressed closer to Fred. Your mouths moved together as if snogging was naturally with you two.

Your lungs demanded air after a few minutes and you slowly pulled away from Fred’s lips and leaned away to regain your composure. You could hear Fred panting at your side, also processing what just took place. Your hands never left each other’s and he suddenly squeezed yours to earn your attention. A genuine look crosses Fred’s face as he whispered into the cold air,

“Can I ask you to be my girlfriend now or do you want me to woo you over on a date first?” His sweet words nearly melted your heart. As easy as you were to please when it came to Fred, this heartwarming exchange felt like the perfect night to declare as a first outing.

“I think I’ll count this as our first date, it was quite romantic.”

Fred rolled his eyes with a smirk. It made him happy that you weren’t demanding or the snotty type. He loved that the small things made you glow with happiness. Even with this, he was still mentally planning a date to take you on before break ended. Although you still had yet to answer his big question.

“So does that mean you’ll be my girlfriend?” You had to swallow back a laugh as you realized you never officially answered Fred. Despite your kiss, he still looked worried you’d turn him away. Shaking your head with a smile you replied,

“Yes, I won’t make you beg anymore.”

Fred wasted no time snatching you by the waste and giving you a small twirl around the snow. A yelp sounded from your lips and you hoped it wasn’t loud enough to wake anyone sleeping at the Burrow. Fred chuckled at your protests and placed you down delicately. Placing his hands on either side of your face, the joyful Gryffindor snogged you lightly, but his passion still seeped through.

“Merlin’s beard, can’t believe it took my stupid arse five years to ask you out. I could’ve been kissing you years ago!”

“Guess we were both missing out. Feel dim for thinking I was going to ruin everything between us if I told you how I felt. But I’m so happy, Freddie.”

“Here, darling,” His gloved hand jerk back to the house, “We oughta head back, now. Mum will kill me if she finds out we were out this late! She thinks you’re an angel so you’ll be fine but I’ll be six feet under by dawn. I can’t wait for morning, though. I can finally brag to everyone that you’re mine, love.” His lips pressed against yours again, desperate to relive the spark and it did not disappoint. Kissing Fred felt natural, like you melted into the embrace. Your lips molded in sync, matching up like magnets. His tongue drew a line across your bottom lips as he kissed you deeper.

Coming back to earth you detached from Fred with a light ‘smack’ noise. Neither of you could wipe the childlike grins off your faces. His plump cheeks turned crimson in the night. Unable to shake off the excitement of the night’s events, you leaned into Fred’s body, giving him a tight hug. He returned the embrace instantly and left a long kiss to the top of your head.

Leaning away, you planted one last kiss to Fred’s cheek then held his hand as you two walked towards his home. The light at the top of the Burrow, assumingly Fred and George's room was turned on. Brightness shone from the window and you pointed up at the sight. The house was only feet away and you started to wonder what George would think of the news.

It could be assumed he wouldn’t be shocked. George spent the last year making comments to you here and there, prying in on you and Fred. Ginny of course wouldn’t be too blown away either, but what about Ron and Harry?

Fred already knew what their reactions would be. He knew without a doubt all of your friends would be thrilled, but no one would be too taken aback by your new relationship. It seemed the only two students who were oblivious to your shared feelings, were Fred and yourself.

“You think they’ll be surprised to hear we’re dating?” You wondered out loud. Fred swung your hand in a back and forth motion as you approached the front porch of the house. Your question obtained a chuckle from Fred as he shook his head,

“Not one bit, love.”

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weelittleweasley · 3 years

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safe and sound (f.w.)

prompt: after getting caught in the rain and chased by death eater, you stumble upon a house and look for a safe haven inside. little did you know who would be waiting for you in that house.

pairings: fred weasley x fem! reader

warnings: running away, mentions of death, mentions of war, language, anxiety, sexual tension (of course), food, some classic longing stares, don’t worry it’s a fluffy ending

word count: 9.7k (its so long im sorry)

taglist: @rosaliepostsstuff @harrysweasleys @gcdricreads @lumos-barnes @whizboingies @lumosandnoxwriting @pxroxide-prinxcesss @c-t-h @lol-idk-oops @another-lonely-heart-blog @kaseyrose96-blog @hufflepuff5972 @amourtentiaa @parseltongueswriting @shilohpug @peachypotter @spacexcowgirl @paintballkid711 @vogueweasley @sweeterthansammy @loonylovegood13 @gryffindcrghost @wand3ringr0s3 @valwritesx

The engine of your car roared as rain slapped against the windshield, your chest heaving with fear, constantly checking your rear view mirror, pressing down on the gas as hard as you could. You whispered tiny prayers, hoping that you were going fast enough to outrun whoever was chasing you. Looking at the speedometer, you see that it slowly climbs to 85 miles an hour, then 90, then 95 as you search the dirt roads ahead of you for a clearing or any sign of life. “Please, please, please, please,” you whisper to yourself as you continue to speed through the English countryside, thunder rumbling behind you as the speedometer climbs and climbs.

With each flash of lightning you jump a little in your own skin, mistaking it for the flash from someone’s wand, casting a hex on you. But you remind yourself that you must be miles and miles away from them and that you were safe. For now at least.

You continue to scan your surroundings, not recognizing where you were, the rain blurring your view outside. Regardless, you continue to drive, straight down the road, until you reached some place that looked like it had life.

But your car had other plans. As you slammed your foot on the gas, there was a screeching sounds, and then a rumbling boom, before smoke started to appear from the front of the car. “Oh, come on! Not now!” you yell out in frustration, pushing your foot on the gas harder, hoping that the action would keep the car going. But much to your dismay, the car came to a simmering halt as you threw your head back with a groan. With the little life it had left, you pulled the car to the side of the road and put it in park, even though that would change a thing. The car was dead.

You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to think of something. You were stranded in the middle of nowhere, with just your wand, a small bag of your belongings, and dead car with half a tank of petrol. “Fuck,” you curse slamming your hands down on the wheel.

Through the rain, you try to scan your surroundings again. The nearest town was still some ways away and you had no way of contacting anyone. Your best bet was to wait out here in the car until morning when the rain would hopefully stop and you could walk to the nearest town and get some help. “Bloody brilliant,” you huff, zipping up your jumper, folding your arms.

As you lean in the driver’s seat, you try not to focus on the events that had precipitated previously; the thought was far too terrifying for you. Instead, you focused on the raindrops that streamed down your car window, as you pit one raindrop against another, making them race down the glass.

But as you watch the raindrops fall, through the rain, in the distance, you can almost make out a small building. A house. Through the brush and the trees was a small home, the windows illuminated meaning there was a sign of life. “Thank Merlin,” you whisper to yourself as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

You flip up your hood, trying to protect yourself from the rain, but to no avail. When you step outside of the car door, you are saturated in an instant, the cold and unforgiving rain soaking your jeans and jumper, dampening your hair through your hood. “Shit,” you huff as you start to take up a light jog, hoping and praying that the company in the small house was welcoming.

---

“I need another bucket!” Ron calls out as he stands under another leak in the Burrow, holding a small mug up to catch the dripping water. Ginny runs to the kitchen and grabs another bucket under the sink before handing it off to Ron. He places it on the floor before scurrying off the previous leaks that seem to appear throughout the Burrow. “Gin, can you take care of the leak on the second floor?” Ron calls out to which Ginny replies an On it! before scurrying up the stairs.

Molly Weasley is scrambling throughout the house before plucking her band from her dressing robe, “Reparo!” she casts as the roof seems to mend itself. She casts it a few more times around the house with a frustrated sigh each time. “That should hold us over for a while now. But keep the buckets there in case the leak starts again,” she tells Ron with a kiss on the forehead.

“The attic seems to be fine!” George calls from the top of the stairs. “No water damage and no leaks inside. Can’t speak for the rest of the place,” he shrugs as he descends the stairs, Fred following not too far behind.

Molly sighs, “Well, that’s the best we can ask for right now. One of you go help your father in the shed. He says there’s a tarp in there that we can lay out in case the storm gets worse.” With a curt nod, Percy starts outside to help Arthur out in the shed. The rest of the Weasleys flop on the couch with a huff.

Storms like this always brought more bad than good. It did wonders for Molly’s garden, but as for the infrastructure of their house not so much. The Burrow was old and needed some renovations, but money was tight. Instead, simple fixes here and there did the trick during stormy weather.

Ginny helps her mother light more candles around the house before heading over to the fireplace to get a fire going to warm the house. Ron shivers a little before running up to his room to grab a jumper to keep him warm. Fred looks over at George, mischief in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. George looks at his brother before picking up on his wave length. A stormy day always made for the most interesting quidditch matches.

The twins rise from the couch, grabbing their coats before Molly interrupts, “And where do you two think you’re off to?”

Fred, without looking at his mother, speaks, “The weather is perfect for a quidditch match. Great practice. Reckon you’ll join, Gin?” Fred asks the youngest Weasley as she looks at him with excited eyes.

“None of you lot with be playing quidditch in this weather!” Molly exclaims with a firm tone and folded arms. Ginny looks at her mother with pleading eyes to which she brushes off. “The weather is wicked outside!”

George laughs, “Yeah, wicked for playing quidditch.” Fred joins in on the laughter, offering his twin a high five with his accepts.

“If you two disobey me, you’ll be in a wicked amount of trouble. Now put your coats down and help me start the fire. Fred, go fetch the old newspaper. George, get the wood from upstairs. We need to warm this place up before we all freeze to death,” she huffs as George and Fred reluctantly take off their coats with a groan. Yet they still obey their mother.

George looks over to his twin, “You shouldn’t have told her we were playing quidditch. You should have made up something.”

Fred scoffs, “And said what? We’re replanting the peonies?” George rolls his eyes. “That’s what I thought. Now go get the fire wood like you’re told,” he teases his twin, earning him a slap upside the head. “Wanker.”

George disappears upstairs as Fred goes into the kitchen and grabs the old newspapers from the dining room table. Page by page he rips them into small pieces, crumpling them up, creating a fire starter.

Suddenly, a great rumble of thunder comes from outside, startling the house Weasley family. They all quickly laugh it off with a shake of their heads. The storms were brutal in the summer months. But there it was again, another sound. But not quite thunder.

“Was that thunder?” Ron asks, crouched down by the fire place, helping George throw in the logs.

Fred shakes his head. “No,” he listens closely again before it sounds again. Four bangs on the front door. Fred looks to his brothers and sister and speaks, “I thought Harry and Hermione were coming next week?”

“They are,” Ron answers with a puzzled look on his face.

Again, four more bangs on the front door, but now followed by a, “Is anyone home?”

Everyone’s eyes are wide with confusion. They expected no visitors, especially during a storm. But this only peaked their interest as to who was at the Burrow’s door at this time of night during a summer storm. Without much hesitation, Fred walks to the front door and swings it open.

In front, there you were. Body and clothes completely soaked with rain, shivering from the cold, lips purple and teeth chattering as you clung onto your thing jumper. Your hair was matted down with rain as droplets cascaded down your face as you looked at the tall, ginger haired boy in front of you. If you weren’t freezing your ass off, you would have stared at the handsome boy longer. But too consumed with the cold, you speak, “I need h-help.” Your words are shaky from your clattering teeth.

Fred looks at you, completely enthralled with the being in front of him. How could someone look so divine when drenched in rain water? Your lips were pressed together and shivered in your lavender jumper that matched the color of your lips. Small droplets of water fell from your hair and onto your feet as you sniffled. The sight was oddly charming. He snapped out of his thoughts and called out, “Mum!! We’ve got company!!” With a small smile, he opened the door further and welcomed you into the house as you sighed. “Come on then.”

You let out a breathy “thank you” as you entered the house, which wasn’t much warmer than outside, but it was better than being in the freezing rain. You stand in the middle of the house, a shivering, wet mess as you feel all eyes on you. Fred instructs Ron to get the fire started as he looks over to you, “How long have you been in the rain?”

“Uh, not long. I was in my car and then it broke down and I saw your house, so I ran over. Maybe ten minutes,” you shrug as the house slowly descends into madness, trying to help you out.

“Ten minutes too long,” Fred huffs with a smile before looking over at his mother. “She’s been walking in the rain. She needs to get warm,” Fred tells Molly whose face is painted with worry even though she didn’t know who you were.

Molly rushes over to you and places her hands on your shoulders. “Oh, my dear! You’re frigid! Fred, start a kettle of tea! George, grab the quits from your room! Ron, is that fire ready?” she starts tossing orders out as her children comply, darting in all different directions. Molly guides you towards the living room where the fire was, placing you directly in front. “You poor thing. Where are you coming from?” she asks, rubbing your arms. “Here, give me that saturated jumper. Ginny, go fetch one of your jumpers to give...what’s your name, dear?”

You smile at the sweet woman and speak, “(Y/N).”

Molly smiles, “(Y/N). Go fetch (Y/N) a jumper.” Ginny darts off to her room as you sit in front of the fire, the heat already radiating making you feel much better. “My name is Molly, dear. That’s Ginny who ran off, this is Ron, and in the kitchen are Fred and George. My husband, Arthur, and other son, Percy, are in the shed, but they should be in in any minute.”

You furrow your brows as you look at Molly and then around at your surroundings at the people around you. Red hair. Small house. Molly. Arthur. Many siblings. They must be the-

“(Y/N)?” a voice calls from the other room in the door frame.

You look over and there Percy stands, a familiar face with matted curly red hair, wet from the rain. “Percy! Hi!” you smile as Percy walks over to you with a small smile before giving you a light hug.

He laughs, “What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be with Alyssa for the weekend?”

From behind you a voice speaks, “Wait, I’m confused. How do you two know each other?” Ron looks between you and Percy confused as to how you recognized each other.

Percy speaks for you, “(Y/N)’s family works in the ministry. (Y/N) works as one of the assistants. Her father has high rankings with the ministry.” You smile up at Percy. It was true. Your family was heavily involved with the ministry, specifically with the regulation and control of magical creatures. That’s why you never really ended up going to school. You were guaranteed a job when you were born. Sometimes being at the ministry 24/7 was boring, but when you met Percy, it was a change of pace. Someone close in age to you and a new face to talk to. The two of you became fast friends. “We’ve been co-workers for sometime now.”

You look up at Percy and sigh, “I was with Alyssa. But, um,” you gulp, heart racing at the memory. “Something happened.” Percy gives you an inquisitive look as you look around you, now all of the Weasley’s eyes interested in what you had to say. So much for some privacy. “Alyssa’s father...he...got himself mixed with some of the wrong people...” you trail off as Percy sighs. “Lucius Malfoy decided to pay us a visit and...he killed him. Alyssa and I and her mother and sisters made it out in time, but we got separated. She just yelled at me to drive and...” you start becoming overwhelmed with the images of what had happened and tears start trailing down your face as a small sob escapes your lips as you quickly cover it.

Percy places a hand on your shoulder and rubs your back with a sad smile. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers as you pull yourself together with a deep breath. “You’re safe here. I promise that. Mum will take good care of you. We all will,” Percy gives you a small smile and for some reason, that makes you feel relaxed. Looking around at the people in the room, you feel comforted and safe. Something you needed after today.

Coming back was Ginny with a fresh jumper. She gave you a good look and said, “You know what? Just come up to my room actually. You can wear some of my clothes and get out of those wet ones, yeah?” she offers you a kind smile and her hand as you gladly accept, following her up to her room.

As you disappear up the stairs, Fred watches you with a small smile on his lips. Molly and Arthur occupy themselves with talk about where you would sleep for the night and how they would reconfigure sleeping arrangements. George and Ron start fighting about how the fire isn’t big enough. But Fred just can’t stop watching you go up and up and up the stairs.

He clears his throat and then speaks, “Perc...hey.” Percy walks over to his brother. “This (Y/N) girl...she didn’t go to Hogwarts...did she?” he asks.

Percy shakes his head, “No. She’s been studying under her father since she was born practically. She’s a great person. Really funny, really smart, and damn good at her job,” he explains to Fred, who clings onto every last word. Fred didn’t know what it was, but there was something about you that just drew him in. And he wanted to know every thing there was to know about you. Percy quickly recognizes the look in his brother’s eyes and says, “Don’t get any ideas, Fred. Come on, she’s my friend.”

Fred shrugs, “So. Does she have a partner?” Percy sighs. “Great. So she’s available,” he wiggles his eyebrows as Percy slaps his arm. “I’m not gonna make a move on her, Percy! Godric...not yet at least.” But before Percy can slap him again, Fred is running away in the other room to join his twin and younger brother on the floor.

Practically jumping on George, Fred smothers his brother as George groans, “Would you get off of me, git?” Fred laughs before taking a seat next to him. “What’s got you so excited?” George looks at his twin before instantly realizing the change in his mood. “Good Godric, really? You fancy the girl? Merlin, Fred, she just got here and she’s clearly in distress over what she saw today!” George whisper yells at Fred who is too happy to care about what his brother scolds him over.

He simply speaks, “I don’t plan on jumping on the girl tonight, George. I just am looking to get to know her better.”

“Before you jump on her,” Ron speaks, making George laugh as Fred slaps his younger brother upside the head.

“Hey! Who said I was doing to do any of that!” he defends himself. “I think she’s beautiful. I don’t know. There’s something about her that I...just can’t put my finger on. I don’t know. I just wanna get to know her better. Alright? Can you live with that?” Fred speaks to his brothers as they look at each other knowingly.

But before Fred can defend himself further, you are back in the room, changed into fresh clothes from Ginny. You pull the jumper down more, covering your midriff as you sit back down on the floor in front of the fire with Ginny, you and her making light conversation. And the while, Fred steals little glances here and there.

“So, you didn’t go to Hogwarts, but you learned under your father?” Ginny asks as you nod happily.

There was a part of you that felt like you really missed out on an experience. Not attending Hogwarts was a choice that your parents made without your input and you wished every day that you had spoken up and told them that you wanted to go. But instead, they argued that learning directly under your father would be a better education and whatever you didn’t learn, you could easily pick up with some help from your father, your mother, or any of their friends in the ministry. Other than that, you had a relatively happy childhood, working with magical creatures daily, running around the different departments with other children you could find. Life was good, until trouble started to appear in spurts.

You reply, “Yeah. When he steps down from his position, I’ll be there to take it over. It’s what I’ve been working towards my whole life.” When you spoke the sentence, it stung. It wasn’t like you had a choice. Your future was set out for you since the day you were born.

Ginny smiles, “That’s really cool though. You don’t need to work about OWLs or NEWTs or any exams. Sounds pretty sweet.” You give her a weak laugh. Pretty sweet.

Molly comes back in the room, a small cup of tea in her hands. “Black tea, cream, no sugar,” she coos. “Percy told me how you take it,” she winks as you smile and thank her graciously. “I’m glad to see that you’re in warm clothes now. For tonight, and I hope you don’t mind, you’ll spend the night in Fred and George’s room. George will spend the night in Ron’s room and Fred will sleep on the couch down here, so you’ll have some privacy,” Molly speaks with a smile.

You look around the room, “Oh! I can take the couch! Really! I don’t want to kick anyone out of their room!” you tell the group as they all give you small smiles.

“Nonsense!” Molly smiles. “A guest deserves to sleep on a proper bed. Besides this is just for tonight. Tomorrow morning, Arthur and Percy will get the extra mattress from the attic and bring it down into Ginny’s room.” You shake your head and profusely thank the twins for giving up their room and the both of them just smile while Fred drops his left eye into a wink, making your heart flutter in your chest. “You can stay here as long as you need, dear. We can find someone to come in and fix your car.”

But before you can protest, Fred speaks up, “Actually, no need to call someone, Mum. George and I fixed the flying Ford Anglia, I’m sure we can fix some muggle car.”

“What the bloody hell are you on about, we ne-”

Fred nudges George in the stomach, making him double over with an oof, as Fred smiles and continues, “We’ll have it repaired in no time.”

You look over at Fred with curious eyes and a small smile. There was something about him that just was so magnetic. His brown eyes, tufts of messy red hair, loose t-shirt that clung onto his arm muscles that flexed so gently underneath the green fabric. Just his smile was enough to have you captivated for eons. “Thanks,” you simply state with a smile and he nods. “Um,” you break away from his gaze. “I’ll, uh, get ready for bed then, I guess. It’s quite late.”

You rise from the floor and scurry up the stares, feeling eyes on you, and for some reason, you hoped that Fred was one of them.

-------

It was two in the morning and the whole house was dead asleep. Except for you. Each time you closed your eyes, you felt the feelings and panic from hours before. Your heart thumped in your chest as you toss and turned in your sleep, an unsettled feeling wrestling in your stomach.

Giving up, you sit straight up and huff, hearing the clock tick insistently on the wall, mocking you. You roll your eyes and swing your legs over the unfamiliar bed and rub your face. Standing up from the bed, you start to slug over to the door and down the stairs, trying to see if maybe a change of scenery would do you some good.

When you walk down the stairs, you are careful to be quiet, not to wake up Fred. But lucky for you, he was wide awake, sitting on the floor in front of the fire place that was mere glowing embers. Fred turns and looks at you, a small smile dancing on his lips when he sees you. “Didn’t think you would be up,” you smile at him before taking a seat next to him on the floor, him scooting over so you could enjoy the residual warmth from the fire.

Fred shrugs, “Couch isn’t super comfortable. The springs are digging into my back.”

You give him a sorry smile. “I’m sorry that I took your room for the night. I told you that I don’t mind sleeping on the couch. Not too late to take me up on my offer...” you give him a joking nudge, earning a light chuckle from one half of the Weasley twins.

“Very kind of you, but you take the room. I don’t mind sharing. Especially if it’s with a pretty girl,” he flirts as you feet heat rise to your cheeks, turning away from him so he couldn’t see your small smile. But Fred knows and that’s only earned him a proud feeling in his chest. “So,” he starts. “You’re friends with my dork brother, eh?”

You lightly laugh, “He’s not a dork. Percy has been a really great friend. I really don’t know what I would do without him.” Fred gives you a small smile. “Truly. He’s really been my best mate.”

Fred wiggles his brows, teasing you. “Best mates, eh?” He bumps his shoulder into you as you giggle and roll your eyes.

“Percy and I are just friends, come on,” you give him a playful shove. Fred smiles and shakes his head as you feel suddenly confident, a flirtatious comment falling off of your lips. “If we were, do you think I’d be down here talking to his cute brother?”

The comment makes Fred look at you, at first with wide eyes which eventually fades into a little smirk with ruby red cheeks. He chuckles, “Touché.”

