#why is my baby cousin better at knitting than mr | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

creativeashproductions · 3 years

Text

What If...? IV // Alive!Luke Patterson

Summary: 1997 and 1998 are big years for Luke Patterson and his fiancée with their engagement and wedding planning. If you thought wedding planning and the wedding itself was the big things well, you’d be wrong. I mean this is the couple that almost ended with a car accident. Join the year long adventure.

Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy, minor angst, sweet groom!Luke, and fluff

Words: 3.3k

Requested: By @beautifulblogsblog. There is one more part after this. 🥺😭

A/N: It’s finally here! The Patterson-Y/L/N wedding makes its appearance here and a little cameo of a future character. The next part is the last part in the miniseries as well. Enjoy.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

Hollywood 1997

An entire year had flown by from the day of your engagement to Luke filled with frustration, elation and greatness. Sunset Curve toured around California, leaving the Y/L/N-Patterson women to plan the wedding. Nineteen years old now in the modestly sized apartment, Luke sat beside you in the bathroom.

Two nervous teenagers a mere month away from their wedding day they cuddled each other eyes pinned at the floor. Apprehensive of the stick that held power to change everything in their lives. For the last week, you hadn’t felt very well with being tired and nausea laying you out in bed.

“It’s been long enough.” Luke murmured reaching for the test, “No matter what. I love you.”

Kissing his cheek, the two of you slumped at the negative with surprising emotion. The negative greatly disappointed you.

“I’m sorry,” Luke mumbled to his fiancée equally torn up because while the timing wasn’t perfect, he had pictured what life would be like.

A tiny baby growing in his fiancée womb, growing into bump made flutters in his belly. Of love, he already felt for your future unborn children and snuggling his kids. Introducing them to his loved ones and bonding over music. Teaching his son or daughter how to play the guitar.

He’d love to see his parents cradle a new addition to the family freshly born with the tiny knit hat Emily couldn’t resist making. Sharing a celebratory beer with his father and wisdom for the coming years. To learn the parental reason of why they had been against his career choice.

“I really wanted it to be positive.” You admitted playing with your fingers disappointed at being wrong about your body. Luke smiled as your words as he grabbed your hand in his calloused grip.

“Do you…do you want to try for a baby?” Luke trailed off flushing at how beautiful you would look growing his child. The bathroom was quiet as you thought the idea over, “With the tour just finishing the band will be writing music and recording. I could be here for the whole pregnancy and birth.”

“If we get pregnant in the next month. But we’re also getting married in a few months.” You sighed leaning to rest about his bare arm staring at the pregnancy test.

“If it happens then it happens.” Luke spoke, “If you want, we can try.”

Raising your eyes to meet Luke’s you hesitantly nodded at his words as it settled that is there ever a perfect time to get pregnant? So many people struggle with conception like your parents did with you; your mother’s labour was so complicated that you’d never have siblings.

“Okay.” Luke breathed, standing up to scoop you into his arms, “Best get on with it.”

The laughter filled the simple bedroom as Luke crawled over your body to hover with a matching smile. There was no one else in the world that could get his heart fluttering and focus on something other than music. It was terrific, and he couldn’t be mad about.

“So, Rockstar…are you gonna help?” You whispered tugging on the chain of his necklace to drag his face closer. Closing the distance, Luke’s lips brushed yours before time stopped in a collision of senses.

The callouses of his fingers trailing a fire under the flowing shirt chosen for the lunch date earlier. The warmth of his hands nowhere close enough to match the heat your body burnt with. The taste of the cherry chapstick he shamelessly stole from you, but it was the heady scent of Luke that got you.

Luke heavily breathed as he pulled back with a hazy gaze with the green almost overtaken by the black pupils. No hesitation as your lips sucked on his neck, bringing a gravelly moan from the man over you, a sound that caused your lower half to clench. Legs unable to fully close as his fingers drew symbols on your inner thigh.

Symbols that spelt out his full name. Now that was really hot.

A gasp pulled from your throat you arched as a hand came up to cup your breast in his hand; Luke could argue all he wanted, but he was boob man when it came to you.

Thoughts disappearing the ecstasy with the love of your life overtook your senses.

July 1998

The white dress was a little snugger than the previous month, but you had a good reason for it. A tiny little blob had taken up residence in your womb with a sickness that lasts all day from day one until the start of trimester two. Getting pregnant had to be easy with Luke from the number of times.

Didn’t matter where you were when Luke tugged you away. The small bathroom in the studio? Three times.

Luke’s couch? Yeah, Alex refuses to sit there now.

At this point, you had been everywhere, trying for a baby was incredibly fun, but the hormones sucked. Luke’s deft fingers creating the chords of a song? Bobby banned you from rehearsals, and you had an emergency bag of clothes as well.

“You look gorgeous.” Nancy Y/L/N told her daughter with tears glittering in her eyes as she took in the sight of her daughter. The wedding dress the bridesmaids, mother’s and Alex had hunted for; the boy had tagged along as he was like a brother. Reggie, Bobby and Luke had spent the day with Mitch and Lance.

A sob broke from the lips of Lance; his baby girl no longer needed him with her soon to be husband. There was no one in the world he trusted more with his daughter than Luke Patterson. The boy never placed the band ahead of his fiancée, and it was quickly noticed how much Luke adored the Y/L/N girl.

“Dad.” You spoke, rushing to hug the man in your arms, “Stop crying. You’ll make me cry.”

Lance was able to hold his tears until the music started and the doors opened to the venue that Luke’s parents married in. Luke stood at the altar with Bobby, Alex, and Reggie. On the opposite side stood your best friend, a childhood friend and your close cousin.

“You look beautiful,” Dad told you slowly making their way to the man cupping his hands over his face. Overtaken by your beauty and the glow, Luke thanked Lance.

“Baby, you look like an Angel,” Luke whispered, squeezing your hands tightly in his as the ceremony began.

“It’s rare that one can find their soulmate, the other half of themselves on such a large plant. Luke and Y/N orbited each other as young children and fell in love in a perfect place. For those of you who don’t know, these two met as a concert. The first step to falling in love. Music is important to this couple.” The officiant spoke, “Luke’s mother told me once that music tethered their souls together, they truly met at a concert, and every important moment had a song.”

Luke’s eyes watered meeting the brown of his mother’s love-filled eyes holding hands with her husband. Luke had no clue how much his mother came to accept, and he felt the relationship fully fix itself as it settled that his Mom had personally made the ceremony better.

“These two souls came together and became one. Luke and Y/N’s love is rare and beautiful. Today these two had decided to make their own vows.” The officiant finished, “Luke if you could start.”

“There has always music in my heart and soul since childhood. I adored listening and begging my parents for new music. My parents, one year, gave me a guitar as a gift, and it started a deep passion in my soul. I made a band with my best friends, and the band brought me to a person that would become more important. Y/N, I had had a crush on you for a long time before you first spoke to me. I had hit Reggie in the calf with my father’s car, and you made a joke about my height. It wouldn’t be until years later than I somehow convinced you to take a chance.” Luke squeezed your hands, “I love music because it brought me to you.”

“Luke. I am absolutely positive that I have loved you for more than this lifetime as my love is so vast and deep. I believe we have been destined since the dawn of time to find each other together by music. I can’t compete with your vows because you have a way with words with the songwriting you’ve done. You’ve been there through the hard times and best times holding my hand ready to catch me if I fell. I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives catching each other when we need it.”

“May the rings be presented?” The officiant asked with a smile as your best friend and Alex gave the rings.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” Luke whispered as he slid the band to rest against your engagement ring. You repeated the words as you slid the band on his finger as well.

“I now pronounce you as man and wife. Mr. Patterson, you may kiss your wife.” The officiant spoke, sending the room into applause.

You and Luke ran down the aisle still holding hands with the biggest smiles of your entire life to the limo that would deliver you to the reception. Luke couldn’t help himself as he pressed kisses all over. This was a glorious day for the musician, his career was going really well, and he married the most beautiful girl.

“God, I love you.” Luke murmured to the girl in the white dress. Leaning closer for another kiss, Luke froze.

Digging into his ankle was a heavy object. Your nervous eyes glittered under the dimmed lighting in the limo. Never-ending eye contact Luke lifted a moderately heavy wooden chalkboard. Written on the sign was: ‘Unofficial flower girl or ring bearer’.

“Are you serious?” Luke asked gobsmacked at the news that heightened the greatness of his wedding day. Eyes flickering to meet yours he watched as your hand unzipped a hidden pocket on your dress.

Flat on your hand was a pregnancy test similar to the one you took months back. The only difference being this one had two lines.

“AS serious as a heart attack. There will be a baby Patterson in six months.” The laugh was joyful as your lips parted.

Luke wasted absolutely no time in setting his hand on the slight bump the dress had covered, “This is why you mentioned your dress being snugger?”

“Mhm.” You replied, stroking the softness of his cheekbone in pure love with him and the life you carried, “We’re in for a wild ride Patterson.”

“Bring it on.” Luke finished kissing your cheek as the limo came to a stop in front of a large venue. The duo you ran inside where your wedding guests threw paper airplanes that Reggie had suggested.

Each airplane had a personal note from your friends and family along that would be gathered into a binder. Reggie had found out that rice wasn’t good for birds and while the reception was inside, he couldn’t do it. So, he brought the idea of paper airplanes; in class, the boys would throw airplanes at each other. It was a nod to their adolescence.

“I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Patterson,” Alex announced into the microphone set on the stage with Sunset Curve’s instruments. It didn’t surprise anyone that the band would play at the wedding.

On the stage, a beautiful Hispanic woman played a soft piano ballad, if you could recall that maybe the bartender from the Orpheum. Her name was on the tip of your tongue as Luke twirled you into his arms with a big grin.

“Mrs. Patterson.” You hummed tugging him to the head table with where your wedding party would join as well. The second Luke helped you sit he knelt down to reach the box covertly placed.

Your eyebrows came together as he opened it, revealing two matching pairs of personalized vans; following the wedding theme one pair was white and another black. On the right shoe, it had ‘just married’ with the wedding date while the left shoe had a picture from your engagement pictures. Of course, Luke made them have Mr. and Mrs. above the image as well.

“How?” You breathed as Luke gently removed your heels to replace them with a thin pair of no-show socks. Over the socks went the white vans that gave your feet a break from the four-inch heels.

“We’re supposed to party now.” Luke beamed squeezing your hands in his only bending to kiss the back of each. His hazel eyes had shifted to a rich green as he stared up at yours with such a tender look, you could feel the heat building in your cheeks.

As your wedding party took their seats, Luke had already changed his shoes and pushed the box back under the table. His left hand refused to leave your right one as you both took in the magical room that had once only been a concept on paper.

“This is amazing.” You breathed leaning into Luke’s arm, sending a smile to the table near the front with both your parents, “Also thank you for the shoe surprise.”

“I am so happy they got done on time.” Luke sighed slouching in his seat, waving at the photographer you had hired.

If you can recall correctly, Luke had met him at a band photoshoot, and he was the assistant to the head photographer. You believe his name was Ray and incredibly talented and under-appreciated by his former boss.

