#why does george know how dream stares before a kiss excuse me

[sheepwasfound]

let’s not freaking brush off that george knew Exactly what dream meant with like a one second stare from him. he saw that eye and was like, oh you mean we’re gonna...? 😳 

#HOW DOES HE KNOW #dream didn't like lift an eyebrow or whatever #he just stared #why does george know how dream stares before a kiss excuse me #sheepy #thoughts

[teddy06writes]

sorry to request yet another one, but you are such an amazing writer. Could I possibly have a romeo and juliet type story where reader is sleepybois sibling and is in love with either poly dream team (dream,George,sapnap) or just george xx

dream x george x sapnap x reader + sleepy boys x sibling!reader

trigger warnings: swearing, yelling, character death, Wilbur being a dumbass

premise: you are one of Philza’s children, and have fought for L’manburg’s independence, we follow your secret romance with the enemy, of course, this tragedy knows no happy ending

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You carefully dropped down over the side of the L’manburg wall, ducking into a roll before standing up and dusting yourself off, starting to sneak away.

A hand clamps around your forearm, pulling you around the side of a tree.

You hold back a yelp, instead turning with a smile, whispering, “Mr. Sapnap we simply must stop meeting like this.”

“And what? You’d have us march through your gates announcing ourselves to your brothers, I think not.” Nick chuckled.

“Well, I suppose that would put a damper on things.” You grinned, pressing a kiss to his lips.

He fit your hand into his, pulling you along as you started for where the others would be waiting, “Especially when they are so against our dear Dream.”

“To be fair, he was against us.” You argued.

“But no more.” The man himself pointed out, stepping out of the shadows, rising his mask enough to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“Because we continued to fight? or Because you wanted an excuse to talk to me without it being over a declaration of war?”

“I believe it was because Tommy gave up his disks,” George offered, leaning in to place a kiss on your cheek, “Hello dearest.”

You sighed, “Phil gave him those disks. They were one of the only things to survive the blast.”

Behind the mask you could tell Dream’s face fell, and he started to turn away, “I- we did what we thought was right.”

“Blowing up my country was what you thought was right?” You challenged, crossing your arms, “You even had the audacity to cheer as my head was separated from my body by the sheer force.”

“Here we go again.” George muttered.

“We didn’t know you then! Things have changed! You and your people are free now!”

“That does not change our history.” You said indigently.

“What about when Sapnap burned the forests? That’s part of your history too yet we don’t see you yelling at him!” Dream exclaimed.

You sighed, “The forests were replanted with his help, and he has shown remorse, and regret over his actions.”

Surprisingly Dream wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest, “If that is what I takes to gain your trust, then I am sorry. I hope my past mistakes do not haunt you any longer.”

Reluctantly you wrapped your arms around him, smiling as the other boys joined the embrace.

After a few moment Dream pulled away, “c’mon, we may even have time for a proper date.”

~~

“An election?” You questioned, “But your already the president.”

Wilbur grinned, “But I put myself in that position, if we do it this way everything is fair!”

You glanced down at the papers littering his desk, “Wil I don’t see how this makes things fair, I mean,” You picked up the note book where he’d been witting makeshift ballots, “Closing the ballots early? The people will only have one option! How is that fair?”

“Actually, I’m running as well.”

You turned to see Quackity entering the office, “You? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

The man frowned, “Well, I figure if Wilbur here gets a chance to do it fair why shouldn’t I?”

“We’ll be able to beat him easily.” Your brother quietly assured you.

~~

“You alright love? You seem stressed.” Nick said quietly.

You sighed looking up at the sky, “Wilbur plans to hold an election. He believes we can over take Quackity and Swag 2020, but now Fundy and Niki have made there own party as well.”

George turned, propping himself up on his elbow, “That doesn’t sound good. If he’s already in charge why does he need to be re elected?”  

“We put him on the throne, Tommy, Tubbo, Niki, Fundy and I. He wishes to be there fairly with the support of the people.”

Dream hummed, “Do you think he could win?”

“It’s possible,” You sighed, leaning back against Nick, “But campaigns have been tricky, Tommy managed to dig up Jshlatt. They though he could help, but now he’s trying to make a claim to having a spot on the ballot.”

“I thought he was dead.” George said.

You laced your fingers through his, “Well now he’s just a drunk who’s running for president. God I hope it was just a joke.” You muttered the last part.

The boy shared glances, Nick hazarding, “What happens if someone else wins?”

“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t change much for me, technically I hold no office other than managing my brothers and the campaign, it’d shift me further out of public eye, but, I think Wilbur wouldn’t handle it well.”

Dream began to trace shapes into your open palm, “Well, with you in charge of the campaign I doubt your brother will fail.”

You smiled, “Let’s hope so.”

A few hours later, as the sun began to disappear beyond the hills of L’manburg you stood up from the picnic, bidding your lovers farewell, “Wilbur’s meeting starts soon, and I’ll be missed.”

After a few traded kisses you started back through the woods toward L’manburg, sneaking back in through a gap that had never been fixed in the wall, pausing at your house to change back into your L’manburg uniform before hurrying off to the white house.

“Your late!” Tommy called sharply as you entered Wilbur’s office.

“I lost track of time working on the last of the posters.” You pulled the rolled up tubes of paper from the bag you’d grabbed at the house as well.

Wilbur took the tubes as Tommy looked at you skeptically, “Yeah, doing that and what else?”

“Well I was talking to Phil today telling him about the election,” You sat down next to Tubbo, “But not much else.”

Wilbur sighed, dropping a flyer on the table, “We have more important notion to discuss, it would seem that Shlatt is serious about this.”

You grabbed the flyer, looking over the bolded, ‘Shlatt 2020′ and then back at Wilbur, “This can’t be real. I thought you closed the ballot.”

“The people favor him enough to allow him a spot on the ballot.” Tubbo sighed.

“We still stand a chance though,” Tommy said quickly turning to Wilbur, “Right Wil?”

Your older brother hesitated, wavering for a moment, before nodding, “Yes. Yes of course.”

~~

“(y/n) I must ask you some thing.” Wilbur said as the meeting ended and Tommy and Tubbo headed out.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you sneak out?” Your breathing hitched but he continued, “Who are you meeting? What are you hiding? Who do you talk too from- from the SMP lands?” His voice turned to acid at the last words.

“I don’t go anywhere, outside L’manburg. Other than for walks in the forest on occasion.” You lied.

Wilbur examined your face, as if searching for something, “Fine then. Don’t tell me, I will find out sooner or later.”

He strode out of the room, leaving you to pull out your com tablet, privately messaging Dream, ‘it might be a bit before I can see you guys again’

‘:(’

You rolled your eyes quickly typing, ‘Wils getting suspicious, I’m just trying to keep you safe’

‘george also says :(’ Was all you received in reply, so you quickly put the tablet away, heading out of the office and out to the street.

You took a deep breath, looking back at the podium, ballots would be collected tomorrow, and then everything could change.

~~

“Last night, before the last of the ballots were collected, Mr. Quackity of the SWAG 2020 party made an agreement with Mr. Jshlatt of the SHLATT 2020 campaign, that if neither party won the popular vote, they would combine there votes, creating a collation.” WIlbur announced.

From your place to the side of the stage you froze, fear coursing through your veins.

“And so, the combined percentages of SWAG 2020 and SHLATT 2020, bring the coalition to 46% of the popular vote.”

Your heart pounded in your ears, feeling Tommy freeze beside you.

“Which means, the coalition government of SWAG and SHLATT 2020, have won the L’manburg election, by 1%.”

The world seemed to slow as parts of the crowd erupted into cheers, Quackity jumped around on the stage yelling as Wilbur slowly moved away from the podium, out of the corner of your eye, near the back of the stands you see your boyfriends all looking down, but you paid them no mind, instead looking Shlatt dead in the eye as he grinned maliciously at you, before turning to address the crowd.

Wilbur tugged you and Tommy away from the stage, “We’re citizens tonight.”

Shlatt leaned over the podium as you took seats near the front of the crowd, “Well that, was pretty easy.”

You felt your brothers grip your hands, as you stared up at Shlatt.

“You know what I said when I announced this campaign? I said ‘things are gonna change’ I looked every citizen of L’manburg in the eye and I said ‘you listen to me... this place will be a lot different tomorrow.”

He smirked down at you, “So let’s start making that happen. My first decree as president of L’manburg- as EMPEROR! Of this great country!”

Your breathing hitched, “Is to revoke citizenship-! Of TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot, and (Y/n)! Get them out of here!”

Suddenly it seemed as though every weapon in the city was trained on you as Tommy dragged you up out of your seat.

Wilbur was yelling at you to run, but you remained frozen on the spot, turning to look at the podium one last time before following your brothers, only a few steps behind, most of the crowd beginning to disperse

Some one practically screamed your name, and you turned in time for an onslaught of arrows to bury themselves in your body.

The last thing you saw before crumpling to the ground was Dream, Nick and George rushing toward you.

Shlatt strode off the stage, trying to move closer to your body only to be blocked by Dream’s outstretched sword.

He peered around where George had flung himself over you, “I want them out of here as soon as they respawn.”

~~

You woke to someone pressing a damp cloth to your forehead, and excruciating pain spreading throughout your body.

Your eyes flicked open, looking around at the cave you found yourself in, in confusion. When you tried to sit up a gentle hand pushed you back down, “Don’t, you only respawned fully a day ago, you're too weak for that.”

“What’re you doing here?” You groaned.

Technoblade chuckled, “I heard someone say rebellion.”

You looked at him confused for a moment before he elaborated, “This is Pogtopia, cause apparently Wilbur can’t go more than a few months without establishing a new country. Tommy found the cavern after they were ran out of L’manburg. Tubbo is working with Shlatt to hunt you guys down, and Wilbur is trying to start a plan to get the country back.”

“How’d I get here? my bed is all the way in L’manburg.”

Techno grabbed one of the baked potatoes he’d brought up to your room, offering it to you, “That’s the thing I was meanin to ask ya, is there a reasonable explanation as to why it was the Dream Team who brought your body back here? All dramatic and not wantin to leave?”

You face flushed and you turned your head away from him, “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.” You brother said, moving to lean back against the wall.

You giggled nervously, “I guess it technically started when L’manburg was still fighting for independence...”

You told him of the strange glances during war councils, the way Nick had stopped in his tracks when he saw the way you looked forlorn at the burning wood, the way George found ways to sneak you trinkets signed ‘from someones special’, and the way you were never in any real danger during many battles.

You recalled your first real meeting with Dream after you had gained independence, the way he’d seemed so different then than at the signing of the peace treaty, the way that You’d received help replanting the forests, and the quiet still moments shared by the channel George almost unaware of your being there.

It was the first time you had really spoken about your lovers to anyone, and though it took a weight off your shoulders it added another as Techno subconsciously pulled out his axe and began to sharpen it.

“They wouldn’t hurt me, and the conflict that we shared was between the SMP Lands and L’manburg, not us.” You finished quietly.

Techno looked at you quizzically, “Your telling me Dream, the Dream, Mister Manhunts and smp and god among men Dream, would willingly put away his conflicts, his gains, his leverage, just for you?”

“For all of us.” You said firmly.

“That why he kept Tommy’s disks?”

“Tommy willingly gave up those disks for the country.” You muttered.

Your older brother ignored you, “That why he openly endorsed Shlatt as soon as your back was turned?”

You froze, pushing yourself to sit up, even as it made your head spin, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Shlatt’s key endorsement, you know, the endorsement given to the guy who was suppose to endorse Wil?” He watched as your face fell, before quietly starting out of the room, “I won’t tell either of them, but if Dream loses a life cause you find out it was true, don’t look my way.”

You fished your com tablet out of the pack that was lying next to your cot, ‘we need to talk.’

~~

“(y/n)! Thank god your okay!” Nick exclaimed, throwing his arms around you.

You hugged him back before turning to face Dream, “Why did you endorse Shlatt?”

He opened his mouth to say something but you cut him off, “And I don’t want a denial or an excuse, or- or any of that. I just want to know why you did it. Why you didn’t tell me?”

Shakily Dream pulled off his mask, looking you in the eye, “I didn’t mean to do anything that would hurt you. Technically I never publicly endorsed him, he took a piece of advice and ran with it to the people. If I had known he was going to do that I would’ve never talked to him in the first place. If I had known he was going to exile you, if he was going to take one of your lives I would have killed him where he stood with no hesitation.”

The mask shook his hand, and George gently took it from him, lacing there fingers together encouragingly.

“I know I fucked up talking to him but if he goes near you, or tries to get you exiled further, or anything like that, he’ll be dead. I- I will do what it takes to help you get L’manburg back.”

You bit your lip, still partially holding on to Nick, “Why did you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to add to the stress.”

“Also, you said Wilbur was getting suspicious, and you stopped talking to us for two days.” George pointed out.

You nodded, quietly rubbing at your eyes, “Uh, yeah, uh, so Techno knows.”

Nick stiffened, “What?”

“Technoblade knows about this- uh- us.”

“T- Technoblade, your brother, as in, The Technoblade, Mister violence, and blood god and technoblade never dies,  knows about us?” George gulped.

“He only threatened Dream, so don’t worry?” You said sheepishly.

Nick chuckled, “Wonderful, that means we get out with our heads and Dream gets to fight to the death.”

“I don’t see how that’s fair.” Dream pouted.

“Maybe I just thought it better to threaten you cause I know if I tried to take the other ones you’d come for me anyway.” Techno said, striding into the clearing.

The boys sat there looking at him for a moment before he sighed, turning to you, “You better get back inside ‘fore Wil goes insane. An’ you guys better clear out before Tommy sees you and goes berserk.”

Reluctantly your boyfriends nodded, quickly muttering goodbyes and leaving, only slightly in fear of Techno, and you turned to your brother with a sigh, “He can’t keep me locked up forever.”

“He’s worried. Paranoid even, thinks Shlatts gonna send someone to kill you again,” Techno explained, guiding you back towards one of the entrances of the cavern, “The stress is getting to him.”

~~

The days spent in Pogtopia began to blend together, the only memorable ones being the ones that were spent sneaking out and seeing your lovers, though you never excepted to see one of them within the cavern itself.

You had come down one of the narrow walkways of your new home, and when Tommy had grabbed your wrist, hissing “Dream is here! And he’s going to help Wilbur blow up L’manburg!” you were not nearly prepared to see him handing Wilbur a rather large bag.

Wilbur grinned wickedly, “This is perfect.”

“Wilbur,” Your little brothers voice was shaking, “Give me that tnt.”

Dream drew his sword, holding it up almost lazily in Tommy’s direction, “I’m going to have to step in on this one Tommy.”

You could see him smirking under the mask as you pushed Tommy behind you, “Wilbur what are you doing?”

“What needs to be done.” He said coldly, “If I can’t have Manburg no one can have Manburg!”

“And you think blowing up our home is the right move?” You said cautiously.

There was something different in Wilbur’s eyes, “No survivors.”

Techno watched this from his spot on the wall, “Wilbur I think we need to have a discussion, things like this take time to plan. (Y/n) why don’t you escort our guest out.”

You nodded sharply, starting towards the back of the cavern, “This way green boy.”

As soon as you got outside the cave you grabbed his wrist, shoving him against the rock wall, “What the fuck are you thinking?”

The now lopsided mask reviled his cocky smirk, “Shouldn’t this be the other way around?”

“Shut the fuck up! What are you thinking?”  You hissed.

“I’m helping you get back your L’manburg!” He sounded all too happy about it.

“By siding with him? He’s gone manic Clay! He’s fucking insane!”

Dream winced at the words, “He’s your brother. You have to side with him.”

“My brother is gone. I side with that man because I am loyal to my family, so long as Techno and Tommy are with him I am. If there was ever a time for you two to ever get along it would not be this.” You backed away from him.

“(y/n), I’m just trying to help.”

“I know,” You said softly, turning back to the cave entrance, “I’ll see you soon.”

~~

“Wars tomorrow.” George said quietly.

You nodded, carding your hand through his hair, “That it is.”

The month had passed quickly, and after the incident at the festival, and then Quackity’s meeting with Shlatt you seemed to have blinked and the eve of war was upon you.

You had snuck out, now spending your last night before the world changes again with your boys, huddled up together in one of the castles parapets. (It had been quite a shock to you when Dream dethroned Eret)

“We will be on different sides, how will this even play out?” Nick asked.

“Only time will tell.”

Dream, mask long since forgotten to the side, bit his lip, “(y/n), George, I want you to stay out of the fighting.”

“We can handle ourselves.” You argued.

“It’s George’s job to stay neutral, and you’re on your last life. None of us want to lose you.” He said softly, looking over Nick’s head at you.

“I will fight for my country. No one will stop me.”

“Even if Phil came back and told you not too?” Nick asked with a chuckle.

“Well-” You laughed, “I suppose it would depend.”

A while later, you began to head back to Pogtopia, your boys insisting on walking you back.

Upon reaching the cave you kissed each of them, “Until we see what tomorrow brings.”

They gave similar goodbyes, and you darted back into the cavern.

Coming around the corner someone grabbed your wrist, tugging it hard, and you came face to face with Wilbur, “Where the fuck were you?”

“uh- o- out.” You stuttered.

“Out with your boyfriends?” He taughtened, dragging you down through the cavern, past the new rooms that had been carved out recently, “When were you planning on telling us of this little fling?”

“What are you talking about?” Tears sprung to your eyes.

“Oh I know all about you and Dream and Sapnap and George! You and your fucking betrayal! Why the fuck would you try to betray me? I’m your brother!” He exclaimed, practically throwing you into a newly constructed cage.

You dug your nails into your palms, “Wilbur, please.”

“I know it was them who disconnected the TNT, who you keep sneaking out to meet, who you were conspiring against me with!” He locked the cage and you caught a glimpse of Techno, leaning against a wall looking down.

“Wil I never conspired against you!”

“We’ll see about that.” He hissed, “You’ll stay here until this is over. I may fail at regaining my L’manburg but I will not fail to kill those men.”

As he strode away you looked to Techno, “Techno what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry.” Was all he managed before hurrying away.

Tears began to stream down your cheeks as you looked around the abandoned alcove of the cavern, there was no getting out of this.

Quietly you pulled your com tablet from your sleeve, sending a messege to Phil, ‘dad I need help, Wil’s gone insane’

~~

You leaned against the bars of the cell, Pogtopia’s few members had long since left for the battle, and you were still here, trapped where Wilbur had left you, none of your boyfriends were responding to your pings, feeling utterly hopeless.

“(y/n)?” A yell echoed through the cavern.

“Phil!” You called desperately, “I’m in here!”

A few moments later your adoptive father appeared in the doorway, shocked upon seeing the locked cage and your tear stained cheeks, “(y/n).”

You nodded as he quickly began to work at the lock, pulling you into an embrace as soon as the cage opened.

“Dad,” You hiccupped, fighting back a new wave of tears, “He’s insane! He’s gonna try to blow up Manburg again! And he’s gonna try to kill them!”

“Who is?” He asked gently.

“Wilbur! He’s gone mad!”

Phil pulled away from you to look you in the eyes, “Are you sure?”

You nodded, sniffling.

Phil took a deep breath, looking around, “Okay, you get down to where they’re fighting, you try to keep Wilbur distracted once it’s over, I’ll try to think of something to stop the tnt.”

You nodded, quickly forcing yourself up, running out of the cavern.

You hurried through the woods, pushing yourself to go faster, making it to the crest of the hill as people flooded out of the van, cheering, people of Pogtopia, L’manburg and the SMP lands alike.

You charged down the hill, not seeing Wilbur standing to the side.

“Dream! Sapnap! George!” You yelled.

They turned to see you running at them, relived to see you okay, still not understanding the cryptic things Wilbur had been saying.

“(Y/n)-” Dream was cut off a yet another arrow planted its self in your back.

“Love?” You whispered, before crumpling to the ground.

They rushed forward, but it was too late, you were gone, and George early screamed, burring his face in an expressionless Nick’s shoulder.

Dream looked up at Wilbur, whos cross bow was still raised, utterly broken, “What the fuck have you done?”

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagines #dreamwastaken x reader #georgenotfound x reader #sapnap x reader #dream x george x sapnap x reader #dream team x reader #teddy06 writes

[sunrisefairy]

Chocolate

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Word count: 1.8k 

Summary: Y/N drunkenly confesses her feelings for George thinking it is actually Fred she’s talking to.

Warning: mentions of alcohol

A/N: I’m having way too much fun writing again, any feedback is always welcomed and if you have any ideas for future one shots let me know :)

Taglist: @hufflepuff5972​ my first little tag list, my heart ❤️ if anyone else wants to be added, just message me

The Gryffindor common room floor feels like it’s about to take flight with the vibrations from the multiple speakers set up around the room. The Gryffindor quidditch team had won the first game of the year against Slytherin so of course celebrations were in order.

You found herself in the middle of the makeshift dance floor with Alicia and Angelina dancing and singing, no screaming to the music. You jump up on the nearby table taking a big swig of some fire whiskey. You start to swing your hips to the music and continue yelling the lyrics to your favourite song which just started playing. You hear a few people below whistling and cheering you on.

“Yeah! Go Y/N! Woo!” You think it was Angelina calling out, acting as your hype woman.

As the song comes to an end you jump off the table feeling like a rock star. As your feet make contact with the floor you stumble. Your legs seem to give way, maybe it was because of the way you landed but it was most likely because of the amount of alcohol running through your system, you fell to the floor.

“Woah Y/N are you okay?” Alicia was immediately by your side helping you up. You couldn’t control the giggles escaping from your mouth.

“M’ fine babe just need ‘nother drink” your words mixing into each other.

Alicia shakes her head at your drunken state, “I think you need to slow down love. C’mon, come sit down while I get you some water” Alicia guides you over to the couches on the corner of the common room, looking for a free one which isn’t occupied by a couple making out, she spots George sitting alone, perfect she thinks, a mischief glint in her eyes.

“Hey, do you mind watching this one for a minute?” Alicia practically pushes you onto the couch and you might as well be sitting on George’s lap with how close you are to him. The redhead just laughs and nods his head at Alicia who disappears back through the crowd.

The thing with being drunk is your vision tends to get blurry which is exactly what had happened to you, your surroundings becoming fuzzy. Fred and George can be tough to tell apart on a good day so add

some alcohol into the mix and some might find it near impossible. You always prided yourself on the ability to tell the 2 twins apart, noticing subtle differences in their appearance and the way they spoke which helped you realise which one was which. Although the butterflies George never failed to give you when he was in the same room as you, helped you in telling who was who. However right now in this moment you were absolutely certain the redhead sitting next to you was Fred, oh how wrong you were.

“Havin’ a good night then little one?” George says, placing an arm around your shoulder in an attempt to steady your swaying body, maybe using that as an excuse to be close to you.