You and Fred sit next to the fire and continue to make conversation, talking about you, your life back home, and Fred and the joke shoppe. The more you talk to him the more you realize how easily conversation flowed between the two of you. Talking with Fred was like breathing; you didn’t need to think about it, it just happened so effortlessly. He made you laugh until you clutched your sides, doubled over in pain, which made his heart swell. Your laugh sounding like a beautiful melody of a familiar tune, something he could never grow tired of hearing.

“The shoppe really is a dream come true,” Fred smiles to himself as he watches the fire dwindle down. “It’s what George and I have always wanted our whole lives.” Watching Fred talk about the joke shoppe and seeing all the joy and passion behind his eyes was like watching fireworks. Captivating. The way he spoke about running his own business with his best mate and brother made a smile creep its way onto your face. “I can only imagine it’s the same way you feel about taking over your father’s position,” Fred looks to you with a hopeful smile as you gulp thickly.

You shrug, “Yeah. You can say that.” You wished you sounded more enthusiastic, but truth of the matter was you had no passion behind what you did. Sure, growing up you dreamed of taking over your father’s position and becoming head of the department. But as you grew up, you took up other interests and hobbies that outgrew your love of magical creatures.

Fred instantly noticed your change in tone and twisted his eyebrows together. “That’s not a very convincing answer,” he laughs as you lightly chuckle. “You don’t want to take over his position?”

With a sigh, you rub your hands over your face. “I do, but...I don’t?” you look at him, wrapping your arms around your knees, bringing them close to your chest. You turn towards Fred and start, “I mean, my whole future was planned out for me when I was born. First born takes over the position. I’m first born so everything has been etched in stone for me. I love my family and what they do and I’ve always been passionate about it...but somethings missing, you know? As I grew up, I took different interests and now...I don’t know if I want to be in that position. I don’t want to be a part of the ministry anymore.” The confession was a lot to dump onto Fred, but for some reason you felt like he would understand. That he would listen to you. “I’m sorry that was a lot to unload.”

“Don’t apologize,” Fred smiles at you, placing a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it gently, making your heart race at the simple touch. Fred turns to face you, knees brushing against each other as you nibble on the inside of your cheek. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what do you want to do with your life?”

A small smile appears on your face. “I want to own a book shoppe. I know it sounds dorky, but I want to own my own book store with every book in the world. Fantasy, mythology, history, science, maths, everything under the sun. I want people to come in and read and sit and learn new things,” you light up at the thought of having a place to call your own. “I regret every day not getting the ‘real school’ experience, but in a weird way, I think owning a book store would make up for it?” you lightly laugh as Fred stares at you with a dreamy smile on his face.

The way you spoke about books and people and learning was unlike anything he had ever seen. You completely lit up like a Christmas tree and Fred was smitten. “You want to know my opinion?” Fred asks as you nod. “I think...you should leave the ministry and open up your own bookstore,” he tells you as you lightly laugh. “I’m serious. You don’t have half the passion for the ministry like you do for the bookstore. This is your dream. You should follow it.”

“Okay, but opening a bookstore requires money and investors and actually getting books. I don’t have nearly enough,” you sigh as a mischievous smile appears on Fred’s face. “Uh oh. I don’t like that smile.”

Fred laughs, “It’s a good smile, don’t worry. What if...George and I were your first investors. I mean, the joke shoppe is booming and we have the money to invest in a small business.”

You start shaking your head. He was being overly generous for someone you just met today. “Oh, Fred, I couldn’t ask you to do that. That’s you and George’s money and-”

“And I want to use it where I see fit. And I think your business proposal is very promising,” Fred tells you with a small smirk as you sigh, heart fluttering at the way his face is illuminated by the embers of the fire place. “Sleep on it. I don’t need an answer right now. But you should think about it, (Y/N).”

You smile softly, playing with the cuffs of Ginny’s maroon jumper, heart thumping your chest. Slowly, you look up at Fred and his eyes are glued on yours, a soft smile on his pink lips. The two of you don’t say a word, just sat there, looking at one another, taking each other in as the fire crackles, the faint smell of burnt wood filling your senses. In this moment, Fred looked like someone you had known your whole life. Like you were supposed to be here, looking at him right now. You can feel his knee brush against you again, making the hairs on your arms stand up, goosebumps erupting along your skin as you inhale sharply.

Clearing your throat, you start to stand up. “I should probably get back to bed,” you interrupt the moment as Fred follows suit.

“Yeah, uh, you’re right. I gotta get up early anyway to start fixing your car,” Fred scratches the back of his neck as you make your way back to the stairs. “Goodnight, (Y/N). Sweet dreams.”

You stop on the third step and smile shyly at Fred. “Goodnight, Fred. Sweet dreams,” you repeat before walking up the stairs, a bright grin etched on your face.

----------

Two days have past since you arrived at the Weasleys. Morning comes quickly, day light streaming in through the window as you wake with a large stretch. You rub your eyes and look at the clock on the wall, the hands pointing to 10:13am. You had slept in later than expected, but maybe that’s what you needed. Slowly, you peel yourself from the bed and make your way downstairs, the hustle and bustle of the Weasley house in full swing. Ginny, Percy, and Ron are at the table, eating toast and eggs. “Look who decided to join the land of the living,” Percy teases as you smile with a groggy hey. “You hungry? Mum made enough eggs and toast to feed every fifth year at Hogwarts,” Percy laughs as you take a seat next to him, accepting a full plate of eggs, buttered toast, and a cup of tea the way you like it.

“Thank you, Molly,” you smile at the woman who places dirty dishes and pans in the sink as the magically begin to wash themselves.

She sends you a sweet smile and a wink, “Don’t mention it, dearest. Eat up. If you’re still hungry, there’s plenty more in the fridge.”

As you start to eat, Ginny and Ron start to talk about the plans for the day, talking of maybe playing a quidditch match in the yard, Ginny entertains the idea of taking a trip to Diagon Alley, Ron going back and forth if he should visit Hermione or not. Percy just states he’ll be doing work from his room as you roll your eyes, nudging him lightly at how studious he was. You scan the table and the living room to see no Fred or George. They couldn’t be sleeping still, Fred wasn’t on the couch and Ron’s room was empty when you passed it. “Where are the twins?” you ask Percy as you bite into your toast.

“Outside fixing your car. Fred’s been working on it since Mum woke up. And she gets up early,” Percy emphasizes as you laugh. “George should be out there too or he’s in the shed looking for spare parts,” Percy sips his black coffee.

You nod and finish munching on your toast and eggs before rising from the table, placing your dish in the sink, and making your way outside to see what was going on.

As you step outside, the warm sun engulfs you as you realize just how hot it was. Not the weather for Ginny’s heavy jumper that you slept in. But before you can complain about the heat, your eyes stumble on a sight that made you feel weak in the knees.

You gulp thickly as you mouth run dry as the desert. Fred is leaning over the hood of your car, arms flexed as he tightens knobs on the engine, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Surrendering to the August heat, Fred pulls his shirt over his head to reveal his toned back muscles that glisten with summer sweat. He runs his grease covered hands through his hair, sweeping it back, his biceps flexing before he returns to his position covering over the car, grunting as he uses his strength to tighten and fix the bolts. His pants hang low on his waist as the tops of his boxers peak out from the material, making you inhale deeply. It felt so wrong to look at him, but you couldn’t pull your eyes away from the toned man in front of you.

Finally snapping yourself out of your trance, you clear your throat, making your presence known. Fred turns towards you and a smile immediately forms on his lips. “Working hard or hardly working,” you tease him as you walk towards the car, leaning against him as Fred chuckles.

“Well, I’ve been up since six in the morning trying to fix this thing with no avail. So maybe the latter is more fitting,” he jokes as you smile. “How did you sleep last night?”

“Just fine,” you shrug before saying, “Um, thanks for staying up and talking with me for a bit the other night. It was nice.”

Fred smiles and folds his arms across his chest, your eyes darting down quickly to watch how his strong arms flexed over his toned chest, making you stomach do a flip. “Yeah, of course. You make great company,” he winks at you as you can’t help but giggle at his flirtatious remark. “Anyway, have you thought about my proposal?” he ask, raising his eyebrows and leaning over the hood of the car, closer to you as your heart stops at how close he was to you in this moment, mind drawing blank as your eyes scan over his naked top half. Fred notices your stare and he smirks, “Cat got your tongue, darling?” he coos.

But before you can speak, a voice interrupts, “Fred, would you quite harassing the guest?” You turn around to see George making his way back with a tool box and a wrench that he tosses to Fred who catches it with ease. “Morning, (Y/N),” George beams as you smile at him. “If my brother will stop flirting with you, hopefully we’ll get the car fixed by tonight.”

You chuckle as Fred rolls his eyes, continuing to work on the engine as you pry yourself from the car. “I appreciate it a lot. Taking the time out of your day to fix the car,” you tell the twins as they both smile and say it was no problem. “I’ll, uh, I’ll catch up with you two later,” you walk backwards back to the house before leaving the twins alone to fix the car as a smile lingers on your lips.

Fred watches you walk away, disappearing back into the house, his mind fixating on the way you looked in that jumper and sleep shorts, going to places where he shouldn’t really be thinking about. George punches Fred’s arm and snaps him out of his daydream. “Are you kidding, mate?” George laughs. “Come on.”

Fred groans, “I can’t stop thinking about her, George.” George rolls his eyes and shoves Fred out of the way, taking a look at the engine of the car. “We talked the other night for hours. She’s smart, and she’s funny, and bloody hell, she’s fucking gorgeous,” Fred huffs, running his fingers through his hair at the thought of you. He had just met you two days ago and you were already the first and last thing on Fred’s mind when he woke up and went to bed. “And I know there’s something there, mate. It’s just...awkward since we’re around everyone all the time,” Fred explains. “But I like her, George.”

George looks at his brother, giving him a look before realizing the sincerity behind his eyes and hopeful smile on his lips. George sighs and speaks, “Alright then. I’d say go for it, mate. If you think that there’s potential, what’s holding you back?”

“Her life,” he breathes out as he leans against the car. “She works for the ministry. That’s where her life is, but she hates it. She told me that she wants to break away and move and open her own bookstore. (Y/N) wants a different life, but her obligations are holding her back,” Fred explains to George to tightens a bolt on the engine before looking up at his brother with a face that reads And? “I want to help her,” Fred speaks. “And not because I have a crush on her. Because she deserves it. After everything she’s been through, I want to help her live her dream,” he tells George who folds his arms over his chest. “Our dream came true and if we didn’t have help from Harry, who knows if and when our business would have taken off. The same can be said for (Y/N) and her dream.”

George goes back and forth as Fred anticipates a positive answer from his twin. With a sigh, George says, “Alright. Let’s do it. But under one condition!” Fred furrows his brows. “Don’t be doing this just because you fancy her. You really want to help her, right?” he clarifies.

Fred smiles gently, thinking about you and how happy you would be to receive the news that your dream is becoming a reality. “More than anything. She deserves it,” Fred speaks quietly as George smiles at his brother.

------

Night had rolled around just as quickly as the morning came and you were sat on the floor of Ginny’s room on the mattress as everyone got ready for bed. In your hands, a letter from Alyssa, that an owl had brought in just minutes ago. She was safe, thank Merlin, back in London, waiting for your arrival. But the thought of leaving the Weasleys now, when you were just getting to know everyone, made your chest feel tight with sadness. Getting to know your mate’s family was enjoyable, especially with this newfound connection with Fred. Leaving now would just screw things up.

But you had duties to attend. The ministry, your family, Alyssa. You needed to get things back on track before staying here caused them to derail yet again.

You hear footsteps coming from down the hall as you fold the parchment and tuck it in your waistband of your shorts as you rise from the mattress. Instead of Ginny appearing in the door way like you expected, it was a freshly showered Fred in his pajama bottoms and an old white t-shirt that was just thin enough so you could see the outlines of his toned torso. His lifts his hands up so he can hang on the door frame, his eyes tracing you up and down quickly. You smile gently, “You fix my car, Weasley?”

He chuckles, “Come take a look for yourself.”

The two of you start down the stairs, leaving the rest of the Weasley family behind as you made your way outside. The summer night is mild, the sounds of crickets fill the air, and the breeze smells of grass and dew. Fred runs over to your car that’s a few feet away from the back of the house and jumps into the driver’s seat, putting the key in the ignition, and the engine roars. You smile and clap your hands, a job well done. Fred hops back out as you sit yourself on the hood of the car, facing him. “Nicely done,” you compliment him as he pretends to tip his hat to you. “So, how long did it take you two to realize that there was a spell for fixing the car engine?” you reveal as Fred’s eyes widen.

“You knew this whole time and yet you made us work in the bloody heat?!” he exclaims with a small smile on your face as you laugh out loud, throwing your head back and clutch your sides. “You’re a monster!” he teases, slightly shoving your arm.

You laugh, “Come on, you had to admit it was funny. Ron starting placing bets on who would figure it out first. Molly even joined in at one point.” Fred scoffs and rolls his eyes. “But still...a job well done. Thank you. I’ll have to think of a way to repay you.”

Fred gives you a look and speaks, “I have a few things in mind...” Your heart starts beating quicker as your mouth becomes dry as Fred moves to stand in between your legs, hands on either side of you on the car. “First of them being,” he starts, “Move to London and start your own business.”

Part of you is disappointed with the request, wanting something else from the fire haired boy, but you sigh, “Fred, you know I ca-”

“George and I spoke this morning. We both want to help you get you on your feet, so we’re investing in your bookstore,” he gushes as you look at him with wide eyes. “There is an available building across the street from the joke shoppe. With your consent, we’ll put the down payment on it tomorrow and the shoppe is all yours. When business is booming, you can pay us back. But until then, the store is all yours. Ready to go when you are,” Fred tells you.

You are completely overwhelmed with the news and can’t wrap your mind around why they were doing this. Why you? You were speechless. “Fred, I-” you stutter. “I don’t know what to say...thank you...this is...I don’t know how to describe it, but I don’t kn-”

“You don’t have to thank me or George. We wanted to do this. Seeing you talk about how passionate you were made me want to help you out. It reminded me of when George and I were dreaming of starting a business. We wanted to help someone who we saw potential in. Or I saw potential in,” Fred tells you, scratching his neck, nervously looking down as your heart swelled. “And since you’re across the street from the shoppe, that means we can see each other more often,” he says. “If you want that is. It’s also a good way for Percy to come see you too if you prefer that over seeing me or George, you know. I don’t want to assume anything,” he rambles as you giggle.

Fred looks into your eyes as you gently smile at him. The moon illuminated his face in the darkness, softening his sharp features as he sighed, looking at you. In this light, you were close to perfection. Fred wanted to melt on the floor when you looked at him with those eyes. Eyes that held so much beauty and adoration.

It wasn’t until his forehead gently touched yours that you realized you were moving in closer. Fred gently brushed his nose against yours, making you lightly laugh before he slowly connected your lips into a gentle kiss. When his lips touched yours, it set your body on fire. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. His lips were soft and sweet against yours, moving gently, pushing his tongue past your parted lips, kissing you deeply. The kiss made you feel lightheaded and foggy, losing your senses, but at the same time, all of your senses felt heightened in the moment. Fred was addictive, you wanted more and more and more and that’s what made him dangerous. But you were too caught up in the feeling of his hands on your skin, lips pressing against him, soft moans falling from your lips into his mouth.

As Fred wrapped his arms around your waist, his hands brush up against something tucked into your waistband of your shorts. His laces his brows together before plucking it from your waistband, breaking your kiss as you whine when he does so. “What’s this?” he asks, holding up the parchment, confused.

You sigh and take it from him, playing with the letter in your hands. “It’s a letter, from Alyssa...she told me she’s safe with her mum and sisters. She’s in London,” you tell him as he smiles, rubbing your leg, knowing that her safety was important to you. “She’s...waiting for me...to come back to the ministry so we can get back to work,” you tell him.

Fred just laughs, “Well, you’re gonna have to break the news to her. I’ll get Errol and you can send her a letter tonight, telling her not to wait up.” But before Fred can run inside and get you parchment and a quill, you grab his hand and stop him, giving him a sad look. His happy eyes turn into confusion which turn into realization. “You are going to quit the ministry, right?” he asks as you sadly look away from him and back down at the parchment in your hands, nervously fumbling with it. “(Y/N), you hate it there. You have to quit.”

“I have duties, Fred. To my family. To the ministry. To myself. I can’t just throw away everything I’ve been working towards for years just for a silly dream!” you exclaim to him as he frustratedly runs his hands through his hair.

He scoffs, “A silly dream that I believe in. That George believes in. That you, at one point, believed in! I can help you! I’ll...I’ll...I’ll go down to the ministry with you tomorrow and help you face your father and Alyssa and all of them. We can move you out and into a flat and you can start living the life you wanted. Don’t you want that?” he throws his hands in the air defeated.

The whole situation had you torn up. Fred was offering you the chance of a lifetime. Your dream. Everything you desired Fred wanted to give to you with no strings attached. He just wanted to see you happy, doing the thing you loved. But on the other hand, you had an obligation to your family and the ministry. Leaving them would get you into some deep shit that would be too hard to recover from or climb out of. The last thing you wanted to do was pull Fred down with you.

You retort, “Just because I want it doesn’t mean it’s right for me, Fred!” Fred stands there in silence, shaking his head. “People are depending on me to assume this position after my father steps down. If I let them down, the whole ministry will have a vendetta against me. Do you realize what that means for me? It means I’ll lose everything. My dreams. The shoppe. My family....you...” you trail off at that last bit, but Fred catches it and looks at you with sad eyes. “Fred, I like you. I really do, but I can’t put you in a position that will make life a living hell for you.”

Fred shakes his head, “I am ready to take on whatever it is if it means you are happy. If it means that there’s a chance for us.”

His words make your heart ache with how much he already cared and it had only been three days since you met. But something deep down told you that this was something to fight for. Something to fight like hell for. But you didn’t know if you were prepared for that fight. “Freddie...I can’t...” you whisper to him, holding his face in your hands, trying to reach his sensibilities.

Fred gulps and stays quiet for a moment, but it feels like years. “Okay,” he simply states. “If you don’t want to, that’s okay.” The tone of his voice makes your heart break. “I, um, I should probably get back inside. We both should. It gets cold out here quite quickly.”

Peeling himself away from you, he starts back to the Burrow as you hop down from the hood of the car. “Fred,” you call out as he turns around. “I’m sorry.”

He looks back at you and shakes his head. “Me too.”

Fred continues to walk back into the house as you stand outside, in front of your car, letter in your hand, heart breaking in your chest. The decision you made was right, but why did it feel so wrong?

----------

“Percy, I can carry my own backpack to my car,” you laugh as you follow him down the stairs, Percy a few steps ahead of you.

Without looking back he speaks, “I insist. Now, go put something in your stomach. The drive back to London is long, so fill up.” You smile and shake your head as you walk into the kitchen as the rest of the Weasleys are sat around the table. You take a seat next to Ginny you passes you a plate full of pancakes as you graciously accept it.

Everyone greets you with a small smile or a good morning, but Fred just looks up at you with sad eyes before going back to pushing food around his plate. But that didn’t stop you from glancing at him every now and again, wishing you could make him happier. The fact of the matter was that neither of you were happy with the decision that had to be made. Fred had offered you the world on a silver platter and yet you refused in fear of the consequences. You had only known him for two days and yet he was so ready to help you, to make you happy. How could he be so sure of something when you were so unsure of everything.

But you push the thought aside and start to eat your breakfast. Ron starts conversation, “So, what’s the first thing you’re doing when you get back, (Y/N)?” he asks.

You think for a moment with a sigh. “There’ll probably a stack of work for me to sort through. I’ll tend to that first. And after that’s done...I don’t know. Probably try to get back in the routine of things, help my father out, tend to some department issues,” you speak plainly. The mundane nature of life back at home made your stomach twist as you thought of it in comparison to what life could be back in London in Diagon Alley with a bookstore to call your own...Fred right across the way...

Your thoughts are interrupted with a short chuckle from George. “Doesn’t sound like too much fun,” he tells you as you sigh with a small smile, figuring that Fred told him that you were taking him up on their offer of investment.

“Is work supposed to be fun?” you ask, taking a bite off your fork.

Fred sarcastically laughs. “Yes, actually. George and I love what we do for a living. Work isn’t supposed to be a task, it should be something you love. Something you have a passion for. Something that makes you want to get out of bed and work towards. Otherwise, what’s your life then? Something so mundane and boring and when you’re dead you end up regretting what you did with it?” Fred blurts as George elbows him under the table. Fred stops, realizing that he may have gone too far.

His words start to circle and dance around in your head, each one of them hitting you in the chest like a bullet. He was right. Why waste all of your time and effort into something you couldn’t care about? But it was too late. You were set out for the ministry and your family expected your arrival today.

You finish eating breakfast and circle back to Ginny’s room, doing a once over to make sure you weren’t leaving anything behind. As you walked down the stairs of the Burrow, you felt sad to leave. Even the three days you spent here were the best days of the summer. Each day brought something new and exciting. Waking up each morning to see happy faces, Fred’s face...that was something you would cherish.

One by one, you say your goodbyes and profusely thank the Weasleys for letting you stay for so long. Molly insists it was nothing and you can come visit whenever you liked. When you get to Fred, you don’t know whether to hug him or just move on. But he decides for you. “Can I walk you to your car actually?” he asks you as you nod gently.

You give Percy a tight hug as you speak, “I’ll see you at work, Perc.”

But Percy turns to speak in your ear, “Will I?” You pull away from him sharply, giving him a look. Percy just smiles and speaks, “You’re a smart girl, (Y/N). A talented one at that. You are too big for the ministry.” You give him a gentle smile as he whispers, “Get the fuck out of there. For my sake.”

But before you can say anything, Fred and you are walking out of the Burrow and to your car. The walk to your car is awkward and quiet as you play with the hem of your t-shirt, kicking rocks as you walk down the dirt path. Fred digs his hands in his pockets as he walks to your car.

When you make it to your car, you turn to the tall ginger and sigh. The two of you just look at each other for a moment before Fred reaches out and brushes a piece of hair from your face as you lean into his touch. His touch makes your heart flutter as he smiles gently at you before pressing his lips to your forehead, kissing it sweetly. “Goodbye, (Y/N).”