“Did you let the photographer know we have an open bar?” You leaned over to your new husband with a flutter in your belly at his new title. The question turned the corners of Luke’s mouth for the first time that day.

“I find it unfair that we have an open bar and we can’t drink anything.” Luke snorted nudging Reggie in his side.

“Oh, I think we both know you’ll sneak some for the guys and you.” You chuckled leaning back in the chair. One hand resting on your stomach to caress the material with your thumb, unaware, “I’ll stick to the sparkling juice.”

Luke’s one eyebrow raised at the sudden change in your drink choice as in the past you wouldn’t turn down your favourite. His eyes shifted down to your hand with raised eyebrows.

“Wait…are you…?” Luke drawled out slowly in your ear taken aback when your head in a surreptitious manner. His jaw unhinged mind opened as he took in the tiny bump; in the years together, he was very acquainted with your body.

“We are. How cliché are we?” You laughed as Luke lunged to press a kiss to the supple skin lightly painted with foundation.

Your makeup was natural and straightforward to last longer for photos and make it through the dances for later. It was also Luke’s favourite look.

Dinner, the dances and speeches had sped by ending with both the bouquet toss and the garter toss. The guests mingled with the newlyweds as some danced, Emily had managed to drag Luke back on the floor.

“I’m proud of you, Luke.” Emily smiled up at her son, “And you said those dance lessons were a waste of time.”

A light pink flush took over the nineteen-year old’s full cheeks reminiscing the lessons he had taken with his mother. He had been eleven or twelve at the time when his father pulled a muscle at the worst time. The coupons nearly expiration Emily took Luke to the lessons that initially had been for date night.

“I think it helped with singing-“Luke instinctively cut himself off as he had done years before when music was a no go subject, “Sorry you don-“

“Luke, I can never explain how sorry I am about what happened. I was wrong to push you into a box you didn’t fit. Music is a part of you, and I understand now.” Emily squeezed the bicep of the guitarist, “Besides you’ll understand where we were coming from in a couple months.”

Luke’s jaw dropped at her announcement, “What.”

“Luke, I am a mother. I know the signs such as your wife turning down the wine.” Emily admitted stepping back from the boy that had so suddenly become a man before her very eyes.

No longer was he the chubby-cheeked boy running naked from his bath after splattering spaghetti sauce on himself. He had outgrown his interest in soccer and baseball with his little friends. He had matured into a man that lived up to Emily’s teachings. Luke, in her eyes, was now a man of honour, integrity, kindness and stood up for himself.

Emily and Mitch Patterson had done a fantastic job raising their son, but now they could step back. They would get to watch Luke find his way as a husband and a father.

“Hey, man,” Reggie spoke as Luke walked off the dance floor finding you among family congratulating the couple.

“Hey, Reg.” Luke beamed tugging the bassist into his arms for a tight hug. As the two boys leaned back, they looked over at their friend.

Alex discarded the pink suit jacket at the table in favour of leaning against the wall talking with the bartender. A smile blossomed on the two men’s faces as they took in that Alex was utterly relaxed in the conversation.

“They were hardcore flirting.” Reggie piped up, referencing the male bartender, “His name is Billy, I think.”

The bartender had shoulder-length dark hair pulled back in a bun with glittering brown eyes drowning in the shy blonde. He wore a dark shirt opened a few buttons with white detailing on it. A white necklace as well, but it was the lovesick smile Luke loved; Alex deserved happiness the most in Sunset Curve.

“He’s totally a skater.” Reggie spoke, “It’s a love story. He’s a skater boy, and he’d like to do ballet.”

“That would be a sick song. He was a punk, she did ballet.” Luke hummed to a melody created on the spot, “Not really our sound.”

“Someone will figure out a way to use it.” Reggie waved off, and he was right. A singer would use the exact lyric in her song ‘Sk8er Boi’ in 2002 when Sunset Curve would bump into her.

Slowly the boys of Sunset Curve found their way to the stage to perform a few songs directed towards you. At your urging, you had demanded they give a live performance of Unsaid Emily for your now mother-in-law. As they sang, you wrapped an arm, Emily, as she cried.

“This is his best work.” You mumbled to the older woman cupping her wet cheek leaning into the touch of her husband’s touch.

As soon as the song was over, Emily yanked her son into her arms both parties of the hug emotionally moved. It seemed the performance had shifted something in their relationship for the better. Luke didn’t need to explain as he pulled you into his side once more.

“Alex isn’t the only one that found someone.” You whispered, finding Alex and the bartender on break dancing on the edge of the dance floor. At your husband’s puzzlement, your finger pointed in the direction of the stage.

In a conversation photographer, Ray captivated the lead singer of the band you had hired when Sunset Curve didn’t play. Even Reggie seemed to have the attention of your twin showgirl cousins from Las Vegas.

“Love attracts love.” Luke simply spoke, wrapping his built arms around his wife, thinking back on the changes that had happened.

Luke hitting Reggie’s leg with the car at thirteen, finding each other at the concert a few years later, the accident that threatened the relationship. Proposing twice and finally marrying over a year later on the same day you confessed the pregnancy. So much had happened in such a fraction of time.

“I love you.” Luke murmured at the shell of your ear watching his friends have the time of their lives on a beautiful day in the summer of 1998.

Above are the example of the shoes that Luke got.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @parkeret @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds @kcd15 @siriuswvrld @princessvader15 @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle @joshy-obx @lovesanimals @oopsiedoopsie23 @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you @jaskiers-sweetkiss @lostrandomfangirln @must-be-a-weasley-92 @jatp-holland @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland @dasexydevitt13 @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost @marinettepotterandplagg @ssprayberrythings @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon @zukoshonourr @crybabyddl @spooky-season-bitch @kcd15 @morganayennefertyrell @magnet-girl @all-in-fangirl @kinda-really-lost @tenaciousperfectionunknown

#luke patterson imagines #julie and the phantoms imagines #jatp luke #luke patterson x reader #alive!luke patterson #charlie gillespie #caitsy and ash productions

227 notes · View notes

sunnysidevans · 4 years

Text

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐦 𝐃𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐞

Summary: Ransom has time to reflect on his relationship with you and all the things he put you and your relationship through.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW themes, slight knives out spoilers, fluff, swearing, angst.

Authors Note: This idea has sat in my brain for a few days and I thought it was a good idea so I hope i did it justice and you enjoy it. I also did leave some parts out from the movie just for the sake of storyline, some things are also not 100% accurate. enjoy :)

READERS POINT OF VIEW

TWO YEARS PRIOR

The leaves had just started to fall in Massachusetts, it was finally fall and you could break out the fall sweater and finally ransom could pull the cable knits out from the back of the closet. Ransom hid them really well in the closet before fall because knowing you, you’d find them and hoard your favorite cable knit because it always smelled like pine and all things Fall. After much convincing Ransom agreed to go to a family party at the thrombey house. “Babe” he sighed, sitting back on the bed, against the headboard in his Calvin Klien underwear, watching as you rummaged through your sweaters deciding on what to wear to the family gathering. “What?” you turned, hand on your hip watching the smirk on his face as you stood in just a pair of underwear in front of him. He held his hands out to you in a grabby hand motion as you smiled walking to him climbing in bed and straddling his waist, crossing your arms across your chest “what drysdale?” you giggled smiling as he put his hand on your hips “I want to admire this view duh..” he grinned moving your hands to cup your breasts, causing a shiver to run down your back “baby.. Your hands are cold” you tried to push his hands away from your chest as he continued to run his fingers over pebbled nipples. “Ransom..” you sighed as he quickly rolled you onto your back and hovered over you, smirking down at you “I know you can't resist me missy” he smirked kissing down your neck as you tangled your fingers in his short brunette hair that had gotten slightly messy as the seasons changed. “C’mon baby we agreed to go to the party we should probably go” you gasped as he took your nipple in his mouth smirking at the gasp circling his tongue around the nipple biting it slightly, pulling away he smirked “what was that again baby?” he chuckled watching your face as he kissed you passionately.

Arriving at the party in true ransom fashion you were almost half an hour late. “Ransom!.. Oh- (Y/N)” Ransoms mother Linda greeted you as you arrived “hello mother” he sighed, giving her a wave as he tightened his grip on your hand. You waved to Linda and gave her a smile as you entered the family room at the Thrombey estate which held, majority of the thrombey family, including ransom’s grandfather Harlen. “Fran” Ransom snarled, snapping for the housekeeper, a heavy sigh followed “Yes?” she snarled as ransom and you sat down “can you please get me a drink” He sat back, arm around your shoulder as you shook your head quickly “don’t worry Fran, I’ll get it!” you smiled at her, walking to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass from the kitchen Meg, Ransom’s cousin had walked in and greeted you, She was always one of the kindest Thrombeys. “I really do not understand why you date him” she sighed leaning against the counter watching as you poured two glasses of bourbon for you and Ransom. You turned to face her smiling softly “He is just a man, hard headed and ignorant, It took a lot of convincing to even get him here tonight let alone even to sit down and have a drink” you smiled at her and nodded “I’m trying to get him a little more family oriented” you smiled at her again as you walked toward the family room again “You look great meg, I hope school is going well” you nodded to her. As you entered the living room a screaming match had begun between Ransom and his uncle Walt. “You are just a selfish prick who doesn’t even know how to do anything!” Walt screamed at ransom in which ransom laughed in response “I don't know how to do anything?! How does it feel to ride daddy’s coattails! You run a publishing company that publishes like what? One book a fucking year?! Really smooth Walt real smooth!” as walt’s wife spoke up “Don’t use that language in front of our son ransom!” she pitched her hand on Walt's arm for support. “Enough!” Harlen spoke from his chair, standing in the front of the room, “You both are old enough to act better than this” he sighed shaking his head as he pointed to ransom “My office, now.” he sighed walking to the office, Ransom following like a lost puppy. The yelling continued in Harlens office, as you sat on the loft stairs waiting for ransom, it didn’t seem promising as the yelling continued. Twenty minutes later ransom stormed out of the office, coat in hand storming to his beamer, leaving you and the thrombey house in his rearview.

A YEAR & A HALF LATER.

You sat in ransom’s home, watching the news as you did every sunday morning, it was rainy, May showers had finally rolled in. After a long eventful night in the sheets with ransom, you woke early and had a cup of coffee under a blanket when the news had a report. The news anchor sat behind the news station, it felt he was right in front of you. “Renown Author Harlen Thrombey has recently passed, News broke this morning that Mr. Thrombey had passed early into the evening” You couldn’t believe it, “RANSOM!” you stood setting your cup down on the table as you ran up to the bedroom quickly barreling in the bedroom to ransom. “Hey..” you whispered, shaking him gently as he groaned “ugh what” he groaned rolling over to face you “baby.. Your grandpa he’s gone” you whispered rubbing his arm and ransom rolled over with a mumbled “so”.

After a few days Ransom finally agreed to head to Harlens estate to see his family, in the mourning process of his grandfather. “I know you don’t want to go babe” you sighed watching him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze “I don’t, I think this is stupid, we both know he’s dead” he snarled ripping his hand from yours. Arriving at the estate was much more of a dread than you had thought. “Hugh Drysdale?” A man in a black suit stood at the top of the steps as ransom stepped towards the house “Call me ransom it’s my middle name, only the help calls me hugh” as he pushed through the detectives you stood there, watching him walk in shaking your head slightly smiling at the detectives. “And you are?” the one asked, “I’m (Y/N), Ransom is my boyfriend” you smiled softly, shaking their hands and nodding as they took your name and progressed into the house.