“Oh loads” you yell over the thumping music, “my foot is kinda sore though, actually ya know what might fix that?” George is too entertained by your drunken rambling to answer. “I think some chocolate will help, don’t ya think chocolate just fixes everything, maybe chocolate has somethin’ magical in it. Don’t you think chocolate is just delicious?” you hiccup, George nods amused.

Your eyes widen as you’re reminded of something “Oh Freddie, I think I know why I love chocolate so much” George doesn’t think he heard you right, did you just call him Fred? He goes to correct you, but you keep talking.

“Chocolate tastes so warm and sweet, it reminds me of Georges eyes, his eyes are so warm and sweet to look at” you say almost dreamingly, George shuts his mouth pretty quickly. “George has the prettiest eyes. I mean he’s got the prettiest everything. His face is like, like it was crafted by angels. And he’s so funny, everything he says makes me smile, I like him so much Freddie.”

George thinks he must be dreaming, surely he hadn’t heard you correctly. You feel your eyes growing heavier by the second, resting your head on the redhead’s shoulder.

“Freddie, promise me you won’t tell George, I couldn’t take it if he doesn’t like me back.” You say curling into his side.

George doesn’t know what to say, part of him wants to tell you that he isn’t actually Fred, that he’s George and he does like you back but the other part of him kind of feels embarrassed he didn’t say anything sooner, so he opts for:

“I’m sure he likes you too.” He doesn’t think you heard it though, judging from the light snores coming from your mouth.

At that point Alicia is back in front of them, thanking George for watching you while she was gone, with a little struggle she is walking you back to your dorm.

~~~

The next morning George is sitting with Lee and Fred in the great hall, spilling everything Y/N said last night.

“I knew she liked you!” Lee exclaims, “like she’s always staring at you during class.”

Fred chuckles “maybe she thought she was staring at me.”

George shoves him in the chest, shaking his head. The tall boy is nervous to see you today. He isn’t sure what he is going to say, George knows he needs to tell you that he feels the same way but a part of him is worried you didn’t actually mean what you said. You were very drunk and drunk people tend to say some random stuff. He doesn’t have much time to dwell over it because he spots you and Angelina walking into the great hall. Your hair is a little crazy, obviously quickly been thrown in a bun and you clearly are sporting a killer hangover but he still thinks you look divine.

“Surprised to see you up so early Y/N, you were very intoxicated last night” Lee laughs as you and Angelina sit down.

You groan, rubbing your eyes “I’m surprised too, I feel like a zombie and my ankle hurts.”

Fred laughs loudly after sending a wink Angelina’s way, “that’s probably from when you jumped off the table after your little dance performance. You went tumbling down. It was hilarious” George whacks his twin over the head, eyeing you slightly as you put some toast on your plate.

“Merlin, I don’t remember that or anything from last night to be honest. It’s all so fuzzy” you mumble as you take a large bite of your toast.

George feels his heart drop a little, although last night you hadn’t realised it was actually him you were talking to, he thought it would be easier to confess his feelings if you actually remember last night, now he was too scared.

~~~

Later that day you and Angelina are back in your dorm room laying on your bed with Alicia talking about previous night.

“What even happened last night? The last thing I remember is dancing and that’s it” you laugh as you flick through a magazine.

“So you don’t remember chatting to George on the couch before passing out? You can thank me for that Y/N, I had the brilliant idea of having George look after you while I went to fetch you some water” Alicia grins.

Alicia and Angelina were the only ones who knew of your major crush on the tall sweet redhead. Many times, they have tried to convince you to just tell George how you feel and even try to meddle themselves.

You furrow your eyebrows, trying to remember if you said anything embarrassing to the boy.

“Huh, are you sure it was George? I swear I was chatting to Fred last night” you chuckle remembering some of your conversation.

Alicia shook her head, “nope it was definitely George, I know that for a fact because when I left to get your water, I passed Fred and Angelina making out” Alicia elbows Angelina’s side who is blushing profusely.

You shrug your shoulders, “well me and George then were having a pretty weird conversation about chocolate actually. I thought it would heal my sore ankle” the girls all giggle as you continue, “it was very random we were talking about chocolate and then…” your voice fades into silence as you remember how that conversation went.

Alicia and Angelina are confused as you leap of the bed and start running out the door, “wait what happened?” you hear Angelina yell as you run out of the room.

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest, you need to find George. You are beyond embarrassed that you basically confessed your love to George, the whole conversation becoming clearer and clearer in your brain. But you are unsure if you had dreamt the reply Fred, no George had given you as you drifted off to sleep on that couch.

You enter the common room, scanning for a particular redhead who you find sitting on the couch with Fred and Lee. You run up to the group, out of breath.

“Did you mean what you said last night?” you blurt out, feeling very, very nervous.

George break eye contact from whatever he was originally looking at and meets your eyes which are desperately searching for a response “what?” he squeaks out.

Fred and Lee share a look at each other and move from the couch, figuring out that the pair need some privacy although they do continue listening to the conversation from the other end of the common room.

“Last night. On the couch. I told you that I liked you, well, I said I liked George because I thought I was talking to Fred. And then you said ‘I’m sure he likes you too’ so do you? Like me?” you feel like your heart is going to explode and you are well aware of the multiple pairs of eyes staring at yours and Georges exchange which is making you extra scared of the potential rejection.

George nods, not really confident enough to speak right now. What you do next surprises him. If he wasn’t already sitting down, he might have fallen over with the force of you leaping towards him. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his. George immediately grips your waist and kisses you back. You can hear some people cheering in the background which makes you smile into the kiss.

You pull away slightly breathless, “that’s good then,” George chuckles and you hear Fred from somewhere behind you say rather loudly to Lee.

“Imagine if she kissed the wrong twin.”

“Shut up Fred” You and George say simultaneously.  

#George Weasley #George weasley one shot #George weasley x reader #Fred and george #George weasley fanfic #George Weasley x you #George Weasley Fluff #George Weasley imagine #George Weasley oneshot #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #hp fanfic #hp one shot

[mikyouknow]

Please! Rewatch the quiz! I need something to remind me that that actually happened.

I still vividly remember that day. Going out on a chill bike ride with my two best friends for the first time in months. Sitting in the cool grass. Having a picknick. Not too hot out, nice weather. AND THEN I GET HOME TO THE ABSOLUTEL SHITSHOW THAT HAPPENED THAT DAY! Because what the HELL even was that, I still haven't processed anything. My mind keeps erasing that memory until some days the it just hits me square in the face and knocks me out 😀

So yeah! I would love it if you talked more about it, might help to cope a bit xD

Okay anon you motivated me, you were my Final push, I’m Doing it ! 🗣

Also I love that story tho you really have a Vivid memory connected to this whole thing and I’m living for it 😂 you were just having a nice day and then Boom, all this mess 💀

But aight so I’m Watching it rn and will be taking notes Live as I watch Here we go:

My first thoughts is, when Dream decides to do the quiz, he seems so like, confident? And then as soon as he reads the description, his voice falters at ‘and now things are changing’ and I’m Dead 💀 his confidence from two seconds prior in that moment goes like 📉 then cue flustered laugh lmao

“Do you ever catch yourself staring at your bff?” Dream’s flustered laugh and being all like “these questions are gonna be so weird” uhhhhh dude what are you expecting you’re taking a are you in love with your best friend quiz 💀

HES SO DEFENSIVE ON THIS ONE LIKE- he keeps wanting to make excuses aww drema aww 😭 it’s okay !! George is pretty we Understand you staring king 😌

Like legit that’s the first question and he’s already so flustered and- MY GOD GEORGE HASNT SAID A THING I JUST REALIZED WAIT HOLD ON I NEED TO GO BACK-

Two scoffs. That’s it 🧍‍♀️

GEORGE JSJWNSOWNEEJEN HES NOT SAYING ANYTHING IM DYING WHAT

Even when Dream first goes ‘aight imma take the am I in love w my best friend test’ George is SILENT 💀

Listen- listen, I’m having a moment over this cause I don’t remember him being silent from the start I thought it was like a slow descent into him just going silent eventually, BUT NO he’s just Silent from the moment the quiz is brought up 💀 but gives like a slight scoff when Dream’s voice wavered at “changing” like he’s very much Listening, just being So silent.

I just can’t wrap my head around how he doesn’t answer any of Dream’s comments, Dream keeps being like ‘right? Like that’s normal, right? Like that’s not weird. Right?’ And George is just SILENT 💀

“Do you get jealous if he or she has a bf or gf” LMAO THIS QUESTION MY BELOVED

His answer is so weird I will die on this hill.

ALSO GEORGE S P E A K S for the first time in the quiz 😭🗣 but not much, he says ‘but’, cause, yk, they both know he do get jealous so.

Which, again. Weird as hell. Imma say it, I’ve never felt jealous of my best friend getting a partner like what ???? W h a t

But ofc when they’re so clingy on each other, like a partner would take the others place because they pretty much have each other in that spot already, so it makes sense huh

And that’s not platonic btw I wanna make that clear LMAO

I think the points of which George laughs are interesting. And there’s something interesting to his laugh too. I don’t see his face lighting up with it, if that makes sense. It’s like a, I wouldn’t say ‘nervous’ laugh but, I struggle to find a better word for it 🤔

AYO MY MANS DREAM SAYS I DONT KNOW TO IF HE GETS BUTTERFLIES FROM GEORGE I- 💀

THATS NOT AN I DONT KNOW QUESTION KING

EITHER YOU DO OR YOU DONT AND YOU KNOW IF YOU DO OR DONT LIKE W H A T

I have to sit with this one for a second like . What ? 🧍‍♀️

Butterflies.

I’ve never. In my life. Like.

That’s not- you can’t say you don’t know- THAT MEANS LIKE-

Dear lord.

Aight I’m moving on (not actually imma be awake thinking about this later. Not by choice, absolutely not. This just won’t leave my brain unfortunately.)

Hang on. George says something here when Dream says ‘I have no idea’ but I can’t tell what he’s saying ? Like he mumbles something whilst Dream starts talking at the same time and I can’t make it out and I wanna know what he says 💀🗣

I Think he says ‘what do you mean you have no idea?’ Which like, YEAH, you Should question him on that king 🧍‍♀️ but it’s interesting how quiet he is, like he barely pushes the question, and this is like the second ?? Time he’s spoken so far. 🧍‍♀️

Also Listen to how flustered Dream sounds my god💀

This quiz never should’ve happened what’s Wrong with him like is he this blind ?? Did he Really think taking this quiz was gonna end well ?? 💀

“TecHniCally🥴”

“My future is your future”

I feel like we’ve talked abt these LMAO such Romantic phrasing my god

Again him going ‘right?’ And George is Dead Silent 💀

It’s interesting, like I’ve reached the ‘dreams’ question now, and it’s hitting now and throughout this quiz how, Dream is Loudly deflective, but George is silently deflective. If that makes sense? Like he’s choosing not to speak so his words can’t be thrown back at him cause he Knows if he speaks it’ll be obvious. Whilst Dream over explains and fucks himself over p much lmao. They’re both just a mess around this subject 💀

“How would You be in my dream” is such a funny sentence from George LMAO he’s so defensive 💀 like even I have had dreams abt Dream, like you’re his Best Friend, ofc you have dreams abt him my guy 💀 deflecting it is so weird. So Weird

“I’ve never hugged you” Sad hours 😔

It’s interesting here. Cause they speak abt the whole ‘do you go out of your way for this person’ and Dream is stuck on if he should say ‘more than anyone else I know’ or not. Which, there’s ofc observations to be had here as well.

But ! What I found interesting here was how George goes onto say ‘you made me pay you’ when Dream says he edited his video for him. And how George keeps the ‘lie’ going for a very short bit before laughing slightly, by god he sounds so.. different? Like when he usually makes little lies to troll or stuff like that, he’s much more extra and keeps the bit going and- idk how to explain it but the tone of his voice is usually way different. Here he seems to, idk, struggle to keep that up. His laugh is also just like, somewhat toneless?

LMAO The MOMENT Dream got the question ‘what do you think abt their laugh’ George’s laugh Stops. 💀

“Do you ever think abt what it would be like to Kiss your best friend?”

THE SILENCE

Also,

how Dream read ‘kiss’ 🤝 how Dream read ‘changing’

Some words hit this man different huh LMAO

“Why did that take you so long” on the kiss question, CALL HIM OUT GEORGE 🗣

HRKEJEKEEJEKJEEIEJ HOW ARE THOSE- SORRY WHAT DREAM ??

“HOW ARE THOSE THE ONLY OPTIONS” ???

God, for real, I wish Dream would get to sit down with someone one day who just Listened to him speak and allowed him to slip up and just sound so in love with George like give himself away simply because nobody is saying how weird he’s-

Hold on.

Wait. A minute.

George.

George is doing that LMAOOOO

Him sitting there silently and not responding to all his small questions abt what he Should answer and such, he’s so smart🧍‍♀️

AIGHT MOVING ON

George’s laugh keeps sounding very, like, strange😅

Anyways the way Dream Had to have a ‘yes’ answer to the kiss one will forever keep me up at night. Now along with the butterflies one🧍‍♀️

I rly wonder what options it is Dream is looking for when he says ‘none of these options’ so often. What is it you wanna say king ?

WHY IS THE BUTTERFLIES QUESTION TWICE AND WHY IS HIS ANSWER NOW DIFFERENT LMAO - drema it’s okay it’s Safe Space 🗣 I feel like he probably saw chat responding to his first answer and realized ‘oop, that’s not platonic’ and changed his answer LMAO 💀 he’s- Ahh hard to find the right words for my Thoughts here, but he’s doing that thing where he looks for others what is ‘normal’ instead of seeing what he feels, cause what He feels is, uh, well we all know what results he got at the end there,,

I mean the kiss question is all u need really. The butterflies one puts icing on the whole cake.

“Do you compare this person to others you’ve dated? Noo...” AIGHT AND THERE WE HAVE THE CHERRY ON TOP OF THE WHOLE THING

This was the one of the Most sus ones imo from when I first watched it. It had my head spin, head in hands for Days.

What do you MEAN you compare him to others you’ve dated? Why does he tell George to shut up, why do they both Know there’s a story there- I have so many questions on this and- this isn’t platonic 💀😭 AT ALL - and there’s no excuse or explanations for this one, they just Move On 💀

The Speed at which they move on 💀

And then George goes So silent 🧍‍♀️

Dream is cruising through the questions and George is so silent now. He was Stunned into silence from that shut up LMAO

I like how Dream picked ‘absolutely’ on being able to tell George everything :’)

So.

Why does George not say anything on the ‘do you think your best friend is in love with you’ question? No joke, no protest, no- no nothing?

That leaves us to fill in the blanks king, just saying🧍‍♀️

Why does Dream sound sarcastic when he says it’s a tough question LMAO

“I have no idea” aight good answer ig LMAO let’s Pretend

George’s silence is for real very sus there. Very. 🥴

Dream putting ‘no’ on thinking he’s in love, is Very funny and shows just how blind he is to himself.

He rly put ‘I don’t know’ for the butterflies one and found the nearest ‘yes’ option for the kiss one and then still put ‘no’ at the end - he’s a lost cause and owns no mirrors I see how it is. (/j btw lmao I have hope in drema ofc, he too can become more self aware one day<3)

“You are a little in love with your best friend” cue both of them laughing in just the weirdest ways. George just sounds absolutely toneless like, I don’t think he’s even smiling with that laugh, gaze absolutely dazed at what he’s being witness to, not even knowing what to do with himself in that moment. And Dream’s laugh is also just, weird?

“You don’t wanna ruin it, Dream.” Followed by Dream’s immediate, “oh what? It says-“ like immediately moving on lmao 💀 that “oh what?” Sounded like “oh what’s that there oh that’s rly weird wow let’s move on from what you just said ahem wow really weird thing over there” LMAO

“There’s a two percent chance there” LMAO

OH NO THE SILENCE WHAT

I THOUGHT I ACCIDENTALLY PAUSED THE VIDEO BUT THE SILENCE IS SO LONG AND SO LOUD

Then Dream going onto pretending like he’s gonna do another test As If he’s not been planning his escape excuse from the very moment he got those test results LMAO

And the silent pauses are taking me out 💀

‘I think we’re done’ HOW COULD HE LEAVE AT THAT POINT 💀💀💀

“COOL PODCAST” IM DEAD ON THE FLOOR

“WHY ARE YOU SO NOSY” DREAM I- WHY U SO DEFENSIVE GEORGE ASKING WHERE YOU’RE GOING IS A NORMAL THING TO ASK 💀YOU’RE THE ONE WHO’S SUDDENLY LEAVING

NOT DREAM AWKWARDLY SINGING THE WIZARD OF OZ-

HE SOUNDS SO WEIRD-

The tone of his voice is so off my guy is so ready to leave and sit and stare at a wall whilst looping heatwaves for five hours 💀

:((((( drema my beloved :((((( it’s okay to be in love !!

Not him leaving- he full on ignored George’s ‘where are you going?’

He’s not going anywhere istg the moment he left that discord he put his head in his hands and just Stared 💀

Poor George 🥺

#aight those were my thoughts omg this got so long LMAO #I legit thought I’d have barely any notes going into this #and then I ended up having to pause every five seconds cause there was just So Much to unpack 🥴😭 #so Many Thoughts #so anyways sry anon that this took me a moment lmaoo #but here’s just a whole analysis on the are u in love w your best friend quiz #I never did do one like a lot of others did after that stream #I needed five business days to process #that turned into months apparently LMAO #but now here they are: My Thoughts #long post #that read me option has never been more needed LMAO #dnf observer answers ask #dnf tings and rambles #dreamnotfound #my analysis #edit: I was gonna post this a few days ago but Stuff happened so am posting it now finally🗣

[straightouttaneptune]

Opposites attract

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Slytherin!Reader, Platonic!Blaise Zabini x reader, Draco Malfoy x Pansy Parkinson, Platonic!Draco Malfoy x reader (The reader is race-neutral!)

Warning: I think there’s a couple swear words, uhh if you’re in love with Draco you probably shouldn’t read this, there is not a single sentence in this fic where Draco and Y/N are any more than friends. Actually, Y/N will commit an act of violence against him. (Don’t do this to your friends)

Summary: Blaise notices that his best friend, Y/N is different the second he sees her again after Summer break. You are a full-fledged pure-blood Slytherin, but during Summer, you got your heart stolen by a certain muggle-born Gryffindor.

A/N: I am OBSESSED with Gryffindor x Slytherin trope, I’m so sorry I will write a reader who’s in Hufflepuff soon! Also, I love Blaise Zabini? He deserves love :/ He a true King in this fic. Oh and Y/N & Hermione are a power couple who eat men ok cool happy reading!!

—————————————————————

It was a quiet evening in the Slytherin common room. The white noise of the light rain present, but none of you could see, for the Slytherins belonged in the dungeons.

You had your head rested on the lap of Blaise Zabini, your best friend, and your legs over the lap of Draco Malfoy. You wouldn’t say he was your best friend, per se- you didn’t always like how he acted. You thought of him more like a brother, in a way. An annoying brother, no less.

But while your friends engaged in some deep conversation about whatever they talked about, your mind was elsewhere. Since last week, you’ve been lost in the curious world of a strange muggle book titled “pride and prejudice”. You picked the damned book up every time you had some spare time.

“What’s this then? Never seen it before.” You recall 2 weeks ago, laying by the old oak tree of the city park, the bushy leaves shielding you from the blinding sunlight.

“You’ve never seen a book before?” She teases, playful laughter filling the crisp summer air.

“You know what I mean! C’mon, read to me.” You look up at her, sitting down with her back pressed against the tree. Her face was covered with the red cover of the book, but you could swear that what you were seeing deserved to be drawn on canvas and presented in museums. Her golden curls looked as if they were lighting up under the sun, her soft yet strong hands curling around the spine of the book.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife-”

Blaise also had a book opened in his hand, but he was not reading- he was listening in on Draco and Pansy’s conversation. Also glancing down and seeing you smile to yourself, for whatever reason. It could have been the book, but he doubted it.

And even though this was the first day back to Hogwarts, he knew that you were very different from who you were when he waved goodbye to you before summer break.

First of all, you never read muggle books. You were the eldest child of one of the most pure bloodlines to exist. Your family were very close with the Malfoys, the Blacks, and obviously the Dark Lord. Anyone would expect you to grow up hating muggles, and... in all honesty, Blaise thought you did.

But then why didn’t you say anything few hours earlier when Granger bumped into you on the train? A witty quip about her blood, perhaps? But nothing. And why in the world did you have a Jane Austen story in your hand?

Despite the multiple questions looming over his head, Blaise had a theory. So now, he wanted to see. Test you, on how you’d react to another one of Draco’s degrading talks about “muggles” you recently seemed to take an interest to.

“God, those mud-bloods infuriate me. And what’s Dumbledore thinking, opening a class of ‘Muggle Studies?’ What a pathetic excuse for a school.” Draco said quite loudly for the whole common room to hear, looking behind him and at first-year Slytherins as if to get them to agree with him. They nod out of fear, but Blaise can see it’s poisoning their unbiased minds already.

Great. More racism. He’s never been a big fan of it.

Just when Blaise turned back around to pretend to stare at his book once more, you quickly stood up from your place in his lap, and smacked your hard-covered book over Draco’s head. The first years jump and gasp from utter and complete shock.

...Ouch. Blaise doesn’t know if he should be happy he was right about something being up with you, or stop you from killing Malfoy.

“What in the- What is your problem, Y/L/N??!” Draco stands up too and glares at you in an accusatory manner, hand flying up to the back of his head. His tall figure looms over your head, his eyes burning with confusion and rage. But you’re not afraid. Quite the opposite.

“Don’t you dare talk about muggles like that ever again, Draco. You know I’ve never liked it when you used that word.” You point your halfway closed book into his chest, the corner digging into his neatly ironed shirt.

“What? You’ve never hit me over something as little as this? What’s wrong with you, Y/L/N?” Draco questions loudly, the irritation in his voice evident. Pansy stands up as well, linking her arms with the Blond, and glaring at you up and down.

“You’ve been acting strange all day, Y/N. Blaise, say something!” All three of you looks over to Blaise, who was nonchalantly pretend reading his book, unmoving from his place on the couch.

“What? So Y/N can’t hit Malfoy with a book now? She’s done it before.” He looks up and locks eyes with Pansy, “I don’t give a fuck” written all over his face.

“That’s not the point! Why is she so angry over filthy Mudbloods?” Pansy retorts, but as soon as the last word left her lips, you raised your brows at her warningly.

“Don’t. Use. That. Word. Why does bloodline matter? We all bleed red, for Merlin’s sake!” You huff, whirling around to get yourself out of this godforesaken dungeon. Blaise gives a playful salute and trails closely behind, leaving behind the pure-blooded idiots and follows you towards the Gryffindor common room.