Fred gives your hand a squeeze before letting it go gently, walking away from you and back to the Burrow. Your heart is beating a mile a minute and walking him walk away is like someone stabbing you in the gut. This isn’t how things were supposed to end. He wasn’t supposed to let you go. But if he was gonna let you go, you weren’t going to let him go.

“Fred!” you call out, making him halt in his tracks and turn back to you, shielding his eyes from the bright August sun. Your chest is heavy as you gather up all the confidence you have in your body. “I fucking hate the ministry. I hate my job. I don’t want to take over for my father. I don’t want to take this path that’s been made for me!” you exclaim, arms stretched. Fred just looks at you. “I want to open a bookstore. I want to help people learn. I want to wake up every morning, excited for the day. I want to wake up every morning and...see you,” you confess to him with a smile. “I want you, Fred.”

Fred just stands there for a moment before slowly walking back towards you and you inhale deeply, trying to keep your negative thoughts at bay. When he reaches you, he lets a small smile creep its way on his face. “I want you. I want to wake up every day and see your beautiful face staring back at me. I want to be there for you, to make you happy, to support you, to protect you. To make you feel safe and sound. I want you, (Y/N),” he confesses back as you smile widely.

The two of you waste no more time as his lips connect to yours, holding you in his arms. His lips are smiling into the kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you. He pulls away with a goofy grin on his face as you chuckle, “My parents are going to kill me. The ministry is not gonna be happy about this.”

“Fuck the ministry,” he laughs as you join in. “I’m going to be by your side the whole time, helping you through it all. I swear. Through all the ups and downs.”

You hold his face in your hands as your heart swells in your chest. “I don’t like that I’m getting you into so much trouble,” you admit.

Fred rolls his eyes, “Oh, please, sweetheart. Trouble is my middle name.”

The two of you share another quick kiss before Fred grabs your hand and the two of you walk back to the Burrow, happily linked together. Fred calls out, “Ron! Go get the mattress again! We’ve got company!”

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

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the hippogriffs and the flobberworms

Day 23, Post #2 by @accio-broom

Title: the hippogriffs and the flobberworms Author/Artist: accio-broom Pairing: Arthur & Ron Weasley (platonic) Prompt: slice of life Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Mentions of sex lives and STDs, very cringe-worthy.

Arthur whistles as he roams the ground floor of the Burrow, searching for his youngest son. Ron’s best friend Hermione is due to arrive any day, ready to spend the latter part of the summer holiday with the Weasleys, but there are some things Arthur needs to speak to Ronald about before Miss Granger joins them.

He’s probably left this conversation a little late—Ron turned fourteen a few months ago—but this is the first time the youngest has shown any interest in the opposite sex. With the rather exciting activities coming up for their fourth school year, including a ball, it’s only inevitable that different feelings will start to stir.

Chuckling, Arthur reminisces about the conversations with his other sons. Bill, always cool as a frost salamander, kept his focus on his old Dad without any outward discomfort, even though Arthur made a complete mess as he told Bill about the facts of life. All of Arthur’s words came out in a massive jumble—he couldn’t even use the correct terms for various body parts and used all the wrong euphemisms. Arthur had been trying so hard to be a cool dad that he got himself far too worked up to make any sense.

His second son, Charlie, was dismissive and didn’t seem interested in the mechanics of making love, which was disappointing given the amount of time Arthur had spent rehearsing, determined to get it right that time. Percy approached the conversation with logic and appropriate questions, discussing it as he would an important Ministry policy before thanking his dad then leaving the room without a backwards glance. In stark contrast, the twins cracked inappropriate jokes and turned the tables on Arthur, making him feel awkward as innuendo after innuendo spewed from their mouths.

Ron will be Arthur’s last chance to do “the talk”. Molly is responsible for dealing with Ginny, and they’ve probably already started. He doesn’t baulk at the female aspect of puberty, having lived with a woman for almost twenty-five years, he’s well versed in the potions and muggle contraptions they need to use, but he thought it only fair that Molly gets a go of this, too. It’s one of the essential parts of being a parent, after all.

Although Arthur is well-seasoned in explaining the facts of life without going overboard with the detail or using cringe-worthy phrases now (although the twins did teach him a few new idioms), he has decided to step away from the ‘cool’ dad persona and go full-on over the top this time.

He could make this easy for Ron, but why would Arthur want to spoil his own fun?

A flash of red hair leaving the broom shed catches his attention out of the kitchen window, and Arthur’s grin widens. It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining, but there is a light breeze, keeping the air fresh and cool. It’s the sort of day that would lead to him fishing in the lake at the bottom of the garden, but he has a task at hand that he needs to deal with first.

Maybe there’ll be time for him to get his rod out later.

Pouring two glasses of lemonade from the jug Molly has left on the side, Arthur uses a cooling charm on them then steps out from the backdoor and onto the patio.

“Ron,” he calls, smiling as his son turns his head around faster than a niffler chasing gold, looking like Arthur has caught Ron doing something that he shouldn’t. Probably skiving from the long list of chores Molly gave him this morning. “Come up and have a chat with your old Dad.”

Arthur eases himself into the bench under the wisteria with a groan. Although he isn’t all that old, having seven children and living through a war takes its toll on a guy’s body. Now, every joint clicks and complains every time he moves. Forget getting somewhere in a hurry; slow and steady is now the way to go.

Ron settles in the seat next to him.

“What’s up, Dad?” he asks, smiling at Arthur. He takes the offered drink, gulping almost half of it in one go before letting out a loud, satisfied sigh.

“Hermione is coming to stay with us before we go to the World Cup, I hear? But not Harry?”

Ears turning pink, Ron turns his head to look out at the garden. “Y-yeah. We’re going to collect Harry in a few days, remember?”

“Oh, yes. I’m very excited to be visiting the Muggles. Will they tell me about eckeltricity? Should I take my battery collection?”

Ron laughs. “I don’t think the Dursleys will be too impressed with batteries, Dad. They use them every day.”

“Shame.” Arthur sighs, then turns his eyes to gaze the same way as Ron’s. “So, Hermione is a girl.”

“Er, yes, I guess so.”

“A girl you’re attracted to?” Arthur glances at Ron, whose face has turned as white as a ghost.

Ron reacts with a knee-jerk response, but the look on his face indicates that he’s not telling the whole truth. “No!”

“Are you sure? You and her have gotten close lately. Mum and I like her.” Arthur waits a moment for Ron to take back his first response, then tuts when he stays quiet. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone you do like soon. Anyway, as you already know, she’ll be staying in Ginny’s room with your sister, and I’m sure you’re clear on the rules of the house. Your Mum does not want any sneaking around or late-night visits.”

Arthur doesn’t hold the same views as his wife. Sure, he doesn’t want the kids to be sleeping in each other’s beds, but he remembers the conversations he and his friends had during the early hours of the morning when he was their age. If the children wanted to get up to something, Arthur would rather it happen under their roof where they’re safe than have them take unnecessary risks. He and Molly were young once, too, although it feels like a lifetime ago now.

“I know, Dad.”

“Good. And so you know, if you ever find yourself feeling conflicted or wanting some advice on how to ask a lady out, you can always come to me. Because being a teenage lad is a very confusing time, and the magic will heighten this, as well as the fact that you live in proximity to some charming young women. You might not feel it right now, but you’re on the precipice of being a man. Your voice has started breaking. Sure, it’s a little later than the others, but I’m sure that’s nothing to worry about. Everyone develops at their own pace, after all. Pretty soon, you’ll have hairs sprouting all over the place, even in places you wouldn’t expect it. I can’t remember when all of this started happening for me, but it was around your age. And don’t get me started on the wet dreams…”

“Merlin,” Ron sighs, now squirming in his seat, trying to make himself as small as possible. When Arthur checks again, his youngest is looking into the depths of his glass as if considering whether he could drown himself in there.

“Sex is healthy, son, especially if it’s with someone that you admire and love, whether that be a girl or a boy, Your mum and I don’t mind as long as you’re happy. And if you find the right person, then it can be amazing.”

A low groan emits from Ron’s mouth as he pushes himself further down the bench, attempting to put some distance between him and Arthur.

“Please stop talking,” he pleads with bright red cheeks.

“Having a good sex life is nothing to be ashamed of, let me tell you. The seven of you weren’t delivered by the hippogriffs, after all. Not that we only have sex to procreate. Having you kids out of the house has done wonders for our love life.

“While we’re on the subject, if you can’t get a partner, then there’s nothing wrong with taking matters into your own hand. Masturbation is very beneficial, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. It’s important to explore your own body and learn the kind of things you like so that you can recreate those moments with a partner. I can tell you some useful charms if you need them—ones for when you’re with someone, and others for when you’re alone. Of course, there are some spells that are vital for you to learn. Safety is sexy, and you don’t want any little accidents happening.”

Ron runs his hand over his face as if trying to erase his dismay. “Dad. Please stop. I know all of this already. Not that I wa-I mean, do that sort of stuff.”

He crosses his legs with a gulp, and Arthur feels a rush of joy. He’s succeeded in making his youngest son feel as awkward as possible. You have to take delight in the smallest of moments, especially the older you get.

“Who told you?”

“I have five brothers and live in a dorm with four other boys. Also, Flitwick taught us the contraceptive charm last year.” Ron is still focused on his glass, looking like he wants to be a million miles away.

“Oh, right. ”

An irrational surge of disappointment crashes over Arthur. He should have realised that kids are far more advanced and talk much more than they did in his day. He should have bit the bludger earlier and nabbed him last summer.

“Well,” Arthur continues anyway, determined to see this through, “contraceptive charms aren’t the only things you need to learn. You need to ensure you protect yourself from Sexually Transmitted Diseases, or STDs, as well. Some of these can make you a little itchy, but others can be dangerous. You should go and see Madam Pomfrey if you think you might have one. Of course, you could always get some muggle con-domes. Fantastic little invention they are. Rather than trying to remember a load of different spells while you’re in the heat of passion, you can whack on a rubber and get to it.”

He doesn’t allow Ron’s small squeak to put him off his speech, now he’s in full flow again. “Talking about getting to it. Consent is important. When you decide to take that step, or even before when you snog someone, you need to make sure they want to do it too. Every step of the way. If they say no, you stop right away, even if they said yes only a minute previously. You must understand that. Never force yourself on someone, especially if they are drunk or otherwise intoxicated. If they can’t say yes, it’s a no-go. Got it?”

“I-I d-do,” Ron stutters, his voice strained under the embarrassment of the situation. “C-Can I go now?”

“Yes, yes, of course. But don’t forget that I’m here if you need anything, son. Even if you think it might get you into trouble. And look after Hermione, even if your feelings for her are only platonic. I admire the way you, her and Harry have formed a little group. The three of you are good for each other.”

Arthur reclines on the bench and closes his eyes, letting out a sigh as the sun warms his face. There’s no point getting one’s wand in a knot over spilt potion. He still managed to get Ron squirming like a flobberworm, so it was mostly a successful mission.

The bench shifts as Ron rises to his feet. He finishes his drink with a gulp and sets the glass down on the floor before shuffling away.

“Dad?” a small voice asks.

When Arthur opens his eyes, he spots Ron towering over him. When did he get so lanky? Ron is going to be the tallest of the family, for sure. There’s a smile on his face, though he still can’t meet his Dad’s gaze.

“Yeah, Son?” Arthur asks, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Thanks for trying.”

Ron shrugs, then wanders back down the garden, his gangly frame hunched over. Arthur marvels at Ron’s response. You think you fully understand your children, and then they do something that knocks you off your broom. But Ron is a decent lad, and Arthur knows he will go far, like the rest of them.

With a happy sigh, he leans back and closes his eyes again. He’s done an okay job at this parenting thing. As long as none of them gets arrested or tries to break into Gringotts, he can die a happy man.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest platonic #submission #arthur weasley #ron weasley

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liptonsbabe · 3 years

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Chains of a family [B.W]

Bill Weasley x Grant! Reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Summary: The reader has left the burrow trying to hide from Molly’s harsh comments. Bill’s mom doesn’t want his son near you cause she thinks you’ll hurt him judging you for your family reputation. Arthur thinks differenly so he’ll try to make amends between you two

Word count: 3.4 k. Too long I’M SORRY

Warnings: none

English not my mother language so pleeeeese tell me if something’s wrong

A/N: Hey! Another chapter for you’all. Thanks for keep reading this. The next part will be updated soon and yeah, hope you like it! If you want to be tagged just tell me and i’ll do so :D

Chapter 3: Expectations

It was bitterly cold outside the burrow, and you wondered if winter had come early. Your icy hands clenched your sides, refusing to go back inside even if your knuckles burned and your bare feet began to crack from the hardness of the grass on your soles.

You walked on the grass feeling the dew wetting your fingertips. On the other side of the garden the gnomes were burying one of Molly's ornaments with what, you guessed, the woman would be very angry when she found out, but no more than she already was. Molly's words were harsh. Even if her intention was not to make you feel bad, she had managed to put a huge weight on your stomach after the fight.

You didn't blame her, it was almost certain that Molly would react that way, however, you hoped that within her there was a bit of empathy for the situation you were experiencing with your family. It wasn’t easy for anyone to go through a war that could have been avoided in one way or another, however, for the Grants it was an even more difficult challenge knowing that the trigger for such a war was grandpa Tim Grant's half brother.

You walked around the house, crossing the barnyard, watching the chickens peck at a rubber boot on a very rusty cauldron. The cornfield grasses moved with the wind at the same rate. From right to left, right to left, right to left and then they changed the rhythm from left to right, left to right, left to right ...

The barn was just behind the thick grass rising into an old stone sty, which had several crooked stories attached to it. Four or five chimneys dotted the roof of the cellar, and most likely the entire building was held up by magic due to its crazy bolt-on construction. You took a look back at the main entrance of the house where you could hear the voices of Bill's brothers next to Molly's, deciding to get away from the Weasleys before starting a new fight.

You crossed the cornfield finding a pond full of frogs that you dodged with a little scream and a ballerina jump. Then you came across an old broom shed that was half stowed and a pervasive smell. You headed there, thinking of helping out with the cleaning and wasting some time in the process until William came home from the ministry in the early afternoon.

The brooms were on top of each other in a corner of the shed where the garden gnomes used them to play with each other. One of the gnomes had gotten a match with which he had managed to light a couple of strands of the broom of one of the twins -You knew it because each of the brooms had the initials of Molly's children painted on the base. That one had a huge G in the center - which soon expanded into the rest of the broom's dark fibers. You immediately turned it off earning yourself a tiny kick from the gnome.

The smoke from the fire mixed with dust, and the foul smell of expired wax made your eyes water . You wondered vaguely when was the last time that place had been cleaned up, however, the density of the raised dust and the rottenness of the broom wax on the floor told you about the nonexistence maintenance of the shed. The orchard was contained within a paddock, so you assumed there would be no problem cleaning it up later.

You collected each thing by hand placing them where you thought they should go. You finished cleaning the shed earlier than expected, securing the door when exiting to prevent the gnomes from entering and destroying everything again.

You continued your way in a straight line until you reached the barn where a thick layer of dust hid the doorknob. You opened the warehouse with your wand finding the worst scenario ever imagined. The walls were hidden in ghastly cobwebs, the shelves were clothed in huge mountains of dust, and Muggle stuff were strewn everywhere. Mr. Weasley's old Ford Anglia was on the left side of the barn, storing certain flying objects that you couldn't recognize from the cloud of dust that rose and entered to your eyes.

Well, that seemed like an even bigger challenge than the shed on the other side of the garden. You started by washing the car using your wand to launch several aguamentis causing a waterfall of mud falling from the roof to the fender. Then the car doors flapped open like a pair of wings, letting out the flying objects. You raised your wand by closing the barn door blockig them the exit and initiating a chase that lasted a couple of hours to catch each object, throw it inside the Ford Anglia and finish polishing the hood before the flying, spoiled car got upset.

You forgot the last time you helped your household servants clean a simple fireplace ornament. Years before, when you were little and your brothers liked to spend time together, you helped the butler to clean some objects in the house because it was more fun when you formed competitions between you, Anthon and Margaret to know which of you cleaned the house ¿faster . You had fun and old Alfred got less tired. But that was a long time ago and in the present you didn’t remember what was the proper order of cleaning.

You were lugging box after box for several hours getting a terrible allergy in the process. The last box was made of recyclable paper where you put Mr. Weasley's old newspapers and Molly's worn recipes. You carried them to the fourth shelf from the right, previously cleaned, raising it with both hands. A speck of dust flew across the room, stopping on your nose causing you to sneeze so hard you fell backwards with the box on your face. The papers flew around the corners causing a disaster worse than the initial one.

“Shit”

You stayed lying on the floor taking the box off your face staring at the ceiling. Undoubtedly that would be a difficult life without anyone to help you doing the things more than yourself, however you were willing to try ‘cause you didn’t want to return home where things were simple but with a high cost. You weren't sure you wanted to trade your freedom for a few extra comforts. You let out a sigh ready to stand up when a singular sheet of a recent newspaper flew towards you, stopping on your chest. You caught a glimpse of a fairly familiar photograph in the ink, so you took the paper and read:

"Dark Mark sparks panic." Muggle family murdered. Death Eaters numbers grow” Your hands trembled over the paper, caressing each of the words, reading them over and over again. The weight on your stomach grew and grew, as if it were suddenly going to explode. A huge picture of uncle Tom stood in the middle, with that toothless grin and throbbing nostrils “Merlin’s beard”

Your fingers tingled, and you couldn't help but run your touch over your uncle's face trying to think how he got to that point. Grandpa Tim never talked so much about his half brother and you never had the courage to ask him even if the curiosity was eating your insides. There were few times where Tom Riddle's presence was in the family conversations and if that happened, then your father changed the topic from one second to another. It was annoying living in the shadows, but it was even more to be tied to a cause that no one sympathized with, not even his own brother. But Tim Grant was reserved, perhaps too reserved. Maybe that was the reason why he allowed the actions of his little brother to escalate to those levels and allowed too that his only son had choose the wrong side. However, you didn’t understand - or support - Voldemort's ambitions, neither did your grandpa and that cost you to be rejected by the rest of your family.

Your eyes watered and you didn't know if it was because of guilt or if the damn dirt had entered your eyelids. You looked at the ceiling in the haze. You searched your mind and realized that the situation affected you too much. You weren't welcome with the Weasleys, nor with the Grants. You felt desolate, as if the barn walls were closing in on you.

Molly's reaction was valid, you repeated yourself as many times as you could, because anyone who had lost a large part of it’s family to a member of another's would have done the same thing or something so much worse. You shook your head, once again feeling the rejection you were used to.

The barn door opened suddenly, letting in a gust of wind hitting your body directly on the ground. Your skin prickled from the cold causing the newcomer to laugh.

You looked up to find yourself face to face with the distorted figure of Arthur Weasley who was holding a couple of drinks along with a weird smile that made you laugh. The man sat on the floor next to you leaving the glass next to your face.

"I'm sorry I scared you. it’s freezing cold out there and in my defense, nobody comes to this place”

“It’s okay, I wasn't expecting visitors”

"Fine, then" Arthur took a sip of his drink licking his chapped lips, but still showing you that smile so much like Bill's. You folded the newspaper on your lap, nervous. "So ... what are you doing lying in my barn?"

"I ... I was trying to clean this place up”

"Is that so? ‘cuz It seemed like you were about to take a nap."

“Yeah, i had a little mishap here”

"I see, do you want to get up?"

"Yes, thank you." Arthur held out his hand, slowly pulling you up to leave you sitting in front of him. He offered you the drink and you clinked glasses before drinking. It was hot chocolate, you guessed, made by Molly. Your stomach churned.

Mr. Weasley glanced around the barn, surprised to see more than half perfectly arranged

“This place hasn't been so clean since Bill was born”

“Sorry?

"No, no, it's okay," he mentioned, waving to play it off, "Molly had been asking me for a long time to do it, so I think you just made my job easier."

"It's nothing, Mr. Weasley

"Did you see something you liked?"

"Uh, yeah," you answered wiping your lips. "Ignoring the fact that your car almost killed me, I noticed that you have a lot of muggle stuff."

“Ah, yes. They are fascinating, don't you think?”

"Certainly, but I also realized that most of them are useless, why do you still have them here?"

"I like to collect them," he replied, taking another sip of his drink. You mimicked his action “to be honest, I don't even have a clue how these things works, but I suppose I'll find out in time. Muggle devices are not as advanced as ours, much less functional, however, I find them entertaining and special somehow, did you know that they use a subway to transport themselves underground? And they must leave coins in a machine so that they give them a little ticket. A ticket! The first time I used one I was deadly excited!

You smiled, imagining how it would to see Mr. Weasley that happy

"I could help you understand how they work." You winced when Arthur looked at you with wide eyes. "My ... my grandfather lived with Muggles for a while and knows a lot about this artifacts. Several times he spoke of his usefulness to my brothers and me”

“Fantastic!” He replied cheerfully. You smiled “It's wonderful (Y/N), thank you”

“No problem”

Then a silence settled between you, being cut off only by the babble of the gnomes outside the barn kicking the timbers trying to get inside. Arthur cleared his throat as he ran his little blue eyes over each of the walls of his newly renovated barn. He smiled again placing one of his hands on your shoulder

"I found out what happened with Molly in the morning," he mentioned. You nodded “My children told me what you said to each other and ...”

"I'm sorry I spoke badly to your wife, Mr. Weasley" you interrupted, sipping your glass all at once, leaving it on the floor. "I know after this I'll have to talk to William and find another place to stay."

“She is not like that. She rarely has such behavior with the people and I can only think that my Molly has a lot of mixed feelings. The war has us all nervous and the fact that the memories of the past have arisen again ... they make her have reactions that are not very usual in Molly.”

"I'm not blaming her. I think she's right”

“Why?”

"What I did to my family ... running away, betray them..." You started playing with your fingers on your lap, embarrassed. "It's not something a trustworthy person would do."

“What are you talking about?”

“For the Grants, it’s very important to support the family in their endeavors without stopping to think if that could be harmful to the others. With uncle Tom becoming the most dangerous dark wizard of all times ... people would think that his relatives would follow his steps and they did “Mr. Weasley listened attentively, ignoring the screams of his wife announcing that the food was ready “At least most of them. Now all of us are tied to the He-who-must-not-be-named, whether we want it or not. It ruined our lives and I couldn't stay in that place forever

"Why aren't you on his side?"