In true Thrombey fashion Ransom sat down for a total of five minutes before a screaming match had begun between the thrombey family. “You know what? Eat Shit” Ransom snarled, sliding the cookie into his mouth “Oh that's real rich Hugh” Meg snarked back as Ransom laughed “Up your ass” he sassed back to her as the both of them continued to fight you watched from the back, beside Marta. “Well how nice of you to show up on time for the will reading Hugh” walt snarked to ransom as he sat back “Son” Richard, Ransom’s father pitched in “Father”. “Why don’t you tell em Hugh, huh?! Because good ol grandpa cut you out of the will! Jacob heard everything from the bathroom” Walt pointed to Jacob, his son sitting in the chair as he looked up from his phone and whatever phony news he was reading. “I also heard ransom say.. “I’m warning you”``Jacob nodded quickly in response looking between them all. “Ransom, is that true?” Linda spoke up as ransom sighed “yep” popping the p, watching everyone in the room as they laughed “well.. Maybe this will teach you a valuable lesson and maybe have you grow up a bit” Linda sighed.

After a week of fighting and constant nagging. The family was called back to the Thrombey estate. “I just want to thank you all for being so good to me” Marta began to address the family as you stood beside ransom, rubbing his arm in support. Marta’s speech was over before it ended before the detective pulled her into the room, leaving everyone confused, until a detective came back for you and ransom. “Marta I’m so sorry” Ransom replied as the detective sat him in a seat and stood beside you. “You switched the bottles” the detective began watching the straight look on Ransom’s face and the utter surprise on yours. “Marta” he sat, rolling up his sleeve, “go ahead and tell me what you did for Mr. Thrombey” he nodded, as Marta did her routine she did every night for Harlen, he nodded “you knew what the right thing was, because you did it so many times” he nodded to her as he stood turning to ransom. “Marta knew what she was giving Harlen because she had done it so many times before, but when you didn’t show up for the funeral, you left one thing out, Fran saw you, Fran saw you switch the viles while no one was home. This was because he cut you out of the will” he nodded as Ransom huffed his chest and stood as Marta took a phone call “Thank you doctor we will be there soon” she hung up the phone looking between them. “She’s gonna make a full recovery” she nodded, smiling at them as the detective turned to ransom “I’m going to say this just to you, no cameras no courtroom, just you because you know it's true, we allowed you into our home, we let you watch our granddad, we let you into our family, and now you think you can steal from us? You think I'm not going to fight to protect what's mine?” Ransom approached Marta, hands on his hips, his nose flared as the detective started to laugh. “That is a bunch of crap and you know it” ransom rolled his eyes turning to him angrily “yeah I killed Fran, But I guess I didn’t so you get me on what? Attempted murder-” you spoke up “ransom..” you whispered watching him turn to you quickly, shaking your head biting your lip watching him turn back to the detective and Marta “Arson for the building which with a good lawyer, Which I have I’ll be out in no time” he laughed as Marta began to gag, not holding her lies very well. A confused ransom turned as Marta had puked up her beans on him, wiping her mouth she whispered “Frans dead”

You stood on the end of the thrombey staircase, watching as your boyfriend of three and a half years walked out of the house in handcuffs, You watched him confess to killing his grandfather and the housekeeper. As ransom turned back to you, you shook your head, wiping your face with your sleeve turning away from him. Getting into your vehicle before the cop cars drove off and drove off from Hugh Ransom Drysdale and the Thrombey Estate.

PRESENT DAY.

You walked into your apartment after grabbing the mail as you looked through, in which was mostly bills but one caught your eye, Massachusetts Correctional. You bit your lip as you debated even looking at it, You didn’t know what to do, deciding against your better judgment you opened the letter.

(Y/N),

I wanted to write this to you, I know this is probably much overdue.. I don’t know where to start. As I sit behind these bars I realize how terrible I was to you.. You went through this whole process and I am so sorry. I know I was a terrible person then and still am, I just want to apologize for the man I was, for closure for you, I hope you are well and I just want to apologize again.. You deserved a much MUCH better man than me. Much better than me,

Ransom

As you sat in your kitchen reading over ransom’s handwriting you thought back to that time in your life, when you were in love with a cable knit wearing asshole and not a criminal, You did deserve much better than him, but sometimes thinking back about that, you missed the cable knit sweater wearing asshole. Even if you did deserve better than him.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fic #chris evans angst #chris evans x you #hugh ransom drysdale #ransom thrombrey #ransom thrombey imagine #ransom thrombey fanfic #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fic

213 notes · View notes

justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

Text

The Reluctants | Chapter 10 | The Reluctant Detective

Pairing: Adam (OLLA) x OFC (Charlie Bock)

Summary: Charlie can’t believe her luck when she lands an apartment all to herself in Quincy, Massachusetts in a decaying triple decker. But life gets more complicated when someone moves into the basement. Specifically her landlord, Adam, who also happens to be a vampire. As life collapses around Charlie, these two forge an uneasy and unlikely relationship. But is their relationship as doomed as the building they live in?

Chapter: Adam finds out the truth of Charlie’s whereabouts as well as Jason’s nature and is pissed.

Warnings: Violence, Smut, Frottage, Dry Humping, Teasing, Coming In Pants, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex. Couch Sex. Kidnapping. Stalking. Non-Graphic Violence, Character Death

Adam groaned and stretched in bed early that evening. Charlie’s side was cold, and the sheets tucked up. His brow furrowed until he spied the note on his nightstand.

“Ridiculous.” he clicked his tongue at Charlie, slipping out without waking him. He remained in bed, hoping she would soon return and slip under the sheets to curl next to him before heading to the living room.

But Charlie didn’t show when she usually did. Or two hours later. At first Adam figured she was caught up at the record store, but at three hours Adam worried enough to call Simmons’ personal cell phone. No easy feat as Adam needed to dig out his landline from under a table and crumpled pieces of paper and dust.

“Hello?” Simmons answered with his distinct, gravelly voice.

“It’s Mr. Streiff.”

“Oh, already calling with an offer to buy the Gibson? Charlie is a better salesperson than she lets on.”

Adam’s brows knitted. “What Gibson? I’m calling to check on Charlie, who is working late with you.” His tone firm, bordering on accusatory.

“She left hours ago. With a 1905 Gibson she insisted to take to show you.” Simmons responded worried, although Adam couldn’t tell if it was over the guitar or Charlie. His fist balled tightly at his side.

“What?! Where did she you go?” Adam paced the floor as silence hung in the air while Simmons contemplated his response.

“I didn’t see.” Simmons snapped his fingers. “Wait! I wondered if her cousin came and got her.”

“What cousin?”

Adam shoved on his boots while pulling on a shirt. Charlie said nothing about a cousin. And given what she said about her parents, he doubted the existence of any cousin.

“The one who came by the other day asking for her schedule.”

“And you gave it to him?!” Adam’s voice rising to a yell.

“He said the family came to surprise her. It sounded nice.”

Adam rolled his eyes and cursed. “Fuck! What did he say? Did he give a name?”

“He said his name was Jason. And—” Simmons’s next words met with a dial tone when Adam hung up.

He threw the phone against the wall, smashing it to bits.

“Fuck!” He kicked at the pieces of plastic on the floor before slumping onto the couch. He couldn’t decide whether to kill Simmons first or go out hunting for Charlie.

Charlie rolled her neck, popping the bones.

“Ah…” she sighed while taking a quick inventory of her body.

Her head still pounded and tender to the touch on the back, where she touched what seemed to be a goose egg. Her arms and hands were free, and she was wearing everything from when she left the record shop, save her overcoat. As Charlie sat up from the bed or couch or whatever she sat on, a chain clinked. Charlie glanced down to see her leg shackled to what Charlie now determined to be a couch. A shitty futon to exact.

Loud voices filtered from next door and Charlie moved to the edge of the couch, as far as the chain would let her.

“This was not part of the plan, Jason. Idiot!” A female yelled.

Something clattered to the floor on the other side of the door.

“Why are you the one calling the shots!?

Charlie recognized Jason’s sniveling tone.

“I’m the one taking all the risks! You wanted Adam, she will get us him!”

“That doesn’t mean kidnap her! Do you realize how pissed he will be?!”

“What do you suggest? Let her go? Absolutely not! She’s mine.”

“I don’t know what I wanted, but this is not it.” The floor shook as Ava stomped and pouted. “I’m hungry.”

“There’s some blood in the fridge.”

The door creaked open and Charlie scrambled away. Ava popped into the room.

“Oh, you.” her voice dripped with disdain. “You’re awake.”

“How in the hell did you and Jason…” Charlie’s voice wavered, still coming to grips with her situation.

Ava smiled, her fangs peeking out from behind her lips. “Your little stalker boyfriend?”

“Not my boyfriend.”

“No, but he is your stalker.” Ava smirked. “I met him outside when Adam threw me out. So rude.” Her bottom lip popped out into a pout.

“He will be so pissed when he gets here.”

“I realize that!” Ava stomped her foot and then stormed away as Jason came in.

He sat down right next to Charlie. His cast rough against her skin. Jason lifted his good hand to run the back of his finger along Charlie’s cheek. She jerked back at the intrusion.

“Get used to me, sweetheart.” Jason’s face twisted into a sick smile.

Adam spent the better part of an hour grilling Simmons on every nuance of his conversation with Jason and the events of that night. Frustrated and angry, he slammed his hand repeatedly against the steering wheel of his Jaguar. It hurt like hell.

As soon as he got back home, he went to Charlie’s apartment and ransacked her living room and bedroom. Clothes and paper flew in the air without regard until he located Charlie’s neglected planner. With a deft finger, he flipped the pages until he found what he wanted. He ripped the page out and then shoved clothes and debris from his fit to find the phone.

“Charlie?” Elise answered in a groggy voice.

“Who the fuck is Jason?”

“Who the hell is this?” Elise’s voice turned shrill.

“It’s Adam, I’m her…” He hesitated. How much did Charlie tell her friends? He quickly replaced the thought with panic and fear as to what may happen to Charlie. “… boyfriend.”

Elise sat up in bed. “Oh, pleasure. Did Jason show up? I told Charlie to be careful.”

Adam would have to wait until Charlie came home safe and sound to discuss hiding important information from each other.

“Tell me everything about him.”

Twenty minutes later, Adam hung with Elise with enough information about Jason to recognize breaking his arm last month was a gift. He should have broken his neck. Nothing that would pop up on a standard background check, but red flags nevertheless. He sounded like a serial killer in the making. Adam ripped the phone out of the wall and walked downstairs to fish out his own address book. He prayed the number still work as he punched in the number.

“Hello?” the male voice answered.

“Frank, I need a favor.”

“Adam. You know that’s not my name, right?”

“I’m not calling you Francois Eugène Vidocq.”

The man chuckled. “It is a mouthful. It’s been at half a century since we talked. How’s Eve?”

“Dead.” Adam winced.