“Will you tell me, though? Y/N, what happened during summer?” Blaise stops you just in front of the portrait of the fat lady, and you’re forced to look at your best friend’s curious expression.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” You sighed, knowing you would have to tell your best friend if he wanted to come with you. He nods sincerely, although there is a twinkle in his eyes that lets you know he’s enjoying this.

“I fell in love with someone. A muggle-born.”You confess, your cheeks burning like a 1,000 degree flame just by admitting that.

“A muggle-born??” Blaise’s brows shot up to his hairline, his brilliantly talented imagination already making up a scene of you getting disowned by your parents.

“Wait...” his gaze glides past you and at something behind you. “Does it happen to be Granger?”

Your eyes grow wide as a plate, and you almost break your neck from how quickly you turned around. Hermione, Harry and Ron stood there, the door to the Gryffindor common room wide open.

“There was a Slytherin alert. Uhm, Fred and George. Not us.” Harry tries to explain, looking over at Ron for some assistance, but he just stays in place. Wether it’s from shock or fear, you couldn’t tell.

“You... fell in love?” Hermione looks directly into your eyes, as if everything that wasn’t you didn’t exist to her. She climbs out of the entryway, taking a few steps over towards you.

“Uh- I did. Over the summer.” Guessing you didn’t have much other choice than to admit it, you stood your ground and focused on her sharp brown eyes you’d come to adore.

“You did.” Hermione repeated, stunned from the looks of it.

“I did.”

“So did I.”

“You did?”

“I did.”

“Oh bloody hell, just admit you love each other and move on.” Ron teased from a few feet behind, comfortable now that he saw who he originally thought was a Slytherin nightmare act so awkward and giddy.

Hermione glared at him threateningly, and so Harry wordlessly pulled him and Blaise into the Gryffindor common room. Before entering, Harry almost forcefully rips off the cloak from Blaise, still skeptical of the Slytherin always hanging around Draco Malfoy.

“Right. Anyways-“

Before you could say anything, Hermione hurriedly pressed her lips against yours, her cheeks tinting rose from a mixture of excitement and embarrassment. She’d never done something like this before. She feels like she can hear her heart beating rapidly in her ears, which can’t be normal, but she thinks it feels right.

You feel like getting wrapped into a cloud of euphoria as she deepens the kiss, your hands finding their place on her cheeks. The book clatters on the crème stone floor, but neither of you pay it any mind. Luckily, not one soul is walking around the halls at this hour, everyone getting settled into each their dorms. But you don’t even think about that, for your mind is filled with her, and only her.

After pulling away, Hermione chuckles at your surprised look, mumbling a little “You’re blushing, Y/N.” Before pulling you into her chest for a hug.

You return the gesture without hesitation, grinning from ear to ear and whispering back, “So are you.”

“Come on, we’ll have butterbeer inside. Take your cloak off and hide the tie. I’ll bring my jacket.” Hermione laughs nervously, and looks back at who she swears is the most beautiful girl in the world. Never had she thought she’d get her heart stolen by a Y/L/N, even in an alternate universe, or in a dream.

But she takes your hand, and pulls you into the common room, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

#harry potter #harry potter imagines #Hermione Granger #hermione granger x reader #hermione granger x you #hermione granger x y/n #hermione granger x slytherin!reader #gryffindor x slytherin #pureblood x muggle #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #blaise zabini x reader #ron weasley cameo #draco malfoy x pansy parkinson #harry potter and the sorcerer's stone #harry potter and the chamber of secrets #harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban #harry potter and the goblet of fire #harry potter and the order of phoenix #harry potter and the halfblood prince #harry potter and the deathly hallows #hermione granger fluff #hermione granger fic #race neutral reader

[headcanonsandmore]

Hermione and Veronica ‘Ronnie’ Weasley

Summary:  A Romione WLW AU, with Hermione and her best friend Veronica 'Ronnie' Weasley, the sweet redheaded girl who... well, who Hermione finds herself very confused about.

This fic was inspired by a similar AU scenario fic by @hillnerd. As with everything Hilly does, her fic is amazing, but hopefully my fic doesn’t look too bad by comparison. 