"Because I can't see my brothers make a wrong decision" You crumpled the newspaper with your hands looking at how the pic of Lord Voldemort turned into a streaked stain "I have my own convictions, even if you don’t believe so”

"I don't believe anything of you, (Y/N)" Arthur's voice turned stoic as he stared at you harshly. "Neither the good nor the bad. I am a believer that you should judge someone by what demonstrates, not by what it’s said about them. Right now you aren’t showing me anything but that there is something in your family that you don’t like and that the dirt in my barn is intolerable to you”

You smiled

"We're all here waiting to see what are you capable of. Good or bad, you get to decide who (Y/N) Grant is from now on. Starting over. Forget that the Grants' actions make you worthy of the consequences”

Warmth attacked your chest. It was comforting to feel for the first time the acceptance of someone who wasn't doing it out of mere compassion or that it was Bill. That Arthur gave you the benefit of the doubt encouraged you to continue as before: trying, trying, trying.

"I think his wife doesn't think the same."

Arthur Weasley patted your shoulder.

"I'll talk to her, she'll understand. Meanwhile let's go home, it's time for lunch”

"Did Bill come back?"

"Yes, my son and I came back from the ministry a while ago.He wanted to find you, but I asked him to let me do it. You know, because sometimes it's good to have the daughters-in-law on your side”

Your cheeks heated up and then the rest of your face turned completely red. Arthur studied your reaction, smiling as he realized you were just a kid looking for approval. He patted your shoulder again, inviting you to leave the rest of the mess and accompany him to the burrow.

"These aren’t a good times to trust the Daily Prophet," Arthur mentioned, noticing the crumpled newspaper in your hands. You skipped the pond and skirted the cornfield until you reached the garden entrance where Bill's brothers and Bill himself had set up a long table near Molly's apple tree where they planned to spend the afternoon. One of the twins raised his wand putting the cuterly across the table, one set for each of the family members. You wondered if there would be a place for you at the table “Honestly, these are not good times to trust anything or anyone, so if you accept my advice, don't worry too much about reading the newspapers, they will leave you more questions than answers, Hey, you will break that!

Arthur scolded his twins when they fiddled with forks in a battle to find out which of them would wash the dishes after eating. Arthur ran towards them while Bill approached you greeting you with a kiss on the cheek. He frowned, watching you closely and then removed his coat, draping it over your shoulders.

"What the hell were you doing outside without a sweater?" It's freezing!”

"You worry way too much," you told him, pressing the faux fur against your shivering body. The truth was that, after the exchange of words with Bill's mother, you didn’t have the time to get a sweater before leaving and of course your wounded pride wouldn’t let you get dressed again before going to hide in the barn. Bill clicked his tongue rubbing your arms. "I'm fine, I just lost track of the time cleaning your father's barn and I didn't feel the cold until now”

"You're bad at lying, did you know that?"

"You should stop asking so many questions." You smiled at the grimace on the older Weasley's face. "Nothing happened."

"That's not what the twins told me," he suddenly mentioned. You felt the tension in Bill's body when Molly passed by him giving you a dangerous look, however you decided to ignore it for the good of both of you “ What my mom said ...”

"It’s okay, it doesn't matter I discussed it with your father and we worked it out”

“Are you sure?” You nodded “I hope so. Not because she’s my mother I will let her offend you in any way”

Your smile widened. You couldn't possibly love that man more than you already did. You approached his body, throwing your arms around Bill's neck, having to stand on your tiptoes to reach only to kiss his chin. He lowered his head, managing to bring his lips together.

“Help your brothers set the table, I'll go take a bath”

"Don't you prefer i help you instead?" You laughed

"I can do it by myself, thanks”

"Hmm ... you sure?”

"William ...”

"Okay, okay, okay," he urged you leaving a couple of kisses on the corner of your lips. "Don't be gone too long. i’ll miss you, love."

“I will not. Wait for me just here, yeah?”

You went upstairs to the room you shared with Bill and jumped into the shower enjoying the warmth of the water above your head. You leaned against the tiles thinking that your first day in the burrow had turned out very bad, but better than you had thought. Even if Molly didn't believe your words, you would do your best to fullfil the expectations of the others members of the Order. You would be loyal to them, to the Aurors, and you would fight whoever you had to to prove that your actions were worth more than the rumors surrounding the Grants did.

You were going to prove how wrong they were with you and, incidentally, you would forge a reputation of your own, one of which you would proud of

Tag:

@purple-vodka-99

#bill weasley #bill weasley imagine #bill weasley x reader #domhnall gleeson #domhnall gleeson imagine #harry potter imagine #harry potter cast #harry potter x reader #domhnall gleeson x reader

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retvenkos · 3 years

Text

words | a.p.

Merlin (BBC) - Arthur Pendragon x Reader, fluff

tw: mentions of battle, mentions of blood, mentions of violence

word count: 1.4k

A/N: once again, if we can just pretend i know how to write a kiss, i would be much obliged.

prompt: I’m sitting with my back to the fireplace, and my back is burning but my feet are cold, and you are sitting across from me and i think you’re smiling endearingly, but it’s hard to tell.

(Y/n) and Arthur had been friends since childhood, and as such, everyone in the castle knew that where (Y/n) wandered, the prince was not far behind. As it was with any young prince, Arthur Pendragon was a mosaic made of contradictory statements and confusing ideologies, but the one certainty was (Y/n) and his devotion to them. The entire world could be ending, but as long as you knew where (Y/n) was, then you could find the wayward prince. The whole of Camelot knew that the two of them were inevitable, like a prosperous spring after early showers of rain, but exactly when the two would realize this themselves was unknown.

But then, again, how could not know? Surely (Y/n) noticed Arthur’s constant loyalty, interspersed with that intense and unwavering feeling of love, and certainly Arthur had to realize (Y/n)’s particular fondness mixed with the steadfastness of their adoration.

It seemed unrealistic to think that the two didn’t realize they loved the other more deeply than anything. But perhaps they had gotten too comfortable in their love for the other, and recognizing it was like trying to put a name to a feeling they had carried their entire life, so deeply set into their bones it was a fact more than anything else.

Whether they put a name on their true feelings or not was of little consequence. There was nowhere one of them could go where the other would not follow. That was made succinctly clear when Arthur had to go to an outlying village some two days' ride from Camelot to bring peace amongst the people and raiders who were taking much needed grain. It was the heart of winter, and the days were cold enough to make any man wish he were dead, not to mention the freezing nights. Arthur and (Y/n) argued for days over whether or not (Y/n) would join him, but in the end, the two rode off together with a few other knights.

The fight was fairly mild, when all things were considered. Both sides were strong in their resolve to fight, but only so much blood could be spilled before the raiders could no longer justify their stance. When it was all over, Arthur immediately searched for (Y/n), ignoring the deep cut on his cheek in favor of making sure they were alright.

They were fine, without so much a scratch on them, but when they saw the state of Arthur, they were quick to reprimand him. They had patched him up immediately, their fingers cold against his flushed cheeks.

Arthur insisted he didn’t need help - especially when other men were worse, but when (Y/n) had finished, he thanked them sincerely.

(Y/n) kissed his forehead with an absent-minded “Of course,” and moved on to help the other injured. Arthur had watched them retreat with a smile that made his newly patched cheek burn.

The ride back to Camelot was faster than the ride from - everyone was eager to escape the biting winter and sleep on something other than frost and snow. They returned home late at night, after King Uther and many others had gone to bed, so Arthur had resolved to bring news to his father in the morning, telling everyone to get some well-deserved rest.

When walking into the castle, (Y/n) had shivered from the cold and Arthur insisted they come to his chambers and warm by the fire. The knights around them shared looks, raising their eyebrows and nudging each other in the ribs, but neither (Y/n) or Arthur seemed particularly fazed by their behavior.

Inside Arthur’s chambers, the fire burned brightly, emanating a warmth that made both draw close. (Y/n) sat down on the hearth, rubbing their hands together and putting them close to the flames, and Arthur watched them with a tenderness in his gaze. The fire made (Y/n’s eyes sting and they turned their back to the flames, rubbing their toes and pulling off their socks.

“Need a blanket?” Arthur asked, but he was already retrieving two, handing the thicker one to (Y/n). They took it from him with a soft ‘thank you’ and Arthur pulled up a chair to sit in, much preferring it to the hard stone.

“How’s your cheek?” (Y/n) wrapped the blanket around them, their eyes trained on Arthur as he made himself comfortable near the fire, across from them.

“Eh,” Arthur made a non-commital noise and (Y/n) rolled their eyes. Arthur smiled, “It’s alright. You could make a decent physician if Gaius took you in.”

(Y/n) scoffed. “And deal with the idiotic injuries of knights all day? I’ll find something else to occupy my time.” It was hard for Arthur to see their face, with the fire to their back, but he could guess at how their lips were tugged into a grin, their eyes alight with mirth. He fiddled with the laces of his boots, taking them off so he could warm his freezing toes. “Dealing with you is enough to give me a heart attack, I don’t think I could handle worrying over anyone else.”

“Worrying over me?” Arthur laughed, and the sound of it echoed through the room, clear and warm, laced with enough affection to make even the most cold hearted misers smile. “Bit of a lost cause, isn’t it?”

(Y/n) joined in his amusement with laughter of their own, soft but present. “You wouldn’t believe.” They tilted their head and the curve of their cheek was illuminated by the fire, the light caressing the right side of their face and shedding light on the affectionate vulnerability in their gaze. “But I’ll always worry over you, Arthur. It’s inevitable.”

Arthur fiddled with the ring on his finger, tearing his gaze away from (Y/n). It was hard to tell, with the dark of night upon them and the fire casting them in odd, ever changing shadows, but the smile on his face almost seemed endearing.

“So it’s rather pointless to try and get rid of me.”

Arthur furrowed his brow. ”Rid of you? What makes you think I’d want to get rid of you?”

“I never said you wanted to, dollop head—” Arthur guffawed, much to (Y/n)’s delight “—only that you couldn’t.”

“Well, maybe I should reconsider my previous statement.”

A comfortable quiet settled between them, and for a moment the two just looked at the other, not trying to do anything other than relax. There didn’t seem to be anything more perfect than what lay between them - a content sort of love that went beyond need for the world.

“You did well, back in the village,” (Y/n) eventually spoke and their voice was soft, barely heard over the noise of the flames. Arthur leaned back in his chair with a sort of amused confidence and (Y/n) scoffed. “I mean it. You’re going to be kind one day, and I’m not worried about how you’ll turn out.”

Their words struck a chord in Arthur, something deep that made him sober for a moment. “So long as you’re by my side, I’ll be fine.”

(Y/n) nodded slowly, but averted their gaze, a tinge of sadness making its way into the way they bent their head. “Don’t you think you’d want someone else at your side? You’re the future king of Camelot, Arthur. Those are large shoes to fill. Don’t you think your time is better spent with others?”

Arthur blinked, genuinely confused, but he stopped himself from rushing into an answer. There was a vulnerability in (Y/n)’s voice that stopped and reminded Arthur of how precious this moment was, and the delicacy with which things like love had to be handled.

When he spoke, Arthur caught their eye, refusing to let them go. “Time better spent than with the person I love?” And the intensity of his being lay within his eyes; the strength that was so characteristic of the prince, (Y/n) doubted whether he existed beyond it.

“Love,” (Y/n) smiled, testing out the way the word rolled over their tongue. Strange, how it felt no different than Arthur’s name itself, or any other words that were meant for him. “It’s silly we haven’t said that to each other before.”

“Not really,” Arthur leaned back in his chair, a smile of his own growing on his lips, “I don’t think we ever needed it, before now.”

“Yes, well,” (Y/n) drew nearer to Arthur, the thick blanket around their shoulders dragging behind them, “I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

Arthur kissed them, his hands as warm as his heart, after having sat in front of the flames for so long, and (Y/n)’s touch was on fire, searing their every movement into his memory forever. When they pulled away, Arthur leaned his forehead against theirs. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

-- taglist: @locke-writes, @randomfandomimagine, @brokenandheadoverheels // message me if you want to be added!

#merlin bbc #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #arthur pendragon x reader #arthur pendragon x you #merlin #gender neutral reader #reader insert #fluff #one shot #imagine #arthur pendragon imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #holiday prompts #tw mentions of blood #tw mentions of battle #tw mentions of violence

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bellmel · 3 years

Text

An unknown magic

A little fic written for the Hinny Birthday Challenge, with the theme ‘television’.

In the centre of the back wall was a large black box, its dark glass front reflecting a distorted version of themselves and the cluttered space around them. “Ron and Hermione gave it to me yesterday,” Arthur said. “A bit of an early present. It was all Hermione’s doing of course, she figured it out.”

Arthur is given a television for his birthday, and Ginny and Harry discover a show with a unique idea of how magic works.

Read it on Ao3

---

“Mum?”

The front room was empty as they stepped inside the house, the only faint sound coming from behind the kitchen door, a muffled scraping of bowls and clanging of spoons.

Ginny continued through to the kitchen, swinging the door wide for Harry to follow behind her.

“Oh, hello dears,” her mum said, putting the spatula down. She wiped her hands on her paisley apron before making her way over, pulling them each into a hug. Behind her, the dishes carried on cooking without interruption, as a spoon continued to idly stir a simmering pot and a brush flicked its way over a tray of pastries, evenly coating each crescent with an egg wash.

The Burrow was oddly still otherwise, almost unnaturally so. The silence buzzed with an expectant hum, that almost eerie quiet that comes before an impending swarm of bodies and voices and activity.

“Where is everyone? Where’s Dad?

“You two are the first ones here,” her mum said, picking the spatula back up and resuming her task of spreading mint-coloured icing over a large square cake. “Your dad’s out the back. In his shed, of course.” She rolled her eyes, but the affectionate turn of her lips belied any hint of annoyance.

Ginny turned towards the back door, swiping her finger through the icing to taste it on her way past. Her mum ignored her, well accustomed to such things by now.

She didn’t bother knocking on the door of the shed - no one ever did. It took her dad a few moments to realise they were there. He was sitting on the low stool by the bench, hunched over a black handheld gadget. Around him, appliances and contraptions lay idle, save for the gentle flick of an alarm clock as it ticked over to a new minute.

“Hi Dad.”

“Oh!” he said, spinning around and jumping up off his stool. “Ginny! Harry! Come look.” He waved them over towards the back of the shed.

Ginny gave him a quick squeeze once she reached him. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks sweetheart.” He smiled at her briefly and quickly returned the hug before hurriedly ushering her again to the rear of the shed.

There in the centre of the back wall was a large black box, its dark glass front reflecting a distorted version of themselves and the cluttered space around them.

“Ron and Hermione gave it to me yesterday, a bit of an early present. It was all Hermione’s doing of course, she figured it out.” He spoke rapidly, a childish glee lighting up his face.

“Look!” he said, waving the black gadget she had seen him tinkering with when she walked in. He pointed it towards the screen and pressed a button. The screen instantly lit up and a second later red and golden beams were revolving and zooming out to reveal a globe, while a dramatic overture filled the shed. He looked over at both her and Harry, his eyes searching for their reactions as his grin grew impossibly wider.

“Merlin, Dad. This is incredible!”

“Safe to say Hermione wins best present,” Harry said, impressed.

“They even gave me a whole box of these disc things,” her dad said, pointing to a small wooden crate with what looked like a couple dozen little thin plastic cases neatly lined up inside.

“DVDs,” Harry said helpfully.

Her dad nodded giddily. “They said we can’t get normal tellovision here, the magic interferes too much with the beam, something like that. Hermione’s still working on it,” he said. “But we have these disc things - DVDs - for now, and there’s even a little machine that sucks the disc in, and then you can watch it on the tellovision.”

The image on the TV had continued to play out while he was talking, eventually stopping on a still image of two men laughing.

“So what have you got?” Ginny asked, making her way over to browse the contents of the crate.

“Plenty. Hermione and Ron picked out-”

“Arthur!” Her mum’s shrill voice sounded from outside the shed door. She refused to step foot inside Dad’s shed. ‘Sometimes I figure I’m better off not knowing what’s in there,’ her mum had told her once.

“I need a little help getting things all set up. Would you mind, Arthur?”

Her dad smiled at her apologetically. “Best I go and help your mum. Help yourselves,” he said, gesturing to the selection of disc cases. “You know how to work it, Harry?”

“I should be able to figure it out.”

“Wonderful.” her dad grinned at them one more time before slipping out of the shed.

“What’s he got there?” Harry asked.

Ginny turned back to the crate and started riffling through it, picking out cases and looking at them quizzically before returning them to their spot and continuing on.

“Vicar of Dibley, Titanic...” Ginny read out, her back to Harry. “Something called ER, French and Saunders, Home Improvement - Merlin, this isn’t some show about how to build a house or something, is it? ’Cause Dad will do it, you know, and Mum’ll go spare-”

“No, it’s just a funny show. I reckon your Dad will like that one.”

“Oh, okay,” she said, already moving on to the next one. “Ooooh!” She spun around to face him, grinning widely as she held up a case for him to see.

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “They gave your dad that?”

“Are you kidding? A Muggle show about a young witch? Dad will lose his mind over it!” She was surprised he wasn’t already watching it when they got there.

“Yeah, alright. I see what you mean.”

Ginny didn’t turn back to the crate this time. Instead, she stood there patiently, her smile fixed at him.

“We’re watching this one, aren’t we?”

She nodded unapologetically.

“Fine,” he sighed. He pushed off from the bench and took the disc from her as he rolled his eyes, any hint of ridicule negated by the amused smirk he failed to hide.

“The remote?” he called over his shoulder.

“The… what?”

“Oh, sorry,” he looked around, quickly spotting the black plastic stick on the stool and holding it up to her. “This thing.” He turned back to the smaller black machine, which was now slowly spitting out a shiny disc.

Ginny settled herself into the weathered tan recliner chair that her dad had repositioned to face the screen. She watched as Harry pushed the disc into the machine and scrutinised several of the buttons on the remote. Just a few moments later, the screen came back to life, an image of a young blonde girl appearing on the screen alongside a list of sorts.

The black stick thingy still in his hand (she’d already forgotten what he had called it), Harry walked over to the recliner and sank into it, lifting Ginny’s legs and placing them back down to rest across his lap.

It wasn’t her first time seeing a television, of course. In the years since the war ended, she had increasingly ventured out into the Muggle world, and it was impossible to do so without being exposed to the large screens that Muggles seemed fixated on. The television had also been on a couple of times when she went to Hermione’s parents’ house, either the Muggle news or some kind of game show, Hermione had called it. And they had been to Muggle pubs that showed sports games on big screens fixed to the wall, never with any sound. But this, sitting down and watching a television show from beginning to end, was different. Familiar, in a way. But new.

She sank a little deeper into the chair and let her head fall back against Harry’s shoulder. He leaned into her a little more, his arms draped casually over her legs. Content, she returned her attention to the black whirring screen where the blonde girl was hovering, asleep, over her bed.

‘Her sixteenth birthday started five minutes ago,’ came an unseen woman’s voice. ‘Oh look, Hilda, she’s levitating, right on schedule.’

‘Let’s wake her up and tell her she’s a witch,’ another woman (presumably Hilda) said.

“Sixteen!” Ginny said in disbelief. “How can she not know she’s a witch until she’s sixteen?”

Harry gave a short laugh. “It’s just a show, Ginny. If you want to watch it, you’re just gonna have to ignore these things.”

She huffed a little and returned her attention to the screen, trying to lose herself in the story. It didn’t take long. There was something captivating about the absurdness of it all, and the teenage struggles that seemed to transcend worlds.

When the shed door opened only a few minutes later, she ignored the interruption, but Harry turned around, looking back towards the door.

“Oh, hey.”

“Look at you two, spending Dad’s birthday holed up in the shed like a couple of unsociable gits,” Ron said.

“Well no one else was here yet, were they?” Ginny called back, distracted, gaze still fixed ahead.

“What are you two watch-” Hermione began to ask before she cut herself off. “Oh, I should have guessed.” Ginny didn’t have to look at her to know that she was smiling in that slight smuggish way that she often did.

“Did you used to watch this?”

“Not really,” Hermione said, leaning against the bench which Ron was now perched on top of. “I was already at Hogwarts when it began. But Mum and Dad were quite excited when it was first on TV, so I watched a couple of episodes with them. But I haven’t watched it since.”

“The talking cat freaked her out,” Ron said helpfully.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “The talking cat freaked you out?”

“Yes. Animals shouldn’t talk, Harry!”

“So after all the shit that you’ve seen and done, it’s a talking feline that scares you?”

Ron laughed and Hermione lightly slapped his chest with the back of her hand.

“It was a few years ago, to be fair,” she said pointedly. “But yes, talking animals give me the creeps. Mum read me a book about a young witch when I was little, and there was a talking cat in the story. It gave me nightmares.”

“Were you scared of normal cats?” Ginny asked, attention completely on Hermione now as the show continued unnoticed in the background.

“Of course not. But I kept thinking about it, that first week after I got my Hogwarts letter. I asked Professor McGonagal about it the night of the feast, actually. I asked her if there really were talking cats.”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing. She just laughed.”

“She would,” Ginny said, while Harry and Ron snorted.

“What about you, Harry?”

“What? Was I scared of talking cats?”

“No,” Hermione huffed. “I mean, have you seen Sabrina before?”

Ginny shifted in the chair to look up at Harry, curious.

“Sure, Hermione. My aunt gathered us all around the TV together to watch a show about a young witch living among Muggles. ‘Wholesome entertainment’, I believe she called it.”

“Ok,” Hermione muttered, looking just a little sheepish. “I get the point.”

They eventually fell silent and continued to watch the screen, where the girl, Sabrina, was fumbling her way through a class in which they were supposed to be cutting up a dead frog. Ginny had at times wondered what Muggle students learnt at school, but this wasn’t exactly what she had imagined.

“If it isn’t the woman of the hour,” she heard George call out in greeting as the door of the shed slammed shut behind him. “You set an impossible standard you know, Hermione. I may as well just concede defeat and not bother with presents for Dad from now on.”

“You never do anyway,” Ron said.

George simply shrugged in agreeance and nudged Ginny’s elbow off the arm of the couch, perching himself on the only part of the couch that was now free.

The five of them sat there, watching curiously. The show held hints of the familiar, but Ginny found there was little she could relate to in the way the story exaggerated what she guessed was the novelties of magic. She’d never had to hide her magic, never had to come to terms with the reality of a new world. But navigating the awkwardness of school and teenagehood, and desperately guarding secrets from her peers - these were all things she knew too well.