“I’m sorr—”

Adam cut him off. “I don’t need your apologies. Do you still have access to the Registry of Motor Vehicles?”

“Massachusetts? Well, yeah, if you call hacking into their database access.”

“I need you to get my an address for a Jason Fuller and a Nicole McDonald?”

“Got anything else? Dates of birth?”

“No.”

Frank sighed on the other end of the line. “Give me a bit, I will call you back.” The line clicked dead.

Adam paced the floor. His hand ran through his wild hair. He hated this. He hated his mind racing to all the possibilities of the horrible things happening to Charlie. A thought entered his mind. He walked into the spare bedroom, digging through a box. And then another, and a third.

“She’s fucking right, Eve. I should let her clean and organize down here.” He rummaged through yet another box before pulling out a tattered shoebox. “Apologies, baby, for what I may have to do. But I love her.”

An hour later, the phone rang.

“Took you long enough.” Adam snapped back. He threw a black leather jacket on top of his usual rock n roll attire, combat boots and everything.

“You didn’t say anything about a rush.”

“The urgency was implied, Frank. Did you get the addresses or not?”

“I got what you want.” Frank rattled off two addresses, Jason’s in Cambridge and Nicole’s in Revere. “You never told me why you are looking for this guy.”

“He took something very dear to me.”

“A guitar?”

“A girl.”

Charlie soon discovered Jason and Ava didn’t have a fucking clue what they were doing. Two things became clear to Charlie: Jason wanted to keep Charlie for himself, and Ava was always hungry. She had no idea how long she had been here or if Adam realized she’d gone missing. If she wasn’t so terrified, Charlie would have been laughing at this Keystone Cops kidnapping of hers.

Ava and Jason bickered in the corner.

“Hmmm.” Charlie cleared her throat. Two heads snapped over to glare at her. “I’m wondering,” She crossed her legs at the ankles, chain clinking along the floor. “which of you is going to let Adam know you have me?”

Ava’s face pinched up. “I beg your pardon?”

Charlie’s lips twitched into a smile. “Well the whole point of this is to get Adam’s attention, am I correct? It’s hard to do that if he DOESN’T HAVE A FUCKING CLUE, I’M HERE!” she screamed.

Jason stomped over to Charlie and hit her with his open hand. The left side of her face exploded in pain.

“DON’T FUCKING TELL ME WHAT TO DO!” Jason screamed back. His nostrils flared and spittle flew out of his mouth. Charlie cried out of exhaustion and pain more than anything. Jason’s expression softened. He sat next to her.

“Sweetheart.” He cooed, reaching up to soothe the already bruising mark on Charlie’s cheek. “You know better than to get me upset. I lose control when I get upset. You might end up hurt.”

Charlie gulped. “Sorry.”

Jason stood up and kissed the top of her head. “Now let’s go get some ice from that bruise.” He walked off to the kitchen.

Ava’s gaze darted between the kitchen and Charlie. “Fine, I’ll make the phone call.”

Adam never got that message because he was long gone.

Jason’s Cambridge apartment was empty, but that didn’t stop Adam from ransacking the place. In particular, he shredded to bits a few photos of Charlie pinned onto a corkboard.

“Fuck!” he cursed as he caught the time after kicking in Jason’s TV. There wasn’t enough nighttime left to make it to Revere. “Hang on just one more day, my love.”

Charlie iced her cheek with the frozen bag of peas Jason tossed to her. Her stomach gurgled.

“Could I get something to eat?” Charlie’s voice soft and wavering.

“I’m hungry too.” Ava whined.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Women.” He grabbed his keys. “Feed on her if you’re hungry.”

“Do I look like I have a death wish? I want to talk to Adam, not be killed by him. Bring something to eat.”

“Fine!” Jason slammed the door.

He returned several hours later, a greasy bag of fast food tucked under his cast and a drunk girl holding his other hand.

Charlie’s nose scrunched at the aroma of burger and fries. Jason pushed the girl towards Ava.

“Eat up, both of you.” he sneered.

“I’m trying to watch my cholesterol.” Charlie piped up.

“Did you ask her if she is clean?” Ava complained.

“If you don’t like what I brought you, then you can STARVE!!” He slammed to the door to the other room.

Ava shrugged her shoulders and dragged the girl into the kitchen. Charlie snacked on the fries while ignoring the greasy cheeseburger. Tears rolled down her face.

“I miss you, Adam. Please find me.” she whispered as she pulled the thin afghan over her body and laid down on the sofa, which she just noticed smelled of beer.

#adam #adam fanfic #adam fanfiction #adam angst #adam fluff #adam smut #only lovers left alive #only lovers left alive fanfiction #adam x ofc #the reluctants

1 note · View note

randomlerson75 · 5 years

Text

Stuff people at my high school have said or done

• “I’ll just pretend I broke my ankle. I’ll limp a little”

• “You’re face doesn’t even have many bones”

• “Do you wipe your ass with your fingers”

• “I look cute though so I’m saving it”

• “They’re not dirty minded they just have a sexy brain”

• “This is not a good situation now. I’m not happy”

• *sleeping in class and randomly screams* “STOP!!!”

• “I’m coloring my weed symbol”

• “I stretch pretty violently I’m sorry”

• “I look like I’m more full of life than you”

•”I’m a good person” “haha ok”

• “I’m gonna round it to the nearest 11”

• “You don’t always have to swallow”

• “What a fucking time to be alive”

• “why are you harissing me”

• “That’s why you turn around and punch him in the face”. “I don’t have time”

• “You are the highest grade”

• “Does it taste normal”. “No it tastes good”

• “Why are we all up in this cold ass blueberry”

• “The sun can’t be that hot”

• “I could have overreached but that would make me stupid”

• “I’m all muscle bro, it’s tight on me”

• ”I’m a stripper that’s how I make my money”

• “You’re my mom” *talking to the teacher*

• “Are you high” “just get it off”

• *laughs normally* “you sound like a pedophile”

• “Pinkie ring until I roll”

• *about to jump off a cliff in a video for free diving* “push her”

• “Capitalism is ok”

• “It’s so funny how you can be alive one second and dead the next”

• “Change the m in marijuana to a j. Jarijuana”

• *teacher puts desk in the hallway*

• “He smoked water”

• “You can’t speak Latin” “Can you?”

• “May I acquire a pencil” “yes you may” “have a blessed day”

• “I’m going to write a book about how depressed I am”

• “God has forsaken me”

• *girls trying to stab each other with scissors*

• “I got a pretty long weenus. It looks like a penis”

• “My skeleton is twerking”

• *draws a skeleton twerking* “this is why it’s fun to learn art”

• “Why does he have eye holes?” “He’s a skeleton”

• “Don’t get my businesses ”

• “YOU ARE A WHORE”

• “love is so good”

• “Happy 17th day of birth”

• “You know it’s cold when you walk outside and it’s cold

• “why are you smiling like a creep Jess?” “That’s my normal face”

• “I’m living my best life, right here right now”

• *About thirty kids doing nothing but snapping*

• “Yes, I am very racist about smart boards”

• “I used to be like ;) but now I’m like :|”

• “Physically I’m here but mentally I’m still at home”

• “Emotions are like hurricanes. They never go where they are suppose too”

• “it took me a whole 27 minutes”

• “I would pay for the fire alarm to go off again”

• “Why did we get such a gay name like Florence”

• “this is my dad” *points to Albert Einstein

• *A REAL debate on wether to rip the clippy part off of mechanical pencils*

• “Not gonna lie. I grinded a friends marathon this weekend”

• “FINISH THE TEA”

• “You should know to never mess with another persons tech deck”

• “She has a thing against white people even though she’s white”

• “Speak of the devil. All white, what a fright”

• “You are a children”

• “You think a bull in a china shop? How about a bomb in a restaurant”

• “Me do”

• “I cheesed myself”

• “I never said I was going to jump you at Bojangles”

• “Knitting is VERY fun”

• “I’m not good enough, I’m great enough”

• “North Korea, South Korea, Same thing”

• *drops pencil* “NOOOOOOOOO”

• *light flickers* “excuse you”

• “You can make Australia bigger?”

• “Why don’t we burn people at the stake anymore for doing crimes. It was proven very effective”

• “It’s like I went into the pits of hell”

• “Can I borrow her crutches” “She has a lot”

• “You have arms?”

• “I was born thick”

• “I wasn’t sick I was drunk”

• “be a good person. Go go go”

• “Lotion and ravioli”

• “It smells like weed in here”

• “F*ck oxygen”

• “bring it back tomorrow or you die”

• “Tables are for glasses, not asses”

• “Stick it in between her boobs”

• “A lot of religions end in ism” “Christianiaism”

• “I just want someone to snort my ashes. That would be cool. Mix it with a little cocaine”

• “The United States of Australia”

• “Clark Kent who. I’m kidding, that’s not even Spider-Man”

• “Mental cheese”

• “Your blood is not supposed to make whistling noises”

• “Who sleeps on a Friday night”

• “A whole ass race”

• “that’s a sexy button” “I know right”

• *Screams* “and....”

• “Judaism is neither a religion or race”

• “Have you ever met someone and thought ‘wow. I would feel no remorse killing you’”

•“I hate this school with a burning passion”

•“Beep beep in your seats”

•“What is wrong with the world? The simulation is breaking”

•“What if we’re each other’s dad”

•“You use mental gymnastics to get around your head and get what you want”

•”You can’t just roll up to North Korea. You have to beat me in bingo”

•*teachers wear a dress and played despacito on the trumpet*

• “He’s a stingy boi”

• “A for anarchy? Dude i wish”

• “shut up I’m choking”

• “The snack the smiles back” “GOLDFISH!!!”

• “Where’s the pointy boi?” “I don’t know. I have the thick boi”

• “Dude. Fish can’t talk”

• “Stop taking my eraser” “it’s a ruler” “it can be whatever it wants to be”

• “A female vacuum is attractive”

• “I can love you but not like you”

• “I am mother gothel mentally, physically and spiritually

• “Mother gothel is my religion”

• “IM GETTING A COW!!!!”

• “It’s like Leonardo Da’Vinchi but instead it’s Leonardo Decaprio”

• “I wish I had some crippling disease. Schizophrenia would be nice”

• “I’m gonna kill someone for the rush of adrenaline I’ll get. I’ll get pumped, then I’ll work out”

• “Should I become an important political figure”

• “My cats might have eaten him”

• “Who else is trying to overthrow the government”

• “Where’s our kid?” “He looked at me funny and I had to teach him a lesson. I flushed him down the toilet”

• “I text Jesus all the time”

• “You are a saucy boi”

• “Your neck is really soft. Do you know that?”

• “Um. No professor. I don’t give a fuck”

• “Bro I look like a whole ass beetle”

• “You know? I’m definitely going to hell. But I’ve accepted that”

• “We need to go to the woods and have a collective cry”

• “Moths = whore”

• “Can we watch more food videos”

• “Just outlive the old people and health care prices can go back to normal”

• “Let’s just start the gladiator games again to handle population”

• “I’ll be Michael Phelps”

• “Don’t you just hate it when Nolan steps on your 69 Barbie head”

• “He’s so 20”

• “LITTLE BOY! WHERE ARE YOUR NIPPLES”

• “You guys disgust me”

• “I thought I had a good nights sleep but then I stood up and was like ‘oh no’”

• “you look better as an apple”

• “Why the fuck does it smell like weed in here. Mrs. Burch be blazing it up”

• “What is the coast of South Carolina growing” “Fish”

• “Why are we here on Halloween but not on Thanksgiving”

• “Even though I’m 18 I still might go trick or treating”

• “All minors should be allowed to trick or treat”

• “Tomorrow is not today, is it?”