                  Read on FFN.                                      Read on AO3.

~~~~~~~~~

Hermione Granger had a problem.

Well, not so much a problem. More of a…. confusion. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

And it had to do with her best friend. Veronica “Ronnie” Weasley.

Ronnie was funny, sweet, kind, and athletic. Over six foot tall, with a mane of long red hair and a mass of freckles, she immediately caught the eye. The boys couldn’t help but notice her, and many of the girls either admired her or felt jealousy towards her. Hermione had lost count of the time she’d seen Dean and Seamus staring at Ronnie from across the common room. On a few occasions, she’d even seen Neville blush after Ronnie had smiled at him.

Not that Ronnie noticed any of this. The redhead had always felt lacking, either to her older brothers or to her younger sister Ginny. Ronnie was, like all her siblings, good at schoolwork, but she had never felt like she could stand out. She had confided to Hermione that, even if she had done well, no-one would ever think much of it, since her brothers had all done it before.

And then there was Ginny. Ronnie’s little sister was about almost a foot shorter, and with more of a nervous energy than that of her older siblings. Hermione had often wondered whether the Weasleys all had a set amount of passion, and that those of a shorter persuasion tended to be more on-edge than their lankier siblings. Granted, this theory didn’t necessarily explain why the short Charlie was so relaxed, while the taller Percy was the exact opposite. Maybe the Weasleys all just reacted differently to their circumstances.

Ronnie was not an intense person. In fact, Hermione found her almost supernaturally relaxed and affable. More prone to telling a chuckle-inducing joke as opposed to an over-the-top prank that was the preferred tactic of Fred and George.

Hermione preferred Ronnie’s way of doing things. Hermione liked a lot about Ronnie. Even if Ronnie personally thought her own matey-ness with people made her unattractive, Hermione couldn’t imagine why such friendliness and kindness could be considered unappealing.

To boys, of course. Yes, just to the boys.

Hermione had the distinct impression that Ronnie felt lacking compared to her little sister. Maybe it was Ronnie’s lack of interest in “girly” things, or her seeming-inability to act with “decorum” (as Hermione’s parents would have put it). It was common for Ronnie to wear a pair of hand-me-down school trousers instead of skirts because, as she herself put it, she hated having to worry about whether people could see up her legs.

Hermione always found herself flustered whenever Ronnie joked about this. Ronnie did have very long legs after all.

She had been friends with Ronnie for years, ever since the Halloween of first year. They hadn’t exactly gotten along before then but, since the incident with the troll, they had become firm friends. It was nice being friends with someone else in the girls dormitory; Lavender and Parvati had never really clicked with Hermione. Ronnie was the first female friend Hermione had ever had.

And then third year had happened.

The two of them had fallen out over their pets. Crookshanks and Scabbers had never gotten along and, at one point, it had looked like Crookshanks had eaten Ronnie’s rat. It had been really lonely not speaking to Ronnie for all that time.

But they had become friends again, and things had settled back to how they had been before.

Well, not exactly.

Ronnie had always been a good friend, but Hermione hadn’t understood why she had missed Ronnie so much when they weren’t speaking. She certainly hadn’t missed Harry in the same way, which was even weirder considering that Harry was a boy.

Hermione had missed Ronnie’s smile, her laugh, her beautiful red hair, the way she would throw an arm around Hermione’s shoulders as they walked to class, the way she would bound up to her and hug Hermione tightly, and the way she would stretch out in the common room so that Hermione couldn’t help but notice her-

Yes, she had certainly missed her friend Ronnie. The same friend who made butterflies appear in Hermione’s stomach whenever Ronnie smiled at her. The same friend who began to inhabit Hermione’s dreams in ways she was becoming very confused about.

Hermione had hoped that… whatever this was would disappear over the summer holidays, and she could just enjoy her friendship with Ronnie with no extra complications.

No such luck. Fourth year had just made everything even more confusing. Harry and Ronnie hadn’t spoken for a while after Harry’s name had appeared in the goblet of fire. Hermione had desperately tried to patch things up between them but, in the end, they had worked it out themselves after the first task.

It was good for them to be a trio again. Although Hermione, Ronnie and Harry had always been a bit unusual. Parvati and Lavender had always been giggling over it, asking both Hermione and Ronnie about which of them Harry was dating. Hermione had always rolled her eyes at this. To her, Harry had always been like a younger brother. Like all younger brothers, he was always getting into mischief and being annoying, but he was her brother nonetheless.

Ronnie had always laughed her head off whenever this question was proposed by Lavender and Parvati. Harry was “her best mate”. End of. Nothing more to say.

But… well, as the Yule Ball approached, suddenly Ronnie stopped laughed and started blushing, avoiding Hermione’s eyes.

‘It’s none of your business,’ she had mumbled, her ears flashing their tell-tale pink.

Hermione had felt her heart slowly sink, although she tried to avoid thinking about why.

Sure enough, the day before the Yule Ball, Hermione had asked Harry about who he was taking, and the boy who lived had blushed scarlet.

‘Er… I asked Ronnie.’

Hermione dropped the book she was holding. The two of them were in the library.

‘What? You mean… you…’

‘I-I don’t know, okay!’ Harry stammered. ‘It’s just… I needed a date for the Ball and Ronnie’s my best mate, so it made sense.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah.’

At that moment, someone tapped Hermione on the shoulder. It was Viktor Krum, the Durmstrang champion.

‘Excuse me, may I have a vord?’

Harry looked at the Bulgarian suspiciously.

‘Yes, it’s fine,’ Hermione said, leading Krum away into the next aisle of bookshelves. ‘Which section are you looking for?’

‘No… I… er…’

 *

 ‘Krum?!’

Ronnie’s face looked horrified. It was several hours later, in their dormitory.

‘Well, it wasn’t as if I was going with anyone, so why not?’

‘He’s eighteen, Hermione!’ Ronnie said, urgently. ‘He’s way too old for you!’

‘He’s not dating me, Ronnie,’ Hermione replied. ‘He’ll be more like a chaperone than anything else. Besides, it’s just one ball. It’s not like he’s asking to marry me.’

‘I should think not!’ Ronnie’s face was strangely angry. ‘You’re too good for him.’

Hermione felt her cheeks blush.

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Er, congratulations about you and Harry, by the way.’

‘You… you know about that?’ Ronnie asked.

Hermione nodded, wondering why the mood suddenly felt so tense.

‘Yes, he told me earlier. It was nice of you to go with him.’

‘You think so?’

‘Yes. I think you’ll have a great time.’

Hermione hoped that her voice didn’t sound as falsely-cheery as she suspected.

 *

 The Yule Ball was something of an event. It was interesting hearing from Viktor Krum about what Bulgaria was like, but she found herself distracted. Possibly due to the fact that Ronnie and Harry were sat only a few chairs down the table, and kept giggling over stuff. Ronnie was wearing a very lacy dress that Mrs Weasley had only managed to get third-hand; since Ronnie was so tall compared to most girls, her clothes had always been a bit… well, difficult to acquire on a budget. The dress was a few inches shorter than her normal summer shorts were, and Hermione had got the distinct impression that Harry was trying not to stare too much when they had walked through the crowd with the other champions and their partners.

Hermione probably would have enjoyed the dancing too, except that she kept looking round to see what Ronnie and Harry were up to. Ronnie’s hair was long and had a sweet flowery scent that seemed to follow it around the room. Her smile was wide as she danced with Harry, and the way she kept laughing made it difficult for Hermione to concentrate on her own dancing. Why was she so distracted?

‘Vould you like a drink?’ Viktor Krum asked, after a very fast song had finished.

Hermione nodded, and he left for the buffet table.

At that moment, Hermione noticed that Harry and Ronnie were walking towards the balcony area.

Deciding to catch up with them, Hermione darted between several other couple, and poked her head out through the curtains.

Her stomach turned to lead.

Harry was kissing Ronnie on the mouth, and Ronnie was kissing him back.

Stumbling backwards through the curtain, Hermione pushed through the crowd and began to make for the exit. However, she bumped into Ginny and Neville.

‘I’m… feeling a bit unwell,’ she mumbled. ‘Could you tell Viktor Krum that I’ve had to leave?’

Ginny and Neville nodded, but looked concerned and a little confused.

Hermione didn’t stop hurrying until she had arrived back in her dormitory. She washed her make-up off, changed into her pyjamas, and climbed into her four-poster bed.

She had started crying before her head even hit the pillow.

 *

 ‘So… yeah.’

‘Bit weird, but… well, that’s it.’

It was the next day. Harry and Ronnie were talking to Ginny about what had happened. Hermione was eating her breakfast without looking at any of them.

‘So… are you two dating?’ Ginny asked.

Ronnie laughed nervously.

‘No; but… well, we’re gonna see how things change. If it’s not our cup of tea, we can stay friends instead.’

‘Yeah,’ Harry said, cheerfully. ‘Take a bit more than kissing for us to stop being best mates.’

‘Yeah, but…’ Ginny said, her eyes darting to Hermione and then back to Ronnie. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Er, yeah,’ Ronnie said. ‘H-Hermione, what do you think?’

Hermione blinked hurriedly.

‘Oh, I’m sure you two will be very happy,’ she said, a little too cheerfully. ‘I hope you don’t me being a third wheel, then. Anyway, we need to get to first period now.’

Harry nodded, and stood up.

Ronnie remained sitting, looking at Hermione with a slightly confused expression on her freckled face.

Ginny gave a sigh, and went back to her breakfast.

 *

 The next few weeks were not fun for Hermione. Ronnie and Harry had always been a duo and, now that they were sort-of together, Hermione had never felt more like a third wheel. Even though both of them were clearly trying their best not to exclude her, she couldn’t help but feel miserable.

And that wasn’t even getting into the way her heart would thump painfully whenever she caught Ronnie looking at Harry.

It was ridiculous. Hermione couldn’t be jealous! What was there to be jealous of? Harry was like a brother to her, so it clearly wasn’t that.

No, it was something else.

It was Ronnie.

Hermione was in love with Ronnie.

She tried to not think about this. Which normally would have been difficult. But luckily, they were both helping Harry about the second task, which took up a lot of time and mental headspace. And their coursework was so time-consuming that Hermione barely had time to think about her feelings for Ronnie.

Could girls even fall for each other? Hermione had read about that sort of thing happening, but she never would have imagined that it would happen to her.

The day before the second task, she (along with Ronnie) were helping Harry with his preparations for the second Triwizard task, when the Weasley twins arrived.

‘Ronnie, you and Hermione have got a message from Professor McGonagall.’

‘What?’ Hermione asked, confused. ‘She can’t seriously ban us from helping Harry, can she?’

‘No, she just wants you and Ronnie to go to Dumbledore’s office.’

Hermione exchanged confused glances with Ronnie.

When they arrived at Dumbledore’s office, they were not the only confused people there. Cho Chang was also there, plus a young girl speaking in fluent French who was presumably Fleur Delacour’s little sister.

Dumbledore explained about what the second Triwizard task was, and how it would include all of them. Each of the champions would have a hostage, who would be in an enchanted sleep at the bottom of the great lake. The hostages would be perfectly safe underwater, and would return to normal once they were brought back to the surface of the lake.

‘Professor,’ Hermione asked, raising her hand. ‘I don’t understand; why has Harry got both me and Ronnie as his hostages? And where is the hostage for Viktor Krum?’

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

‘Miss Granger, you are Mister Krum’s hostage, not Mr Potter’s.’

Hermione’s eyes widened in confusion. Viktor Krum? She was his “the person he would miss most”? Why? She’d been to the ball with him, but that was it. She hadn’t really spoken to him much since, aside from apologising for leaving the Yule Ball early. Why was she his hostage? Surely, he had friends from Durmstrang that would be a better pick?

Hang, on. Ronnie was Harry’s hostage. The person Harry would miss most.

So, that meant Ronnie was…

Hermione felt her heart sink. She couldn’t even look Ronnie in the eye, but she felt the redhead tense next to her.

Maybe Harry and Ronnie will become a full couple after he rescues her in the task, Hermione thought, miserably, as she slipped into unconsciousness from the sleeping spell Dumbledore had casted, I guess there never was any hope for me…

The next thing Hermione knew, she was treading water in the middle of the great lake. Viktor Krum was pulling her towards the shoreline. Her uniform felt heavy and sodden.

‘Where’s… where’s Harry and Ronnie?’ she asked, as Madam Pomfrey bustled them over to a tent nearby. ‘Haven’t… haven’t they come back yet?’

Madam Pomfrey patted her hand in sympathy, and tutted under her breath, as if she’d quite like a word with the person who came up with the idea for the second task.

A portion of pepper-up potion later, plus some warming spells, and Hermione was stood on the shoreline with Cho Chang and a very worried-looking Fleur Delacour. The French girl’s hostage was still down in the lake. Cho had put an arm around her.

‘They’ll be fine,’ the Ravenclaw was saying. ‘The judges won’t let any harm come to- oh, hello, Hermione.’

‘Hello. Have… have Harry and Ronnie got back yet?’

Cho shook her head.

There was a shout from the crowd, and Hermione looked round. Three people had just surfaced in the middle of the lake. Hermione could see a mane of very familiar red hair. Dashing past Viktor Krum (who seemed intent on chatting to her about something), Hermione wade into the shallows of the water. Fleur Delacour and Percy Weasley joined her.

‘I’m fine, Harry,’ Ronnie was saying, as Harry helped her towards the shore. The two of them were stood awkwardly in the shallows. Percy had stopped fussing over Ronnie, and had gone to find them some warm blankets, followed by the Delacour sisters.

Harry leaned forward and kissed Ronnie on the lips.

Hermione felt her heart sink and, turning away, she walked out of the lake, ignoring Viktor Krum’s renewed attempts at conversation, and left for the castle. People looked at her in confusion as she pushed past. She was glad that she had been given the pepper-up potion, as the February wind whipped through her.

Before she knew it, she was lying in her four-poster bed, crying her eyes out. She had somehow managed to close the curtains around her before she broke down completely. When was she ever going to get over this? She had no “claim” on Ronnie; after all, Ronnie liked boys, Ronnie liked Harry. And, next to Harry, why would Ronnie possibly look at Hermione? A bookworm. A girl. Just the best friend.

‘H-Hermione?’

Ronnie. Oh, god, Hermione thought, she can’t see me like this…

‘G-go away, Ronnie.’

‘What, and leave you miserable? Not on your life.’

‘I’m-I’m fine, Ronnie. J-just a bit exhausted from the task.’

‘Did… did Krum do something to you?’

‘No!’ Hermione exclaimed, pulling back the curtains of her four-poster. ‘Of course not! He’s barely even held my hand! What… how could you…’

‘W-well,’ Ronnie said, her ears turning pink. ‘You were “the person he would miss the most”, after all.’

Hermione stared at her for a second.

‘I don’t see Viktor Krum like that,’ she said, earnestly. ‘He’s… well… like a chaperone.’

‘He fancies you.’

‘You mean like Harry fancies you?’

Ronnie looked as if Hermione had slapped her.

‘You… you saw him kissing me, then?’

Hermione nodded.

‘Is that why you’re crying?’

Hermione mentally cursed. Her cheeks were still wet with tears.

‘I’m… I’m very happy for you both.’

‘Don’t insult my intelligence, Hermione,’ Ronnie said, hotly. ‘You’re clearly upset about it. What, you fancy Harry or something?’

‘What? No!’ Hermione said. ‘Harry’s like a brother to me! Why would you-’

‘Well, what’s your problem, then?!’ Ronnie exclaimed, coming to stand barely a few inches away from her.

‘Don’t be… it’s… well…I-’

‘Hermione, what is it?’

‘It’s not Harry that I fancy, Ronnie; it’s you!’

There was a deafening silence.

‘I… I shouldn’t have said that,’ Hermione mumbled. ‘Sorry, forget I-’

‘No, what do you mean?’ Ronnie asked. ‘Do… do you mean that?’

‘Y-yes,’ Hermione whispered. ‘I’m sorry. I know you don’t see me like that. I’ve ruined our friendship-’

Hermione stopped talking. Because Ronnie had suddenly leaned forward and was kissing her on the mouth. Hermione’s brain seemed to disengage. Ronnie’s lips were soft and delicate as they pressed against Hermione’s. The redhead’s body heat felt like a warm fire against her, despite how little they were touching.

A few seconds later, although it could have lasted for hours for all that Hermione knew, Ronnie pulled away slightly.

‘Do… do you really mean that?’ Ronnie whispered, her hands tender as they interlaced with Hermione’s. ‘You… you really fancy me?’

Hermione nodded, feeling very confused.

‘Yes. Ever since… actually, I don’t know when. But… why…’

‘I… I fancy you, Hermione,’ Ronnie said, softly. ‘I… I thought you didn’t feel the same way.’

‘You fancy me?’

‘Er, did I not just kiss you? Would have thought it’d be a giveaway…’

Hermione giggled.

‘Okay, I believe you. But how-’

The door opened. Harry poked his head through.

‘Everything okay?’

‘Yeah,’ Ronnie said, cheerfully as she held Hermione’s hand. ‘She’s okay. And so am I.’

‘Cool. And… did you both…’

Ronnie nodded.

‘Fantastic!’ Harry said, grinning. ‘I’m so happy for you two!’

‘W-wait, what?’ Hermione exclaimed, utterly at sea. ‘Harry, did… did you know?’

‘I guessed. Besides, me and Ronnie work better as friends anyway.’

‘You… you two aren’t a couple?’ Hermione gasped, looking between them both. ‘I thought… after you kissed at the lake-’

‘You are one daft maid,’ Ronnie chuckled, pecking her on the cheek. ‘But that makes two of us, eh?’

Hermione smiled, as she held Ronnie’s hand. Maybe, on occasion, the best friend did get the girl. Even if they were also a girl, too.

 ~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you enjoyed it!

#romione #ronmione #wlw!romione #femme!ron weasley #veRONica weasley #harry potter fanfiction #romione fanfiction #romione fanfic #tw: food mention #alternative universe #harry potter au #romione au #au #ron x hermione #hermione x ron #ron/hermione #hermione/ron #what if harry and ron went to the yule ball together?

[katelyn--renee]

Jealous Heart

Title: Jealous Heart

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Characters: Alex Karev, Reader, Meredith Grey, Christina Yang, Izzy Stevens, George O’Malley, Malcolm Ramsay (OC)

Pairing: Alex x Reader

Words:  ± 1600

Description: Alex’s jealousy leads to something interesting.

Created for @anyfandomgoesbingo​ Square Filled: Jealousy

Rating: Rated M for Mature.

Warnings: Nothing really; maybe a bit of fluff. A bit of bullying/teasing.  Author’s Note: There is no beta and this is my first Grey’s Anatomy fic. I hope you enjoy! Please comment your thoughts and share the love! Your feedback gives me life! :)

A shout out to @writeyourmindaway​ for the amazing dividers! Thank you!

Interested in more of my work, check out the link below.

Masterlist

“Careful, Evil Spawn, your jealousy is showing. People might actually think you’re human.” Christina Yang taunted, teasing her colleague and tossing a piece of popcorn toward him. It hit Alex in the arm and dropped to the floor beside the wheelchair he occupied. He glared at the assaulting food as the other interns snickered and smirked, their laughter filling the empty hallway. 

Karev scoffed and rolled his eyes at them, sneering at Yang. “Yeah. Whatever.” He grumbled, gripping the handles of the wheel chair a little tighter, and swiftly turning away from the other interns. He heard them muttering and giggling behind his back, and so he turned back, face red with annoyance. “I just - I don’t get it, what does that guy have, that I don’t?” He argued, gesturing wildly behind him toward the entrance of their hideaway. “The dude is a tool!” 

The four other interns exchanged thoughtful looks, very much enjoying their antics. “Good hair,” Izzy chimed in first with a shrug, stating the fact as if it should have been obvious. She smacked George in the arm, who nodded in agreement, “Great hair, actually. Like, it’s always just so perfectly, well-groomed…” Izzy made a few hand motions for added effect, touching her own head of blonde hair. She made a few more side comments about his rugged good looks and broad shoulders.

“Talented hands.” Meredith added to the list, but then quickly corrected herself before anyone got the wrong idea. “He’s a world-class surgeon.” She shrugged, glancing at Alex who shook his head, feeling betrayed. He scoffed again.

“A heart.” Christina stated bluntly, stealing a laugh from Meredith who shook her head and instantly tried to hide her smile for Alex’s sake. “A soul. Decent human emotions.” She continued, the laughter bubbling up again around them.

Alex had heard enough and he stood up, “Screw you guys.” He grumbled, storming off in the opposite direction. This only made Christina laugh even more, mocking him with a pouty lip and fake teary eyes.

“I’m sure he doesn’t give people syphilis either!” George called out after Alex, who replied with a few choice words of his own, flashing him the finger over his shoulder.

He couldn’t believe them. They were supposed to be his friends! They were supposed to be on his side and agree with him, not make him feel worse about the whole situation. But maybe they were right? What chance did a guy like him have against a guy like that? 

As if the universe were mocking him, a portrait of Dr. Perfect stared down at him at the end of the hall. He sneered at it before turning down the next hall, heading for the lobby at the front of the hospital.

He paused at the main nurses station, collecting a patient’s chart in an attempt to distract himself with work. He looked over the information and tried to make sense of the numbers in front of him. But, no matter how hard he tried to focus, it did little to ease his racing mind and jealous heart.

With a huff of annoyance, he closed the chart and put it back into the slot, clenching his jaw. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to force away his frustrations. He scratched at the stubble accompanying his jawline. What the hell was he doing? He shook his head, annoyed and angry with himself. 

A familiar, adorable giggle reached his ears and seized his heart; it was a sound he’d recognize anywhere. He followed the beautiful sound and glanced in the direction of the grand staircase, spotting (Y/N) standing near the bottom of the steps with none other than the tool himself, Dr. Malcolm Ramsay; Dr. Perfect. 

Alex watched their exchange from afar and his lip curled with anger as the jealousy bubbled up inside of his chest, making his blood boil. It coiled and twisted inside of his stomach, making him feel sick. She looked so excited and bubbly and happy and it pissed him off knowing that it wasn’t him who made her feel that way. How could he?

He watched with disdain as the man touched her arm, affectionately squeezing it. She giggled and scrunched her nose up, making it crinkle cutely. Alex clenched his hands into fists at his sides, his jaw set. He had to look away, his stomach - and heart - couldn’t bear to watch anymore. 

Leaving the nurses station, he rounded the next corner and paused, making a decision. He couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to know; for his own sanity, he needed to know why she felt the way that she did and why it had to be him.

He waited impatiently for her, pacing the small section of hallway and earning himself a few odd looks from nurses and passing doctors. He would turn expectantly at every passing set of footsteps, only being met with disappointment. One particular set of footsteps caught his ear and when he turned to confront them, he was met with the (Y/E/C) that he adored so much.

Grabbing her by the arm gently, yet firmly, he tugged her into a nearby supply closet and shut the door with a loud bang. “Alex, what the hell?” (Y/N) gasped with a confused expression on her face. She rose a curious brow at the other intern, his back still to her. “Alex, what’s going on?” She asked again, hesitant to know the answer. Something was wrong.

“(Y/N) we need to talk.” Alex finally spoke, his voice agitated and a bit shaky. He turned to face her then, his expression hard and serious. He had his hands on his hips and his breathing was erratic, his chest rising and falling quickly, but he said nothing else.

(Y/N) made an impatient face as the silence built between them and she folded her arms under her breasts, sighing “Okay?” She questioned, dragging out the word with annoyance, “Alex, you’re being weird. What the hell is going on?” She asked with a huff, her lips pressed into a solid line. “Look, Alex, I’ve got work to do. Bailey is going to kill me if I don’t get these charts finished. Spit it out.” 

His stomach was in knots, doing cartwheels in his abdomen. His tongue felt like concrete in his mouth, too heavy to move. Fuck. Man up! Talk to her! “Why do you like him?” Alex blurted out suddenly, his brow pinched together and his eyes stern.

(Y/N) frowned heavily at him, “Excuse me?” She asked, confused and slightly offended by his assumption. “Like who, Alex? You’re not making any sense.” She rolled her eyes at the man.

“Don’t act like you don’t know. I saw how cozy you just were with him, giggling and doing that nose scrunch thing you do.” He stated, gesturing to her nose and face, clearly upset. 

“What?” (Y/N) scoffed at him and shook her head, her (Y/H/C) swaying with the motion. “You’re being ridiculous.” She muttered and moved to step past him, but he stepped in her path. “Alex.” She huffed, annoyed by his antics. 

“Answer the question; why do you like that tool? I need to know.” Alex insisted, his eyes searching hers for an answer. 

“Alex, move.” (Y/N) tried again, but Alex kept his stance firm and planted his feet. It became very apparent to her Alex wasn’t about to let this go any time soon. She looked away from him, her tongue making an annoyed clicking sound in her mouth before she huffed, giving in. “He’s not the one I like, Alex.” She admitted, forcing herself to look into his eyes.

Alex frowned at that, his confusion only growing stronger. “W-what, who then?” He asked, his tone not as harsh as before. He crossed his arms, trying to rack his brain and figure out who this mystery guy is. His face was scrunched and pinched between his brows, straining.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, her expression softening a fraction. She studied his face, her eyes wandering over his handsome features and eyes full of so much emotion. “Do you really not know, dummy?” She stated, the softness of her voice catching his attention. There was another drawn out pause. “Do I have to spell it out for you?” She smiled a little at him, raising her brows in an attempt to silently fill in the blanks for him.

Everything began to click into place and his face began to relax at the realization. Alex swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat with her confession, his eyes falling to her lips briefly before meeting her eyes. A hint of a smile hitched up the corner of his mouth before he closed the distance between them, his hands cupping her face. Their lips met, hard and desperate to taste each other. They’d been dreaming of this day, the pair of them dancing around their feelings for months and now… now it was actually happening.

Alex’s heart was racing inside of his chest, pounding so hard he thought it would burst from his chest and flop onto the floor. He had to break away, but didn’t go far, their foreheads still pressed together. He smiled and laughed softly, sounding a bit breathless. Her hands were on his chest and he wondered if she could feel his heart pounding there. He rubbed her cheeks with his thumbs, his fingers cradling the back of his neck. 

“Does that answer your question, dummy?” She muttered and laughed softly, her lips connecting with his again in an affectionate peck. After a moment, she laughed again, “Wait, were you really jealous of Dr. Ramsey?” She questioned, teasing him with a raised brow. 

Alex rolled his eyes playfully, “Shut up.” He replied, silencing her giggles with another kiss.

Thanks for reading!! 

#grey's anatomy #anyfandomgoes #anyfandomgoes2020 #jealous #jealousy #alex karev #alex x reader #interns #grey's anatomy fic #grey's anatomy fanfic #grey's #fanfiction #fanfic

[fallin-4-ya]

The Follies and Vices of You

cedric diggory x reader- part iv of series 

based off the novel and film ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen

summary: Being the beloved sister of the incredibly wealthy Mr. Potter, you felt no need to rush into marriage. But one day, when you come to meet a new acquaintance, the proud Mr. Diggory, your views of love and follies change.

warnings: a bit of angst & tension! (gif is not mine, credit to owner!)

part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v

‘Maybe it’s that I find it hard to forgive the follies and vices of others, or their offenses against me. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.’ -Jane Austen 