“How come they have no wands? Seems like a bit of an oversight,” George said.

“Right?” Ginny interrupted. “It’s all bonkers George, they have no idea.”

“How would they?” Harry asked.

George ignored him, turning to Ginny instead. “So why are you watching it then?”

“Why are you?”

He paused for a moment. “Fuck, you’re right.” He stood up and turned away. “I’m done.”

They came and went over the next hour, a rotating door of brothers and girlfriends and her dad. But still Ginny and Harry sat there, content, squished together in the chair. Harry showed characteristic patience with her and her rhythm of questions and comments - “Is that what they really learn at school? What IS the deal with that cat? What the hell are those stupid things those dancer girls are throwing around?"

They tuned in and out of the show as it carried on playing, sometimes watching in silence with whoever was in the shed at any given minute, or all laughing as they picked apart the many, many holes in the show’s take on magic.

Bill was the last of her brothers to stop by the shed. Although the nearly empty bottle in his hand suggested he’d arrived at the Burrow some time ago.

“You two going to come out and see everyone?” he asked.

“Don’t need to,” Ginny said. “They’ve all been coming in here to see me.”

“You know they’re not actually coming to see you, right? That thing,” he tilted his head towards the screen, “is the real drawcard.”

“Lies,” Ginny whispered. “It’s all lies.”

Harry sniggered. Bill shook his head before asking her about the training camp she was heading to in a couple days’ time, successfully drawing her attention away from the screen.

Eventually, the last of their companions left and it was just the two of them, still curled together, still watching.

“It’s funny,” Harry said, his gaze still fixed on the screen.

“What is? This show?”

“No, the show’s kinda lame. I mean, it’s funny sitting here with you now, watching TV like this… I used to watch TV when I was a kid, when the Dursleys had it on. But I never watched it with anyone, if you get what I mean. Dudley would have mates over and they’d watch it together, but it’s obviously not something I ever did. It’s funny that it’s only now, now that I’m a wizard…” He trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish the sentence for Ginny to know what he meant. It’s only now that he’s a wizard that he’s able to do something so typically Muggle.

But Ginny didn’t think it was funny at all.

“Dudley never got to watch television with me though,” she said, wrapping her arms around him a little tighter, burying her head into his chest a little deeper. “So I’d say you got the better deal after all.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “I did.”

And on the screen the story continued. A world somewhat like hers, with witches and wizards, but with a whole lot less magic.

#Hinny #Harry Potter #Ginny Weasley #Of course Arthur is given a tv

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emachinescat · 3 years

Text

I Shall Have Lived a Little While

A Merlin Fan-Fiction

By @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 26 - recovery

Summary: Sequel to "Pain Has an Element of Blank." The knights bring a broken Merlin back to Camelot, and he and Arthur are finally reunited.

Characters: Merlin, Arthur, Gwaine, Gaius

Words: 3,661

TW: mentions of slavery

Note: This is a direct sequel to my stories “I Should Not Dare to Leave My Friend” and “Pain Has an Element of Blank.” I highly suggest reading those before you read this one, because you’ll probably be a bit lost if you don’t. :) This is the full, finished version of the piece I posted on Day 26 of Febuwhump. I hope you enjoy!

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, and/or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

You smile upon your friend to-day,

To-day his ills are over;

You hearken to the lover's say,

And happy is the lover.

'Tis late to hearken, late to smile,

But better late than never:

I shall have lived a little while

Before I die for ever.

- "You Smile Upon Your Friend To-Day" by A. E. Housman

Arthur was days away from striking out on a quest to rescue Merlin while injured himself when the search party returned. Gaius had told the king many times over that he was not well enough to embark on a journey to find his stolen servant, that he should wait and let the knights handle it. He'd even placed a bodyguard over Arthur – Percival – but slowly, the king found his strength returning. He'd warned Percival in advance that he would be staying in Camelot only until he could move about on his own, and then he would ride out. If that meant fighting Percival and the guards to get to his horse and out of the citadel, that's just what he would do.

Ultimately, though, escaping his own castle ended up being unnecessary, because his men succeeded just as Gaius had predicted they would. Arthur was conflicted when he heard of their approach – of course, he was delighted that they were returning, Merlin in tow, though no one knew yet the severity of the servant's condition, only that he lived. Another part of the king gilded itself in resentment and shame, for he had not been there for his friend when he'd been taken. Arthur knew Merlin well, and understood that his servant would have been waiting for – expecting – the king to come for him, to lead the rescue. And Arthur had let Merlin down, had not been there for his friend when he needed him the most.

A third part of Arthur felt immediate relief that he would no longer have to drag himself onto his horse and ride out into unknown dangers, because he knew full well that his wound – a nasty, deep sword-cut across the ribs – had not healed as much as he was trying to convince Percival – and himself. Of course, Gaius hadn't been fooled for a moment. Neither had Gwen. But both knew that there was only so long they could hope to contain Arthur when Merlin was missing.

Arthur insisted on meeting the knights in the courtyard, and felt like he had just fought a dragon by the time he got there. His wound ached, his body felt weak and limp and heavy, and his breathing came in ragged bursts. Beside him, Percival took hold of his arm to steady him. Arthur glared, but didn't pull away. He tried to ignore the knowing gleam in the man's eyes, one he knew without having to look also resided in his Gwen's and Gaius's gazes.

Despite the pain and exhaustion from the exertion, Arthur managed to break into a stilted run when the knights, red cloaks announcing their return, rode into the courtyard. "Gwaine!" Arthur panted, because it was Gwaine who held Merlin gently in front of him on his horse. The servant was unconscious, but he was alive. Arthur looked up at Gwaine, who had yet to hand Merlin off to any of the now dismounted knights, and made no attempt to dismount himself. A stirring of dread plucked at Arthur's heart like a lyre.

"What happened?" Arthur asked, and his voice came out much weaker than he wanted it to. His eyes traveled back to his servant, taking in the drawn, pale face, the dark circles under his eyes, and the way that Gwaine held him so carefully, as if afraid he might break. There was something else, something that Arthur could not identify, something that radiated a sense of wrongness. Arthur kept studying his friend, and for some reason, his gaze kept moving back to the servant's legs.

Gaius shuffled up beside the king. Arthur could sense the worry and relief coming off of the old physician in waves, but he did not turn from the unconscious servant. "Gwaine?" he prompted, as the knight had not answered his question.

But it wasn't Gwaine who responded. Gaius had already begun his cursory examination of his ward, and when he spoke, Arthur's head snapped around to meet his gaze. "His legs are broken, Sire. Both of them."

***

Arthur felt numb as he followed the knights, Gaius, Gwen, and Merlin back across the courtyard, up the steps, and into the castle. Both legs broken. Arthur knew at once that Merlin's injuries hadn't been an accident. He hadn't slipped and fallen and broken his bones. Of course, it sounded exactly like something clumsy Merlin would do. But Athur also understood the kind of people that had taken his servant. He had spent a large portion of his time as King of Camelot attempting to rid his kingdom and the surrounding areas from the influence of slavers. These were men who were ruthless, cruel, and unfeeling.

It was clear to Arthur that they had broken Merlin's legs intentionally, and at first the king was so stunned by the level of violence done to his servant that he didn't feel anything. He just couldn't stop thinking about how it might have happened. He didn't have to ask why. Merlin might have been scrawny and unassuming at first glance, but he was also incredibly stubborn and determined, and sometimes even clever, on the rare occasion he wasn't being a complete idiot. He would have tried to escape from his captors, Arthur was sure. Maybe multiple times. And to keep it from happening again, they'd shattered his legs, made sure he couldn't run.

They arrived at Gaius's chambers, and Gwaine carefully laid Merlin out on the well-worn patient's cot. Gaius shooed everyone out of the room, save for Arthur, who as king could not be "shooed" anywhere, and Gwaine, who dug his heels in and refused to budge. Arthur and Gwaine watched in tense silence for a while as Gaius examined Merlin further, checking to make sure his legs had been set properly, binding them, treating a nasty wound on the back of his head, washing the blood and muck and filth out of his hair, spreading salve on bruises and cuts and tipping potions down his throat.

Eventually, as Gaius fell into a rhythm, Arthur turned to Gwaine. "What happened?" he asked in a low, even voice. That numbness still froze his heart, but he could feel the anger beginning to thaw the icy disbelief. "Where did you find him?" The unspoken but obvious question lingered between them: Did you kill the bastards who did this?

The king had fully been expecting an enraged, ultimately triumphant tale of the knights discovering the slavers' hideout, bathing the walls with the blood of the men who had tortured their friend, and sweeping Merlin into his arms and carrying him home like the swooning maiden he was. But to Arthur's surprise, Gwaine hesitated, a faraway, almost uncomfortable look in his eyes. "I'm not actually sure," he finally answered.

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "How are you not sure of what happened? Have you been drinking?"

Gwaine's response was serious and immediate. "Not on a quest this important. Not when Merlin's life was at stake." Arthur nodded curtly in approval, then waited for Gwaine to explain himself. The knight took a deep breath, then told Arthur everything that had happened. Along the way, Arthur noticed out of the corner of his eye that Gaius had finished with Merlin, and he stood stiffly, his spine as tall as he could manage, listening intently.

When Gwaine had finished, Arthur shook his head in confusion. "That makes no sense. He just appeared at the edge of your camp?"

Gwaine shrugged. "We thought he might have escaped and stumbled upon us, but with his legs…" He trailed off, dark, flaming eyes darting over to the servant as if to remind himself that Merlin was home, and he was safe.

Gaius turned around and joined the hushed conversation. Arthur thought he saw a flicker of something he couldn't quite place in the old man's gaze – it might have been understanding, or fear, or something else entirely – when Gaius urged, "Since we are at a loss to explain these things at this moment, perhaps it is best to find comfort in Merlin's return – and maybe, once he has awakened, he can shed some light on how he came to be in your camp." Somehow, though, Arthur had the feeling that Gaius didn't expect Merlin to have the answers.

***

Merlin woke the next morning. Gwaine and Arthur had both refused to leave over the night, and so Arthur had slept in Merlin's bed and Gwaine had fallen into a restless slumber slumped over the table in the physician's chambers.

Arthur awoke early, at first confused as to why he was in such an uncomfortable bed, then he recognized his surroundings and spent a few horrified moments trying to figure out why he was in his servant's room, in his bed, but then everything flooded back to him in a great rush, and he thought he might be sick.

He swung his feet over the side of the bed, the familiar deep ache in his ribs more pronounced after sleeping in such a hard, threadbare bed. Well, sleeping was a generous term. The king had only fallen into a fitful, anxious sleep in the early, still-dark hours of the morning and felt less rested than he had before he'd drifted off. It wasn't the discomfort or pain that had kept him awake, however – it had been his own mind, the boiling rage that had hit him full force as soon as he was alone.

The fury was accompanied by equal parts disgust and heartache, and his mind had been alive and seething with images of what Merlin had gone through, the pain he had endured. He'd actually fallen asleep once, only to wake up minutes later with a pounding heart and coiling gut, the crisp snap of bones in his dream much too loud and real in his mind. And when all of the emotions had been boiled down to their basest forms, the thought that resounded through Arthur's head was painfully simple: Merlin didn't deserve this.

Merlin was just stirring when Arthur limped his way down the steps into the physician's main chamber, right arm curled instinctively around his burning midsection. Gwaine still slumped over the table, snoring loudly. Gaius was gone, most likely on his early morning rounds. It was comforting to see that Gaius had thought Merlin well enough to leave more or less alone while he was gone. It meant that he was in no immediate danger.

"Arthur?"

Arthur hastened to his servant's bedside and eased himself carefully into the chair that Gaius had vacated when he left. Arthur responded with a smile and a whispered, "Hello, Merlin. It's about time you woke up." He wasn't sure why he kept his voice lowered, other than a desire to have a moment to speak to his servant alone, before Gwaine woke up.

Merlin looked terrible: His face was pinched in pain, his eyes glassy and legs bandaged and propped up on the mountain of pillows Arthur had ordered brought to the chamber. Still, he smiled at Arthur's light jab. "How… how did I get here?" His voice was weak and dry; Arthur saw a flagon of water on the bedside table and helped Merlin drink, holding his body rather more stiffly than usual to minimize his own pain at the movement.

Arthur's heart dropped a little. There went his answers. "You don't remember?"

Merlin shook his head, his eyes somewhere far away. "The last thing that I recall is…" He trailed off, his long fingers picking anxiously at his blanket.

Arthur leaned forward the tiniest bit. "What?"

"I was at the fortress. The, uh, bandits' hideout."

Arthur's eyes widened. "Do you know where it is? Could you lead us there?"

Merlin tilted his head to the side, confused. "Wasn't that where you found me?"

Merlin's words were like another sword in the gut. Merlin assumed that Arthur had been the one to rescue him, the one to lead the search party. And why wouldn't he believe that? That was what should have happened. If it hadn't been for Arthur's injury, it would have been him carrying his servant home instead of Gwaine. Of course, Merlin couldn't have known that. Arthur forced a smile that he hoped didn't look too fake onto his face and shook his head. "You weren't found at any fortress. None of the men who had taken you were nearby." Guilt gnawed at him for his purposefully vague description of the rescue party, but he shoved it aside. He would not take credit for what his knights had done alone, but he wasn't ready to divulge his own injury to Merlin yet.

"What do you mean? I know I couldn't have escaped on my own, I–"

"What?"

Merlin had cut off, the tiniest spark of something lighting in his eyes. He dropped his gaze. "Nothing. I can't remember."

Arthur had a feeling Merlin wasn't telling the full truth. He could have sworn that the expression on Merlin's face, for the briefest of seconds, was that of realization. As if he'd figured out exactly how he'd managed to get away from the bandits with two broken legs. But he let it go, for now.

"Well, you were found feet from the rescue party's camp," Arthur continued. "Lying in some bushes, unconscious. With your legs…" He didn't finish – he didn't have to. The pain lines in Merlin's face deepened.

Merlin scrubbed a shaky hand through his hair, then winced when he hit the cut. "Ow."

"Don't touch it, you idiot," Arthur chided.

Merlin rolled his eyes, settled deeper into his pillow, and regarded Arthur with something far too close to suspicion.

The silent staring got to Arthur far quicker than he liked to admit. "What?" he snapped waspishly.

"You talked about the rescue party like you weren't a part of it," Merlin observed, and Arthur sighed. Even when badly injured, the servant was annoyingly observant in the most inconvenient ways. Why couldn't he pick up on subtleties in situations where it would actually be helpful?

Despite his exasperation, Arthur was truthful. "It was a party of knights who brought you home," he admitted. "I was not one of them."

Merlin looked at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Then he said simply, "Oh."

"Merlin–"

"No, no. That makes sense," Merlin interrupted, and it was more like he was trying to convince himself than Arthur. "I'm just a servant. You're the king. You had many important… king things to do."

"King things?"

"Like being a royal prat."

Arthur smirked. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed Merlin's insults while he'd been stuck in bed worrying about the missing servant. He didn't rise to the bait, though – not yet. "You know very well you're not just a servant, Merlin. You are…" He hesitated only briefly; seeing his servant being hauled away by slavers, then spending weeks wondering if he'd ever see his friend again had opened his eyes and battered down his defenses, and ultimately made it easier to say his next words. "You are an old, dear friend. And I feared – I thought I'd never see you again."

Merlin's eyes shimmered in the candlelight. He looked like he was about to cry. Arthur prayed he wouldn't. Then, Merlin smiled and complained, "If I'm such an old, dear friend, then why am I still scrubbing your floors and washing your undergarments?"

"It's your job, Merlin. Being friends with someone shouldn't stop you from doing your duties."

"Then can I have a different job? One that doesn't involve running after your every beck and call?"

Arthur chuckled. "Absolutely not. And don't let what I said go to your head. If you ever tell anyone I said it, I'll feed you to my dogs."

"You can try, but since I'm the one who's been walking them for years now, I think they like me more than you."

They shared an amiable laugh, but the unresolved issue of Arthur's role – or lack thereof – in Merlin's rescue still hung between them. Arthur sobered. When he next spoke, his voice was grave. "The only reason I did not ride out after you, Merlin, was because I was injured. Gwaine and the others had been gone for days before I finally woke up."

Instantly, Merlin's entire demeanor changed. Like he had been struck by lightning, every aspect of Merlin's frame snapped to alert. His face hardened, his eyes flashed, and he levered himself up onto his elbows. He gave off an almost frightening aura, one of worry, as Arthur had expected, but also of… fierce protectiveness? Arthur was touched, but also somewhat unnerved. Something akin to power sizzled in Merlin's blue eyes as they searched Arthur up and down for injury.

"What happened? Who did it? How are you now?"

Arthur blinked, then shifted uncertainly in his chair. "I… I took a sword to the ribs – I'm fine, lie back down – but it missed anything vital. One of the bandits who attacked us got a lucky hit in right as you went down. He's dead now, by the way."

The flames flared before dwindling down into embers. "Good. And you? Are you recovered?"

Arthur thought about lying, about telling Merlin he had never been better, but instead he said, "I'm well on my way. A few more weeks, Gaius says, and I should be as good as new."

Merlin eased himself back down onto his back, wincing as the adrenaline wore off and the movement pulled at his legs. Arthur glanced at the broken limbs and hesitated before asking the question he both desperately needed and ardently dreaded the answer to.

"Merlin… what did they do to you?"

Merlin's face, already whiter than usual from pain, took on a faintly green tint. "I'd rather not talk about it, if it's all the same to you."

Arthur wanted to retort, No, it's not all the same to me! But he took a deep breath, and thought about what was best for Merlin. He would have to talk about what was done to him eventually. Even if it wasn't to him, he would have to relive the terror and the pain and the memories. But he had just woken up. If he needed some time, then who was Arthur to begrudge him that?

Only, he had to know – "Just one thing, then," the king implored, and Merlin's eyebrows raised, surprised that Arthur was giving up on his quest for information so easily. "Can you tell me… did anyone do anything to you? And did they actually come to the point of… of…"

Merlin's voice was troubled, but he finished Arthur's question with a quiet strength. "Selling me?" He shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure. I know there was an interested party–" Arthur's gut rolled over on itself, and he thought he might be sick, "–but I honestly can't remember anything that happened after he knocked me out." He looked up at Arthur almost shyly. "I'm sorry, that's all I can remember. But to answer your first question, other than breaking my legs, they didn't touch me."

Relief flooded through Arthur. "Honorable slavers?" he asked incredulously.

A hint of mirth touched Merlin's lips. "I think they were afraid of me," he whispered conspiratorially.

Arthur snorted. "Afraid? Of the likes of you? What were you going to do, kill them with your incompetency?"

"I have many talents that you don't know of," Merlin said mysteriously, and if Arthur hadn't known better, he'd think Merlin was being serious.

"You have one talent," Arthur deadpanned. "And that's irritating your king."

"Glad to be of service," Merlin joked.

"That would be a first," Arthur shot back. Then he said, "Merlin, I'm sorry I wasn't able to rescue you myself. I know you would have done the same for me."

Merlin shook his head. "You were injured, sire."

"That wouldn't have stopped you." He regretted the words, and the guilt that permeated them, as soon as they left his mouth.

Merlin studied him seriously for a few moments before responding with a slight grin, "Maybe not, but aren't you always saying I'm a reckless idiot with no mind for my own safety?"

"That, you are," Arthur agreed heartily. A beat. "I'm glad you're back."

"Me, too."

In the comfortable silence that followed, Arthur realized something – he couldn't remember the last time he'd heard a snore from Gwaine. Slowly, he turned around to see the knight still sitting on the bench, his upper body sprawled on the table, face-down. "Gwaine?" Arthur asked.

All was quiet for a handful of hopeful seconds. Then – "...Yes, Arthur?"

Arthur groaned. Behind him, he heard Merlin stifle a chuckle. "How much did you hear?"

Gwaine popped up to an upright position, cracked his neck, popped his knuckles, and sent his friends his most shit-eating grin. "Enough to wonder if you're actually engaged to the right person," he answered chipperly. "You two are so sweet."

Arthur felt the blood rushing into his face, and he steadfastly refused to turn around to look at Merlin, sure that the servant's face, too, would be bright red. "Why, you… I… that's treason!" Arthur exclaimed indignantly, even though it wasn't.

Gwaine shook his hair out of his face, stood, stretched, and ambled his way over to the sick bed. "Merlin, my friend. It's good to see you recovering."

"Thanks, Gwaine," Merlin responded, and Arthur did look back at him now, noting that a fierce blush was indeed just beginning to fade from his cheeks. When he smiled, first at Gwaine, then at Arthur, it was a tired smile, but a hopeful one, too.

"It's good to be home."

FebuWhump2021

Febuwhumpday26

Recovery

Resolution

Sequel

Whump

Hurt Merlin (Merlin)

Hurt Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Friendship

Hurt/Comfort

Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Broken Bones

Sword Wound

Gen or Pre-Slash

Protective Merlin

Protective Arthur

Protective Gwaine (Merlin)

Protective Gaius (Merlin)

everyone is protective

Worried Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Worried Merlin (Merlin)

Everyone Is Worried Too

Arwen Is Referenced

Heart-to-Heart

arthur shows he cares

Bromance

Epic Bromance

Mentions of Slavery

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camelove · 3 years

Text

Camelove 2021

Day 6: Always By Your Side

Freya/Arthur/Merlin | Gen | 927 Words | AO3

Let's imagine Freya in Avalon.

Imagine Freya watching over Merlin with the same dedication Merlin watches over Arthur.

Imagine her hearing Arthur's first steps into a limbo where neither the truly dead nor truly living can stay, witnessing in silence as the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth clutches the hope he had been promised and shout - with the certainty of a thousand lifetimes’ worth of love and loyalty and sacrifice - that he cannot sacrifice this to destiny. Not this. Never this.

(But there is always sacrifice - the life of the Once and Future King for the unification of Albion. They will understand this later, as they see the tales of Arthur Pendragon and the Battle of Camlann spread farther than the land on which he was born. To Caerleon, to Nemeth, to the stone castles of the Saxons, across miles of earth and sea until he is no longer a story owned by Camelot, but by kingdoms united through their admiration of his rule).

Imagine that the first words Freya says to Arthur are, "You never deserved him."

Imagine pain flashing across Arthur's face before he admits, with a guilt-ridden breath, "I know."