• “ah yes, the glorious uno and dos”

• “I think Kanye is a crackhead”

• “Like. She’s not hideous”

• “Casserole and Gatorade?”

• “That’s what Google’s for girly”

• “this class has corrupted me”

• “You stepped on my fat”

• “What would Jesus do?”

• *Squeaks kazoo in anguish*

• “We’re going to watch a video about the depression” “weird, nobody has been following me around with cameras”

• “Approximately 50 minutes till ice cream”

• “Did you know heroin is not good for you?”

• “I have the constant need to fight myself and my demons”

• “what the hell?” “I know”

• “you are crack-a-lakin me up”

• “I have no muscles so what’s the point”

• “Flex on the legless”

• “didn’t that movie come out in November? Fifty shades of green?”

• *County music blares from another class down the hall*

• “I got a twin brother” “What’s his name” “Pj”

• “Keep the iPhone in your ear”

• “Super white red lipstick”

• “They just need a lot more dollars”

• “Don’t be like Anthony” “Isn’t he your son”

• “There’s a lot that needs to happen in the next.... today”

• *Plays bagpipe music walking down the hallway*

• “Say sorry to Billie Eilish”

• “We should make army merch”

• “Some of us have bitch lips”

• “Time is moco loco”

• “Alfred Adler sounds like Adolf Hitler”

• “Albert Einstein is my favorite president” “YES”

• “It’s winter berries”

• “She just unfollowed your ass”

• “Do you ever get so mad you’re like rrrrr”

• “Bear Grills filtered that shit”

• “The US army is trying to recruit us with socks and bandannas”

• “This dude tastes bad”

• “I’m a sophisticated retard”

• “It’ll get your heart rate up” “I think asthma will make my heart rate go down”

• “She was like egh and the he was like EGH”

• *Door won’t open* “DISRESPECTFUL”

• “if she wasn’t my sister she would be my baby”

• “Will you let me make love to an Oreo”

• “Directions turn me on”

• “I’ll eat you” “Dude that’s gay”

• “you’ve been had a 69 in here”

• “I’m gonna be real with you. Hayden is a whole ass lesbian”

• “I’m sorry that picture is ugly. Sorry sis”

• “A whole jump suit with pikachu on it”

• “He’s been birthed”

• “Ru Paul’s drag race has been dragged”

• “Imma sip some chlorine”

• “why do you gotta throw up”

• “suicidal dog collar”

• “I’m pulling out Murphy’s head ass”

• “you’re gonna be single forever”

• “Do you trust me?” “No” “why” “you know why” “I told the truth after”

• “I didn’t mean to make her suicidal”

• “I did it in the most respectful way I possible could” “oh Jesus”

• “it’s not my fault she had that much of a connection”

• “she’s a sly bitch”

• *dresses in a Thomas the train hat and plays Thomas the train theme song on a piano*

• “I’m getting better at this” “what” “this”

• “It’s just my master plan to manipulate people’s emotions and have many successes in my future”

• “How do you do that” “I just empty my eyes”

• “You know what. Give me my birthday back”

• “Bitch bye. Not even cousins”

• “they go away. They don’t putt putt”

• “why” “so you don’t die in a police chase”

• “are you a virgin” “yes” *throws paper* “there’s my virginity for you”

• “I’m not stupid. I’m just not smart”

• *tries to hit someone with a decapitated mannequin head that has swim goggles on and fake blood coming out of its eyes*

• “you ignant”

• “I hope she chokes”

• “I had to sit at the edge of my chair, feet flat on the floor and hold my horn”

• “I don’t want to get my freaking hair done”

• “he hates my moms guts” “yeah no shit”

• “ok. Can you go cry over there”

• “Fuckin Jurassic world”

• “will you please beat up my mom”

• *drops phone purposefully* *immediately gets scared*

• “I want a new mom” “then break her”

• “did you just say what’s frog juice”

• *freshman walk by* “oh shit there’s a parade of them”

• “that five year old king is a queen”

• “Join the ranks”

• “Garrett’s carressing the computer” “cool”

• “You’re going into my dragons mouth”

• “Don’t snap my crab”

• “Crab breaking black belt”

• “are you milking the crab”

• “Cameron buttered my lemons”

• “Mixed with god”

• “What’s the juice”

• “I’m your bestie and you won’t even tell me the juice”

• “Let’s amazon.com this”

#generation z #gen z culture #gen z #gen z humor #high school #quotes #2000s kids

50 notes · View notes

theawkwardterrier · 5 years

Text

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 6

AO3 link here

They take the train up from Washington. They had driven down the first time - though they hadn’t left Howard’s until Bucky was healthy enough to travel, he was still breaking in some ways, wildly fragile. They needed to have no one else around, needed the time and ability to stop on the roadside so Bucky could gasp in fresh air and scream through clenched teeth because just sitting in a car with people he trusted made him feel closed-in and trapped.

Bucky sits between them at first, all of them pretending that it’s simply the order they entered the row rather than a supportive bracketing. He switches seats with Peggy after about an hour, trying to use the scenery rushing past the window as a distraction. His fingers, both sets, curl and uncurl in his lap. He had planned on leaving the arm behind - the one Howard made for him detaches fairly easily, and he figured that seeing him simply missing a limb would in some ways be easier than the blunt, inhuman metal - but changed his mind at the last minute. This is part of him now, whenever he wanted it to be, and he tries to convince himself it will be better for everyone to face that from that start.

Peggy puts her hand over his balled fists before he even registers exactly how tightly they are clenched.

They had tried at first to get him reacclimated in New York. Howard’s large house had been fine when that just meant finding his memories again, when it was only about having a quiet place where everyone understood nightmares and knew to step loudly and never to touch Bucky when he wasn’t ready for it. It had worked well enough when it was just Steve and Bucky, the quiet and caring Jarvises, Peggy on the weekends and Howard dashing in and out. And they all had thought that the city - large and anonymous, the site of so many remarkable things - would be the perfect place to start when it came time to take on somewhere more public; any scene Bucky caused would be forgotten by the time the witnesses reached the next block. But it was all too newly familiar, too overwhelming with strangers and crowded with memories, too much.

They hadn’t had a chance to visit Brooklyn. (If Steve were a bit more selfish, it would hurt that he still hasn’t seen those ever familiar streets, the place he still goes when he dreams. As it is, he doesn't even have time to think about it as more than a hope for his friend.) On Bucky’s hoarse, wild-eyed orders, they hadn’t even mentioned to his family that he had been found.

Peggy and Steve’s neighborhood in DC was easier. In the type of close-knit environment that they had thought best avoided, where everyone knew their names and no one forgot exactly who they had seen shatter one of the cafe’s mugs into an explosion of porcelain dust just from hearing old Mrs. Eissenmann’s accent, they found compassion. Al noticed the way Bucky flinched away from photos of Korea and East Berlin on the newspaper fronts, and tucked them away so that the covers of Life and The Saturday Evening Post were visible instead. Bucky learned to answer questions about his arm from the innocent, interested ones the kids asked before they were hushed by their parents. The ticket taker at the movie house, Eddy Carroll from two streets over, didn’t say anything as Steve and Bucky left in the middle of Annie Get Your Gun twice because the sound of even comical movie gunfire made Bucky flinch and go cold and grasp for a gun of his own.

There were other people in the neighborhood who had served. There was a look that Bucky recognized when they passed each other in the street, a certain shift to alertness at car horns sounded suddenly, and when they asked him to have a beer with them, he said yes. While Steve and Peggy went out on one of their evenings together, he sat on a barstool with these men who would become his friends and talked about favorite books and movies and radio programs, about the best ballgames they’d seen, about the particular, muffled punch of a bullet entering flesh and the strange, grim, necessary realization that you were the one to put it there.

“Why did you invite me tonight?” he asked, walking home with Charlie Gibbs in the place by his side that was usually Steve’s. “You don’t even know me, but you’ve probably guessed that I’m more of a handful than most.”

Charlie chewed his toothpick thoughtfully for a moment. He took it out and held it between his fingers as he said, “We all have brothers who didn’t come back. We have to be there for the ones that did, even if they left a piece of themselves behind. Code of war doesn’t end just because the treaty’s been signed.”

And when the cold came, not as bad there as in New York or the Alps or Russia or places that he can’t quite and might never remember, when the cold came and made Bucky shiver and wish for a hot drink but didn’t leave him paralyzed with the fear of what might come, he said that he was ready to go home.

They called ahead. Of course they did.

“Can you imagine, someone you love and thought was dead just turning up out of the sky as you’re trying to eat your breakfast?” Peggy asked, eyes wide in pretend shock.

“I thought it was a good surprise,” Steve said defensively.

“Oliver in the kitchen has taken a liking to me, as you well know. I think the extra treat I get with my order is all the surprise I need.” She gave his hand a fond touch on the tabletop, regardless of her words or her arch tone.

“Fine, everyone knows you’re adorable, you can quit showing it off,” Bucky said, and it was the joking eyeroll more than anything that convinced them that he was ready.

They can see Mrs. Barnes from down the block. She is wearing a navy dress with creamy lace trim - her church dress, Steve is sure, even if it is not the gray number with the big silver broach that he remembers from his childhood. She stands on her front steps, solid as a lighthouse. Bucky’s father is most likely inside; he had always gotten emotional easily and never liked to show it in public.

It’s a chilly, overcast Tuesday, the middle of a morning that threatens rain or snow or both. The street is empty of the usual schoolkids or housewives chatting to their neighbors with shopping in hand. It makes it easier: no one to double take and recognize them, catch them up in excited conversation. It makes it harder, the overly noticeable sound of their footsteps seeming a driving echo as they move closer.

“You remember back in ‘26, when I was sick from Halloween until New Year’s?” Steve asks, because Bucky is pulling sharp breaths through his nose and his shoulders are set with a statue’s rigidity.

The beginning of the familiar story seems to ease something. “They had the priest in for last rites twice that time, didn’t they?”

“Three times, I think,” Steve says with a casual shrug, at which Peggy looks vaguely horrified. “You kept trying to play truant, coming up the fire escape when no one was looking.”

“And I started getting escorted to school, but my ma couldn’t stay all day, so she told my cousin Frankie to sit on the street corner and scream if he saw me coming.” Bucky leans over and says conspiratorially to Peggy, “I would give Frankie a penny a week to keep his trap shut. He was a soft touch.”

“But then my mother asked Sister Mary Bernardus to sit with me while she went to work, and that nun almost kicked you out the window when she saw your face coming over the sill while she was just trying to pray the Rosary,” Steve finishes with a muted smile. He bumps Bucky’s shoulder with his. “If you could still face your mother after that, you can face her now.”