The month of January passed dreadfully slow, as you waited for something interesting to happen. As the snow fell softly onto the ground, thoughts wondered through your head rapidly, most of them involving Mr. Diggory. In fact, he occupied your mind most days. How dreadfully awkward that poor man is, you pondered, and yet how confident. His character never made sense to you, as awfully as he appeared on the outside, you could tell there was much beneath his many layers. But your thoughts were soon interrupted by a knock on the door, it was the post.

‘From Miss Ginerva, Miss Y/N.’ You smiled and nodded thankfully. Excited, you ripped the letter open and the inside read,

My Dearest Miss Y/N, I hope my letter find you very well. How dreadful these past few days have been, for all of this snow has made me think of nothing besides summer time. I was invited to stay at my brother Bill’s until the end February; Miss Hermione Granger will be attending alongside me, to encourage sisterly bonding. I am sorry to hear that Mr. Malfoy has resided back to his home up north, but I do hope that he continues to write you such pretty verses. I shall be home before the flowers bloom. Be well.

Much love, Ginerva

You sighed thinking of how even more boring the next few months would be without the company of a most dear friend. 

Now that Mr. Malfoy was sent back home, the house was quieter than ever. Between Harry managing the estate, Sirius writing business proposals and Mr. Lupin locked up in the library; you felt most unentertained and gittery. Letters began being sent to you the day after he left, expressing a fondness for you, which kept your boredom to a minimum. You thought long about the letters exchanged between you and Mr. Malfoy; Ginny was certainly right in saying the verses were beautiful. She also urged you that there would soon be a proposal on the line if he kept with the letters, though you secretly hoped it wouldn't be anytime soon.

The next evening, to much of your excitement, you were joined by Mr. Fred and George Weasley for dinner, who were in the company of nobody other than Mr. Diggory. Reaching a hand out for each of the Weasley men, they took it graciously planting a kiss upon it. Extending out to Mr. Diggory as well, he ignored your gesture and simply bowed in your direction. After the questionable gesture from the latter of the men, you lead them to the dining room, where the rest of your family awaited.

The evening was going splendidly, much laughter and wide smiles reigned. That was, until a letter arrived addressed to you from Mr. Malfoy. You excused yourself from the table, to retire to the parlor to read it.

Blushing profusely and smiling at the beautiful verses addressed to you, unaware of the floorboards that creaked viciously behind; you sat on the armchair nearest the window of the parlor. You heard a throat clear at the doorway and shot your head up.

 ‘Mr. Diggory! I am so sorry, I mustn’t have heard of your following.’ Humming to yourself, you gazed out the window, ‘I do love this time of the year, Mr. Diggory. The snow is nothing short of lovely.’

‘Yes, Miss Potter, I do agree that the snow is very beautiful but I must interject and beckon you about some-‘

‘He’s thought to propose, you know. Mr. Malfoy that is. Quite strange, isn’t it; how young girls go to young women with only a proposal.’ You unknowingly interrupted in your dream state.

‘Miss Potter, I truly cannot help but to interject; however, there is a matter of urgency I’d like to discuss.’ Mr. Diggory huffed. Being pulled out of your trance, patience grew thin, you turned your head and snapped, ‘What is it, Mr. Diggory, that you feel so inclined to interrupt me for?’

‘Its addressing Mr. Malfoy. You see I am afraid I must interject on a most sensitive discussion topic.’

‘If you have anything negative to say about Mr. Malfoy, I must urge you that I'm the last person who would be inclined to hear it! And if you have some here to ruin my evening, I am afraid I won’t allow it.’ 

With that you grabbed your coat and trekked out into the falling snow. Footsteps not far behind you, you sped up; unwilling, or rather unwanting of hearing what anybody had to say. The crunching of snow only following you farther, as you followed the angelic pathway to the stone pavilion in the graden. You threw your back against the wall, sighing out deeply. Without a moment of peace Mr. Diggory entered your presence.

‘You cannot marry him’

You were taken aback by his sudden bluntness. Exasperated by his cultivated occurrence of strange actions you cocked your head at him.

‘May I ask you why, Mr. Diggory?’

‘The Malfoy family is least cordial, completely unattached and deranged from society. They are completely unsuitable for a family such as yours.’

‘A family such as mine?! Have you come here to separate an engagement or to insult my family, Mr. Diggory? Or rather, does your sudden interest in my affairs have anything to do with your dislike towards Mr. Malfoy; because believe me, Mr. Diggory, I know well of your disputes with the poor gentleman and will not stop an engagement from happening due to your pride and arrogance.’

‘No, Miss Potter! You know perfectly well that I find your family most respectable. I just find their family uncommony stiff for your reckless behavior.’

‘Reckless behavior! How dare you insult not only my upkeeping but a personality of another. Have you forgotten the follies and vices of you, Mr. Diggory? For who are you to judge another?’

‘Miss Y/N, has it ever occurred to you that you may be too harsh on me or perhaps my light on you may have been caused by the misjudgment of one’s character? I beg of you to enlighten me on why you find me the most disagreeable man.’

‘Well then, I beg you, Mr. Diggory, why you wish to separate a young couple who have grown quite fond of each other?’

‘Because I love you.’

There was a lull and Mr. Diggory halted. ‘I love you most ardently and I could not have you go another day more without you knowing of the likeness I have for you.’

You stood in silence, snow falling ever so godly on you both, speechless. Words clouded your mind, and you wanted to scream, and cry, and love, and erupt all at the same time. But rather than doing any of them, you looked back on him with a haze in your eyes.

‘I would not marry you if you were the last man in the world.’ You said walking away, allowing a tear slip silently from your face.

The next day there was a knock on your bedroom door early in the morning. Mr. Diggory walked in humbled and shy, ‘Miss Y/N, I’ve come to leave this for you. I hope you do me the honor to read it. Thank you much for your time.’

You had not even reached his gaze, for he spoke for too quickly and you were far too angry. Staring at the enveloped with a tear stained face for nearly an hour, you decided to open it.

Dear Miss Potter,

I hope my letter finds you in good health. I do not wish to impose on you again what I have said last night; for I am writing to you today not to remind you of said words, but rather converse upon the accusations you have brought upon me. I urge you that everything in this letter is the truth and have many to testify upon it.

Mr. Draco Malfoy and I had been connected since infancy, for his father, Lucius, and mine worked exceptionally close together. However, as Mr. Malfoy grew he became reckless; he gambled a large portion of his father’s money away and took no responsibilities seriously. Soon thereafter, his father wrote him out of his will, leaving nothing to his son. Mr. Malfoy became desperate for an inheritance; my father later offered him a job which he begrudgingly took. However, not more than seven months of work, he confessed a most passionate love to my sister. It did not take long for us to realize that he was only after her fortune for she was to inherit seven thousand pound a year. She was thirteen at the time and utterly heartbroken.

When my sister had gotten sick mere months later, my mother and I moved to London alongside her to get the best medical help. Unable to access our money without my father present, Mr. Lucius graciously lent us the sum of the bills. Unfortunately, my sister passed with just two months of treatment; she was truly a remarkable young woman. After the mourning, we paid what was due back to the Malfoy family; but for Mr. Draco Malfoy it was not enough. He hounded me for more money; knowing his dispositions I had given him the sum of his ask in hopes that he would become something of himself. He gambled the money away in two weeks. After that, I refused to give him anymore money, cutting him off for good.

Miss Y/N, I am terribly sorry to force the burden of the truth onto you, but I just felt that you ought to know. Please do keep the affairs containing my sister private, as I believe it be a disgrace to her memory to attach her name to one like his. Thank you for the time we have shared.

Yours, Mr. Cedric Diggory

(author’s note: oh my goodness! end of part 4!!! ending on a bit of a cliff hanger... i can't wait for you all to read the final chapter, which will be out soon! as always, let me know if you’d like to be part of this tag list! thank you as always for reading!)

tag list: @freddieweasleyswife @truly-insatiable @annasdani @mullthingsoverinthehotwater

#Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter headcanon #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x you #ginny weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #Draco Malfoy #Ron Weasley #hermione granger #pride and predujice #jane austen #draco malfoy x reader #sirius black #remus lupin

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Traveling in time with Marty McFly would include~

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(I wrote this as a slight friends to lovers type of scenario so I hope thats okay! Also, this is based on just the first movie so if you’d like certain time periods or something then feel free to request.)

- You’d been working for Doc alongside Marty for a while so of course you’d be invited to help with the DeLoreans send off.  Doc was excited, the tapes were rolling; Everything was going great...until it wasn’t. 

- The Libyans arrived and ruined everything, forcing you to join Marty inside the DeLorean in an attempt to save your skin. Soon enough the two of you were going through a terrible blast to the past, still mourning your lost friend and scared half to death. 

- Fast Forward a little, or rather rewind a lot, and the two of you are sat panicking worse than ever in the front seat of a stylish time machine. You get out of the car as quickly as he does, gazing at the long empty road and the sign that proves you aren’t where you’re supposed to be. 

“Hey Marty?”

“Yeah....”

“Do me a favor and pinch me...hard.”

- And so he does, asking that you return the favor once you yelp in pain. The two of you shut your eyes tight, praying that once you open them again you’ll be back home in bed but alas, no luck. 

“I don’t think we’re dreaming.” You say, grabbing onto his arm and feeling more helpless than you’ve ever felt before. 

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” He responds, his eyes returning to the Lyon Estates sign once more. 

- With nothing else to do, you help him stash the DeLorean and start your long journey to town. 

- Once you get there, you’re torn between being amazed and horrified. I mean, you’re in the 1950′s! ...But you’re also stuck in the 1950′s. 

- You’re sure you look downright insane to the locals, stumbling around like you’re experiencing everything for the first time, but you frankly don’t care. You’re just wondering what you’ll have to do to return home, or if you’ll ever get to return home for that matter. 

- The two of you walk into the diner and take your seats at the luncheonette. You end up interrupting and ordering for the two of you yourself, deciding to be merciful to your frazzled friend and not wanting to suffer from anymore secondhand embarrassment. 

“What my friend here meant to say was that we’d like two coffee’s, Decaf.”

- Marty rubs a hand down his face and leans his forehead against your shoulder, groaning quietly in “silent” gratitude. You get your coffees, taking a sip just as the door of the diner swings open to reveal the one and only Biff. 

- You soon find out that the young man beside you is Marty’s father to which you can only respond with a whispered “Holy Crap McFly, your dads hot.”. Marty still isn’t sure how to feel about it though at the time he just gave you a disturbed look. 

- Now it’s at this time that I should mention: Marty has had a pretty big crush on you for a while now. The main reason he hadn’t asked you out yet was because he really didn’t want to lose you as a friend or have to face you every time he visited Doc; in case you did wind up rejecting him. 

- The reason I’m telling you this is because after Biff and his friends make fun of Marty’s “life preserver”, he notices the babe sitting beside him. Now Biff wouldn't be Biff if he didn’t try to flirt with a dorks girl so he gives you a line and Marty uses everything within him not to launch himself at the bully.  

- He has a silent victory when you just scoff at the boy and turn back to your coffee. Biff gives one of those tough guy, undeterred responses and finishes his threat to George before walking out with his buddies. 

- You turn back to Marty, watching awkwardly as he uncomfortably stares down his father. After a minute, you lightly hit his arm and give him a look, trying to make him stop. The two of you have a silent argument, giving each other different facial expressions and mouthing words. You’re both interrupted by Goldie's speech.

- You’re the one to first notice George’s absence, prompting you to pull Marty out of his seat and push him out the doors of the diner. 

“You know y/n, you’re really taking this whole time travel thing way too well!”

“That’s because I’ve got you Marty.” He melts. 

- You’re sort of just forced to watch from afar as the whole car accident scene unfolds. You spend the rest of the day awkwardly waiting outside the families house with nowhere else to go. 

- You have to jog to keep up with him after he runs out of the house. He explains everything to you at a mile a minute, grabbing you by the arm and telling you that it’s really time to find Doc. 

~One extremely long conversation about how you’re from the future, the mechanics of time travel, and other interesting tidbits later~

- Marty and you get dressed up in 50′s wear, which he finds particularly adorable on you, and head over to the school. You quickly come across his father and without even thinking, you storm up to him, ripping the sign off his back and standing up to the jerks who were tormenting him.

- In theory, your actions are harmless but they proved to have a much bigger effect than you intended. George thanks you, commenting shyly how nobodies ever stood up for him before to which you respond that nobody deserves to be treated that way. 

“You’re beautiful.... I-I mean, you’re heart is! Not that you aren’t! You’re very attractive, it’s just... What I mean to say is that you’re very nice.” Shit. 

- It became increasingly obvious that George was now infatuated with you. You’d just royally screwed up, and all because you wanted to be a decent person. 

- As Marty whisked George away, neither of you could ignore the fact that the boy was trying to look back at you as he was being pulled. 

- When Marty attempted to introduce his parents to each other he found that it was completely in vain. His mother hardly even noticed his father and his father didn’t even seem to mind all that much. Why? Because he was too busy sneaking glances at you. 

“Oh dear. We certainly have a predicament on our hands.” Doc muttered once you all joined back with each other. 

“Great job y/n. You made my dad fall in love with you in what? Two minutes?” Marty quipped sarcastically. Not that he could really blame his father, he was sure he would have fallen for you even quicker. Well now you had to think of a plan, and fast. 

- Lunchtime came and you were sure you had the perfect excuse to let the boy down easy, getting him and Lorraine together in the process. You and Marty made your way to the boys table, sitting down and greeting the nervous boy who looked ecstatic to see you. 

- George greeted you back, saying how he was hoping he’d see you again and how he wanted to thank you by taking you out for a milkshake or something. This was your chance. You opened your mouth and...

“Actually George, you see, we’re kind of dating. You know, going steady.” Your mouth snapped shut, eyes widening as you turned to look at Marty. 

“Oh....” George replied somewhat dejected. 

- You quickly jumped in, saying how you knew he had a thing for Lorraine and how you wanted to help them get together. He tried to deny it before he shyly asked you what you had in mind. 

- You try to give him some dating advice but he quickly decides that it would never work. After all, how’s he supposed to win over Lorraine’s affection when she’s obsessed with “Calvin”. 

- You help Marty dress up as “Darth Vader” all the while seriously questioning his sanity and how he thinks it’s a good idea. 

- He gives you this smug, prideful look when George approaches you the next day, rambling about how an alien told him he has to ask Lorraine out. You just smack him on the arm and start to try and coach his father. 

- Marty somewhat argues with you on what his father should do, giving George the typical male dating advice while you give him the more sensible “what females actually want” advice. 

- You sit back with him while George goes to talk with Lorraine, giving him puppy dog eyes while asking to get a good old fashioned malt.

“You know it’s seriously unfair when you do that to me.” He says, digging into his pockets. The kiss on the cheek you give him is worth the trouble. 

- Sitting back and watching things go South after he messes with Biff. You realize that things are only going to get worse between him, his mother and his father if you don’t do something so once he’s finished with his getaway, you run over and lay one on him. 

- You’re hoping that once Lorraine sees him with “his girlfriend” she’ll realize he’s off limits and be more open to getting with George. It does seem to somewhat work but it certainly makes things between you and your friend a bit awkward. 

- You can’t help but think about how you actually enjoyed that kiss and how he seemed to just as much. You pull away from him awkwardly, whispering an apology to him while he shyly reassures you that it’s fine. 

- The dance is your last chance to get Marty’s parents back together so you really have to be at the top of your game. Lorraine obviously doesn’t have a date so Marty uses his influence with her to persuade her to double date with him, you and George.

- The plan will go as planned, Marty will convince her to come out to the car with him, “force himself on her” and George will come to her rescue. Except before Marty can even think about going through with the plan, Biff comes in and Marty gets locked in the trunk. 

- Long story short, George punches Biff, woos Lorraine and Marty performs on stage before saying goodbye to his parents. You and Marty have a tough final goodbye with Doc and successfully make it into the future, or rather, where you’re from. Doc gets shot, again, but this time he’s equipped with a bulletproof vest and survives, much to your (ecstatic) surprise. 

- He drops you and Marty off at the boys house, saying goodbye before departing into the future. Marty, whose arm had been around your shoulder as you watched, turned you around and confessed that he’s liked you for a very long time. You admit that you like him too and the two of you lean in for your first kiss as an actual item. 

- You walk home that night happier than ever and in the morning you meet up with him so that the two of you can have a well deserved relaxing day together. Well, that was what you were planning on doing before Doc showed up to whisk you away for another time travel adventure.

- You and Marty share a look before getting into the DeLorean, eager yet scared to see what’s in store for you. 

#back to the future headcanons #back to the future imagine #back to the future headcanon #80s movie imagine #80s movie imagines #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon #marty mcfly imagine #marty mcfly headcanons #marty mcfly headcanon

[horde-princess]

Death With Dignity

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Catra reflects on her redemption and the sacrifices of angella and shadow weaver (and kisses her girlfriend 😌😌). Inspired in a major way by @catradora‘s beautiful illustration of catra gazing up at a mural of angella 💘

--

1. monarch

Bells echoed quietly through the halls of the Bright Moon palace. It was four in the morning and Adora’s arm was draped protectively over Catra, her chest rising and falling against her back, heartbeat slow. If they were back in the Horde, the rhythm of it would’ve been fluttery and anxious. But in recent weeks an era of peace had settled over Etheria, and maybe especially over its destined hero. Her calling fulfilled, her new life beginning… Sometimes Catra let herself dream of it, too. Finding peace.

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She quietly slipped out of Adora’s arms, careful not to wake her. She’d had a lot of practice the past couple of weeks, which should probably worry her, but if there was something bothering Catra she couldn’t bring herself to admit it... too afraid of watching Adora’s love shatter in her hands like a fragile glass illusion that was never really hers.

Adora stirred in her sleep and her fist hit Catra’s pillow before she relaxed again. Catra flinched. It was hard to look away from her, a living mosaic of everything she found terrifying and breathtaking. The way the moonlight kissed her skin, the curve of her shoulder. When tears blurred her vision enough that she could barely make out the form of her anymore, Catra turned to leave. 

Walking the halls at night, she found an intimacy with Bright Moon that evaded her during the day. The bright colors were dimmed in shadow, there were no curious faces--or suspicious ones. Just the same few guards who had gotten used to her nighttime wanderings. While the palace was full of beautiful paintings and murals like nothing Catra had ever seen, there was one in particular that she kept coming back to every night. She stood before it and gazed up in child-like wonder.

Queen Angella… The former ruler of Bright Moon--or, as Catra knew her, the Horde’s number one enemy--loomed above, a masterful work of art set with colorful stones, gems, painted glass. Occasionally, light from the torches would refract through it a certain way and almost make her seem to come alive. Wings glittered as though moving in a breeze, giving her a divine essence. The larger than life depiction did little to discourage the way Catra had mythologized her in her mind. 

A mother, a warrior, an immortal queen… and the reason Catra found herself gazing into soft blue eyes every morning. 

“Beautiful, isn’t she?”

A voice from down the hall tore Catra from her thoughts and set her heart racing. She automatically assumed a soldier’s stance, the way she was taught to show respect in the Horde.

“King Micah?--” Her breath caught in her throat. 

It had been two weeks since Micah had learned the truth about Angella’s sacrifice. She hadn’t dared ask for forgiveness. Not even as the days passed and Catra wasn’t able to eat, or sleep, or be of much use to anyone, really. Glimmer kept saying he just needed time. 

Micah approached slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on the mural. He was dressed all in white, the traditional Etherian color for mourning, which drew attention to his sunken cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes. He came to stand beside Catra, who watched him warily before also returning her gaze to Angella. She could hear her own pulse in her ears.

“Just Micah, now,” he corrected after a moment. “My days of ruling have long ended.”

His voice was gravelly, tired. Catra guessed he wasn’t sleeping much either.

“Y-yes, sir.”

They settled into an uncomfortable silence as the queen looked down upon them, in all her dignity.

“I’ll admit…” Micah cleared his throat. “When Glimmer told me what happened, I… Well, I’m sorry. For the way that I reacted.”

A wave of nausea swept over Catra. She clenched her fists, feeling mortified.

“No. I deserved it.”

She could feel Micah’s eyes on her but kept looking straight ahead.

“Did you ever meet her?” he asked.

Catra tried to think, sorting through a dusty bookshelf of painful memories.

“I… I saw her once,” she whispered. “During the Battle of Bright Moon, she was… defending the Moonstone. But not really, no.”

Micah nodded thoughtfully, then smiled. 

“And she always said I was the brave one.”

Mesmerized by the artwork, memories continued to pull at Catra… Glimmer breaking down in tears, Adora and Bow’s restrained anger when they asked Catra to leave. The three of them sharing stories about what a loving mother Angella was, what a strong leader. Adora hugging herself as she relayed the details of what exactly happened in the portal that day. How Angella sacrificed herself to save everyone.

How she sacrificed herself to save Adora.

To save her from... Catra. 

From her own monstrous, vile, misplaced wrath.

Catra realized tears were streaming down her face. 

Too overwhelmed with shame to stand any longer under the queen’s scrutiny, she fell to her knees, as if in supplication. She barely registered Micah’s concerned hand on her shoulder. 

“I--I owe her everything,” Catra wept. “I can’t make up for it, I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry…”

Before she knew what was happening Micah had knelt down and wrapped his arms around her and she was falling apart, shaking like a child. She didn’t know how long she cried but at the end of it his white gown was washed completely by her tears.

“You’re forgiven, Catra,” he murmured into her hair, and she could only shake her head, trying to hold back another sob. 

“Why do you even care about me?”

Micah sighed. “The same reason my daughter does: you’re trying to make things right.”

He leaned back to gently rest his hand on Catra’s cheek, encouraging her to meet his eyes. The kindness in them was terrible, burning.

“And wherever she is, I know that Angella forgives you, too.”

Somehow, Catra actually believed him. Not because she could ever be worthy of it, but... because it's who Angella was. 

Micah offered her his hand. She hesitated, then accepted it. He pulled her to her feet and they continued to study the artwork together, side by side. Catra felt like she could stare at it for hours. Truthfully, she had.

“I wish I could’ve known her,” she confessed. “Everyone tells me how kind she was. And giving. Nothing like--”

Catra wasn’t sure where she was going with that train of thought. 

“Like Shadow Weaver?” Micah guessed.

The name was like rusty nails scraping out Catra’s insides. She didn’t say anything more. But Micah placed a hand on Catra’s shoulder and she felt some kind of unspoken understanding pass between them.

“Let’s take the day off tomorrow,” he said suddenly, a mischievous lilt to his voice.

Catra squinted at him, though it was a relief to see his cheerful demeanor returning.

 “What? We have the reparations meeting--”

“I need a break from this political stuff,” Micah complained. "Whaddya say, be my partner in crime? Besides, you’re the only one who can translate for Melog--I’ve been dying to ask how they manipulate light waves with magic to--”

“Okay, okay! Fine,” Catra chuckled. “I guess… It could be nice to take a break from everyone.”

“That’s the spirit!” He mussed up her hair a little. “I’ll make a rebel out of you yet.” 

Oh, man. Between Micah, George, Lance… Dads really were all the same. 

“Now why don’t you get some rest, kiddo.”

He said it so gently, and Catra couldn't believe it. How far down into her darkness the light of one person’s forgiveness could reach. 

“King--I mean, Micah… Thank you. For everything.”

Micah smiled fondly.

“You’re welcome.”

She glanced up at Angella one last time and could’ve sworn she saw a smile reflected in the stones.

Catra started to head back to her room, but something stopped her just after she turned the corner. She peeked around it and watched Micah step up to the mural of his wife. 

He touched his forehead to the wall and let out a long, heavy sigh.

“I miss you, my love.”

--

When Catra returned to Adora’s arms, exhaustion nearly overtook her for the first time in weeks, but she fought it and stayed awake all night just to listen to the sound of her breathing.

2. mother

It was strange, being back in Mystacor. The place held nothing but terrifying memories. 

Catra, she… distracts you. Confuses you. Haven’t you hurt each other enough?

Shadow Weaver is sacrificing you! Why can’t you see that?!

It doesn’t always have to be you!

Catra stood from the table abruptly. The other dinner guests stared at her with alarm and Adora met her eyes from across the hall.

“Are you okay?” she mouthed. 

Catra plastered on a smile to address the room.

“Sorry!--I just... remembered something, you’ll have to excuse me.”

She rushed out of the banquet hall and leaned against the wall outside, heart pounding. She forced herself to take a deep breath in. Then out. In, out. Huh. Maybe Perfuma wasn’t as crazy as she thought. They’d been away from home for a couple weeks, traveling and attending parties and helping rebuild kingdoms. It wasn’t that Catra wasn’t enjoying herself, it’s just that she hadn’t had much time to process… well, everything.

She peered down the long corridor, thinking a walk might help clear her head--and that’s when she saw it.

The statue.

The likeness was so uncanny it sent her into fight or flight mode. But Catra had decided a while ago that she was done running.

Her footsteps echoed in the cavernous silence until she stood directly in front of it. The marble glistened in the warm moonlight streaming in through the windows, and it stood tall among its peers in the Hall of Sorcerers--prideful, stoic, severe, and far too much like the woman Catra had once known. A shiver ran down her spine and she struggled for breath as though the air near the statue was thin, all the oxygen around it sucked out. Lifeless eyes stared forward, her gaze passing indifferently over Catra’s head.