Imagine them standing side by side as they watch Normans conquering the homeland of the Once and Future King, the waters of Avalon receding as the last remnants of magic are lost to the world, flowing into the veins of a human ghost haunting a land that is not his own.

Imagine Freya hating Arthur Pendragon for being the source of Merlin's centuries of suffering.

Imagine them sitting by a bonfire, exchanging stories about the man they both love; about the woman Arthur loves; about mountains and lakes and citadels and castles; lost friends and families they hope to join but cannot because both swore to love the man who saved them in their last moments.

Imagine her planning to tell the story of a cursed druid girl who died at the hands of a prince, knowing intimately the pain of guilt; knows how it cuts like a sword wound and burns you inside-out for what feels like eternity.

Imagine her, then, listening to Arthur's wavering voice as he recounts the tale of a sister lost to the battle of magic.

"I could have saved her," he whispers, and Freya is suddenly by the lake again with a boy begging her to say that she could be saved, loving her despite the invisible bloodstains on her hands, despite her selfishness in wanting to keep his love when the cost of it was betraying his trust. (She wanted to tell him -- tried to -- but by the end, she did not want hatred to be the last memory she had of him before she left).

And then she's back in Avalon, sometime in an arbitrary past, watching a sorcerer confess his magic to a king; watching that king move from fear, to disapproval, to guilt, to fondness in a matter of days. She hears the words I want you to always be you. Watches, now, the man beside her as he looks into the embers of a dying fire, promising to himself that he will correct every single mistake he has made, because a destiny fulfilled does not necessarily mean a life well lived.

Imagine Freya slowly seeing the man that Merlin had fallen in love with, and deciding that she, too, will have secrets to keep.

Imagine the Lady of the Lake and the Once and Future King in a forgotten land, watching as the world writes stories about a life that seem so distant, growing closer with every piece of themselves shed in the vulnerability of a plane existing where life and death are but whimsical definitions. Imagine them holding each other when ghosts of the living come back to haunt them, when guilt overcomes their senses and leaves them hoping to return sooner, sooner, now , and make everything right.

Imagine that day finally comes.

Imagine Freya and Arthur standing in front of a large sphere of light, through it the image of a world they know and do not know of at the same time.

Imagine Arthur taking her hand and looking at her with a happiness worth a thousand suns.

Imagine Freya realising, then, with sudden clarity, that the prince who stole her happy ending in another life has given it back to her with whispered conversations and silent smiles and small caresses over an uncountable amount of time.

Imagine Freya realising that she loves Arthur.

Imagine Freya reading, in the fondness of Arthur's eyes she has come to know so well, that he may feel the same way.

Imagine Freya deciding that she will not make the men she loves choose between her and each other, that she will accept that her story is not written in the scrolls of destiny reserved for Merlin and Arthur.

Imagine that in response to the thought she has not even spoken out loud, the Once and Future King says, "Forget destiny for a moment."

And Freya smiles. Small and indulgent and fond. "I won't make him choose."

"He won't," he says. "It doesn't have to be a choice."

Imagine Arthur taking her hand and bringing it to his lips.

Imagine him whispering, "Stay with me," and, "Please?"

Imagine Freya deciding that perhaps destiny is what you make it to be, made of choices as numerous as blades of grass stretching into an endless horizon, and that right now, there is none to be made at all.

This post was made to serve as inspiration for the Camelove 2021 event which will take place from 8th till 14th of February. For more examples, follow the #Camelove2021 example posts tag! We look forward to seeing what you create for the event!

#camelove2021 #day 6: always by your side #freya/arthur/merlin #fic #camelove2021 example posts

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where-dreamers-go · 4 years

Text

(Requested) Merlin x Mermaid!Reader

(A/N: Anonymous asked: ‘Hello, could I request a reader insert with Merlin, where she is a magical creature, maybe a Veela or Mermaid. She is being chased and he helps her escape. Perhaps he helps her find a job and everyone is just teases him when they are together or are caught kissing? And maybe from time to time they go In trip away from the city to practice magic together? Just something cute, thank you.’

Thank you again for your request Anon. I had a lot of fun thinking up what a mermaid might be like in Camelot or what kind of mermaid the Reader would be. I ended up mixing a bit from different movies and shows. Something about this insert reader just seemed to flow. I hope you like it. Also this is set around season four.

I feel like it goes from action packed in the beginning to super chill at the end.

Warnings: Attempted mermaid-napping. The beginning has a lot of “Oh, NO! Oh, NO!”, but the rest of the insert reader makes up for that in cuteness and some funnies.

Word Count: 4,556 )

You had been traveling on your own for more than four moon cycles. Of course, you never spent too long away or out of water. Water was essential for life and its cycles.

That was among the many things you wanted to learn and explore while on land.

It was fun, really, being on your own adventure. One where you made choices on a whim and lived for every moment.

You flicked the end of your aquatic tail. With a smile, you watched how the water rippled and flowed passed. Each droplet gathered with another in their oneness. It was beautiful, natural, magic.

Head abruptly snapping to attention with a straight back, your smile disappeared.

Danger.

You looked over your shoulder and alarm struck you.

Men. Rugged and alerting more of their people that you did not want to see.

You pulled yourself out of the water, tail shedding and shifting. Hastily, you slipped on a pair of soft shoes, pulled the skirt of your dress further down, grabbed your only bag, stood up, and ran the opposite direction from the shouting men.

You were thankful for traveling light.

Blurs of greens and browns passed the sides of your vision as you ran. Water still dripping down your skin. You were careful and aware of your footing for you could not lose the small lead you had.

Their shouting behind you became more aggravated, tired, and desperate. Hungry for a prize. They were not stopping.

There was always a high price for mermaids, especially during the warmer months. Humans held their own beliefs and ideas of mermaids. You were not about to let any of them find out which beliefs were true. Not the distrustful humans at least.

Tripping a step, you managed to remain upright to continue running. You weren’t sure how much longer you could evade them. Even as you wove around trees, they were still extremely close behind. Any second could change your fate.

The land in front of you dipped down into a slope. Heartbeat pounding in your ears, you slowed your gait just enough to land your footing safely. Again, you had to be quite conscious.

A rush of cold terror and air surrounded you as a heavy body collided against your back. Tumbling and sliding, you landed on flat ground.

Energy of fear and determination fueled you to scramble to your feet. Your bag swinging by your side.

“No!” You cried as the man on the ground lunged at your legs. Catching an ankle in his filthy hands.

The shouting of the men doubled. More than five of them racing down the green slope.

Your throat burned and your stomach felt sickly hot.

This would not be your end.

You kicked and stomped. Heels contacting the man’s wrists.

Cold raced through veins, but it was not your powers. Fear. Sheer terror filled you even as another man managed to take your arm into his vice grip.

“NO!” You shouted. Surely, that was their language.

Your fist collided against a man’s shoulder, there was netting hanging from his back.

The hit, the kicks, and the screaming did no good against them. It was a struggle you were starting to lose as more humans surrounded you with determination and selfish eyes. Hungry for riches.

A grin full of greed was presented in front of you. The same man who had tackled you down. Someone handed him a section of net.

“No,” you urged.

Where was their empathy? Their compassion?

Crrr—CRACK

You looked up to the tree canopy.

CRASH—thump

There laid a large branch atop of the man—on the ground.

Was that luck…or something else?

The large group of dirt-covered men only took a second of silence before tugging to free the net, which laid tangled in the branch.

You took the opportunity to kick the person bruising your arm. He grunted, but did not release his hold.

Shouts came from beside you as three men were pulled through the air before slamming into separate tree trunks.

It was not luck. Definitely not.

You knew magic when you saw it. Tired or not, you knew.

Chaos erupted through the remainder of the group as they bolted. Scattering themselves back into the green foliage like crabs on the shoreline.

Tugging your arm, the man refused to let go.

Selfish, desperate eyes. He yanked you towards him in his need to run. To keep a possible profit.

You dug your heels into the ground, dirt shifting underneath the soles of your shoes.

The man gritted his teeth as he pulled again.

Thonk

A rock, about the size of your fist, flew against the man’s head.

Expression blank, the man fell.

You were free.

Stumbling back, you put distance between you and the unconscious man. You turned around to survey the area. Trees and other foliage as before. That was—until you eyed a head peering from around a tree trunk. Another human.

The human, a young man by the look of the ease of his walk, emerged from behind the tree in long strides.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“I am now.” You answered, ears trained for another ambush.

He nodded, “That’s good.”

Dressed in earthy browns, red, and blue, he walked closer. He was not adored with glittering rocks like nobility, but there was a power about him. An earthly power—no…more.

You allowed yourself to smile then.

“Thank you, Emrys.”

The young man stopped short, in midst of offering his hand. Eyes wide and vulnerable. Blue shades of the ocean on a bright afternoon.

“Are…are you a druid? Was that why—?”

“No,” you answered simply, “I am a mermaid. Not a druid.”

“…Oh.”

You smiled again.

“Er…,” Emrys’ eyes explored your face for a moment. “We should leave—the bandits might come back.”

“No, no—they can not.” You looked over at the unconscious men. “They ran away.”

“They’re thick in the head. I’ll bring you somewhere safe. I promise.”

You swallowed, the hammering of your heart had steadied after the first bandits had ran off.

“I trust you.” You stepped up to the dark-haired sorcerer. If there was one being you knew to trust, it was him.

His smile was soft even as he double checked the bandits before gesturing for you to follow him.

Keeping a pace similar to the beating of a heart, the two of you trekked through the forest.

Emrys kept an eye on you. Probably making sure you did not fall behind.

You were more than grateful for his appearance and even more so that he helped you escape. Additionally, that you were lucky to had hydrated yourself when you did.

“Emrys,” you called, “where are we traveling?”

“To Camelot.”

“Camelot?” You gave him a concerned look, even as a mermaid you knew of the kingdom. “Magic is outlawed in Camelot, Emrys.”

“I know, but there are good people. People I trust.”

“And what of Camelot’s king?”

“He’s a great king—Arthur.”

“King Arthur does not know you have magic?”

“No,” he said quickly. “Definitely not. It’d be best if you didn’t mention it. Not to anyone.”

You placed a hand over your heart.

“I promise to keep your magic a secret, Emrys.”

“Ah—um. Thank you….Also I go by Merlin not Emrys. Emrys is what the druids call me.”

“Merlin,” you tested the name. “I like it.”

The sorcerer sent you a bright smile. Genuine and full of light.

. . .

Fields of long grass greeted you as you walked closer to the city’s stone walls. Strategically piled stones rose as high as mature trees in the woods. Like towering corals teeming with life.

Once inside the gates, Merlin lead you along stone paths until you were passing through wooden doorways. Not one human giving you a second glance.

“Here we are.” Merlin announced as he allowed you entrance into a well lived-in area. Bottles, containers, seating, and paper. A single door at the far end. A very human home.

“It’s wonderful.” You smiled. It was only proper to compliment his home.

“It’s home.” He had walked over the right side of the room, at some sort of station.

Water. Many drops spilling as an echo in a small cup.

“Here,” he offered the cup.

You accepted it gratefully. The running and extra traveling was an unexpected exertion on your body. You drank happily. It was exactly what you needed.

Drinking from his own cup, there were questions running through his blue eyes.

You smiled and said, “You may ask.”

His dark eyebrows rose for only a second before he set down his cup.

“How long can you be out of water?”

“As my knowledge serves me, I need to drink water often or enough to remain healthy. It helps i—.”

The front door opened as an older man with white hair stepped inside. Wide-eyed and raised eyebrows at the sight of you before he immediately turned to the young sorcerer.

“Merlin,” said the old man.

You hoped that your presence had not brought trouble to the sorcerer. You would certainly take your leave if it did.

“Ah…Gaius, this is…ah,” Merlin looked to you with widening eyes.

“My name is (Y/N).” You said to the man presumably named Gaius. Smiling, you stepped forward and offered him your hand.

As customary for humans, he grabbed your hand and gave it a short shake.

“I am Gaius, the court physician. It’s good to meet you.” He smiled shortly before eyeing Merlin.

“I saved her from bandits.” The young man announced.

“Bandits?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “most unfriendly.”

“I see.” Gaius crossed his arms over his chest. “So you didn’t gather the herbs I asked for?”

Merlin cleared his throat and spoke lowly, “Sorry Gaius.”

“Yes, well I needed those herbs for the lord’s eye treatment. At least you two are safe.”

Again, you smiled. You were unsure what to say around the court physician. If Merlin did not give specifics then it was logically unsafe for you to do so.

“Well, I should show (Y/N) around,” Merlin quickly walked over to you and gently took the empty cup out of your hand. “See you later, Gaius.” He moved to set the cup down and returned to the door as he steered you out with him.

Merlin sighed loudly as the pair of you took a route further away from his home and Gaius.

Your bag padded lightly against your side as you walked through the stone structure. The walls were made to last, to shelter, and protect. Yet closed its inhabitants off from the world. You wondered how a sorcerer could live in such an environment, in hiding no less. There must truly be something about Camelot that you were unaware of for him to live safely.

Turning a corner, your eyes were given their first view of the inner workings of a castle. Many people walking upon their two feet progressing through the available space.

“Em—,” you caught the rest of the name in your throat. “Merlin? I am grateful for your help and do not wish to offend…, but are you certain safety is here? Your court physician….you did not tell him what you had done.”

“Right,” Merlin looked to you as you both joined the flow of people. “He knows who I am. You can trust him.”

“Then why did you not tell him how you had helped me?”

His eyes trained forward, watching as he lead you through halls that were lit by large open sections where sunlight was free to enter.

“I thought—…I thought that he might have overreacted or…might have asked too many questions,” he glanced over to you. “You need to be protected.”

“I can handle questions, Merlin. Even the concerned ones. I promise I will not dry up at the too many questions.” You laughed lightly. There was no need for him to suffer twice through worrying.

Small smiles were shared. Quiet and trying to assure the other of security.

“I greatly appreciate what you have done for me, truly.” You offered your hand to formally introduce yourself. “It is great to meet you, Merlin.”

“It’s good to meet you, (Y/N).” He shook your hand lightly.

“I had forgotten to tell you my name. I apologize.”

“There were bandits. You don’t have to apologize for anything.”

Still walking, he released your hand. A brightness returning to him after sharing words.

He has a good heart, you thought. Certainly grows attachments quickly.

Though you had no idea what section of the castle you were in, you were quietly enjoying Merlin’s company.

The young sorcerer turned down another hall and soon was murmuring something under his breath.

You followed his line of sight to three men with long drapes of red fabric behind them walking over to the pair of you. Three sets of eyes held you in their sights of interest.

“Hello, Merlin,” the man with skin of dark earthly tones greeted.

“Merlin.” The tallest one smiled.

“Ah, Merlin,” a third man smiled sweetly to you after nodding at the young man beside you. “Would you do the honor of introducing the lovely lady.” There was a curiosity and heavy glint of playfulness in his eyes.

“Gwaine.” Merlin took a step closer to you, “this is (Y/N). (Y/N), meet Gwaine, Elyan, and Percival.”

“Hello, it is an honor to meet you three.” You said, extending a hand.

“A pleasure,” Gwaine said as he took your hand and lent down to place his lips over your knuckles.

That is a new greeting, you thought with a tilt of your head.

Beside you, Merlin cleared his throat audibly.

You looked to Merlin briefly as Gwaine released your hand.

The three men in front of you were sharing looks between one another and Merlin. Amusement and questions in their eyes. The sorcerer on the other hand was seemingly disapproving the man’s actions.

Perhaps the greeting was inappropriate? I hope not. Gwaine seems to be friendly. Merlin seems to know them well, based on their behavior. It would also seem safe to start conversation. I hope.

“Merlin was showing me through the castle,” you said, breaking their silent talk. “Camelot is very lovely.”

“Are you new to Camelot, then?” Asked Elyan, kindly.

“I am.”

“What brought you to Camelot?”

“Merlin.”

The men looked to said man.

“I was being chased by bandits.”

Their gazes snapped back to you.

“Merlin helped me get away from them. I am very grateful to him.”

“That was brave of you, Merlin.” Said Percival, “You are both unhurt, I hope.”

“We’re fine, thank you.” Merlin nodded.

“What were you doing out there, Merlin?”

“Collecting herbs for Gaius.”

“You forgot the herbs, Merlin?” Elyan asked with a smirk.

“He did,” Percival said.

“I would too and I don’t blame him.” Gwaine sent you a smile. “It would happen to the best of us, Merlin."

Merlin gave a pointed look to the man as the others chuckled.

They have similar attire, I wonder if they are of important status in the kingdom. They are wearing a great number of metal.

“Arthur has been looking for you.” Elyan added after his laughter subsided.

Merlin made a noise in his throat.

You looked to him.

“Why would the king be looking for you?” You asked in a hushed tone. “Are you in trouble?”

“I’m not in trouble,” Merlin reassured you quickly. “I’m the king’s manservant.”

“Oh.”

Oh my. That wasn’t anything that I imagined. He sure is full of surprises.

“Better see what he wants.” Merlin said, placing a hand on the small of your back and leading you around the three men.

“It was lovely to meet you three,” you said, bowing your head shortly.

“The pleasure was ours, my lady.” Gwaine bowed.

The sorcerer kept his pace with your beside him.

“We need to find Gwen.”

“Who?”

“Gwen. She’s a friend of mine.” Merlin explained shortly, “you need somewhere to stay. I’m hoping she can help us—you.”

I had not thought of that. Shelter, and shelter for a mermaid. This seems worrying. You thought as you hurried along with Merlin’s steps. There must not be room where Merlin sleeps.

“You are not going to find the king?”

. . .

Guinevere was a woman with a bright smile and intelligent eyes. She was in-between duties when Merlin found her and introduced you two.

Merlin was much more careful with his words when explaining how he helped you and had even asked her if you could stay with her. He had asked on your behalf.

Ever since he had rescued you, Merlin had been taking full responsibility without a second thought. How selfless could someone be?

Though you were a complete stranger to her, Gwen agreed.

Your palms became clammy. You needed to trust Merlin’s judgement.

. . .

In a matter of days, you learned how to entrust Merlin and Gwen completely. They were no strangers to living and working in Camelot. The pair had managed to help you set up selling your craft items in the market. You had to reassure Merlin that you could craft more than just shell-adored items.

You wondered if they had done the same for another before you.

Living with Gwen was a test in unknown waters at first. She had lived alone with a space of her own. She did not have to take you in, but she did. She gave you shelter and a place to sleep. It was only right that you kept it clean and tidy for her in return between bringing in coin from your sales.

Your first night might have been lacking of sleep, but you had got on well with Gwen. She seemed to get on well with most people in the city. For kindness alone, you were grateful.

As far as friends, Gwen was an excellent friend to have. Although, she was more observant and aware than most humans you had encountered. That made hiding your tail and abilities more stressful at moments than you would had liked. She at least did not question the amount of water you drank each day.

The day had been profitable and fun. Having sold a great deal of your items, you were in a light-spirited mood. You were more confident in knowing that citizens liked your products enough to purchase them. The trinkets were new for the people of Camelot. You were glad to share your creativity.

Finding your way back to where Merlin and Gaius resided, you knocked lightly on the wooden door.

It was around time for a noon meal. You had already eaten and hoped that the pair would not mind your company. Even after seeing many people walking around the market, you were wanting to see your favorite sorcerer.

“(Y/N).” Merlin’s smile greeted you as he opened the door and let you inside.

“Hello,” you beamed and quickly reached up to place a corded necklace around his neck before walking into the room. “Hello, Gaius.”

“Hello, my dear.” Gaius greeted from his place at the table. “Have you eaten?”

“I have, thank you.”

An empty bowl sat across from the older man’s.

“How are you today, Gaius?” You asked, standing beside the table.

“I’m well. Busy as every day. How did your sales go this morning?”

“Much better.”

To your right, Merlin stood with a hand plucking at the necklace. A small, cleaned fossil hung from it.

“Is there anything you need, Merlin?”

“Ah…what is this? Thank you—for the necklace, but…but what is this little…?” The rock-like charm fumbled between his fingers.

“It’s a fossil fr—…I found it some time ago.”

“Er..thank you. Again,” Merlin’s feet soon took him to gather the dirty dishes and hastily clean them.

It was quiet inside other than the scrubbing and clanking from where Merlin was cleaning. That was not the only time you had almost given too much information about yourself away to the wind. You figured that it was still alright regardless.

“Are there any chores you still need to complete, Merlin?” You asked the first question you could think of. It was safe to believe that the young man was always busy.

“Cleaning and polishing Arthur’s armor.” He answered from over his shoulder.

You hummed as you started towards the sorcerer’s room.

“The armor is most likely filthy,” you mused.

Hurried steps followed behind you as you entered the small bedroom. As soon as you walked in you had to stop because of the mess of metal littering the floor. With careful steps, you managed to sit on the edge of the bed without any mishaps.

Merlin slowly shut the door behind him as he came into the room.

“I can help you if you’d like.”

“I can handle it.” He assured you.

Stepping around the arranged pieces, he made himself comfortable in the middle of all of the armor. Immediately he began picking up the necessary supplies and got started with cleaning and polishing the metals.

Without a word, you sat down onto the floor with him. Being that you were usually occupied with your own business ventures, you scarcely got to watch Merlin’s daily activities. And from the looks of it, it involved a lot of cleaning up after the king.

Later, Gaius walked into the room with a cup. Rather than giving it to Merlin, who was hard at work, he handed it to you.

“Here, you need to stay hydrated, my dear.” Gaius stated as he handed you a cup of water.

“Thank you.” You said, carefully taking the cup from him.

He walked away, out into the open area after closing the bedroom door.

“Merlin?”

“Hmm?”

“How did Gaius find out that I am a mermaid?”

“Er…this is not his first time around magical beings.”

“I use too many shells in the jewelry?”

“What? No! I mean…Gaius figured that was it and,” Merlin’s lips pressed together tightly. “He asked. I told him about the bandits and he figured the rest out. I’m sorry. I should have asked.”

“Do you trust him? Fully?”

“I do.”

“Then so do I.” You took a sip of the water.

“You have a lot of faith in me.”

“Of course I do.”

He set down the rag. Taking a deep breath, he looked to you.

“Because I’m Emrys?”

“Yes, but more than that. Just as I know that you are Emrys, I know that there is great good in you and a great capacity for love and empathy. I trust that as well.”

“You’ve hardly known me.”

“Does that matter?”

“I guess not?” Merlin shrugged, a smile on his lips as he picked up the rag again.