And then she is coming down to meet them, slow and careful even in her sensible, square-toed shoes. She holds onto the handrail, although there’s no ice on the steps. Bucky has stopped two houses away - the Green’s place, or it had been fifteen years ago. He seems as if he can’t move forward. Any shimmer of ease has gone out of him again.

Mrs. Barnes walks the rest of the way to him herself. Steve had forgotten how small and solid she looks beside her son. She reaches her hands up and holds his face between them, and doesn’t say anything for a long moment.

When she finally speaks, it is in that husky voice with its second-generation Irish tinge. Somewhere inside himself, Steve still expects to hear his mother’s bright call twining with hers, a harmony of care. “James. My boy, come back to me.”

Bucky stays very still. “Hi, Ma,” he manages, and lets her lead him inside.

Bucky’s family had always seemed enormous to Steve, though anything would have when compared with a pair of Rogerses. Winifred Barnes was the youngest of three sisters, George had four brothers, and most of the extended clan lived close enough to take the streetcar if they couldn’t walk. The Barnes place had always been so full.

Without it being mentioned, they haven’t asked anyone over today. George is sitting in his usual chair. Bucky’s sister Josephine stands over his shoulder, her body taut beneath her neat sweater. Rebecca paces the room, a baby in her arms, and Steve’s first thought is that she’s too young for that, just a baby herself, but that isn’t true anymore. The man who must be Becca’s husband sits looking more awkward than anyone - perhaps because he’s entirely a stranger to Bucky, perhaps because he’s all gangly limbs, too tall for the furniture.

“It looks the same,” Bucky says, taking in the faded wallpaper, once a patterned green now white, the heavy old General Electric wall clock which still has the crack across the face, the good lace cloth dressing up the table. The scent of coffee from the ever-boiling pot fills the place, and it is this that makes Steve remember how long it has truly been since he was last here: growing up, he would never have even noticed it.

Mrs. Barnes has set out a stack of saucers and one of her delectably heavy lemon pound cakes on the tabletop. As she leads Steve, Peggy and Bucky over to sit around it, she still hasn’t let go of her son’s hands.

Becca bursts into tears, which makes the baby start wailing too. George covers his eyes with his palms, the unknown husband looks entirely out of his depth, and Peggy stands again. “Let’s have a seat,” she says, guiding Becca over beside her husband. She gets her settled against the cushions, then passes the baby from his mother’s arms to his startled but silent father. Peggy strokes a soothing hand over the baby’s crown as she completes the transfer; it doesn’t help but does make Becca give a shaky little smile. The radio is over in the corner and Peggy walks over, snaps it on, and tunes it quickly until she finds an afternoon symphony program on WNYC. She adjusts the volume to midlevel and turns back.

“For the neighbors,” she explains as she comes over to rejoin Steve by the table. Once again, as always, Steve is impressed: the Barnes apartment is the entire first floor of the frame house, but that doesn’t entirely mean privacy. He hadn’t even considered that anyone else might be home, but now that he thinks about it, the water rushing through the pipes isn’t coming from anyone in this room.

“How did you get here?” Josie asks suddenly. She hasn’t so much as shifted through the outburst of chaos.

“The subway,” Bucky tells her promptly, and she snaps, “Don’t give me that, James Barnes,” in what must be her schoolteacher voice now. Steve’s already familiar with it: Josie was younger than Bucky by a bit less than a year, but she had always acted the big sister to the both of them. “We got an army notification half a decade ago that you’d been killed. We got a letter from—” She turns on Steve. “And you. What are you doing here looking ten years older than you should instead of dead from saving the world?”

“Josephine,” says Mrs. Barnes, warning in her tone, “they’re back. What does it matter where they’ve been?” But her husband lifts his face and says, mastering himself with clear effort, “No, Winifred, I would also like to know exactly what’s happened.”

“What’s wrong with your arm?” Becca asks, her voice very soft, as if it is being trapped in the needlepoint pillow she has pressed against her chest.

The version they tell is one they've practiced, a snipped and pasted version of the truth, but Steve still isn’t a particularly good liar. It's not that he doesn't trust these people who have been family to him - he knows that they would never go to the police or the press with anything he told them, that they wouldn’t gossip about it in the shops. But they have never seen a person explode in front of them in a blue flash, have known his transformation only as something already completed out of sight. Their lives have been so normal, untouched by direct contact with the strange and wonderful and terrible things with which Steve is familiar.

Unless he misses his guess, the baby Rebecca's husband is currently rocking back to sleep is Jimmy Proctor. Steve has met him as a sixty year old man, a former railroad engineer with a million stories of an entirely typical childhood sparkling with the little memories his mother would recall of her brother. He doesn't want to take that from all of them.

So, knowing his own abilities, he is careful with his contributions, letting Bucky and Peggy tell most of the story: of Steve suspended in the ice, the serum effecting him in unexpected ways, of his being found and coming to Washington, the information slipped to Peggy that made them go looking for Bucky in the first place. Bucky doesn’t remember many of the details of his time in captivity anyway; Peggy glosses over it with quick compassion that brings them past without the rest of the Barnes family asking for more information.

Watching Bucky now, Steve finds himself remembering more than ever his friend as he was. Buck had always been the one to tell the stories, to make excuses and conjure the sweet, sly smiles to get them out of trouble. Bucky now, Bucky as he once would have been, is quieter. Steve doesn't mind it, but it's more noticeable back in this familiar place.

There's a silence when the story has finished.

"And now you're fine?" Josie asks finally. She has begun to lean on the back of her father's chair, not softening as much as weakening when confronted with it all. "Now you're back?"

"For now," Bucky says.

His mother looks up from the hands she has clenched in her lap. "What do you mean by that? We've a room here for you while you get yourself settled. There's no reason to go anywhere. I’m sure your things can be sent up for you."

"Ma," Bucky says gently, "I don't think I'm ready yet."

"And why is that?" She draws herself up straight, some of the strict force coming back into her tone. "You're doing just fine, and what would you do somewhere else anyway?"

Steve opens his mouth, but Bucky says, "One day I might come to stay, but now there's a life I'm trying to make down in Washington. I'd like to see how it turns out."

"So I'm never to see you?" She turns to her husband with a cry. "Listen to this boy of yours, George."

"Mama." Steve knows that it's the way Bucky sighs it that makes the difference, that brings the tension from the room. "Of course you’ll see me. I'm going to come back."

"And when will that be?" George asks.

"It's three weeks until Christmas," Bucky points out. "I think I could use a good Brooklyn Christmas."

"All of you," Winifred commands, standing suddenly and clapping her hands together. She pulls the cake plate toward herself and begins to cut slices. "You'll all come for Christmas. Unless there's some other family I don't know of?" She looks askance at Peggy.

"We shall reserve tickets on our way back," Peggy says with equanimity.

"Home again for Christmas, then," says Winifred, satisfied enough as she begins handing out cake.

Later, Bucky will hold his namesake for the first time and Rebecca will cry again, and so will George. Later, Rebecca’s husband will be introduced and will not wince as his hand is shaken three times with a bit too much force to be strictly comfortable. Later, Mrs. Barnes will try to give her cake recipe to Peggy only to have it intercepted by Steve. Later, Steve will notice Bucky taking himself into the kitchen for a moment alone before they are pressed to stay the night. Later, they will lie in the preserved bedroom with its old Dodgers scorecards peeling from the walls, and Bucky will tease Steve for not daring to mention that there’s really no reason to have him and Peggy in separate rooms based on their sleeping arrangements back home. Later, they will lie awake for a long time before they are finally lulled by the familiar sounds outside the window. But for now:

"Home again," Steve agrees softly, and digs into his piece of cake.

Previous chapters here

#Steggy #Steggy fic #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #Bucky Barnes #things left behind fic #early update - I'll be offline Sunday for Shavuot so happy z'man matan torateinu to you as well I guess?#my friends you will not be able to imagine the ugly and embarrassing lengths I went through #the tears I cried the amount of tooth gnashing #that went into getting line breaks into this due to tumblr's latest stupidity #(I'm absolutely furious about it and furious at myself for resorting to IMAGES OF THE OLD LINE BREAKS)

23 notes · View notes

brattywriters-anonymous · 5 years

Text

This Way..Two

Part VI (and the Valentine’s Day special) of the “I’m Never Wrong” Series.

Erik x (Black!)Reader

Fic Playlist: Back in One Piece x DMX feat. Aaliyah, This Way x Khalid feat. H.E.R, Gonna Love Me x Teyana Taylor, You Got Me x The Roots feat. Erykah Badu

She’s like a surrogate mother to him that he needs in his life to keep him balanced. He’s become a better man since reconciling his differences with her. “Congratulations N’jadaka. I’m happy for you.” He turns his attention to me, “I’m happy for us. This is what we’ve wanted since we’ve gotten married. It’s taken me longer than expected..but now I’m able to be closer to our family.” I look down, poking my fork at my piece of watermelon, “Yeah, you are.”

You, Erik, and the kids arrive at the border just before the sun reaches it’s peak for the day. W’kabi and Okoye are awaiting in their yard. “Welcome!” The couple bow to the family. N’jadaka waives it off, “No need for that bro! Thanks for having us. It’s Leanna and N’Juma’s first time here. We’re tryna show them around Wakanda. This is our first stop!”

Okoye’s smile is almost as wide as the vast land among them, “There’s no better place to start than our border land!” She kneels to level with Leanna, “You wanna see Buhle?” Leanna gives her a puzzling reaction, “Who is Buhle?” W’kabi interjects behind Okoye, “Our Rhino!” She corrects him, “Our baby, that happens to be a Rhino!” LeeLee takes a deep gasp, “A Rhino!? Cool! Let’s go!” She takes the General’s hand and follows her to the valley. W’kabi stretches his arms out of his blue knitted shawl, “May I?” You hand him your son, N’juma exposes his bottom two teeth, “Let’s go see a Rhino, Omnye.”

Yourself and Erik look at the pastures from the couple’s porch. Leanna is giving Buhle belly rubs and N’juma is clapping at the sights.

“Our mission went left the day before I was due to return.” Erik confesses, looking straight forward. “Nakia and I were made and.. We had to fight our way out of our location, and go under the grid to protect our families. It wasn’t right that I neglected all of you for that long, but it was for your safety.” He tilts his head in your children’s direction, “For their safety.” Your face softens, you’re attempting to put a poker face on to hide your guilt for holding all of the animosity you have for the past six months. “’Ja.. I’m sorr-” “No need, love. You didn’t know. I just would’ve thought that you thought I was gone instead of thinking I left though. I would never leave you. Especially not at the drop of a dime, with no notice.”

You shoot him an apprehensive brow, “Oh, so you’ll let me know if you were leaving, huh?” He smiles back at her, “If I ever felt the need to leave, yeah. But I don’t, Don’t think I ever will.” Your gaze shoots to the grass as you slightly grin at his smart ass response. “I know I got some time to make up for. But first, I gotta make up some of that time to them.” You nod, “I agree. They come first.”

A few hours pass and you pack up the Wrangler and laying blankets out in the backseat for your family’s next conquest. “How long is gonna take for us to get there?” Erik peers up at the mountains, “About a hour. You got Leanna’s snack out? You know how fickle she gets when she’s hungry!” You hold out a small ziplock bag with her sliced apples, “Yup. I got baby boy’s formula too.”