I’m so proud of you, Catra.

Her hands were shaking and she clenched them into fists. Blood trickled from her palms to the floor. She shut her eyes but couldn’t suppress it, the rage, the disgust, it burst out of her from some dark and emaciated fragment of her heart--

“I hate you! I will never forgive you!”

The threat fell on ears of stone. Her body slackened. Lips quivering, tasting metal, her voice shook with anger.

“I don’t care if you helped save her... I will never forgive you.”

It was the one thing Catra held over her, the one birthright she’d ever possessed--to deny her absolution. Even in death. 

Especially in death.

At least you admit she’s evil.

You’re one to talk, aren’t you?

Catra gripped her head in her hands, trying to force the memory out, trying not to scream. But wasn’t there truth in it? Wasn’t she a hypocrite? How could she accept others’ forgiveness yet withhold her own? 

You expect me to believe you had a change of heart in the end?! Catra wanted to scream at her. That you actually cared if we survived? If I survived?

She glared up at the statue’s face, the veil concealing her mouth.

ANSWER ME!

“Catra?” 

All the fire drained out of her when she heard Adora call her name. 

Hurried footsteps, then hands grabbing at her shoulders, her wrists.

“Catra!--What--You’re bleeding--”

Catra collapsed against her, sinking into the warmth of Adora’s embrace. Her chest burned but she had no tears left. Not for her. She could only gasp breathlessly against Adora’s shoulder.

“Shh, I’m here, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

“It’s not fair,” was all she could get out. “It’s not fair!”

--

“You know, it used to be all dirty. Scratched up.”

Catra hummed, more focused on Adora playing with her fingers than on her words. They sat against the wall opposite the statue. Her skin was stained red from the blood on Catra’s hands. 

“I guess Castaspella had it refurbished, after... well.”

“She should’ve thrown it out the window,” Catra said through gritted teeth. “Less effort.”

She could hear the disagreement in Adora’s responding sigh but she didn’t say anything.

“What? You think she deserves to be honored?” she snapped.

“No! Of course not. But... if it wasn’t for her…”

Catra pulled her hand away and rose to her feet. Adora followed after her.

“One good thing doesn’t make up for her ruining our lives!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Adora exclaimed. “I watched her hurt you over and over and couldn’t do anything about it!”

Catra started, her anger dissipating as quickly as it had come. She felt like she was a kid again, back in the Fright Zone, terrified and insecure and every stupid thing that ever happened to her was Adora’s fault, except it wasn’t. Not at all. 

She knew Shadow Weaver had hurt Adora, too. They’d talked about it a lot. Why she was always chasing some destiny and throwing herself into danger with no hesitation. But Catra hadn’t told her everything from her perspective, not yet.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Catra mumbled, feeling contrite for some reason.

Adora’s eyes filled with torment and a darkness Catra hadn’t known she was capable of.

She reached out for her hesitantly and when Adora didn’t back away Catra drew her close and cradled her face with both hands.

“Hey. I love you,” she said softly.

Adora hung her head and squeezed her eyes shut but the tears leaked out anyway.

Running her thumbs along her cheeks to dry them, Catra brushed her mouth tenderly over Adora’s forehead. Steady arms slipped around her waist and held onto her tightly and Adora tilted her face back up, hopeless, longing. Catra felt something almost holy running in her veins as their lips met and Adora’s kiss was warm, slow--too slow, making Catra’s temperature rise, and she didn’t know how long she could hide the truth of how desperate she was for her. But then a gentle glow behind her eyelids turned blinding and suddenly an explosive crack echoed down the hall. 

Catra jumped and opened her eyes to see both of them enveloped in magic.

“...Whoa,” she breathed, slightly lightheaded.

Adora was staring up at the statue in shock and she followed her gaze. As the dust settled, Catra saw the veil hiding its face had been violently ripped off, leaving nothing behind except vacant eyes and splintering cracks in the stone that ran from her hairline to her jaw. 

They stood together in silence, Catra hanging with a hand on Adora’s shoulder.

Light Spinner, whoever she was, had been mangled, torn away… This was the woman who had raised them. The weaver of their shadows. 

Catra coughed a little from the dust and laced her fingers with Adora’s again.

“Not sure Castaspella will like your remodel,” she tried to joke.

“Who cares,” Adora muttered. “Shadow Weaver chose her path. She wanted to be a hero... but she won’t be remembered as one.”

The set of her jaw was rigid, resolute.

“You can’t forgive her either, can you?”

“No. I--I don’t know. One day, maybe.”

One day seemed like a lofty goal to Catra. The unspeakable suffering she’d inflicted on her, on both of them... yet she always had some twisted justification. As if she believed her intentions were good.

I just wanted to prepare you for the world. I wanted you to be strong.

Tears filled Catra’s eyes as she observed the damaged sculpture, but they didn’t fall. 

“Before she died… She said she was proud of me.”

She sensed Adora looking at her, analyzing. Like she was trying to decide how to respond. Catra could guess what was going through her head. I'm proud of you. You should be proud of yourself.

“For what?” she settled on instead.

“Who knows.” Catra thought for a moment. “For not ending up like her, probably.”

Adora brushed her hair back from her forehead. Her hand trailed down her neck and came to rest over her heart.

“You were never like her.”

“Come on, Adora,” Catra nearly begged. “The things I’ve done, I was so angry...”

“Because you were hurting--because you cared, so much, and people just threw it away, I--” she stopped, misery etched on her face. Catra looked down, wincing. “But Shadow Weaver? She was just selfish. How could there have been room in her heart for anyone when she took up so much space herself.”

Catra let out a shaky breath. This day, this whole trip had been so draining. She leaned into Adora for support who wrapped an arm around her.

“If she hadn’t teleported me to the Heart...” her voice fell to a whisper. “I would’ve lost you forever.”

“I know... When I heard you scream, fighting that monster…”

Catra shivered from the memory. 

The sculpture towered over them, unhearing, uncaring. 

“Adora?”

“Hm?”

“Do you... Do you think the only reason she went back to save me was to make sure you set the magic free?”

Adora frowned like she had already thought about it.

“I think… I want to believe… there was some part of her that wanted us both to be happy.”

The image flickered in her mind of Shadow Weaver removing her mask, allowing them a glimpse of her face for the first time since they were kids. Her scars, her sins laid bare for them to see.

It’s too late for me. But you… this is only the beginning for you.

Catra gazed upon the marred face of her abuser, her mentor--her mother, for all  intents and purposes, though she couldn’t bring herself to actually associate her with the word--and something restful settled in her heart. Not peace, not exactly. Just a sense of calm.

Because her and Adora, they were finally free.

She held Adora closer and nuzzled her ear.

“Well, whatever she wanted from us… it doesn’t matter. We get to write our own happy ending now.”

A smile blossomed across Adora’s face. 

“You think you’re my happy ending, huh?”

“Whatever,” Catra scoffed. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t come back from the dead just to kiss me.”

She grinned and started to lean in, but Adora pushed her off with a groan.

“Are you ever gonna let it go? That was one time!”

“And for some reason, it’s always funny--”

Adora cut her off with a kiss and yeah, Catra had the feeling that everything was going to be okay. She laughed breathlessly and leaned her forehead against Adora’s.

“Can we go home now?” she pleaded.

“Ugh, I thought you’d never ask.”

#bc i had too many feelings after season 5 😭😭 #she ra #catradora #angella #yes i did listen to sufjan stevens while writing this.. the song from the title and wallowa lake monster were on repeat #the lyrics ''she gave us one last feature; the fullness of her face'' rly get to me... #also praying by kesha #ALWAYS praying by kesha #my-fics

[likesomekindofcheese]

Could you write about grigor when he knows that peter is with Georgina and the reader takes his mind off of it? Maybe some smut. Only if you want :)

Yes!!!! My first The Great request ever!!! I will also do my best to keep the Reader here gender-neutral. Reader here can identify however you would like, guys! Also, I can’t include smut due to the teenagers who follow and love me but I can mention it where I can!

cw: swearing (it’s this show, y’all, they sprinkle F-bombs like parmesan cheese), partying, drinking, mentions of sex and cheating

Whhhhhhhzzzzkirrrff!

The crowd cheered at the sound of the fireworks going on in the distance. It was a miracle they could hear it amidst the loud singing, cheering, and Bacchanal madness of the party. It was dark, making the deep golden walls and candelabras of the palace seem more like bronze melting you to be stuck forever in it. It was thrilling at first, but it was losing its charm on the sixth consecutive day of this celebration

As fortunate as you counted yourself to be here: in the court of the Emporer of Russia, the Son, and Blood of Peter the Great, you had to count your blessings.

But looking at women carrying snakes in their arms, stepping over broken glass, as the Emperor bellowed about his “massive cock” for the hundredth time in an hour was not one of them.

Wandering through the crowd, you found you had lost your taste for the glass of vodka you had been sipping on suddenly. Suddenly a pale face with a beautiful head of dark curls passed you by, you nearly stepped on her stunningly ruby dress had you not caught yourself.

“Oh, Madame Dymov! I’m so sorry!” you squeaked, meekly looking down.

“Oh Y/N, don’t fret yet. This is a party. Be merry! Drink more vodka, perhaps, you’ll relax a little and have some fun!” she encouraged. Looking up, her face did seem warm.

Her eyes darted away and she turned from you “excuse me,” she mumbled.

“Where are you going? You just told me to start having fun at this party?” you asked, tilting your head to the side.

“I’m headed to...have some more fun, goodbye,” she dismissed curtly.

You noticed that the Emperor was looking directly at her. Everyone was dancing and drinking so hard they barely noticed their sovereign slipping away into the next room with a well-known and married woman.

Not that they would stop either if they knew. Emperor Peter was one to kiss and not only tell but yell about it at his royal assembles for even the stable boys to hear. With copious details. 

Sighing, you decided to walk away from the party. Praying the singing would be loud enough this time. And their room far enough. And your imagination weak enough.

Exiting onto the hall, headed for your chambers. A sound struck you. Gritting your teeth, you prepared for bawdy pants and screams and grunts.

It was crying.

There was a lump behind a curtain next to the window a little bigger than normal. As you walked closer, the crying was louder.

Gently, you tapped your finger on the lump and offered a weak “are you alright?”

There was a gasp, a breathy “fuck!” and out of the golden curtain popped out the tall frame of Grigor Dymov .

“Sir! Uhm, Grigor!” you fumbled with how to address him. 

High society taught you to avoid first names but here no one even bothered with how to call someone. 

“Y/N! What are you doing? You should be-be out there! Go! Now!” he insisted, pointing to where the party roared on.

“Why should I do that? Grigor, you were crying! What’s troubling you?” you asked, leaning closer.

He shook his head and wiped off two large tears that fell down his cheek, pouting stubbornly, “I was not crying me...I just got a little drunk. And there were chopped onions. And I’m sick with...”

“Is it your wife?” you interrupted. 

Your memory returns- the red dress and curly dark head and the fair face smiling wickedly that melted away from dancing and a door in the corner shut tight.

His large blue eyes opened wider, his mouth fell open until he looked like the trophy of the boar that hung over the fireplace in the hall.

“I shouldn’t be like this...he’s the Emporer, when he chooses you, what choice do you even have? What choice does she have?” he mourned. 

Looking around, glancing to see if anyone was around, you walked into the curtains with him. They were tall, soft, white and you could feel the cold air of a Russian night sky right outside the window that was near the both of you.

“You think...your wife doesn’t have a choice? Has she complained about that to you?” you asked.

“No, she...she actually enjoys it! She’s so happy all the time-she practically glows every time she returns to me! I hardly even see her anymore it feels like...and Peter tells me all the details at breakfast or the next day together, that...that bastard!” he blurted, releasing a soft, death-defying curse.

“Have you asked Peter to stop?” you suggested, you folded your arms, trying to think of anything possible.

He shook his head, “he brags that I let him fuck my wife all the time: he takes it as a sign of a friend and as his best servant but...I know, Y/N, you’re new and marriage here is just...just different. If you tell him no, you might as well plan your funeral!”

You hushed him and suddenly wrapped your arms around him, letting him let out a few sobs. He froze, unused to it, but then hugged you back, his sharp chin grazing down against you. His body now shaking less from the sobs.

“It’s still difficult, Grigor...it’s your marriage...and this isn’t how it works or even should work...it’s so hard, you’re just heartbroken and it’s with someone powerful, too...I understand you...you have every right to feel the way you feel,” you muttered, gently rubbing the dark cotton that made up his jacket adorning his back.

Suddenly, you felt his fists squeeze you tightly, but still not releasing the embrace.

“Oh Y/N, you’re an angel among demons here...” he said softly, caressing your face. 

Your breath hitched at the feeling of his slight touch on your cheeks, trying to memorize them. You looked up at him, almost feeling suspended.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly. “It’s been days since George kissed me.”

Before anything else could stop you, your own conscience, your morals, your church, your parent's voices, and faces, you breathed out a “yes please.”

It was long, you even felt the breath falling from your nostrils and his as you kissed, and it was deep too, he clung onto you as if for life. When you both let go, you staring at his smooth, angular face and him into your eyes, you felt something warm inside you.

“Again?” you asked.

“God, Yes.”

He picked you up, practically pinning you to the wall near the window and began kissing you: shorter and more furiously. There was even more fire in your body that had nothing to do with the vodka, you felt almost dizzy and both enraptured yet, yet safe.

He practically carried you through the hallway, his lips exploring your body the sooner he arrived in your chambers.

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

The next morning, your eyes blurred open, your body feeling like a brick sealed to the ground with heaviness. Wrens chirruped as the late morning sun seeped through.

Looking beside you on your bed, you jumped awake at the sight of his bare chest. You had insisted your own chambers lest anyone wander in to see you both in his own apartment. Heart racing, endless images of hours before playing like a rushed play through your brain, your brain snapped out of its spell to look at the sight of Grigory Orlov.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck, oh fuck,” you kept repeating silently, bound between leaping from him like he was a lump of hot coal or being still, waiting to be struck dead on the spot by God, George, the Emperor, or all three.

Until you saw his arm reach forward. Still dreaming. Searching across the bed. His hands found you, and still asleep, he smiled and pulled you close.

He never seemed more peaceful in his rest. He was smiling bigger than he ever did awake And you never felt more blissful than taking in his scent and resting your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

It was like his crying never existed.

You had to deal with it later, and enjoy what you had for now.

After all, things were very different here indeed.

Taglist: @queenlover05 @themficsilike @radio-hoo-ha @deck-heart

#carrie writes #the great #grigor #grigor dymov #grigor dymov x reader #grigor dymov x y/n #grigor dymov x you #the great hulu #the great fanfic #the great fanfiction #the great blurb #gwilym lee

[storytellerssanctum]

Petals & Thorns - chapter 8/?

Pairing: Fred Weasley x oc

Warnings: none

Word count: 2k

SONG OF THE CHAPTER - see you again • tyler, the creator

Weeks passed, and although they had their share of sneaky visits and longing glances, nobody had a clue about the relationship Fred Weasley and Adalinda Malfoy were blossoming. This included her brother and her boyfriend. Fred had also found a way to hide it from his partner in crime, George. Though Addy held a guilt about her secret love with the forbidden boy, it dissipated greatly as Adrian's actions grew angrier and more harsh towards her. Now, when he walked in the room, she cowered. When his temper got too bad, he usually took it out on her. He was loose with his tongue, rough when he touched her, and no more loving than her father had been to her when she was young.

The snow was beginning to stick to the ground as they walked to Hogsmeade. November was drawing to a close, and Christmas and the Yule Ball were fast approaching. Adalinda was surrounded by her group of daunting boys. They followed her closely as she walked, noticing the distance between her and Adrian. None of them dared to bring it up. The whole school seemed to be on their way to the village. The group of six stuck close to the front, eager to have some excitement in their lives. Addy had changed into boots, retiring her statement shoes for the winter. She pulled her jacket closer to her body as she walked, trying to keep out the cold winter air.

As the heart of the small cluster of buildings came into view, they picked up their pace. Soon, the entrance of the village was littered with students. Adalinda made her way to The Three Broomsticks, smiling at the thought of her favourite place. The warm whoosh of air hit them strong in the face as they entered. It was a relief to be out of the harsh cold that nature had become. Each of the six retired into the seats of a booth after ordering a butterbeer. They made mindless chatter as they sipped on their glasses, enjoying their break from the castle. In a couple booths before them, Addy noticed Fred Weasley sitting with his brother and Lee Jordan. He gave her a barely noticeable smile when he caught her eyes.

Time passed, and the crowd around the Slytherin girl diminished. It was left with her and Adrian. They barely spoke to each other, only looking at each other when they accidentally caught eyes. The liquid in the girls cup was dwindling as the day went forward. "So," the boy before her started. She looked to him. "I wanted to know if you would like to go to the Yule Ball with me?" He asked, slowly. His gaze burned into her. She let her hands dance over the handle of the mug.

"Yeah, I'd love to." A small smile pressed her lips. He returned it. He leaned over and kissed her, but it didn't last long.

"I'm gonna go check out Honeydukes, did you want to come?" He asked. She stayed silent as her stare drifted behind him and back to the ginger. She didn't look for long, in fear of being caught.

"No, I think I'll stay here. Maybe have another butterbeer before I have to go back." She told him. He gave a slight nod, unsure if she was being truthful. "I have to go to Dervish and Bangs after, and then stop to pick up something for Draco for Christmas. Don't bother waiting around for me, I'll probably be a while." She said as he stood.

"Are you sure? I don't mind." She gave him a nod. "Addy?" He asked again, harder. He wanted a verbal answer.

"I'm sure, I'll see you back at the castle." Guilt had become her, knowing why she truly didn't want him to stay. He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek, making cold run through her veins.

"Okay, see you later, then." He walked off and out of the pub. She waited a few minutes as she overheard the twins from afar.

"I have to go shopping for Christmas, I better get that done." Fred told his brother.

"Brilliant, I'll come." George said.

"You can't, you git. I have to get something for you, too." George eyed him wearily.

"Right, well, Lee and I will leave you too it, then." George spoke as him and his friend made an exit. When both of their booths sat empty, they finally met each other's faces. They gave a nod to each other, and Adalinda removed herself from her seat. She walked out the doors, checking to see if any of her friends were around to see her. When she believed she was in the clear, she headed around the corner of the building and eventually behind it. Minutes later, Fred followed her path. He was also cautious of someone seeing him.

When he caught her standing there, waiting, he pulled her into a hug. She let her head rest on his chest as she wrapped her arms around the boy before her. She felt less disgusted at her actions and more comforted. In the few weeks they had been seeing each other, Fred had shown her what it was like to be truly happy. He placed a kiss to her forehead as they parted, leaving a darker tinge of rose on her already red cheeks. "I've missed you." He said, looking down at her. He was over a head taller than the girl before him.

"Me, too." She sighed, snaking her hand up to his neck. She pulled him down to meet her mouth which he accepted with ease. They moved together in time, allowing themselves to enjoy the moment they were spending together. They didn't know when they'd get another. Their noses touched as they drew away. "I have to go to the ball with Adrian." She stated. A twang of jealousy erupted into Fred's chest, but he knew.

"I understand."

"You better find someone, too. It'll make this seem even less plausible." She wanted to kiss him again, but she knew the conversation was far more important. "And I can't have you staring at me all night. I'll be trying not to look at you, either."

"Angelina?" He asked, running a thumb over her cheek. He wanted to make sure she was okay with whoever he took.

"Yeah," she grinned. "But you'll be meeting me in the room of requirement after." She reminded.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." They shared another tender kiss, losing themselves in each other. Adalinda's fear shrunk the more days that passed. They were good at hiding their feelings. Despite infatuation in their eyes when they saw one another, nobody noticed it. Nobody was even suspicious of them. It may have been the complete illogical idea of a Malfoy dating a blood-traitor. "How'd you get him away from you?"

"I told him I was going to shop for Draco." She snorted. "As if he'd want to come along for that. Everybody hates Draco." He had to laugh.

"I did the same, Christmas is a good excuse." He smiled. Her eyes rested gently over his face.  "I wish we didn't have to make excuses."

"Me, too, Freddie." She placed a kiss on his cheek. "Maybe when school is finished we won't have to hide it." She cringed at the mention. That was a long time away.

"Yeah? You think this'll last that long?" He had a smirk toying on his face. She could only laugh. As she did so, she thought back. When she got on the Hogwarts Express in September, she never expected to see herself stealing kisses from a Weasley boy. A blood-traitor, of all people. She scowled at the internal thought, hating her automatic use of the word. Still, as much as she didn't care about the differences in purity, the names were imbedded in her brain.

"I haven't felt anything like this before. I hope it lasts that long." She replied, letting her hands fall into his soft, red hair. "I don't want to let this feeling go." She could almost feel her fathers wrath as she did so. She closed her eyes as he pulled her into another embrace. "It's so different feeling safe when someone touches me." She muttered. Fred paused, waiting for her to continue.

"What do you mean?" She stayed silent. "He doesn't hit you, does he?"

"No, he's never really hit me. He's just a little rough with me sometimes." She answered, regretting bringing the topic up.

"I'll hex him! I'll knock him into next week if he lays a hand on you." Fred promised, taking her small hands in his. She watched as he laced their fingers, feeling comfort at the action. It was much nicer than how Adrian held them. You could tell Fred held emotion in the actions.

"Oh yeah? That wouldn't look suspicious or anything." She let a giggle fall from her lips. Fred swooned at the sound, feeling his heart beating against his rib cage. "You hexing my boyfriend would go over well."

"It might teach him a lesson." His lips fell to her forehead and held her captive. She melted into his touch. As she did, she felt more humane and grounded than she ever felt before. Still, she was nervous at the thought of being caught. If they were, all hell would break loose. She would be punished and it would put Fred in danger; she was too smitten to even think about the consequences.

"You don't have to teach him a lesson, Fred. I can get my groupies to do that for me." She joked.

"You have quite a lot of them, you know. Should I be jealous?" He joked, swiping a piece of loose hair from her face. She shook her head after he tucked it neatly behind her ear. "Or maybe I should feel honoured that you picked me."

"That's more like it." She looked up into his eyes and bit down on her lip. The whole situation felt like a dream to her. She was so infatuated with him, and she couldn't get him out of her head. "Kiss me again." He obeyed, pulling her in once again. "I wish it could last forever."

"We have the rest of our lives." Even at his attempt at consolation, she didn't believe this was true. With the dark times soon to arrive, she didn't know how much time they'd have together. With The Dark Lord's impending resurrection, her father would do whatever it took to keep her in line. He sighed at the look of uncertainty in her face. "When will I get to see you again?" She took in his face. The rosiness of his cheeks and the dirty cinnamon colour of his eyes. Cupid had stuck her hard with him. It seemed like yesterday they didn't speak, and now they were hiding, sharing kisses and their deepest feelings.

"In potions class." She knew what he meant, but she couldn't give him a good answer. In truth, she didn't know how many more excuses she could come up with to get her away from her friends.

"That's not what I meant."

"I don't know, Fred. I'm trying my best."

"I know you are, it's just hard when I want to spend every day with you." The cheeky smile gave way.

"Awfully forward, aren't you?" She replied, laying her head on his shoulder.

"Only when it comes to you."

"I have to go soon," she said solemnly. "I don't want to, but I have to." He gave a nod.

"Go get your Christmas shopping done. I'll be the one staring at you from an aisle over." He teased, pulling her into one last quick peck. The four kisses they shared behind the tattered old building seemed like nothing. They were gone as soon as they began, making them both crave for more. When they weren't allowed to be together, it made the romantic part so much more appealing.

"I'll see you soon." She promised, grabbing his hand and giving it a final squeeze.

"Until then." He squeezed it back. She gave a sad smile as she turned and walked back around the corner of the building, gazing for staring eyes. When she found nobody was paying attention to her, she emerged back into the street, disappearing into Honeydukes to buy her brother a Christmas gift.

Tags: @play-morezeppelin

#harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley #fred weasley x oc #fred weasley story #bill weasley #charlie weasley #fred weasley imagine #ginny weasley #weasley twins #george weasley #fred weasley #harry potter fic #petals and thorns #chapter 8 #hp fanfic #writing #mine #fanfic #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #goblet of fire #harry potter and the goblet of fire #order of the phoenix #half blood prince #deathly hallows #malfoy #malfoy family #draco malfoy #lucius malfoy

[gaitwae]

Beyond Words, Darling •||• 6

Summary: With what started as a dream, Mary Crawley realizes just in the nick of time that her new love is the last person she expected. (canon defiant season 5 afterwards)

+-+-

It was a loud party, to keep it simple. It was what Granny would have called a nightmare if there weren’t so many older ladies and gentlemen she knew. Robert and Cora kept to themselves quietly despite this. Robert, who was bursting with excitement at seeing Tom and Mary walk in (even if it wasn’t together like he had hoped), was having a tough time pretending he didn’t know about Tom’s affections. He had already told Rose.

“Robert, darling, you’re all jitters!” Cora whispered with a concerned expression. She leaned her head closer to his as she spoke, clutching her glass tightly. “Did Carson give you bad news? Is Bates alright? Mary isn’t giving you any trouble, is she?”

The Earl of Grantham gave a lighthearted, nervous chuckle, leaning back to answer his wife. He kept his eyes on Tom and Mary, who, for whatever blasted reason, were on opposite sides of the room. “No. Everything is fine, my dear. Your little hunch about you-know-who was just a tad truer than we thought.”

Cora’s smile went up to her ears. “ What? Robert! That’s fantastic! When will she tell him?”

“Cora, I’m afraid it’s he who must tell her.” Robert’s eyes twinkled at his wife. Oh, it was so liberating to finally know of a secret the rest of the household didn’t. “I don’t know how Mary feels, but Tom most certainly is in love with our daughter.”