As quiet settled down between the pair of you, you took on studying how the dark hair on his head seemed to want to curl in odd places, however lacked the length.

“Do you only speak with me because I am a mermaid?” You asked.

“What? No. No, I—you…” Merlin turned to you completely, “it doesn’t matter to me. You are a kind person. Whether you have magic or not doesn’t matter. I still like you.”

You smiled.

“What?” His voice was low, softer.

“Your eyes say much more than your words, Merlin.”

He ducked his head.

“I appreciate you.” You whispered.

As more days followed, you and Merlin were getting along very well. Even little misunderstandings couldn’t hold you a part after it was resolved. His company was most welcome.

Even as Merlin was sitting down on a bench while the knights did some training, you sat beside him as he sharpened a sword.

The Knights would begin their teasing of Merlin when he was with you. It was light and often lead to Merlin’s eyebrows raising. The teasing did not bother you—you used it against them some of the time. This often resulted in surprising Merlin and the knights.

On one occasion however, With a hand on his shoulder, you kissed Merlin’s cheek in front of the sparring knights.

A new change was brought about.

Merlin’s eyes widened for a brief moment.

You, on the other hand, turned your attention back to watch the knights as your smirk was visible for all to see.

It was in that moment, that the knights knew that you could just as easily counter their teasing. And you were sure that they approved of you even more that day.

. . .

Birds chirped and water danced between the trees. A secluded area of the woods near an abandoned village was deemed the perfect location for both you and Merlin to practice using magic. Credit of finding the spot went solely to Merlin. You had no idea where he found the time.

Taking a much needed break, you had submerged your lower half into the water of a small river as Merlin continued to practice a spell.

Being able to use your natural abilities was like breathing had become easier. Not using them often was equal to Sir Gwaine ignoring his ability to walk or Gwen ignoring her ability to speak her mind.

It seemed so long since the last time you were able to relax in natural waters. Allowing the energies to seep into your skin and curve around you. Learning about the world on land had its share of disadvantages.

Splashing the water with the end of your tail, you returned your gaze to the sorcerer. Focused and self-trained. You loved watching him use magic. How his cerulean eyes sparked golden and he shone in his true self. Magic.

Gently dropping the stones to the ground, Merlin walked over to you. The moist ground lightly giving way under each step. He sat down along the edge of the river beside you, keeping himself as dry as possible. Most of which was impossible given that you had sent a bobble of water to his side earlier.

You smiled at him. Meeting his eyes again, you found them soft, vulnerable, and deeply loving. Traits that you valued in beings. Leaning over, you kissed his cheek. You were soon greeted by his bright and soft grin.

With a long intake of air, you rested your head on his shoulder, sighing to yourself.