“Look mommy! It’s snowing! Are we still in Wakanda?” You turn your attention to the backseat, “Yeah baby, we’re still in Wakanda. This is Jabariland. One of the four tribes we told you about.” Leanna wraps up in her blanket, “I love it!”

N’jadaka parks the car at a modern cabin, “Wow, this is nice. Aren’t we going back to the city?” He cuts the ignition off, “We are. These munchkins are staying with Nakia and T’Challa for the night.”

“’Ja, It’s Valentine’s Day. Why would they be babysitting?” As if you conjured them up, they emerge from the house, “Because....” The couple look at one another before divulging in unison, “We’re pregnant.” Nakia gives you a side profile of her pregnant belly, “I found out while we were under the radar. I’m six months!” You gasp in awe, you were so angry when she pulled up with N’jadaka that you didn’t even notice that she was carrying then. “Wow Nakia! T’Challa! Congratulations!” You hug Nakia as N’jadaka hugs his cousin, then you trade embraces. T’challa proudly exclaims, “Thank you Y/N. We need all of the practice we can get, so, Leanna! Moana and chill tonight?” Leanna happily agrees and you all go out to enjoy the rest of the daylight in the snow.

The sun set in the hour’s past and between the four adults, you wore your kids down. By the time Nakia got the kids dressed for bed, N’Juma was ready for his bottle and rubbing his eyes, Leanna was sprawled out on the couch like she worked an eight hour shift. You and N’jadaka didn’t leave the pair too much else left to do besides put them in their room to sleep.

N’jadaka told you that he had something special planned and your outfit was already packed. You arrive at what seems like a small bungalow on the river, N’jadaka escorts you out of the Wrangler and hands you your bag, “Here’s your stuff, I packed your makeup bag too just in case. I’ll be in the living room waiting for you, okay Y/N?” You nod. He plants a tender kiss on your forehead as you head in the house. You navigate through the home until you find the bedroom, giving you a full panoramic view of the umlambo ojikelezayo

You pull your Oscar de la Renta gown out of the wardrobe bag he gave you. You whistle before adding, “That man has taste.” You quickly wash up and get dressed and decided on a glowing makeup look, with gold highlighter, and a plum lip. Taking a final look in the mirror, and fluffing your curls out, you take a deep breath, prepared for the night. You step out to find your husband adjusting his blazer and dusting himself off. You find yourself doing the same, flaring out the bottom of your ensemble. N’jadaka raises his head and his mouth hangs ajar.

He stands before you, speechless. All he could do is exhale and continue his observation of you in awe. You reach your hand out for his, he breaks the silence after grasping it and placing a kiss on your palm. “You look phenomenal this evening Mrs.” “Why thank you. You do too Mr.”

N’jadaka set up an intimate dinner on the river. The only person that is in attendance besides the two of you is the lone server. You look around questioning, “How are we gonna eat ‘Ja?” He pulls your chair out, gets you seated and retorts, “I’m cooking tonight.” You chuckle as if Kevin Hart himself is sitting before you, “You? Cook? Who are you and where’s my husband? ‘Cause you are clearly a clone!”

The server brings a bottle of 1998 Dom Perignon Platinum, N’jadaka pours your glass then his, “I took up cooking when I couldn’t leave my secure location for six months. Your husband is right here, baby. I guess I gotta remind dat ass, don’t I?” You turn your blushing face to the beautiful lakeside view, “Maybe you do..” He steals a sip from the bottle, “Hold that thought baby, I gotta cook right now. We gon pick this conversation back up though.” You nod as he trails off to the back.

Erik returns to the table with two curry spiced ten ounce salmons topped with rice and veggies. You’re pleasantly surprised at the presentation, “OMG! Looka here! My husband can actually cook now!” Erik rolls his eyes, “Yeah, Yeah! Y/N. Keep talkin’ that shit while you bask in the deliciousness that is this meal that I whipped up.” You take a second look at the dish, “You take a bite first. I’m tryna make sure I don’t croak over thanks to the deliciousness that is your meal!” Your final statement you sarcastically mock your counterpart. He picks up his fork, scoops up some rice and cuts through the salmon, then consumes it. Never breaking his gaze toward you, “This shit hittin Y/N.” You huff as you take a small bite off of your plate, “This is actually good ‘Ja.” “I know, Y/N!” He matches your matter of fact tone.

“So what has my wife been up to that has her so upset with me? I could tell it wasn’t just my absence that attributed to the wrath I faced when I got back.” “Well.. A couple of weeks after you disappeared, I went from full time to remote part time.” “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to before then?” You shake your head before continuing the consumption of your food, “Because, I thought that by the time I started that you would be home, for good.”

N’jadaka head hangs low, sighing with regret in his voice, “Damn babe, I’m sorry.” “It’s fine. Being in that office for eight to eleven hours a day was starting to drive me crazy. Plus I was missing my babies too much. However, as much as I adore your big headed dimpled clones, I do need a break from them sometimes.” N’jadaka adds, “And the lack of grandparents, aunties, and uncles being around on both of our ends serve as a disadvantage.” You peer into his eyes as he goes on, “Plus T’Challa and Shuri aren’t always available. And Ramonda is usually due to stay in Wakanda due to ‘Cha’s usual absence..” He grasps your hand above the table, “Yes. All of what you said. I don’t like inconveniencing my mom and dad from living out their retirement. My brothers are busy being parents themselves and lightning the load on their partners.. I really didn’t have anyone to call on on a regular basis to get away.”

N’jadaka rounds the table to kneel and embrace you, “I know. I know. If I could’ve returned home without endangering you all, I would’ve. I love you, forreal. You and the kids are all I got. So know that I mean what I say when I tell you that.” With the tears wallowing up in your eyes you exhale deeply, “I love you too baby. I’m sorry I blew up on you like that instead of communicating like I should’ve. It was immature of me.” “It’s fine baby. You don’t gotta apologize for it. I deserved it.” You shake your head profusely, holding back your tears, “No. No you didn’t. I didn’t know you were protecting us. I should’ve known that! All these years we’ve been together, I should’ve known that! That’s all you’ve been doing from day one, you’ve been protecting me, then the kids when they came along.”

Hesitantly, your husband takes your face in his hands, and clashes his lips with yours. The kiss that you’ve been missing for so long, the kisses that invaded your dreams night in and night out for six months has come to fruition. You two take your time to feel the softness of one another’s lips, a single tear slopes down your cheek. N’jadaka pulls apart from you, “Damn, I missed that.” You snicker before agreeing, “Me too, love.” He randomly takes a hold of your phone, “Uhm, what are you doing Stevens?” He continues scrolling through your device until he finds what he’s searching for, “I wanna see what you been listening to. I know you spew out your feelings through the music you listen to..” Before you could object, he presses play.

You left me this scar on my heart When I'd never take it that far (oh) Why would you say that it was true love If true love is absolute, what more can I say?

Erik stands back up, studying the lyrics word for word as he reaches for your hand, “C’mon.” You take a hold of his as he embraces you for a dance. He holds you as close as he can, and even then, he still tries to pull you closer as your sway to the slow tempo.

What more can I say? You make me this way (You make me this way) What more can I say? (What can I say?) You make me this way

I tried to stay the night You won't let me inside Oh, you push me away You'll never change Just another fight Between you and your pride Oh, what more can I say? What more can I? What more can I say? (Say) You make me this way You make me this way What more can I say? What more? You make me this way (way) “Damn, Y/N. I had you feeling like this?” You look up at him with such an innocent stare as you nod, he continues, “Hm. Well I see daddy got some making up to do.” “Damn right you do.”

The remainder of your dinner the two of you spend dancing the night away to your recently played songs, The night ends on a high note, Erik recites the lyrics of “You Got Me” in your ear,

If you were worried 'bout where I been or who I saw or What club I went to with my homies Baby, don't worry You know that you got me Yo, I'm the type that's always catching a flight And sometimes I gotta be out at the height of the night..

29 notes · View notes

iluvmyogblog · 6 years

Text

Roommates, Routines and Best Friends

A/N: he looks sooo damn good in that gif????????? 💗😤ik this plot line has been used a whole lot but i just wanna dabble into it, it seems interesting tbh. im kinda excited to be writing this story. also, i want this to be the Bucky that is super cocky and comfortable around girls? ya feel? Plus this is pt 1 of more to come !!!!!!

Summary: (AU) being roommates with the infamous womanizer Bucky Barnes is tough, especially when all he does is bring home different girls every night and complain about you and your choice of men. masterlist.

Words: 2120

Warnings: none!!!! ima cry

Roommates, Routines and Best Friends

You tossed and turned underneath your sheets - silk. You adored silk sheets. Although they were gorgeous and felt like a dream against your freshly shaved legs, they would always slip off of your bed. These sheets were on your bed no longer than two weeks. The last comforter you had turned black after your roommate decided to be generous and wash them for you.

You sat up frustratingly and huffed, crossing your arms across your chest. The sounds of moans filling your room. You absolutely hated that the only available and affordable place for you to stay was with some stranger from Craigslist. Being a college student was hard. Every one of your checks from work usually went to student fees and loans. You had found this ad while scrolling profoundly on Craigslist. ‘Roomie needed! I don’t bite… hard. Kidding. I really need a roommate. Give me a call. Only $300 a month.’ It was ideal. The last place you stayed at asked for $800 a month. Granted, you kind of felt like it was too good to be true. And walking into the not so fancy building and up the very dimly lit stairs proved to be about right. But still, it was fairly nice for just $300 a month. You were assuming that the apartment was around probably $600 a month, the rent split between the two of you.

Pulling the covers aside, you swung your legs off the side of your bed and stood up. Your tank top slightly rode up your torso and showed some skin. You didn’t sleep in shorts. You hated it. There was no way in hell you would sleep in shorts, even with a male roommate. Your door was always locked. He would tease you about that every day. ‘What do you do in there? Afraid I’ll walk in on you pleasuring yourself?’ You walked over to your dresser, tugging your hair into a messy bun, and ironically pull out some pajama shorts. You walked into your restroom and began to brush your teeth, letting the water run. The water always blocked out morning moans. Fortunately, his room was on the other side of the apartment. Unfortunately, the girls he would bring home were screamers. You were pretty sure they didn’t even know he had a roommate. You spit out the foam from your toothpaste and rinse out your mouth. You splash water on your face and pat it dry with a towel.

“I had so much fun, Bucky. Bummed that you work today,” you heard an annoying voice say. You shook your head as soon as you realized Bucky doesn’t even have a job. He would use the most colorful excuses ever. Last weekend, he said his cousins turtle passed away and that he was supposed to design a coffin and ‘it would take all day long to perfect a small, little box for the poor animal’. You unlock your bedroom door and head to the kitchen. You watch Bucky pull out the milk from the fridge.

“Oh, look. It’s my roommate,” he says as he sees you open a cabinet, pulling out Fruity Pebbles. You turn to him, sarcastically smiling.

“Oh, look. It’s Mr. Feel Good.”