Violet, seemingly from out of nowhere, popped her head between Robert and Cora. “Is he? Then why is he leaving your daughter to have a shattered heart? You should know she’s devastated.”

“Mama, what are you talking about?” Cora asked. Her mouth turned down in worry. Robert felt his spine tingle with fear — how could he have left that part out?

“Tom is leaving Mary and the rest of us.” Violet squared her shoulders, fingers tightening on her cane. “True love really does conquer all, doesn’t it?” She sniffed the air disdainfully before shuffling off. 

“Tom? Leaving? Robert, is it true?” Cora touched his arm, turning her husband to look at her. Her perplexed expression only made him feel worse. He sighed, taking a moment. “Robert…”

“Cora, darling,” Robert said softly, “I wish I could say no. But if there’s a chance that Mary won’t accept his feelings, he’s already as good as gone.”

“Oh, Robert, no…”

“I can’t sway his mind, Cora,” he said. “It’s his decision.”

+-+--

“Goodness me, Rose outdid herself,” Mary muttered under her breath. Like Robert had spotted, she had come in alone. Currently, she was staring down at her feet and holding a small glass of champagne. She didn’t know who to talk to; Edith never wanted to listen to her problems, and right now, Tom was her problem…

But then, as if on queue, someone walked up to her.

“Excuse me, if I may, Lady Mary,” a warm, although trembling, voice spoke to her. Mary knew his soft tones, and they sent shivers down her spine, down her legs, up her neck. She distantly recalled that all-too-real dream she had dreamt that seemed like a forever ago, along with its secret kiss that not even Tom knew he had given her. Mary lifted her head but did not look at the man in front of her. He carefully took her hand. “May I have this dance?”

“Why?” she asked quietly. “Aren’t you going to leave?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Tom answered, turning her head toward his with a gentle, ever so tender brush of his knuckle. “If we can’t dance, then at least let me look at you, darling.”

“You could have looked at me from over there,” Mary argued. Her voice came out much quieter than she would have liked. “From wherever you’re heading off to.” She didn’t take her hand out of his. She couldn’t. She cherished the touch too much to sever herself from it.

“America,” he said, still as docile as he had ever been toward her. It made her eyes prick. “But there’s only one reason I would go, you know.” He stroked her cheek. Mary jerked her face away.

“Can we talk about this somewhere else?” she asked in a hushed tone. “Please?”

Tom nodded — she saw it from the corner of her eye, she wanted to peek so badly — and took Mary outside of the room. He laced their fingers together, she realized, pulling them far away from the parlour where the party was being held. She recognized all the people who had been there. 

Every single one.

She realized too late, however, that Gillingham was also at the party. Mary just bit her tongue and waited for Tom to tell her what he needed to say.

“We’re alone, my darling.”

“You call me your darling,” Mary pointed out, running circles into the back of his hand with her thumb. His hand in hers seemed coarse, calloused, rough with age, and with experience. It also seemed warm and all-too-perfect. “Why? I’m no one special.” 

Tom laughed a small laugh, almost a chuckle or a scoff. “You’re special, Mary. I can’t describe how special you are to me.”

“Then why are you leaving?” Her words were rushed, emotional, filtered by the ghastly glob of thickness that kept her from swallowing too hard. She looked into his eyes, studied those crows’ feet and the corners of his lips, wondering why he could be smiling through this conversation when all she wanted to do was cry.

“Mary, my beauty, aren’t you listening?” He carefully set his hand on her face, cupping her cheek. She let him. “I’m not leaving, not if you love me.”

“I… I get the feeling you don’t mean like we love Edith,” she whispered. Her body shook. “Tom, don’t do this to me…”

It was all crashing down too fast for her to process. So many things made so much more sense to her, now. She wanted this, she wanted it with every fiber in her body. But at the same time… she couldn’t jinx herself. She was married once; her husband was taken from her. She couldn’t lose another one.

“Just tell me if it’s possible,” he said with a barely audible voice. “Tell me if it’s possible for you to love me, too. I don’t want you to marry Lord Gillingham if you don’t love him, I don’t want you to even think about it. I want you to marry someone you can be happy with for the rest of your life… and if that’s not me, Mary, just say so now!”

Mary couldn’t be a widow again. Of any sort, not until she was old enough to accept that time had beat her. Her children deserved — 

She had only one child. Only one. Immediately, her heart weighed on her, sinking down, down, down into her belly. Good God, how madly had she fallen in love with this man? How idiotic was she, mistaking her sister’s little daughter as her own? Falling for her husband? If Sybil were alive, she’d be heartbroken… 

“Tom, it’s far more complicated than that, you know it,” Mary told him. Tears filled both their eyes, and at least as far as Mary was concerned, her heart had stopped beating. She took a deep breath, looking up at him. “If it was simply down to whether or not we were in love, most marriages I know wouldn’t have made it where they are today. I wouldn’t have made it! Our children, Tom! They belong to our late spouses, they’ve been brought up as cousins!” 

“So? They can be siblings, too! George and Sybbie can have parents that love them! We can love each other! We don’t have to do this dance anymore!” Tom stepped toward her, then took two steps back. He wiped his eyes. “Everyone’s known about my feelings, damn it! Why keep me on edge? What about your feelings?”

He looked up at her… his soft, grey-blue eyes filled with a quiet sorrow. Mary ached to tell him she wanted him. Just him. But she was afraid; too afraid to admit it and lose him, too.

“Tom, it’s more than possible,” she said finally. A tear fell from her own watering eyes. “I do love you. I’ve loved you far longer than I care to tell myself… but I don’t want to marry you.”

+-+--

Shock was the only thing on Tom’s face, in his heart. At first, joy and disbelief had started to take over; he hadn’t felt so happy since the day Sybil told him she was pregnant; he hadn’t been in such relief since Sybil agreed to bloody marry him. But Mary’s confession… both confessions… he didn’t know what to say, what to do.

“Why won’t you marry me?” he asked, surprised at how calm his tone was. He couldn’t look at her.

“Because I can’t stand the idea of losing someone, again, Tom!” she shouted. He jumped at her tone of voice. “I can’t be a widow, again! I can’t give myself anymore hope that God wants me to be loved by a man!”

He understood her hurt, her fear. He gulped and made his way over to Mary. “Darling, if God didn’t want you to be loved, I would have never even looked at you.” He set his hands on her hips. She set her hands on his chest, shaking and looking away from him. Tom kissed her forehead. She was so small, so vulnerable; how he had never truly seen her before. “Because I’m so in love with you, I can’t describe it…”

“Why?” she sniffled, looking up at him. “Why? You’ve seen me at my worst, why are you still here? You know I’m awful…”

“I also know that you’re one of the most loyal, passionate, and cunning women I’ve ever met. You’ve helped me grow into a better man, and helped me reach a point in my life where I can marry again without feeling like I’m forgetting Sybil.” He smiled down at her, sniffing himself. “I know that your happiness is just as important as my own. I want George to be my kin, and I want you to feel the same about Sybbie…”

“Tom, she’s always been like my own,” Mary said. “How badly do you want to marry me, anyway?”

“Beyond words, darling.” He kissed her cheek. “Beyond words.”

“I’ll still have to think about it… but you must know I’m in love with you before you give me a deadline.”

Tom laughed. When he was asking Sybil to marry him, he felt as if his love would never change, but he was impatient for an answer. With Mary, he knew that he could love her patiently, slowly. He loved his love for Sybil, but it was so different from whatever his heart harbored for Mary Crawley. “I don’t want you to rush… I can wait until June, darling, the new year…” 

Her eyes softened. Mary leaned in. “Can you kiss me?”

“…Mary? Tom? Where did you go?” an all-too-familiar voice came calling. Tom laughed as Mary rolled her eyes. Rose was probably more excited than they were.

“We’re over here, Rose,” Tom said, letting go of Mary. He moved a few paces away. “Don’t worry.”

“Did you do it?”

“I did it.”

#Gaitwae writes #Downton Abbey #Tom Branson #Mary Crawley #Rare pairs

[nastybuckybarnes]

A Broken Fairytale  -  Four

Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Reader AU

Summary: Sold by your mother, you work as a servant for the King and Queen of Acadia. The Prince, much to his initial dismay, takes a liking to you. When a wicked woman intervenes, your life is nothing more than a prison sentence. With a war on the horizon and a betrothal to a missing Princess that he can’t escape, Bucky is forced to be the Prince -and King- that his father wants. A pawn in a bigger game than the two of you realize.

Warnings: Angst, Language (Maybe), Fluff (Squint for it)

Word Count: 5K

A/N: Now we’re getting somewhere. Plz enjoy dis

SERIES MASTERLIST MASTERLIST UNEDITED CAUSE IM A SILLY GOOSE

~*~

“Rumour has it you’re going to the ball tomorrow night in a new fancy dress, as Prince Steve’s personal guest.” You find yourself smiling as you polish the marble floors. May stands a few feet away, cleaning the large stained-glass windows.

“He insisted. Taught me to dance too.” She laughs softly. “Mary showed me the gown. It's beautiful. I can hardly wait to see what it looks like on you.” You giggle, “she hasn’t let me allowed me near it. I can only imagine what it looks like. I’ve been dreaming about it for days.” You sigh wistfully. “You didn’t hear it from me, but Prince Steve has gotten you some jewelry and lip rouge as well. Oh, you’ll so beautiful. I just hope you and Wanda don’t get too comfortable out there with all those dukes and duchesses and princesses and princes.”

You turn to her with a soft smile, “never.”

~

“Goodness, Steven. Your skills are... incredible. Truly. This is really just... utterly exquisite,” Queen Winifred whispers. Steve chuckles nervously and scratches the nape of his neck. “Well... I’ve recently found some inspiration.” He flips to the first sketch of you and his aunt and mother both gasp.

“That’s... (Y/n). The new one. Such a beauty,” Sara whispers while admiring the detailed sketch. Steve’s managed to catch every perfection. “She’ll be my guest tomorrow night. After all the hardships she’s been forced to endure in her life, a night of the finer things is the least I can offer her. She deserves it.”

Sara smiles at her son, “do you fancy her?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “No mother. Although she’s beautiful and smart with a kind heart and a good spirit, I fancy a different dame.”

Queen Winifred laughs gently while Sara ponders something.

“What is it, mother?” She looks up then sighs. “It’s foolish, but... the princess of Corona was taken as a baby nearly nineteen years ago. (Y/n), who is quite possibly from Corona, is almost nineteen. She was adopted as an infant by a wicked and cruel woman who might even be the type to kidnap a child in order to get her way. Perhaps?” Steve’s eyes widen at his mother’s suggestion.

“You think... you think (Y/n) is the lost Princess of Corona?” Queen Winifred thinks about this for a moment. “It is a possibility, but why then would Lady Griffon willingly give her to us? That seems counter-productive. If her goal is to stop the marriage.”

“Well, she sold (Y/n) as a servant girl, giving the impression that she isn’t who she truly is?” Sara purses her lips at her son's suggestion then nods. “I don’t think we should rule out her being the lost princess. Her locket is made out of silver which is quite common amongst the wealthy and royal in Corona. And it seems to be enchanted, which isn’t uncommon in our neighbouring kingdom,” Steve says.

“I want you to find out every little thing you can about her. And this shall stay between the three of us. No one else is to hear a breath about our theories. If (Y/n) is indeed the Princess, then I fear she may be in danger even here,” the Queen says sternly.

As the other two are nodding the door to Steve’s study gets pushed open.

“There you are, Steve. Mother, Aunt Sara.” Bucky bows quickly to the two women.

“My, what have we here?” The young prince looks at the sketch, his eyebrows raising. “This is (Y/n), correct?” Steve nods. “Your skills have certainly improved, punk,” Bucky teases while looking at the other drawings of you. “You fancy her, don’t you?” Steve simply rolls his eyes. “She provided inspiration. Innocence and beauty all encompassed in one.” Bucky nods, deep in thought.8

“Well, I suppose we’ll take our leave now,” Winifred says before walking out of the room with Sara right behind her.

“These are actually magnificent, Steve. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Would... can...” He groans as his cousin laughs at his flustered state.

“What? Would you like one? Or two perhaps? Maybe the entire sketchbook? I thought appreciating her beauty would do no one any good or whatever stupid excuse you spewed.” Bucky punches his shoulder.

“Quit being a punk. I just want one.” Steve smirks but carefully pulls out one of the finer sketches of you and hands it to his cousin. “It’s all yours. Do with it what you’d like, just don’t tell me what you’re doing.” Bucky punches him again and Steve snickers to himself.

The brunet holds the paper with a gentle hand, admiring the way you look in the picture. Beauty and innocence, just as Steve said.

~

“Okay... almost finished... just one last finishing flower...” Mary trails off and you twiddle your thumbs nervously as Wanda continues covering your eyes while Mary pulls on the gown clinging to your figure. “Okay, I’m gonna put your mask on and a tad bit of lip rouge. Then you’ll be ready.” You fight a smile as Wanda lifts her hands, only for a smooth cool fabric to take their place.

“Oh, you look like an Angel right out of heaven! Now, a teeny tiny bit of lip rouge, not too much because we don’t want to take away from the entire ensemble. Pucker your lips a tad, darling.” You do as she asks and jump slightly as you feel something waxy on your lips.

“Alright dear. You can look now.” You snap your eyes open and spin around in your new flats.

Your jaw drops as you see yourself in the mirror.

The gown is incredible. With a dark blue-grey chest, a navy blue bow cinching your waist and making you look curvier. The skirt is made of a lovely pink fabric, covered in a navy chiffon-type fabric. It has small fabric flowers and gems decorating it, but not too many. The mask is the same pink as the gown, however, it has gold trim and some embellishments in the same colour, as well as a little bow and some lace.

You look... stunning. Like royalty.

“Wow. You look beautiful.” You look to the voice and smile. “Thank you, Pietro. You look quite handsome.” He chuckles then walks to his sister, who looks absolutely gorgeous in a floor-length, figure-hugging red velvet dress. Her mask matches her dress and her hair is flowing down her back.

“Steve asked me to escort you to the ball. He’ll meet you there for a dance.” You smile lightly. “So you’ll be escorting not one beautiful woman but two to the Queen's masquerade ball? Will you dance with us both?” Wanda teases. Her outfit matches her brothers and you can’t help but smile at that.

“I do plan on dancing with both of you at some point tonight, however, I think Steve craves the first dance with you, (Y/n).” You smile timidly and Wanda giggles, “does he fancy her, do you think?” You shake your head furiously, “Steve and I are just friends. Nothing more.” Wanda smirks deviously at you.

“You don’t fancy Steve... what about Prince James? Do you fancy him? You have been looking at him quite often ever since he ran into in the library. When the two of you talked for quite some time.” You shake your head again, “I hardly know him, Wanda. How could I possibly fancy someone I know nothing about?” She shrugs, a sly smile still plastered on her face.

“Then why are you fiddling so much? And why do you always fiddle when he comes up in conversation?” She motions to where your fingers are playing with a bead on your dress. “You like his royal stiffness? Pain-in-the-ass Prince James? Bitchy Bucky?” You glare at the twins. “No. I don’t. And even if I did, it wouldn’t be your concern and it wouldn’t matter anyway. He's royalty, and I’m not.” Pietro gingerly links his arm through yours.

“You could be a Princess. There’s something... regal and royal about you. You should be wearing a crown, not scrubbing the floors.” You smile gently up at him. “I should be here with Wanda and May. If I were born royal then I might not have met you or any of my friends. I like who I am.” He smiles and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Now, we should be going. I can hear music and laughter already,” Wanda says while taking her brother’s other arm. Pietro escorts the two of you to the ball, smiling as he meets up with Sam, Nat, and Clint.

“I see you’ve already taken (Y/n) for yourself,” Sam says, looking you up and down. “You look like royalty. You’ll make visiting Princesses jealous.” You laugh softly, “thank you, Sam.” He smiles and offers you his arm.

After a glance to Pietro, an eye roll and a nod given, you let go of his arm and take Sam’s.

“Steve’ll be arriving shortly, along with Bucky, the King, the Queen, and Lady Sara,” Sam informs as you reach the ballroom doors. You nod, your jaw almost dropping as you enter the ballroom.

It’s filled with people -men and women- dressed to the nines in clothes that cost more than you’ll make in your entire lifetime.

“Incredible, isn’t it?” Nat asks while coming up beside you in a light green dress with a mask to match. “It’s... intimidating if I’m being honest.” Natasha rests a hand on your shoulder.

“You look like you belong here. Even if you feel like you don’t, you look like you do, so act like it. No one will know anything that’s true or not.” You smile at her words and take a big breath in. Squaring your shoulders you raise your head and walk with Sam into the room.

The people you pass stop their conversations and stare at you as Sam leads you to the centre of the room right across from a large staircase.

Conversations hardly have time to grow before a horn sounds loudly, gathering everyone’s attention.

“May I present Lady Sara, Her Majesty Queen Winifred, and his Majesty King George.” The royal family walks down the stairs as graceful as swans with their chins held up high and smiles on their faces.

“Wow. (Y/n) you look... incredible.” You smile shyly up at the man speaking, having recognized his voice. “Thank you, your highness.” Sam snickers while Steve rolls his eyes.

“Now, I must steal you from Sam. May I?” Sam places your hand in Steves and you find yourself giggling as Steve walks you deeper into the room.

“Mary absolutely outdid herself,” Steve says while admiring your gown and mask. “She did. You look rather dashing yourself.” His cheeks flush and he looks down while chuckling.

He’s wearing a well-tailored grey suit and a matching mask. The suit hugs his body perfectly and the mask brings out the vibrant blue in his eyes. And of course, there’s a lovely silver crown sitting atop his blond hair.

He smiles at you then takes a small half-step away from you as the band starts playing again.

“(Y/n), may I be the first of many men to ask tonight, if I may have the honour of this dance?” You beam up at him.”Of course, Steve.” He takes your hand in his and places his other hand on your waist. You bring your free hand up to his shoulder and start dancing with him.

People around you mumble and whisper. as Steve dances you around the floor.

“They’re wondering who you are. They know who I am, but no one knows the Princess I’m dancing with,” he whispers, the cool fabric of his mask brushing against your cheek. You look down, away from the curious and envious eyes of the upper-class men and women.

“They’re making me quite nervous,” you reply softly, grinning as he chuckles.

“Well, I doubt any of them know who you are. So what they think doesn’t matter anyway.” You nod, trying to let his words ease your nerves.

The song comes to a close and Steve sighs.

“Excuse me,” a smooth voice says, “but may I?”

You look up at the man and smile awkwardly as he takes Steve’s place. A new song starts and you dance with him, feeling exceptionally nervous.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met you,” he says after a moment, his brown eyes warm and filled with wonder. “You haven’t. This is the first ball I’ve ever attended.”  He spins you then nods. “You’re stunning. Have you any suitors? Husbands?” You shake your head no. “None at all.” He smiles, “what a shame for them. I’d like-” a hand is on his shoulder, stopping him from dancing with you.

“May I cut in?” That voice makes butterflies swarm in your stomach. “Of course, your highness.” The man disappears and Prince James takes his place, one of his hands fitting perfectly in yours while the other rests comfortably on the curve of your waist.

He starts leading you in a dance, keeping your body close to his.

“You look ravishing,” he whispers, his thumb rubbing on your hip. “Why thank you, your majesty.” He smiles, his hand slowly moving around your waist.

“Do you have a name?” You grin as you realize he doesn’t know who you are, a wave of confidence washing over you.

“I do have a name.” He chuckles and pulls you closer to his warm body. “May I be so bold as to ask what it is?” You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, trying - and failing- to contain your smile. “Maybe. But do you deserve to know?” You’re honestly not sure where this much confidence comes from, but you’re liking it more than you want to admit.

“I think I do. But let’s say, for argument's sake, that I don’t deserve to know. What could I do to change that?” You slowly look up, your eyes lingering on his pink lips before moving up to his stormy orbs.

“I suppose I’ll have to think about that,” you whisper. His eyes flash down to your lips and you can’t help but lick them/ His fingers flex on your waist and you smile, watching as his eyes meet yours again. “Please do.”

The two of you dance in silence for a few minutes before he chuckles. “What?” You ask, smiling slightly, “do I amuse you?” He shakes his head and sighs heavily.

“You’ve bewitched me. Your voice... your beauty... like nothing I’ve ever experienced in all of my years. Have you and suitors?”

You swear your jaw drops.

“Forgive me, Prince James, but are you not betrothed? To the Princess of Corona?” He shakes his head and looks deep into your eyes. “I do not wish to marry someone who I know nothing about.” You find yourself giggling softly.

“And what do you know about me?” He looks down, seemingly shy. “I know that you’re like no woman I’ve ever met before. I know that I know nothing about you when I’d really just like to know everything. I know that not a day will pass where I don’t think of you. You’ll be in my every dream ‘till the day I die.”

You can’t seem to find any words.

“I’ll ask my father and yours if I can court you. If you’d give me the opportunity, of course.” You’re shocked, to put it lightly. “I-I can’t. You’re betrothed. I couldn’t interfere with that. I’m sorry, Prince James, but I cannot.”

You break away from him and hurry out of the ballroom, desperate to breathe. You remove your mask and lean against the wall, trying desperately to catch your breath.

“You weren’t sold to go to balls and celebrations as a guest,” an all-too-familiar voice says. You straighten up and look at the woman.

“Step-mother,” you begin, “I was invited. By Prince Steve-” a slap to the face cuts you off and you gasp, tears pricking your eyes. “You won’t speak of the Princes! You are filth!” She raises her hand to strike you again and you squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the pain.

When it never comes, you open your eyes.

Steve’s holding your step-mothers wrist and another woman is rushing over to your side, giving little thought to her expensive gown as she slides down to the floor beside you.

“Guards!” Steve calls, “escort Lady Griffon and her daughters out of here. Don’t make a scene about it either.” You watch as the woman who raised you gets escorted out of the palace that has recently become your home.

“Are you alright, child?” The woman beside you asks, her voice gentle and soft. “Yes, I-I believe I am. Thank you.” She smiles and lightly places her hand on your shoulder. “(Y/n) I’m so sorry,” Steve says. You wave off his apology and take a deep breath, trying to calm down.

“Queen Valerie, thank you for letting me know. (Y/n), this is Queen Valerie of Corona. Queen Valerie, this is (Y/n). A very close friend of mine.” You look at the woman beside you and scramble to your feet, only to bow before her. “Y-your Highness.” She shakes her head and stands up, “no need for that. You’re sure you’re alright?” You nod your head yes then clear your throat.

“I... I’m going to retire to my chambers. Thank you for inviting me, Steve. Queen Valerie, I hope you enjoy the rest of the night.” They nod and watch as you hurry up a flight of stairs.

“Where’s she from?” Queen Valerie asks while Steve’s escorting her back to the ballroom.

“We’re not sure. She was adopted by Lady Griffon as a baby. She has a locket that seems to be enchanted from Corona so we do believe she may be from there. How she ended up here, I know not. Perhaps you have an idea?” The Queen on his arm clutches her necklace tightly.

“I mustn’t let myself hope,” she whispers softly, letting go of Steve’s arm and heading back to find her husband, leaving the young prince confused out of his wits.

~

“Mother, Father, I need your help!” Bucky exclaims, walking to where his parents are seated. “What is it, my son?” Winifred asks concern lacing her voice.

“A dame, beautiful as a sunrise. I want to court her. She’s...” He trails off while looking around, trying to find you.

“My son, you know you are to be marred. There’s no way you could court her. What is her name?” Bucky stares at the door where he saw you last.

“I don’t know. But mother, her voice was that of an angel. Her eyes sparkled brighter than diamonds. Her smile... I have no words to describe her beauty.”

Winifred sighs and takes her sons hand. “If everything fails with Corona, then you may court the girl. Is she a Duchess? Or perhaps a Princess?” Bucky sighs and shrugs his shoulders.

“She was dancing with the Duke of Winchester,” King George chimes in, looking around the room.

“I’ll ask him!” Bucky practically runs through the crowd.

“You shouldn't give him hope, George. He’s betrothed. You know he’s meant to marry the Princess of Corona,” Winifred scolds. “Let the boy have his fun. He knows his responsibilities. And if we go to war with Corona, he’ll have this Duchess or Princess or whoever she is. You’ll get a grandchild or two and James will get a strong heir to the throne.” The Queen sighs at her husband and watches as her son talks to the Duke.

“I found her dancing with Prince Steve. A beautiful one, she is. I plan to court her, as soon as I figure out who her father is.” Bucky clenches his hands into fists and smiles tightly at the Duke before setting off to find his cousin.

“Steve! Who were you dancing with?” The blond looks up, slightly startled. “Who?” Bucky groans at his cousin’s response. “She was wearing pink. Her eyes, they’re beautiful and (e/c). She was... a dream.”

Steve raises his eyebrows and chuckles. “You mean (Y/n)?” Bucky freezes, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. “(Y/)? Like... servant girl (Y/n)?” Steve nods slowly and Bucky curses. “Why? Is something wrong?” Bucky pulls Steve into the hallway and looks around to make sure they’re alone, then he rips his mask off and tosses it aside.

“She’s. stunning. Beautiful and witty. I asked if I could court her. But she’s not of noble blood. Fuck. What do I do?” Steve pats his cousin's shoulder.

“Talk to her. You don’t need to formally court her. Does your mother know that you fancy her?” He asks. “Yes, but she reminded me of my betrothal when I spoke of her.” Steve snickers despite his cousin’s glare.

“Winifred knew that was (Y/n). I had her help me design the dress.” Bucky chuckles at this, his anger momentarily forgotten. “Of course she did. She enjoys seeing me in pain.” Steve sighs and looks towards the staircase where you disappeared to. “Lady Griffon was here. She got mad and struck (Y/n). I had the vile woman escorted out and (Y/n) went to her chambers. You should go check on her.” Bucky looks at his cousin as if he’d grown a second head.

“Lady Griffon Struck (Y/n)?” Steve nods, “go see if she’s alright.” I’ll cover for you.” Bucky nods before he can think too hard about it. His feet bring him through the Palace and up the stairs until he’s outside of your room.

He knocks twice then slowly pushes the door open, looking around the room for you. Humming from the bathroom gets his attention and he realizes you must be bathing.

Just as he’s about to turn and leave, you walk out of the bathroom. Bucky’s frozen, staring at you and you’re frozen, staring at him.

You're wrapped in a thin towel, water dripping down your skin and pooling at your feet.

“Your Highness. W-what are you doing in here?” He doesn’t answer, too busy staring at your body. You shift nervously and his eyes snap up to yours. “Why didn’t you tell me it was you?”

You swallow hard and hold the towel tighter around your body.

“I… I didn’t want to ruin the fantasy.”

He walks towards you and you back up, gasping as your back hits the wall.

“You’re a fantasy? A dream? No, you’re much more than that.” He cages you against the wall between his strong arms and stares in your eyes.

“W-what do you mean? What do you want from me?” He closes his eyes for a moment before cracking a half-smile. “I told you,” he whispers, “I want to court you.” You cast your eyes down, shaking your head at him.