“You have a strong heart, Merlin.” You whispered.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Though you were there to learn, Merlin was exactly what you needed.

~~~

(I know this insert reader was requested some time in January and I do wish that I was able to finish it sooner, however it probably would not have turned out the same at all. A lot has been going on since February…, but hey! I hope you enjoyed it and that you are doing well. I wrote a big chuck of the beginning after I got the request and made a little background information about the kind of mermaids there might have been there, which was really fun. Again, thank you. I’m sorry Gwen didn’t really have a scene… :/

If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle @pilindielofgondor )

#merlin x reader #merlin fanfic #bbc merlin x reader #bbc merlin fanfiction #bbc merlin #Merlin #Camelot #requested #where dreamers go #merlin insert reader #mermaid #in a land of myth and a time of magic #the last dragonlord #magic #April 2020

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elizabethemerald · 4 years

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The Hand of the Eldritch Queen

This is based on my very loose understanding of Arthurian Lore and my own headcanons for how magic works. Full warning losing your hand is not a kind of even and the fic reflects this.

Please Reblog and comment if you like!

Morgan Le Fay danced alone in the woods. Golden glyphs appeared in the air around her as she effortlessly wove her magic into her surroundings. Faye Magic sang in her veins with every beat of her heart. The answering song of magic trilled through the grove.

Magic was an innate part of her, as natural as breathing, from her Faye heritage. However even among those with Faye blood she was powerful. She flexed her hands, allowing her golden armored fingers to clack lightly together. Even more magic flowed into the spell she was weaving.

She paused in her dance, closing examining the glyphs and runes that hovered there. The spell still wasn’t quite right. Her left hand danced almost with a life of its own while she carved more symbols into the air. Magic always came easier through her left hand then through the right. The golden sigil began to spin on its own as she finished inscribing and floated away from her to join the rest.

Morgan breathed in deeply, feeling the strain of the magic she was controlling. No one else alive could even attempt a spell like she was working on, but it was still draining her reserves. She let out the breath with a sigh and extended her awareness.

She could feel every tree in the grove. Every ant among the grass. Every beast and plant hidden among the wood. And she could sense every shiver and quiver of magic. Most importantly she could not sense her master. The only magic around was her own.

Another deep breath in and she began to pull on another source of magic. One that was deeper...darker. The Faye magic that was her life blood could only drive this spell so far and she needed more power.

She focused on her anger, on her fear, on her disgust, on her grief and poured that into her spell. The shadows around her longer and darker. She grimaced as the dark magic began to bite at her, pain eating at her insides. Her master would surely kill her if he saw her using these dark magics, but what did Merlin know?

If she could perfect this spell then her changelings could end all the senseless blood shed between human and troll kind. They could act as emissaries between the two species, walk in daylight like humans did and feel the warmth of the heartstone like the trolls did. Was peace not worth utilizing some magics that could harm and poison the user? Morgan considered the pain she put her body through to be a cost well worth the potential of seeing them all come together.

Morgan drew on more and more of hurt and all of the feelings Merlin considered beneath him. Slowly she was lifted off the ground as the tides of magic flowed through her into the glyphs and sigils. She was careful not to draw too much of this dark power. She couldn’t let it poison and take over her mind.

Finally with one last wave of power she settled back onto the grass. She looked around in satisfaction at the spell her dance had created. It was almost completed. Soon she would be able to bond a troll welp to a human infant to form a creature more powerful than either.

With a soft smile of satisfaction she cut the flow of magic, tying off the spell. The sigils flared brightly for a moment longer then faded to nothing. Soon there was no trace of the magic she had melded into this space.

Her smile faded into a grimace as a wave of pain slowly brought her to her knees. She curled up gently, holding her arms tight to her stomach. There was a bone deep ache that spread from her hands and shoulders. Her legs felt like they were filled with pins and needles and her insides burned like she had swallowed coals. Tears fell from her eyes as she leaned to the side and retched, her stomach heaving up nothing but bile and blood.

As she cried softly from the pain that wracked her body, she couldn’t help a feeling of happiness. Any sacrifice she made to her body would be well worth peace. She could live with the pain and damage the dark magic did to her body if she could only stop the killing.

Eventually the tears stilled and retching slowed. She wearily got to her feet. Even besides the deep ache from the dark magic she was exhausted. The Faye Magic inside her was almost completely tapped. It would be a few days before she could so even light a candle with a spell. And of course she couldn’t rely on her dark magic around her master. She slowly kicked some dirt over what she had thrown up and walked out of wood. She wanted nothing more than to rest.

Morgan carefully dragged herself back to the castle. She didn’t even have the magic to hover there and spare her sore legs. When she got to her chambers she could sleep for the next couple of days and be ready to face the public.

Much to her surprise the castle itself seemed to bustling with activity. Things had been so somber of late with constant ill tidings from the front of the war with the trolls, and yet here was the clear markings of a celebration. Banners hung from the castle walls and the halls echoed with the sounds of bards playing and singing. When she was within sight of the main entrance a knight standing there hailed her.

“Lady Morgan! Lady Morgan!” He called to her. “How was your trip?”

“Fruitful.” She said, trying to hide the exhaustion in her voice. “And exhausting. What is happening? Is there some news from the front? Or my brother?”

“Nay my lady. Emrys bade us feast, so the next soldiers that leave for the front will remember and be filled with the fire of love for their home. Come join us!”

“Ah, of course.” Morgan gave the knight her best smile. Finally the old curmudgeon learns to have a fun and it when she’s so exhausted she can barely stand. “Well I am afraid my journey has taken more from me-”

“Aunt Morgan!”

The excuse died on her lips as the teen boy, with shoulder length black hair came running up to her. Morgan smiled fondly as he ran up and gave her a tight hug. She hid her grimace of pain from the pressure on her body.

“Aunt Morgan, you’re back just in time.” The young boy smiled up at her, though soon he would be as tall as she. “We are finally having a feast! I feel like everything has been so dower all the time, we can finally relax.”

He paused as he looked at her closely. She knew even with his own latent magic that he couldn’t sense the shadow of the dark magic she had used. However he still knew her to well, for her to hide everything from him. He could see her exhaustion on her face. His own contorted in sympathy.

“Oh how rude of me. You must be tired from your trip. Why don’t you retire and I can have some wine and food sent up to you.”

Oh this boy. Her own nephew. And so much more to her. Everyone in the castle knew he was Arthur’s bastard, they whispered that he was born of some base born wench. But Morgan knew different. He had a special place in her heart. She smiled brightly at him.

“Nonsense. I have the rest of my life to rest. How often do we get to have an actual feast? Lead the way, dear nephew.”

As she entered she removed the golden helmet she had worn during her ritual, and allowed her wild red curls to fall down her shoulders. She was tempted to retire to change out of her armor as well, but knew if she entered her room she would fall asleep before she could get dressed again. So she joined her nephew and the knights in the dining hall.

* * *

Morgan walked, a little unsteady on her feet toward her chambers. Biggest downside of Faye blood was that even a sip of wine went straight to her head and she had significantly more than a sip. Maybe if she had not been so tired she would have showed more self restraint, but there was nothing wrong with a bit of fun. And her nephew had kept her cup filled for the entire night.

She smiled wobbly to her self. He was a good lad. And while she would be hung over tomorrow and on top of her other pain might regret the festivities it was nice to see her nephew able to relax from all the pressure that was on him every day. With Arthur gone the weight of leading the remaining knights fell to his heir.

A quickly muffled cry of pain echoed out of her as she stumbled on the last step and almost fell on her face. The wine must have been stronger than she thought. She felt like she could barely stand. The magic that normally blazed within her moved but slugglishly. No doubt due to enormous amount of magic she had used earlier. She carefully picked her down the hall to her rooms.

She opened the door with a sigh, all she wanted was to sleep for a week.

As soon as she stepped inside the world felt like it flipped upside down. She fell to her knees as the door slammed shut behind her. A panicked look around showed her fear. All of the walls of her room had been covered with lead and iron panels. The faye magic inside her screamed in pain, and even had she not exhausted her magical stores would not be able to call on her ability.

She looked more closely at the plates, and recognized the smith work. Of course, this was a completely human trap. If there had been any magic used even in her weakened state she would have sensed it. She groaned in pain as she tried to drag herself toward the door. If she could just open it, she could use her magic to call to her nephew. He would rouse the knights to help her.

Before she could reach the door man stepped in front of her and pushed her back. She was too weak to fight him and her limbs felt like they were full of lead as he pulled chains across the room towards her. Iron chains. She tried to recoil in fear as the cold metal clasped itself to her bare skin, but he was too strong.

“Iron chains. Lead and iron panels to block your magic. Iron powder in your drink to dull your senses.” Morgana’s mind was overwhelmed with pain. The pain from her earlier casting. The pain from the iron chains. And over it all, the pain of betrayal. She knew that voice. Merlin leaned down to her level so she could see his face. “Did you think I hadn’t noticed your little spell you are forging out in the woods? Do you think I will stand to have anyone use magic against me?”

She tried desperately to explain that the magic wasn’t an attack against him, but the pain in her head stopped her from speaking. Instead she reacted on instinct, pushing that pain through her and out targeting Merlin.

A roar echoed in that small chamber as the shadows gathered, tearing themselves from the walls and forming into a great mouth. Morgan screamed and the shadows lunged forward. Merlin was knocked backwards and flung against the far wall. He was only barely able to form an emerald shield to protect himself.

“Dark magic?” Merlin shouted as the green magic whirled around him driving the shadows back. “I should have known you would stoop to dark magic.”

Morgan howled again, driving the shadows against him. She could feel the furious pain from earlier returning with a vengeance and she could taste copper in her mouth as blood foamed at her lips.

The shadows resided as the last of her magical energy drained away. She sagged against the burning hold of the iron chains.

Merlin stepped forward drawing his sword. Morgan did her best to look up at him, pleading with her eyes. She always knew he would kill her if he found out she used dark magic. She just hoped that her master would continue to protect her brother and her nephew.

He looked at her with a look that was almost just as loving as it had been, a look that was almost kind.

"I am sorry." He whispered.

Morgan's eyes grew wide as he pressed his blade to her arm, just below her wrist. The burning pain shot up her arm and she released a feral scream before consciousness was mercifully stolen from her.

***

#morgana #Morgana's hand #merlin #tales of arcadia #Trollhunters #toa wizards #writing emerald #please reblog #and comment!

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suescamander · 5 years

Text

Cost of the Crown

The stars are very beautiful, above the palace walls,

They shine with equal splendour, still above far humbler halls.

I watch them from my window, but their bright entrancing glow,

Reminds me of the freedom I gave up so long ago.

Arthur stood at the window of his chambers, staring up to the night sky, illuminated only by the bright glow of the stars.

He used to love the stars. When he was still the prince rather than king. But now... Now they made him feel melancholic. They reminded him of nights spend outside, watching the stars, not worrying about anything more than how to improve his fighting skills. They reminded him of moonlight kisses, of happy smiles, being happy in general. They reminded him of how it felt, not having to worry about everything, not having to mourn death and misery.

He still loved the stars, they were beautiful after all. If only they wouldn't bring memories crashing down, memories to compare with how he felt now. Memories who made him crave to turn back time, longing for that much easier life he had.

The Royal circlet of bright gold rests lightly on my brow,

I once thought only of the rights this circlet would endow.

But once I took the crown, to which I had been schooled and bred,

I found it heavy on the heart, though light upon the head.

There was a glimmer visible from his bedside table. Arthur practically felt the light pressure his crown usually put on his head. It wasn't heavy. Not this one at least, it was his daily one, not the big ceremonial crown. And even that one was manageable. Especially if one was used to it. And that he was.

That crown also reminded him of his earlier days. But, opposing to the familiar glow of the stars, his crown brought back memories of how foolish he had been. How arrogant. What a prat he had been, entitled by his, well, title as prince of Camelot. He was lucky, having found someone to show him his bratty behaviour. But still - he had looked forward to being crowned. Once again he wished for the ability to turn back time. To prepare his younger self for the pain that would shadow his coronation, the pain and loss that was about to come.

Although I am the head of state, in truth I am the least,

The true Queen knows her people fed, before she sits to feast.

The good Queen knows her people safe, before she takes her rest,

Thinks twice and thrice and yet again, before she makes request.

For they are all my children,all, that I swore to defend,

It is my duty to become both Queen and trusted friend.

And of my children high and low, from beggar to above,

The dearest are my Heralds, who return my care with love.

He always thought as king everything would go like he wanted it to. He thought he could do as he pleased. But he quickly had to learn that everything he did as king was for his people. He realized that his personal interests always came at last - hence why he waited so long to finally accept that his personal interests were the only thing that mattered in terms of his love life.

In hindsight he knew that he should have made the step earlier, for a happy king leads to a happy kingdom.

He glanced down at his left hand, catching sight of the shimmering silver decorating his finger. The slightest hint of a smile stole itself on his face, only to vanish a second later.

He got his happiness. Others didn't. He, as king, was supposed to ensure the safety of his people. He was supposed to make sure they were alright. It was more or less his job to enable all of them, no matter which social rank they hold, to live their life safely.

But most important to him were his knights. The people who stood with him. Who were his friends, his advisors. Who loved him.

The dearest are my Heralds, swift to spring to my command.

Who give me aid and fellowship, who always understand

That land and people first have needs that I may not deny.

So I must send my dearest friends to danger—and to die.

A friend, a love, a child—it matters not, I know indeed,

That I must sacrifice them all if there should be the need.

They know, and they forgive me—doing more than I require,

With willing minds and loving hearts go straight to grasp the fire.

His knights. His warriors, his insurance. The people who fought beside him, who died next to him. They understood the risks of being a knight. They understood that they might not return from one of the trips, but still came with him, still fought, still died. They understood that the well-being of Camelot was more important than a single life - or hundreds for that matter. His friends still stood beside him, and he might once have to send them to death. The dearest of his knights were the knights of the Round Table. The knights who went through so many dangers with him. And, oh lord, how many did he sent to ruin?

Lancelot. Sacrificed and later used to destroy Arthurs trust in Gwen, who he had been wanting to marry because she knew about him and his secrets. Arthur never wanted to cast her away. She was truly in love with Lance, but had been ready to cover as Arthurs wife. And because of that, her love was ripped away in the most cruel manner he could have imagined. He did not only lose Lancelot, the most loyal out of all of them, he also destroyed one of his dearest friends in the process because he wasn't brave enough to face his council about his love life.

Elyan. Another person dear to Gwen. Died trying to save his sister, who had been captured and tortured to hurt Arthur.

And at last - Gwaine and Percival. Gwaine - Merlins best friend, died because Morgana had tortured him to get go know their location. Died while trying to help Merlin save Arthur. Died believing he failed at it. And died, leaving Percival behind. They hadn't been official, though on the best way to it. Percival wasn't the same, still shocked, for it hadn't been a day since Gwaine passed away directly in front of him.

The worst part of it all, it had been Arthur who sent them, no, led them in the missions that cost them their lives or loved ones. It had been Arthur who had doomed them.

These tears that burn my eyes are all the tears the Queen can't shed,

The tears I weep in silence as I mourn my Heralds dead.

Oh gods that dwell beyond the stars, if you can hear my cry—

And if you have compassion—let me send no more to die!

As Arthur stood there, gazing at the stars, re-living all the terrible things that happend to those close to him, tears welled up in his eyes. He spiralled into questions of what if? and tried to cope with everything, especially with the things happening the last days. A lot had happened - he almost died, hadn't it been for Merlin, he lost Gwaine and so many more in Camlann, and Arthur found himself doubting every single one of his decisions as king.

Could he have prevented Morgana from ripping the veil between the worlds to save Lance? Could he have protected Gwen from being kidnapped and tortured at the Black Tower? Could he have prevented Mordred from turning on him? Could he...

A quiet rustle shook him from his thoughts, followed by light tapping of bare feet on the cold stone floor. Arthur didn't turn around. "What are you doing out of bed? You need rest, you just survived being stabbed!" Arthur still didn't react. Arms went around his waist from behind, a chin came resting on his right shoulder. The king glanced down at the hands on his stomach, catching the sight of a thin silver band matching his. He still didn't say anything, but he put his hands on his spouse's, thankful of the constance he provided. His consort gave him a reassuring squeeze, and Arthur led out a sigh.

"It's just... It is my fault. Gwaine. Lance. Elyan. All the others." He finally failed to restrain the tears that threatened to spill out of his eyes, and his love was there to steady him. "Shh... It's alright. It's not your fault, Arthur." The king turned around. "It is, Merlin, and you know it! They're dead because of me. It's my fault, my guilt to carry. I send so many good people to die. It's... it's the Cost of the Crown, I think." The sorcerer, his husband, raised his hands to wipe away the tears. "You don't have to carry that weight alone, Arthur. You can share it with me. Just like we do with everything else." Arthur nodded slightly, though still doubting himself. "And please, Arthur, it's not your fault they died. They died for what they believed would grow to be the greatest kingdom to ever exist. They died to make sure you could fulfill your destiny. You can mourn them, you can weep over them, it's alright and simply human, but Arthur, I'm begging you, don't let what happened destroy you." Arthur rested his forehead against his husband's. "You're right. I'll try."

"Good. And now you're coming back to bed and won't move out there until I say so, because I don't want you catching an illness and dying of it, I didn't drag you through the forest for nothing, dear." Arthur let out a small chuckle and let himself be pulled back to the bed and tucked into the sheets, Merlin climbing in and drawing him close.

"Thank you, Merlin. I love you. I always will." Merlin snuggled up further into his chest. "I love you too. And Arthur?" "Hmm?" "It's alright to mourn and grief. You don't need to hide it. We all miss them. But doubting everything you did won't bring them back. It'll only hurt you, and that's the exact opposite of what they would want. Take all the time you need to cope. You can share the weight with my, Arthur. After all, I didn't become Crown Consort for nothing, now, did I?" Arthur draw Merlin even closer after that, pressing a kiss into his husband's hair. "No, you didn't. And I am beyond thankful for that."

#Merthur #Cost of the Crown #canon era #married #angst #hurt/comfort #arthur pendragon #merlin #emrys #loss #established

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randomfandomimagine · 6 years

Text

Rain (Arthur x Reader)

Character: Arthur Pendragon

Fandom: Merlin (BBC)

Categories: Reader Insert, Female!Reader, Songfic, AU

Title: Rain

Requested by wennbergbabe:

Could you do an imagine based off the song "it will Rain" by Bruno mars? Where the reader is dating Arthur Pendragon and he's not your mother's or father’s favorite choice and don't understand your relationship and believe that Arthur is a troubled guy. But Arthur loves you and that's all that matters. A bit angsty but a happy ending? Whatever you think. (I know I've been requesting a lot lately but Bradley James is such a cutie) thank you ❤️

A/N: It’s kinda cool when you guys request songfics because sometimes I end up finding songs I really like! Anyway, I picture this as a Modern AU and so I wrote it like that, hope you don’t mind the change and that you enjoy it!

We smiled at each other, still holding hands as we walked. I couldn’t understand how someone wouldn’t like Arthur, I was so deeply in love with him.

He was smart, kind, loving, caring and sweet. Perhaps it was because he was a prince and people could distrust royalty sometimes but… my own parents?

I sighed to myself when I remembered how they always doubted my relationship with Arthur, assuring I could have chosen anyone less complicated than him.

Surely, it wasn’t always easy dating a prince. He was always busy and lived an expensive and different life from mine but… that didn’t seem to overpower our love.

I wished my parents would see him like I saw him, as the wonderful man he was.

“Y/N” He called me, stopping to intently look at me. “Is something wrong, my love?”

“N-No” I lied, shaking my head and forcing a smile onto my lips. “I’m just a bit absent, don’t let me ruin this lovely evening”

Arthur worriedly stared at me for a few more seconds, but then obliged. His hand gently squeezed mine as we kept on walking. We had almost arrived to our meadow, that place we often visited as it was so beautiful and romantic.

I could see the sun slowly hiding in the line of the horizon, as it had almost come the time for the sunset. If we hurried, we could still make it to watch it on time.

Trying to distract myself from my thoughts, I intensely stared at the extraordinary sight that was the sundown. And even though I forced to remind myself of how the touch of Arthur’s hand against mine made me extremely happy, it wasn’t quite working.

The voice of my parents kept haunting me, reminding me of everything that was wrong with my boyfriend and me.

The countless times that the prince had canceled our plans, whether last minute or not, because there was something that required him. The forced apologies as he came begging for my forgiveness with a bouquet of flowers. The many arguments we had because we didn’t get to spend too much time with each other.

As well as those insecurities that had been building up inside me, burning in silence. That reminded me that the people my boyfriend was friends with were of higher class, making me extremely self-conscious when I had to go to any of those events with him. Those insecurities Arthur knew nothing about.

But I just couldn’t ignore all those things any longer. Despite our arguments, I had kept all that restlessness hidden because I loved him and I thought I could make it work. Still, I couldn’t take it anymore.

We finally arrived at our meadow, and Arthur calmly sat down in the fresh green grass. I couldn’t keep on the act any longer and I didn’t sit down next to him.

My boyfriend looked up, noticing that I still stood, and his blue eyes pierced me in concern.

“Y/N?” Slow and cautious, he stood up again. “There is something worrying you, isn’t it?”

I sighed, averting my gaze from his. I felt ashamed to even hold it because my stomach was painfully turning at the thought of what I wanted to say next.

“I just… can’t do this anymore” I frowned and hung my head low tiredly.

“What… what do you mean?” Arthur was always so confident and playful that it felt heartbreaking to hear his voice so low and sad, almost lost.

“My parents are right, we come from entirely different worlds!” I gathered up the courage to look up and meet with his eyes, even though they made me shudder.

Such beautiful eyes, laced with love as they looked at me despite being drowned in fear and sadness.

“Please, listen to me…” Arthur tried, but I rushed to interrupt him knowing that he would easily change my mind. Even if I knew it was the best for us both.

“We are not right for each other, you should have someone better and I should have someone who’s not so troubled! I just…”

“What are you saying, Y/N?”

“M-Maybe we should break up…” I managed to choke out, already feeling tears welling up in my eyes.

I felt wetness in my cheeks, but realized I wasn’t crying yet. It had started raining, and as I looked up to the raindrops that was beginning to soak us both.

The sunset in the distance seemed to burn brighter as it slowly developed.

“No, my love” Arthur tenderly took my hands on his. “Not if you really don’t want to”

“Arthur…” I complained, avoiding eye contact because I refused to look into his eyes and see the pain and sorrow reflected in them because of me again.

“Tell me, is this what you really want?” Even though he gently tugged at my hands to gather my attention, my eyes were glued to the sunset behind him.

“No, but…”

“Then there’s no reason we should break up! We will work it out, our love is stronger than anything!”

My shoulders convulsed with a sob that escaped my throat. A few tears shed from my eyes and mixed in my cheeks with the raindrops that stained them.

“It’s… too painful, Arthur” I managed to let out through my sobs.

He urgently held both my hands with one of his and cupped my cheek with his free one. The tender touch sent butterflies to my stomach, reminding me that there was no lying to myself. I loved Arthur with all my heart, despite all the pain that dating him brought me. And most importantly, he loved me back. With as much intensity, or even more.

“Do you see this rain?” He looked up to the sky, where raindrops fell upon us from the heavy clouds that darkened the sky. “This will be every day for me without you, Y/N. There is no sunlight if you’re not there to provide me with it”

“But I’m not like you, or like the people you are with! You’re a prince, for crying out loud!” I shook my head, blinking repeatedly to stop crying. “And you have more important things to do than being with me! You’re always so busy that I hardly ever get to see you and…”

“No, you’re the most important” His voice sounded stern and adamant, but his eyes were watery and threatened to spill some tears of their own. “There’ll be no sunlight if I lose you, no clear skies, no… Just like the clouds, my eyes will do the same...”

I ended up chuckling in spite of myself when I realized he was quoting the lyrics from a song.

‘Cause there'll be no sunlight If I lose you, baby There'll be no clear skies If I lose you, baby Just like the clouds My eyes will do the same, if you walk away Everyday it will rain

I'll never be your mother's favorite Your daddy can't even look me in the eye Ooh if I was in their shoes, I'd be doing the same thing Sayin there goes my little girl Walkin' with that troublesome guy

But they're just afraid of something they can't understand Ooh but little darlin' watch me change their minds Yea for you I'll try I'll try I'll try I'll try I'll pick up these broken pieces 'til I'm bleeding If that'll make you mine

Arthur kept talking, even though a smile had plastered on his lips as well. He knew I had realized, yet that didn’t stop him.

“Your parents are right, I’m troublesome but you are more than enough for me” He paused to leave a feather-light kiss on my lips. “Watch me change their minds, for you I will try-“

“You promise?” I placed a finger on his lips, almost missing their touch, to shut him up.

Arthur just nodded his head, confident and determined. And I believed him, because the thought of leaving him felt just as harrowing.

“I promise, my love” Arthur’s arms warmly enveloped me and gently pulled me closer to him until our fronts touched. “You’re my everything, and I’m willing to fight for you”

“Me too” I softly brushed my lips against his.

The kiss became more passionate when we realized how much we needed each other, how much comfort it brought us to be together. How the rain didn’t seem as disheartening as long as I stood under it with Arthur.

Besides, the darkness of the clouds above us seemed to bring out the bright light of the sunset in the horizon as the darkness made the light stand out.

Arthur’s hands tenderly settled in my back, bringing me even closer to him to the point that our bodies were pressed against each other. Mine, on turn, rested on his hair as I tried to gather as much of him as possible.

Very slowly, almost not wanting to do so if it weren’t because we needed to break away for air, we pulled away. We opened our eyes, realizing they had closed on their own because of the passionate and pleasant kiss, and locked eyes.

Arthur smiled at me with so much love that I happily laughed.

Of course we could get through this, our love was too strong.

Perhaps dating Arthur was like being constantly under the rain. Perhaps it was as lonely, cold and gloomy. But it was also like watching a sunset, warm, soft, loving and beautiful. Besides, if I endured the rain and got through it all I could watch the rainbow at the end.

#imagine #oneshot #songfic #au #bbc merlin #bbc merlin imagine #bbc merlin oneshot #bbc merlin au #arthur #arthur imagine #arthur oneshot #arthur pendragon #arthur pendragon imagine #arthur pendragon oneshot #arthur x reader #arthur pendragon x reader #reader insert #requested

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fanfictionlive · 4 years

Text

Just got my favorite review ever

I've been in fandom for 15 years and writing for even longer, and I just got my favorite review that I can remember getting. I wanna brag just a little.

It's on my latest and longest work, a BBC Merlin ABO (sorry) with almost no porn, which gets into some of the ethical and social ramifications of mating and what it means for Omegas. I've gotten plenty of nice comments about how my fic is the best ABO fic in the fandom (look at the Merlin ABO fics on AO3 and you'll see that it's really not hard to be better. All you need is a halfway decent plot and characterization and writing that isn't ass) and that they love how I swapped who you would expect to be the Alpha and Omega and blah blah blah.

This comment, which isn't actually a fic comment but is the label/comment someone put on their bookmark of the fic (I've learned to check the bookmarks [AO3] for this very reason), made me unbelievably happy. I'll get into the reason this is my favorite review in a second.

ouuuuu what can i say about this that you all haven't already heard of every fic i've ever loved HOLY SHIT. THIS IS AMAZING i feel their characters were so well adjusted to the omegaverse omega Arthur ffs that was so great and alpha Merlin that doesn't act like an alpha was something i didn't know could be ao accurate to his character but it fit SO SO SO SO WELL and i loved the way the topics were discussed, for example the questionably real freedom of omegas after being mated ???? I HAD NEVER IN MY LIFE THOUGHT OF THAT BUT IT'S ACTUALLY SO IMPORTANT ???? i am in love with this fic 100/10

No, this is not the most mature, articulate, in-depth review I've ever gotten. But it's my favorite because it tells me that I did exactly what I set out to do, which is make teenagers think more critically about omegaverse and show people that omegaverse can actually be cool and interesting and more than just weird wolf porn. And to remind people that Merlin isn't actually a helpless uwu baby and is a magical powerhouse capable of incredible brutality hidden under a sweet, amiable facade and he would definitely be a quiet sort of Alpha.

Okay, bragging over. I'm just so happy that I succeeded in my mission to shed some light on parts of omegaverse that aren't often talked about for a younger audience.

submitted by /u/sunnivaixchel [link] [comments] from FanFiction: Where Magical Ponies battle Imperial Titans https://ift.tt/31hUIqo

#fan fiction #writing #fanfiction #tv show #series #movie #fan #write

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msilet · 6 years

Text

Hello, Beloved Husband (2/3)

Summary: Harry and Eggsy finally find Merlin lying in a coma in Thailand. Harry uses his marital status with Merlin to gain visiting right.

Ship: Harry Hart/Merlin

Chapter: 2 / 3

Link to chapter 1: http://msilet.tumblr.com/post/167977795700/hello-beloved-husband

Link to chapter 3: http://msilet.tumblr.com/post/168964840325/hello-beloved-husband-33

Link to AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12853176/chapters/29435082

Note: I told myself I would just write a small epilogue with the proposal and the wedding. 2500+ words later and I still have no wedding. That will have to be in chapter 3.

Chapter behind the cut

It has been 3 months since they brought Merlin back to the UK. The Kingsman doctors have assured him that Merlin is healing nicely and he should be up and about in the foreseeable future. Whiskey came over last month to examine Merlin and assured Harry that things are going remarkably well.

Another great news is that they located both Lancelot and Percival alive. Roxy had a lot of her bones broken and sustained a few fractures on her skull due to the building collapsing on her panic room but there was nothing their doctors could not mend. Martin was extremely lucky to escape completely unscathed thanks to not being home. He was on a mission and only routed his communication via his house to encrypt it. Martin was the one finding and bringing Roxy in. Eggsy, Harry, Martin and even Roxy in her temporary wheelchair take turn looking over Merlin so that the others can be away to attend to personal and Kingsman business.

Harry would like nothing more than to spend time at the temporary HQ with all the people closest to him but Kingsman has to come first. At the moment he is up in Scotland to oversee the construction of the new Kingsman distillery and below it, the Scottish base. They have decided to decentralize so that all of them can no longer be wiped out at once anymore. The tailor shop is being rebuilt as well as the original HQ, this time with state of the art defense systems. Harry sighs, when it comes to technologies, he would have loved to have the opinion and skills of his wizard. He does hope Merlin will be up soon and help him out because sometimes, all these tech stuff confound him.

Suddenly, Harry's glasses beep. Right after he turns it on he hears Eggsy yelling breathlessly, as if he's running from a stampede, into the mic, "Harry! Harry! Back to HQ! I'm on my way!"

"Eggsy, what's wrong?", he panics slightly, "Are we getting attacked? Is everyone alright?"

"No! No, nothin' like that!", Eggsy sounds like he does not slow down, "Roxy called! Merlin's up! He opened his eyes!"

Harry is speechless for a moment, then he starts running too. "Eggsy, where are you right now? Can you get to him soon?"

"Yeah, Harry, 'm in London, can be there in less than 30 minutes!"

"Good, tell Merlin I'm on my way. I'll find the fastest way possible even if I'll have to fly the helicopter myself!"

"Harry! You only have one eye, if you fly that helicopter I swear to God Merlin's gonna kill you himself!"

"That would require him being able to kill me first!"

"Harry, bruv, I will help him kill you if you fly that helicopter, call the pilot! Now I've got to go, bye!"

3 hours later

Harry walks to the hospital wing, a bloody long walk if you ask him. He can even hear Merlin taunting late again, Sir in his head. All his grand idea of being there when Merlin wakes up not only went up in flames but now he is late for his own husband finally coming back to the living world. Not that he is displeased, he's beyond happy but deep down there's a little pettiness, just a little. He was there the whole day yesterday. As he approaches Merlin's room, he sees Eggsy wheeling Roxy out. Eggsy's face lights up when he sees Harry. "About damn time, Harry. What took you so long?"

"Had to make a detour for something. Am I the last one?"

Eggsy grins mischievously and says "Nah Harry, lucky for you, Percival is still in mainland Europe!"

Harry exhales, "Well thank God for small favours."

Eggsy, and by extent, Roxy, moves closer to Harry. Roxy tells him "Merlin is still awake, come inside and talk to him before he falls asleep again, Arthur." Eggsy nods and continues Roxy's words, "She's right and I figure you've got lots to talk about, yeah? Good luck!" and then off they go.

Harry stands alone in front of the door, wondering why he is so hesitant. The adrenaline level he has been running on is now dropping low and all kinds of irrational doubts float to the forefront of his mind. What if this is a dream and when he pushes that door open he will see Merlin still in a coma or worse, dead? He had nightmares like that before.

"You coward, get a grip on yourself", he mumbles to himself. He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open.

The sight that greets him makes him tear up. It is really his dear Hamish sitting on the bed with pillows propped up behind him. As Merlin sees Harry, he smiles. His smile is slightly tired but genuine and that is definitely the greatest sight Harry has ever seen. "Hello, Galahad.", Merlin greets him with the familiar line. It is their thing; the sentence sounds completely professional to others but holds so much meaning for them.

"Hello, beloved husband. It is Arthur now.", Harry can't help but says as he walks over to Merlin's side as quick as possible, feeling like he is floating on cloud nine.

"Oh, my. Please forgive me, Your Majesty. I would have loved to stand up and greet you properly but…", Merlin gestures to his legs sarcastically.

Harry does not say anything, just silently raises his hands to touch Merlin's face while staring into his eyes. "Hamish…", he manages to choke out, his voice breaking.

"Harry…", Merlin only manages before Harry pulls him into a tight hug. He can feel Harry shaking.

"You're back, you're really back, alive, in my arms.", Harry says between sobs, still clinging onto Merlin.

Despite being in pain, Merlin lifts his bandaged arms up and wraps them around Harry, holding him close. "I'm here, Harry. It seems our time together isn't at an end yet."

"You are damn right it isn't. If I have my way, it won't be over for a long time.", Harry's voice is muffled by Merlin's shirt but audible.

"Yes, Your Majesty.", Merlin chuckles.

After a while, calmed down, Harry realizes that he is still holding onto Merlin tightly, too tightly in fact, that he might be hurting him. He pulls back and asks, "Did I hurt you? Sorry, I was quite overwhelmed." When Merlin shakes his head, Harry lets out a sigh of relief. He sits down on the chair next to the bed and smiles shyly at Merlin. "How do you feel, Hamish?"

"It hurts all over and I still feel pain where my legs used to be but I am happy to be alive and have my mind intact."

"No Kingsman test for you then", Harry grins, his eye watery.

"Fucking hell, no, Harry.", Merlin grins back. Both of them then just sit together in silence for a few moments. Harry uses this time to collect his thoughts and muster up some ideas of what to say next.

"Look, Hamish, there is something very important I need to tell you right now."

"I just woke up from a coma, Harry, can't it wait a few days?"

Harry hesitates but then looks at Merlin, pleading. "I made a promise when I found you in Thailand that I would do this the moment you come back to me. Indulge me, please?"

"Well then, Harry, what is it?", Merlin is fully curious.

"I remember that you love John Denver now, amongst other artists."

Merlin laughs uneasily "Well that's good, Harry, but I don't see why it's so important that you need to say it today."

"Please just let me finish. I am nervous enough as it is."

"Alright, go ahead."

"Hamish, I told Eggsy that when I was shot, loneliness and regret was all I felt, I had no one. That was not true. I did not want to tell the truth because I knew you could hear me. I did not want you to know that while I was filled with regret, it was because of all the things I wanted to say to you and experience with you. I lied about having nobody because I did not want to explain everything to Eggsy and take the focus away from him and Tilde. I was also still slightly confused and did not wish to deal with complicated matters while not operating at full mental capacity. That was a shit decision. When that mine went off, it was the worst moment of my life, much worse than when I thought I was about to die. I had to watch the most important person to me on this earth getting killed without being able to even shed a tear."

"The 6 months that you were missing, I could not go a moment without thinking of you, of what we could have had. You haunted me even in my sleep, saying I failed you. I didn't know how you could do it the 2 years before. Maybe you were better at controlling your emotions, maybe I didn’t mean as much to you as you do to me, I don't know, but I don't care anymore. You are here, now, and it's all that matters."

Taking advantage of a shocked Merlin, Harry pulls out a box from his suit pocket and gets down on one knee, looking up at Merlin. He opens the box, revealing a platinum ring with intricate patterns on the sides.

"I bought this ring before the day we signed our civil partnership document but only now can I do this properly. I love you, Hamish Andrew Ferguson, will you marry me? I mean, for real this time. I promise I would do everything in my power to make sure you are always loved, cherished and happy."

Harry waits for an answer but after a while, none was given. Merlin looks like he has frozen and become a statue. Reluctantly, Harry says, "Well this is the part where you either say yes, try to let me down gently or laugh at my face. This silence is not doing my heart any favour."

Merlin opens his mouth, then closes it, blinks, then open his mouth again but no sound comes out. Seeing Harry nearing a heart attack, he says, "Excuse me, Harry. It's not every day a man wakes up from a 9-month-long coma to a marriage proposal, I need time to process the information."

Harry deflates, all bravado leaving his body. He knows the request is definitely reasonable and he should not be demanding an answer immediately but he'd be lying if he did not dream of Merlin saying yes right away and then they share some sort of true love's kiss and everything would be right as rain, damn hopeless romantic that he is. He tries to smile, "Sure, love. You must be tired, you should rest. I'm sorry for springing it upon you so soon. It just feels wrong, keeping secrets between us any longer, life is too precious for that." Harry stands up and is about to turn around to the door but Merlin reaches a hand out to stop him. "Harry, sit down." Years of conditioning makes Harry obey Merlin's order without thinking. Merlin is looking at Harry now while Harry is staring down at his hands, still holding the box.

"Did you mean it?", Merlin broke the silence.

"Everything.", Harry does not look up.

"I am crippled now, Harry. Look at me, I'm going to be a burden on everyone. Are you really sure about this?"

"Sweetheart, granted, your long legs were so sinful they should have been illegal but they aren't the only reason why I love you. Without them, you are not a burden. Whatever your answer shall be, I will be there to help you through all this, even when you get mad at me, shout at me or tell me to fuck off. I love all of you, just as you are, regardless of circumstances."

"Since when?"

Harry chuckled dryly, "I don't know? I can't pinpoint an exact moment that made me fall in love with you. There were so many moments, across so many years that before I knew it, the only one I could have asked that day was you."

"Th…That day, it wasn't just for professional reasons?"

"No, I was just trying to find any reason to get you to say yes. Figured if I sounded too desperate I'd scared you off.", Harry smiles uneasily.

And then Merlin does something Harry does not expect at all, he giggles. "Oh God", Harry sighs, looking up at Merlin, "you are laughing at me. May I get an explanation as to why?"

"You are an idiot," Merlin signals Harry to let him finish speaking before getting upset, "and so am I."

"What does that even mean?"

"The answer is yes."

"That makes no sense! You just answered yes to a 'what' que...", Harry trails off, and then his eye widens, "Yes?"

Merlin still has a smile on his face. "Yes, I will marry you."

Now it is Harry's turn to be speechless. He just sits and stares at Merlin. "Y...yes.", he repeats.

The giggles are back. "Harry Hart, speechless. What a sight to see. To be quite honest, I expected you to be livelier."

And then Merlin finds himself with an armful of Harry Hart, crashing hard enough onto him that he has the air knocked out of his lungs. "Ouch, that hurts."

Harry is hyperventilating, he babbles, "You said yes. You said yes! Oh my God you said yes"

Merlin pats his back then slowly rubs it. "Would have said yes if you asked me like this then, too. I've been in love with you since our second year together as agent-handler. You were under serious hostile fire and yet still managed to steal that rare Star Wars action figure and brought it back unscathed for me as a souvenir just because you heard me talking about liking the series once in passing. To be absolutely honest with you, I would have said yes right that moment."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Many reasons, I guess. First, it was not professional. Being a handler and falling for your agent is both cliché and dangerous, not even counting it being bad for the team environment. What if people accuse me of favouring you? What if you don't reciprocate and then it would be awkward and hinder the missions. Not only that, Arthur was an old judgemental prick that would have given us hell if he suspected anything. Second, you are the Harry Hart, you could have had anyone you'd liked. I'm the plain Scottish nerd with shit upbringing and I spend too much time with books and computers. Figured I should have been contented with being friends with benefits. And then you asked me to enter the civil partnership and I jumped at the chance to take what I could get without asking too many questions.”

"We have been idiots, we wasted so much time." Harry sniffles, while his face is still buried against Merlin's shoulder.

"I cried so much the day I came to empty your safe after V-Day. I found the ring, you know, I had so many questions. What did you mean by buying this, why did you not give it to me, was it even for me. I thought I would never have a chance to know anymore. I shut myself off emotionally and carried on. Kingsman, especially Eggsy, needed me. Helping him accomplishing the vision you had for him was a way to keep you in my heart. Sometimes I dream of you proposing to me and us getting married somewhere beautiful in Scotland surrounded by our friends and I let myself indulge a little in that fantasy during the late hours at night before getting back to the missions in the morning. When we found you, you couldn't remember and then you did but not really, I was devastated but if you asked me to let you go, I would have."

"Please don't ever let me go. I won't let you go, Hamish. And it is not a fantasy anymore. I love you, I want to marry you and I'd do anything for you."

"I love you too, Harry", Merlin says, a tear rolling down his face.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Yes, Harry, you can kiss me."

Harry lifts his head up, cups Merlin's face with his hands and leans his face in closer, then Merlin meets him halfway. The kiss was full of love and longing and although no magic happens, Merlin's legs don't get magically healed, Harry is pretty sure it is True Love's Kiss.

Footnote:

Well yeah Hamish is a little easily persuaded but I would probably marry someone who gets me a rare expensive Batman action figure too. I chose the name Martin for Percival because I love Lywinis and bearfeathers stories so much, this is a little tribute.

#kingsman #merlahad #kingsman fanfic #merlahad fanfic #harry hart #merlin #my fic #overshot my estimation #can never laugh at grrm again

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