“I met Queen Valerie. You’re betrothed to her daughter. I don’t want to interfere,” you breathe.

He carefully lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Tell me you feel nothing. Tell me you don’t want me the way I want you. Tell me that honestly and I’ll leave you be.” You shake your head and close your eyes tightly.

“I’d be lying.”

Those three words are all it takes for his control to shatter.

His hands grip your waist through the towel, holding you tightly as he presses his chest against yours. You pull in a shaky breath, your palms hesitantly resting on his shoulders.

“May I touch you?” You nod breathlessly, gasping as he tugs the towel down a tad. His right-hand cups your cheek while his left ventures beneath the towel, finding your damp skin.

“Someone could come in,” you whisper, head tilting back and eyes staying closed as his lips ghost over your neck.

“Let them,” he murmurs, gently nipping your neck as his left-hand curls around your back under your towel.

You shiver, arching up into him at the foreign feeling of his warm skin on your own. “James.” Your voice is a soft whisper and the Prince grins, his right hand leaving your cheek to pull your towel down a bit more.

“I want you, (Y/n).” You whimper softly, your fingers raking through his soft brown hair. “You’re all I want. Screw my betrothal.” The mention of his betrothal brings you back to reality and you push him off of you.

“This… this isn’t right,” you whisper while pulling the towel tighter around your body.

“Yes. This is right. This is so so right.” He leans down and kisses your lips almost roughly.

“James. James stop,” you mumble against his lips.

He doesn’t stop.

“Stop! Get off of me!” You exclaim, shoving him off of you as hard as you can.

“(Y/n) I-“ “Get out. Get out!”

He looks shocked and reaches out for you.

“Get out now.”

You move under his arm and across the room, eyes staying focused on the Prince.

“(Y/n) please. Just let me-“ “No! You’re to be married and I’m of poor blood! Please, just leave.” Your hands start to tremble as anxiety floods your body.

The Prince turns and leaves without another word, his heart aching and his stomach churning.

~

TAGS:

FOREVER:

@smolbeanbucky  @wildefire @inumorph  @impalatobakerstreet  @nanna022  @mummy-woves-you  @m-a-t-91  @wtfholland  @bookgirlunicorn  @beautifulwisdom2001  @deep-sea-glitter  @mrhiddles-81  @iamwarrenspeace  @bitchacho25 @escapetheshackles  @i-know-i-can @buckyssoul @avnngrs @swoonhui @destiel-artemis @frozenhuntress67

MARVEL:

@fallenangelfangirl @look-to-the-stars-and-wish @maladaptive-ninja-returns @cliffordasparagus @april-14-blog @potteritis @momc95 @shakzer00

BUCKY:

@chuuulip @nerd-without-a-cause @natashasnight @dragonrosegardens

A BROKEN FAIRYTALE:

@starkxpotts @barnesandnoble13 @paranoiadestroyah @theonelittleone @the-loud-and-crazy-rabbit-pirate @derekxsammy @nerd-without-a-cause @coal000 @lilypalmer1987 @consumedbyfanfics @tanelle83 @fultimefangirl @apollolikescello @buckysthing @emilysallysmith @krystallynx @unscriptedtimetraveler @buckyinantarctica @the-surviving-revolutionist @seafrost-fangirl @londonalozzy @roxytheimmortal @strawberryblogg @rosariia25 @godsofimmortality @bookgirlunicorn @ign-is @afterglowamsy @doublephoeenix @littledeadrottinghood @jsmith509 @alexaduke @m00nlightdelights @denimandcabernet @crystalchrysalis19

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #prince bucky x reader #reader x bucky #bucky x reader royal au #bucky x reader au #reader inserts #buck reader inserts #marvel fanfic

[aweirdkindofyellow]

The Royal Invitation, Pt. 13

Aerowyn Matilde George Rothchester might seem like a very long name, but it definitely is not for a royal in the Kingdom of Dalewin.

After her grandfather, the beloved king, passed away, Aerowyn (also known as Winny) is called back from her art school in New York. She’s thrown back into her royal duties, expected to know what to do.

But with the Royal advisor on tour with the new king, Winny is left to figure things out with his stepson. The only problem, he has no idea what he’s doing, after all he’s only the lead singer in a band.

Co-written story with @scream-tears.

Chapter 13

Winny's POV:

"So, you're telling me you've never even heard of that movie?" Alex's eyes practically bulged out of his head, judging me to a full extent, as we entered through the hotel's sliding doors.

"Well, I'm sorry," I defended, putting my hands up slightly, "I actually had better stuff to do back in my teenage years. You know, like learning how to rule a country."

"Oh, okay, sure, show off," he shot back with a laugh.

I was about to respond when my eyes fell on somebody else. Right behind the reception was the hotel's bar. There were a few people scattered about on other tables, but there was a single person actually sitting at the bar and having a drink. I could immediately recognise his dark hair and body shape. Why he was all alone over there, I did not know. But there was a plan brewing in my head. We had one short night in this hotel, and I would be damned if I didn't take the chance and meet up with Jack.

Alex and I went straight to the elevator. He didn't even seem to notice Jack. I didn't really mind, though, it only meant that I could carry out my plan without the thought of Alex knowing in the back of my mind. We left the elevator when it got to the right floor and started walking down the hallway to our rooms. Coincidentally, mine was the closest one.

"So..." I whistled as we got to my room, pulling out my keycard and putting my hand on the door handle.

"Yeah..." he nodded back, his own hands in his back pockets. "Are you enjoying yourself so far?"

"Definitely. I'm still so grateful that you offered to take me and convinced everybody else to let me go," I thanked him.

"It was necessary," he countered, brushing off my graciousness.

"Well, I'll be going to bed then," I said, hoping to hurry this along a little bit. I didn't want to come downstairs just for Jack to have disappeared.

"We don't have to cut the evening off here," Alex offered, crossing his arms over his chest. "We could go back to my room and watch a movie."

I tried to soften the way I declined. "I don't know..."

"I'll even let you choose the movie," he tried to convince me.

"I'm actually really tired." I made up an excuse.

"I don't mind if you fall asleep in my room."

"Really, I think I'd much rather go to bed now. Sleep in a proper bed for a night, you know, not surrounded by boys." It was a complete lie of what I actually wanted to do. Alex's face dropped, however, and I didn't want to upset him. "But we can definitely watch one back on the bus at some point."

"Are you sure?" He tried one last time. "It's a once in a lifetime offer."

"Next time," I insisted.

"Okay, then. But I'll still see you tomorrow morning, right?"

"That's why you should let me get some sleep now."

"Alright, goodnight then, Winny," he smiled.

"Goodnight, Alex," I waved back as he walked down the hallway to his room still looking back at me.

As soon as he turned around, I rushed into my bedroom. Although I never had made any particular effort around Jack before, I definitely was going to put a bit more into it this time. I threw off the gray graphic tee I had been wearing, but kept on the ripped jean shorts. To make it even easier, I quickly snapped off my bra and started scouring through the clothes in my bag. Eventually, I pulled out a loose black tank top that tied together at the front, exposing my midriff. Technically, it was still too cold for that, and I usually would never wear it without a little support, but I decided to go against all of that tonight and put it on anyway.

Once I left my room, I double checked to see if anybody I knew was in the hallway. When I was sure that it was completely empty, I jogged up to the elevator and spammed the button. It had been quite a while since I saw Jack down there, I didn't want to miss him. Luckily for me, he was still sitting on the same barstool. I shook out my hair a little and walked up, sliding in the chair next to him.

"Oh, hi!" He grinned when he saw it was me, his gaze briefly lingering down before rapidly breaking away.

I propped my elbow on the bar and leaned softly against my hand. "What are you doing here, drinking all by yourself?"

"You and Alex were out for dinner, Zack's at the gym, Rian's gone to bed to call his girlfriend. I was hoping somebody would like to join me here, but this place is full of dudes." He looked around the room, as did I. It literally was just small groups of men, and if there was a woman, they were obviously there with a significant other.

"I'm not a guy," I smirked.

He looked pretty pleased. "I know."

The bartender came up to me and asked what I wanted. I ordered a double whiskey. Something about who I was and the legal age of drinking being lower in Dalewin left me with quite the acquired taste for some alcohol. My grandpa always used to drink whiskey in his library, it was only natural that I inherited that. Don't get me wrong, I did enjoy my cheap vodka on nights out in New York, but this was different. And it seemed to impress Jack, which was a huge plus.

"You know, something doesn't sit right with me," Jack spoke up, still eyeing me sensually. "How have you not been swooned by Alex yet?"

"First of all," I held up one finger, "I work with him, it's weird. Second of all," I held up another, "I can't say he didn't try in the very beginning, but I choose who I sleep with, not some guy."

"Ah." He nodded in understanding, taking a sip of his own drink. "So, what does a guy have to do to convince you."

"It's not so much a matter of convincing rather than first impressions."

"Did I make a good first impression?"

"Hmm..." I faked that I was thinking deeply. "You definitely made an impression."

"And there's nothing I can do to change your mind?" He continued to look at me with a smirk.

"You don't have to change my mind," I simpered back, bringing my glass to my lips and taking a sip.

It wasn't long until Jack and I were on our way back up to our floor. We went straight to his room, running past both mine and Alex's. As soon as we entered and the door closed behind us, I pulled Jack close to me until I was leaning against the wall. His breath hit my face as he looked down at me, investigating the distance between my eyes and my lips.

I waited for him to make the next move, but was too impatient. My hands were already on the back of his neck. All I had to do was move my arms a little closer and he moved along. When our lips were almost grazing, our oxygen being shared I realised exactly what he was doing. His expectant eyes were waiting to see just how far I'd take it. But two could play that game. I returned the favour of teasing, going in and almost making contact, just to fall back the tiniest bit. It didn't take long to turn him insane. He finally went for it, and he didn't hold back. His hands were pulling me closer by the waist while his lips pushed in the other direction. The stubble on his chin and jaw scratched roughly at my skin, but I didn't mind one bit.

It was only seconds later when he started tugging at the tanktop I had only put on thirty minutes before. He moved away just a slither and I raised my arms to let him take the fabric off my body. It was barely covering anything in the first place, but Jack still seemed to get excited at the new sight. He looked down briefly before connecting his lips to the side of my neck, touching my chest in ways I had been dreaming of for a while now.

Everything was so fast-paced and lustful. It hadn't even been a minute and Jack already started fondling with the button of my shorts. Before it was over too quickly, I stopped him, moving his hands back up to my waist. While it could have been taken as a rejection, I quickly interjected with my own want for less clothes. I gave a hard tug on his t-shirt, motioning that I thought it was very unfair. Jack understood the sign, breaking away to practically rip his shirt off.

Immediately after, we were kissing again. It felt nice finally being able to touch him without clothes there to be in the way. Jack must have felt the same way, he was slowly, subconsciously or not, leading us further away from the door. My back was still pressed up against the wall every step of the way up until the back of my legs hit the cold edge of the desk. That's when I decided to pull off my shorts, kicking them off, and getting to work on Jack's jeans.

But I didn't get to finish. Suddenly, he had his hands on the back of my thighs and had lifted me up on the desk. He was sucking on my neck when his fingers hooked onto my panties and shuffled them down my legs. One second he was there, taking care of my top half, the next he had dropped down and his head was between my legs. An unforeseen thrill ran through my entire body when his lips made contact with me.

–––––

I laid next to Jack, taking a second to let my heart calm down. His arm was underneath my head as we both stared up at the ceiling taking everything that had just happened. My mind was blank and racing at the same time. It was like I was supposed to be overthinking things and regretting it, but I really wasn't. Everything was just powered by the extreme high I just came down from.

I probably just laid there, doing nothing for quite a long time. But Jack was doing the same exact thing. Eventually, I sat up and looked around at the room, trying to spot where all my clothes were. My shirt was just a few feet away from the door, my panties at the desk, and my shorts at the foot of the bed. I got up and started to put everything on again.

"Leaving so soon?" Jack turned on his side to watch me.

"I'll fall asleep if I stay any longer," I chuckled and shuffled on my shorts, buttoning it up.

"That isn't all so bad." He propped himself up on his elbow, not even caring that literally everything was still on display.

I picked up my shirt and pulled it over my head. "Yeah, but Alex will be knocking at my door at eight, it's going to take a lot of explaining if I'm not there... especially after I blew him off and said I was going to bed."

"Hmm." He nodded, his eyes still on me. "You and Alex... you don't have a thing, right?"

"No," I shook my head and put my hair up in a ponytail, "why?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. I asked him as well, just checking."

"He's just one of the only people I can bear to work with. We've become friends over time as well."

"Is it that bad?" He laughed, rolling over onto his stomach now.

"It actually isn't that bad," I admitted. Afterall, it literally was my life. "Anyway, speaking of things..." I gestured between me and him.

He sucked in a sharp breath. "Right..."

"I'm going to be honest, I'm not looking for a relationship right now."

"Thank god, me too." He brushed his fingers through his hair.

"Although, this doesn't have to be a one time thing if we can keep it under wraps."

"I wouldn't be against that." He wiggled his eyebrows. "But I can't promise the setting of a nice hotel bed."

"I don't need one." I winked and finally left his room to go back to mine.

#all time low #all time low fanfiction #all time low imagines #Alex Gaskarth #Alex Gaskarth fanfiction #Alex Gaskarth imagines #jack barakat #Jack Barakat fanfiction #Jack Barakat imagines #The Royal Invitation #fanfiction

[britishchick09]

Magical Tipsy Tour: A Beatles Fic

ladies and gentlemen... my first beatles fic! this idea came to me in a dream and it was so funny that i thought, “why not write it?” and thus, a new fic series was born! this took a day to write (march 17th to the 18th) and it was incredibly fun to write. enjoy my first foray into the world of beatlemania! :D

when john and ringo come home drunk af, paul and george must find a way to keep them (mostly) sober for the concert. will it work?

Paui fiddled with his guitar, a new tune flashing through his mind faster than he could play it. Through the sounds of his instrument, he heard something odd.

Silence.

George was taking a much-needed nap in the bedroom while Cynthia and Julian- John’s wife and baby son who lived in the other (much bigger and nicer) room- had recently departed for a two week long vacation. Ringo was probably doing something downstairs and John-

Where was he?

Paul frowned. With John around, the flat was rarely silent. The only blissful time was eight at night and later, when Julian went to bed (and even then it wasn’t silent sometimes).

As Paul looked around in confusion, George walked by.

“Have you seen John around?” Paul asked him.

“I dunno,” George yawned and ran a hand through his messy hair. “Went out, I think.”

“’Went out’? When?”

“What time did I crash?”

“Um… around five or so?”

“So he’s been gone that long, then.”

Paul’s eyes widened. “He’s been gone for almost five hours?”

“Oh, he has? In the words of John himself, ‘Oh shoot!’ The uncensored version, of course.”

“He better come home soon or he’ll hear the uncensored version from me.”

Not even a moment later, the door burst open.

“John!” Paul exclaimed as he rose from his chair. “There you are! Where the hell have you- Ringo?!?!”

“’Ello.” Ringo said through a chuckle.

“Were you out with him, too?” George inquired.

“Oot in a boot in Canadaaaa!”

Ringo skipped by, causing George to frown.

“Does he normally do that?” he asked.

Paul shook his head. “No, I-”

“Hello, you beautiful stranger!” John said in a high voice, cupping Paul’s face in his hands.

He kissed his mate on the lips, causing Paul’s eyes to widen in absolute shock and horror. John ran away with a laugh.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God,” Paul blinked and took a breath to regain what little composure he had. “If you’ll excuse me for a minute, I need to scream.” he said quietly before rushing out of the apartment.

George walked backwards until his back touched the wall. All he could do was watch as John and Ringo skipped and chattered like madmen.

“What’s gotten into you two?” George asked them.

“Probably a girl.” Ringo said.

He and John burst out into schoolgirl-like giggles and they ran down the hallway.

Paul returned a couple minutes later and said, “If there’s anything I learned from that… ungodly kiss, it’s that-”

“John secretly loves you and is now confessing his feelings after six years of seemingly mutual friendship?” George asked.

“Oh god, I hope not! I think John’s been out drinking!”

“How do you know?”

“Does the strong taste of wine, beer and maybe whiskey on his breath tell anything?”

“What about Ringo?”

“If I had to guess, he’s probably been doing the same thing. I hope he didn’t waste himself like John, but you never know with him.”

“Is there anything we can do about-” George stopped as John let out a laugh mixed with a scream in one of the other rooms. “That?”

“All we can do is wait and-” Paul slapped a hand on his forehead. “Shoot! We have a concert tomorrow!”

“So?”

“So those mad lads will probably have massive hangovers before it starts. John especially.”

“Playing with a hangover? That’s rough.”

“It sure is. They’ll probably crash any minute now and maybe the effects will mellow down by the time of the concert. …Hopefully.”

...

 Much to Paul’s dismay, John and Ringo didn’t mellow down. The drunkards were noisy almost all night. Ringo banged on his drums while John screamed their songs, botching many of the lyrics. He was finishing ‘Twist and Shout’ when someone knocked on the door.

Paul stumbled out of the room he shared with George (and sober Ringo). He tied his robe before answering the door.

“No, I’m not giving out autographs.” he said sleepily.

“But you will settle down in here!” a woman snapped. “I can hardly sleep with all this ruckus!”

“You’re telling me,” Paul muttered with a sigh before telling the woman, “Thanks for letting me know, I’ll take care of it.”

After the woman left and Paul locked the door, he stormed into John’s room, where the drunkards were still singing away.

“Can you lads quiet down a little?” Paul asked.

John and Ringo ignored him.

“Excuse me?”

John continued to scream,

“’She loves me, yeah, yeah, yeah,

She loved me, ooh, yeah, yah,

She love meeeeeee-‘”

“SHUT THE HELL UP!” Paul yelled.

John stopped singing and Ringo stared at him.

“Go to bed, why don’t you?” Paul asked in a much quieter voice.

“’Mkay.” Ringo said before slamming his head on his drum set and instantly falling asleep.

John grinned at the sight of Paul and dashed over to him. “Come over here and kiss me, pretty boy!”

“I think we already did that, thanks.” Paul said, turning his face away.

John managed to kiss Paul’s cheek and giggled.

“Are you happy now?” Paul asked. “Will you finally go to bed?”

“Not until we dance the night away, if you know what I mean.” John replied, his words slurring together.

“I don’t think I want to know what that me- woah!”

Paul was swept away by John, who grabbed him and began whisking him through the room.

“Play us a tune, Rongles.” John told Ringo, who snored.

Paul noticed George standing by the doorway and reached out to him. “George, help me!”

“I’m callin’ him ‘Rongles’ now.” George said before walking away.

“Oh, for cripes’ sake! John, I-”

“Yes, I do wanna marry you!” John exclaimed. He and Paul fell onto the bed.

“Let’s kiss the bri-”

Paul jumped up and backed away. “Go to bed now.” he ordered menacingly.

He slammed the door and John simply shrugged the comment off.

George returned to bed a couple minutes later, where Paul was brooding.

“Thanks for the help, George.” he said.

“You’re quite welcome.” George replied.

Paul groaned and stuffed his face in his pillow as John’s singing started up again.

...

The next morning was full of renewed energy.

Paul, however, was not.

“Sleep well?” George asked.

Paul glared at him, putting his unkempt hair and dark circles under his eyes into full view. “Does it fucking look like I fucking did?”

“…I’m gonna take that as a no, then.”

Paul ran a hand through his hair as he asked, “How are John and Ringo?”

“Ringo’s still sleeping and your boyfriend’s in the bathroom.”

“He isn’t my boyfriend.”

George smiled. “I saw your little dance last night.”

Paul rolled his eyes and went to John’s room. He peeked inside, seeing Ringo fast asleep by his drums. He gave his friend a gentle nudge.

“Wake up, Ringo. It’s morn- Ow!”

Suddenly wide awake, Ringo had sat up with a start, smacking Paul in the face with one of his drumsticks.

“The walrus was Paul all along!” Ringo exclaimed.

“…I don’t think I’m a walrus.” Paul said with a confused blink.

“What if I’m the egg man?” Ringo gasped. “Or… we’re the egg men! You think I’m the walrus? Or maybe it’s still you?”

“I… I don’t- Sure. Make me the walrus. Whatever the heck that means.”

Ringo smiled. “Oh, good! You make wonderful mashed potatoes, by the way.”

“…Thank you…? Speaking of John, do you know where he-”

“HELLO!” John yelled, busting the bathroom door open.

“Oh, dear god, here we go,” Paul muttered before turning around to face his friend. “Good morning, John! Please don’t kiss me again.”

“Why would I kiss you?” John asked. “We’re married! Married people do more than just that…”

Paul quickly walked out of the room and rushed back to the other room, John following him like a puppy. He told his drunken friend, “How about we have a nice, uh… couples breakfast together?”

He cringed somewhat at the idea of him and John as a couple, but John seemed to love it. He practically skipped to the dining area, where he and Paul shared a breakfast of eggs, toast and waffles. John tried to mimic the spaghetti scene in ‘Lady and the Tramp’ more than once, but Paul wouldn’t allow it.

“Go get dressed,” Paul told him. “I-”

“Won’t that be fun!” John exclaimed, gripping Paul’s hand.

Paul jerked his hand away. “Go get dressed with Ringo, why don’t you?”

“But he’s not my husband-”

“Yeah, and I’m not either. So go.”

John lowered his head and trudged to his room, accidentally slamming his head into the wall at one point.

Paul sighed as he asked George, “What are we gonna do about this?”

“Ringo’s alright, I suppose,” George replied. “That extra energy will make his drums better or something.”

“But what about John? We can’t have him screaming on stage.”

“What about ‘Twist and Shout’?”

“Besides that song. If he’s crazy on stage, the fans will notice and the press might spread rumors and- …Well, I don’t want to think about it past that point.”

“I’m sure he’s sober enough now. That long night could’ve tuckered him out a little.”

“Sure tuckered me out,” Paul said with a yawn. “Here’s hoping it goes well.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“The Beatles might become the Drunkles.”

George chuckled at the funny name and smoothed out Paul’s messy hair. “Everything will be alright, Paul. You’ll see.”

...

The concert took place a couple hours later. During the ride there, the driver gave Paul and John funny looks. John kept snuggling up to Paul and fiddling with his hair. Paul ignored it for the most part and kept his gaze out the window, stopping to give John a glare when he pulled too hard.

“They say when a gal pulls a guy’s hair, it means he likes her.” John said in a mix of his usual and high voice.

“…I think it’s the opposite.” George commented quietly.

“It is,” Paul said. “And thank you for that, John. Thanks a lot.”

“You’re welcome, hubby!” John said, receiving another look from the driver.

They soon arrived at the venue.

“Oh god,” Paul muttered before saying, “Here we go. You ready, lads?”

“Readier than Canadaaaaa!” Ringo exclaimed.

“What is it with drunken you and Canada?” George quietly asked his friend.

Once the four were backstage, Paul took George aside.

“I know this is last minute-”

“Way last minute.” George said.

“-but do you have anything that might help John… relax a little?”

John was happily skipping with Ringo in a circle. Paul was glad no one from the stage crew was around to see it.

“I think so,” George looked through his suit pockets and found a pill, which he gave to Paul. “It’s supposed to relax you.”

Paul took the pill and said, “Nice one. Now I’ll just need to find some water-” He stopped as George handed him a bottle of water. “…How did you fit that inside your pockets?”

“As Ringo says, ‘tomorrow never knows’. You think that would be a good song title?”

“Yeah, it would. Speaking of Ringo, keep him at bay while I tackle John.”

“Don’t do it literally. He might think it’s-”

Paul rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up.” he said, giving his friend a teasing smile.

He went over to John, who gave him a big hug.

“Hello, hubby!” he said cheerfully.

“First of all, don’t call me that. Secondly, take this.” Paul handed John the pill.

“Ooh, what is it?”

“Just a relaxing pill,” Paul frowned at John’s wink. “Not for whatever the hell you’re thinking of! Take it and-”

“We’ll go out on a date? I suggest the lake- Ooh! With a rose garden and-”

“-and we’ll get the show started. I can’t guarantee the date will happen.”

The Beatles’ manager, Brian, appeared backstage a minute later.

“You’re on in five minutes,” he said. “I- Ringo, what are you doing?”

Ringo stopped hitting his head with his drumsticks. “Exercise.”

Brian looked at the others.

“It’s not really his day today.” George said softly.

Five minutes later, the announcer said, “Ladies and gentleman… The Beatles!”

Almost earsplitting screams could be heard from past the curtain.

“Well, here goes nothing.” Paul muttered with a sigh.

To his amazement, the concert went just as planned. John only got drunkenly hyper during ‘Twist and Shout’ and messed up a couple verses, but no one noticed thorough the crowd’s screams. Ringo was more energetic than usual and pounded on the drums but it also went unnoticed. Overall, the performance was a success.

“My god, we did it!” Paul exclaimed through the applause once they were all backstage.

John gave Paul a kiss on the cheek, which Paul didn’t mind this time due to his immense relief.

“What did I tell you?” George asked.

“You said everything would be alright.” Paul told him.

“And it was!”

Paul laughed. “I guess them being drunk wasn’t too bad after all!” He frowned and dodged John, who wanted to kiss him on the lips again. “…Mostly.”

...

The four kept up their joyful spirits throughout the ride back to the flat.

But that all went away as soon as John and Ringo stepped inside.

“Lads… I don’t think I feel too well.” Ringo said.

“Same here,” John agreed. “I feel like I’m gonna-”

“Don’t say it. I know, too!”

John and Ringo rushed to the bathroom.

“Who do you think is using the sink?” George asked. “Can’t brush my teeth tonight without it.”

“Probably neither. Knowing John, he’s probably using the shower,” Paul shook his head with a smile. “I’m glad this is all over with.”

“I am, too. You think John would mind if we used the bathroom in him and Cynthia’s room?”

“Probably. I’ll use it just to spite him.”

“Even though he feels awful right now?”

Paul laughed. “He deserves it after snogging me in the kisser!”

“And it sure was a snog.” George muttered to himself.

A few minutes later, Ringo groaned softly as he snuggled into a sofa pillow.

“Are you feeling alright?” George asked his friend gently.

“I feel like I went on a submarine,” Ringo replied. “It was yellow and I think we stopped at a garden with an octopus.”

George soothingly stroked Ringo’s hair. “We all feel like that sometimes, don’t we?”

On the opposite side of the living room, John was groaning loudly, one arm draped over his eyes.

“Bloody hell, what did I do last night?” he asked no one in particular.

“Um… drank three types of alcohol and danced around like a mad man?” Paul guessed.

“Four. It was four types.”

“Really? I only tasted wine, beer and whiskey. What was the other one?”

“How the fuck should I remem-” John stopped and lifted his arm. “How do you know what I had?”

“Oh… let’s just say you may or may not have kissed me for five agonizing seconds last night. And professed your drunken love to me multiple times. And genuinely thought we were married. Did I mention the kiss already?”

John’s eyes widened. “Oh god-”

He cut himself off and ran to the bathroom, his footsteps pounding on the floor.

“Nice to have things back to normal, isn’t it?” George asked with a smile.

Paul smiled back with a nod. “I have to say it sure is!”

#the beatles #fan fic #this was so much fun to write #i feel like i really captured their personalities (even the drunk ones) #it's a lot like my tangled fic in that way #i loved every second of it and i can't wait to write more #off to a new senpai fic i go! :D