He chuckles and pours some milk into your bowl of cereal as you pour some cereal into his bowl. “Wanna find out why they call me that?” You groan and get two spoons, sticking one into his cereal and putting the other in your mouth.

“Don’t be disgusting,” you mumble, taking your bowl to the island in the center of the kitchen. You pull yourself on top of the counter and place the bowl on your lap, taking spoonfuls of the delicious, colorful pebbles into your mouth. Bucky leans against the counter directly in front of you, bowl in his hands. The two of you eat in silence for a few minutes. This was a usual routine. It was Saturday morning. You didn’t work Saturdays. Bucky would always have something planned for you. He knew how much you liked structure, without having a plan for the day, you get in a really grumpy mood. Bucky hates bitchy you.

“So, I was thinking,” he says through his chewing, “we can have a Saw movie marathon today.” You watch him as he talks. Milk running down his chin, his black long-sleeved shirt hugging his defined body. His grey sweatpants resting on his lower body perfectly. You hated that he was so handsome. You would never dare tell a soul that you found him handsome. You swallow your spoonful and lift up your chin.

“Um, that honestly sounds fun… but I have a date today,” you say with a soft smile. You watch Bucky lift up his eyes to yours, furrowed eyebrows and mouth opened slightly.

He sets his bowl down and steps closer to you, “I’m sorry. You have a date.. ? You said date right?”

You roll your eyes and set your bowl down besides you. “Yes, James. A date.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just..,” he says throwing his hands up, “you’ve been so cooped up in Sam land, I figured you’d be depressed about it longer.”

“Right,” you say as you hop off the counter, pushing past him. He sighs and grabs your empty bowl, putting it in the sink.

“(Y/n), I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I just meant that I’m glad you’re finally putting yourself out there again.”

You nod and sit down on the sofa, searching for the remote in between the cushion next to you. Bucky cleans up the kitchen quickly and walks over to the living room, opening the blinds. You squint at the new light source, flicking the tv on. “’Oh, okay Bucky. No worries. No hard feelings,’” he says as he tries his best to imitate your voice.

He glances at you as he takes a seat at the opposite end of the sofa. You roll your eyes and hide your smile with the remote. He always made you laugh, without even trying. Bucky was just that type of guy that made everyone laugh. No one can ever be sad around him. He just wouldn’t allow it. You shake your head and look over at him. His arms resting across the back of the sofa, his eyes focused to the tv. “No hard feelings. You know I hate when you bring up Sam,” you say as you rest your head on the comfortable cushion, extending your hand out to Bucky. He turns his head to you and copies your movements, grabbing the remote out of your hand.

“I know, doll. I hate bringing him up too. He’s a dick. You deserved better,” he says back to you with a sympathetic smile. You smile genuinely and mumble a ‘thank you’. He throws the remote onto his lap and pats your hand. You look at your hand and scoot closer, sitting in the middle of the sofa. He pulls you closer and lets you rest your head on his lap. “So, who’s the lucky guy?”

You bite your lip and smile, bringing your hands to your chest. “His name is Steven. Steven Rogers.” You stare at the ceiling, biting your finger softly, “he’s such a dream, Buck.”

“I know that name,” he says barely above a whisper. He knits his eyebrows together and tilts his head back. Clearly in deep thought. You look up at him and pinch his chin. He looks down at you and smiles. He liked how different you were. From the very first day you walked into his apartment, he knew he’d like you. He knew he’d never want to just treat you like he treats every other girl. He knew he would be able to talk to you and have fun without taking off each others clothes.

“From where,” you asked curiously. He moves your baby hair out of your face, stroking the bridge of your nose with his finger. He smirks.

“He’s my best friend.” You sit up abruptly and turn to him with a shocked look.

“Your what?” He chuckles and sits up, nodding.

“Where’d you guys meet?”

“Uh… um at the- that party you dragged me to,” you said, still stunned. How did you not know he knew Bucky. You furrow your eyebrows, thinking. If he was best friends with Bucky, was he also like Bucky? Would he just kick you out the next morning?

“Ahh, I see,” he says as he realizes that you were the girl Steve told him about the other day. “Wasn’t that party like three weeks ago?” You nod slowly. “Wow, so you guys actually talk…?” You look at him with your infamous ‘duh’ face. He scoffs and pushes your face away softly.

“How come you never brought Steve over,” you ask as you playfully slap his hand away. He shrugs and avoids eye contact. Steve. The way you casually said his name. He didn’t know how to feel about this yet. If you had asked Bucky, he’d say you were his second closest friend besides Steve. His two best friends, and roommate, dating.

“Do you like him,” he asks, searching for your eyes as you blush and look at your hands.

“Bucky, this is our first date,” you laugh out and shrug. “I mean, like I said, he’s a dream. I mean, yeah. I can see myself liking him.” You look up at Bucky with a smile, resting your head on your hand against the sofa. Bucky nods slowly, propping his left elbow on his thigh, his right hand pushing against his right knee.

“He’s a good guy, (y/n).” He watches your smile grow bigger as you look at the wall behind him. You nod, knowing that your cheeks are probably redder than a tomato.

“Yeah, he is.”

Bucky sits back and looks at the tv. There’s a black and white movie playing. He feels you shift next to him. He feels your hair fall onto his shoulder. The smell of fruits and flowers consume his senses. You had let down your hair. You usually did this when you needed to get ready soon. He let out a quiet sigh and watched you slide your hair tie onto your wrist, putting your head on his shoulder. You shift until you’re in the perfect position. Bucky was so comfortable. His clothes always smelled like Downy, soft to the touch. You rub your cheek against the fabric covering his arm. You wrap your arms around Bucky’s arm. He liked when you did that. And he couldn’t help but think of you doing that with Steve now. He clenches his jaw and shakes his thoughts.

“Bucky, I’m nervous,” you whisper. He glances down at you, taking in your features. The very first word that he always uses to describe you was ‘angelic’. Your eyelashes battered perfectly when you’d blink. He liked how your nose was the perfect size for your face. And that one dimple you’d have when you would smile and talk and eat. And your lips were a perfect shade of pink.

“Don’t be,” he whispers back. You sigh and look up at him.

“What if he doesn’t like me after this date?”

Bucky’s lips curl into a smile and he chuckles softly, scanning your face again. “Come on, doll. He’s gonna love you after this date.” You smile and hide your face in his arm.

“If you’re wrong, Bucky… i’m moving out,” you mumble into his arm. You hear his hearty laugh.

“Shut up. You’re not going anywhere,” he says. You pull yourself away from him, getting off of the sofa.

“You’re right. Your pancakes are the ones that keep me here. I’m gonna go get ready. It’s a day date. Bet you’re not used to those, huh,” you say, adding a playful wink at the end, earning a smirk from Bucky.

“Whatever, doll.”

But you were right. He’d never been on one of those. Let alone, an actual date. Hanging out with you was as close to a date he’s ever had. He’s never hung out with a girl. He’s only slept with them. The girl he sees himself settling down with is someone like you. Works for what she wants, works for what she has, genuine and sweet. Oh, so sweet. Sometimes he even dreams that you’re the one who he sleeps next to every night and makes breakfast for. I mean, he does half of that. But he can’t shake the uneasiness he feels when he thinks of you with Steve. It’s not that he has feelings for you, because he doesn’t. He couldn’t. You’re his roommate, his close friend. And now his best friends girl, probably. That is if the date goes well.

•••

if u wanna be added to the taglist, lmk!!!! 💗

But what do you guys think so far?? What do y’all think Sam did?? 👀

tag(s): @coal000 @goldenstateof @cherrywinedarling @justahappylilblog @faakelanadelrey @juicyqueenlme

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes AU #steve rogers

645 notes · View notes

heatofthemomentfanfic · 6 years

Text

Short

Miami in December. A fun time. Maya was hosting a private Christmas party for her company. Love Towns. She wanted fun. That’s what she got. She begged me to come. Support her. Get away from freezing home.

So I did. First flight out of YYZ.

Toying with my hair. Tilting my head. My eyes moving constantly on my outfit. Sticking with it in the end. Naughty and nice.

An intimate dinner with my cousins. Crystal, Taylor, Bria and Maya. Laughs, wine, full course meals. A classy pregame for tonight’s festivities.

Maya’s night. Her team was amazing. A tight knit team that meshed together like family. The location was great. A mansion. Strobe lights set to the mood. A pool in the backyard with mermaids. String lights above your head. A fairytale dream come to life. A garden haven like that scene from Peter Pan.

A few celebrities were here. A few good bloggers. Nothing unusual. A female DJ to set the mood perfectly. A videographer moved gracefully. Capturing the right moments.

Lost in my own world. Dancing carelessly. Taking photos. Networking. Drinking. Living freely.

Maya made her toast for the night. Gratitude and thankful. Overwhelmed with emotions but happiness summed it up. More to come. A better future for sure.

Walking to the open bar. Spotting a familiar face in the sea of familiar friends. My heart sank...just a little. Turning to a different bar. Erasing what I saw. Trying to become invisible. I didn’t need to see him. Our time ended. It was almost too perfect to be true. Who am I kidding? I gave up on him. His idea of love wasn’t mature. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t what I needed.

The Boy didn’t take that well. He wrote a few words about me. Words he didn’t feel comfortable texting right away. Wondering where have I been? Recalling conversations of young infatuation; he used to be on my mind constantly. What a time.

Distracting myself again. Remembering where I was and why I was here. A sense of calm came back. Unbothered. Leaving back to hotel with Bria.

A morning workout like usual. Brunch outside with umbrellas and robes. Bottomless mimosas and twerking. A good time that anyone would want to join. A trip to Wynwood Art District. Photos of course to emphasize on our art. Art Basel activities wrapped up early. A yacht party to end the night.

Once was luck. Twice was supposed to be.

Brown eyes piercing into each other. Complete thoughts were blocked by me. He couldn’t read me. He couldn’t express himself how he wanted. He felt like there was more to tell. Another part of him was over and done with me. Ha, I found that hard to believe.

We were across the room. Smiling with the same effort. I never made it to his side nor did he make it to mine. No words were said. I drank my white wine.

My fun came to an end. Work called me. Facing the bitter cold was terrible. It was still home. I couldn’t trade it. Maybe New York if I had to move. Atlanta was also an option. I met someone out there. A beautiful man who wanted to offer the world; the world I dreamed of. I declined for Aubrey. He had more value at the time. I guess I saw happiness in him that he couldn’t put into motion.

Sitting at work preoccupied. Looking through important flies. Classic music playing lowly. The office phone rang. Making immediate eye contact with Jennifer.

“You have a call from Drake. Would you like to take it or should I tell him you’re busy?”

“I’ll take it.” A confident wink. I knew silence wouldn’t last long. “Thanks Jen.”

In seconds, the call transferred. “What can I do for you, Mr. Graham?”

“I didn’t expect you to answer.”

A careless shrug. “You’re not disappointed, are you? I can always let you leave a message.”

“Dinner tonight at Fring’s.”

My eyebrows raised. “Why?”

“You know the answer.”

“Do you know the context of the question?”

“You’re asking a lot of questions instead of saying yes.”

“This isn’t a date.” I had to clarify nothing.

“We could make this a thing.” I could read his smirk.

“It was a thing….that ended. I have plans.” Plans with myself. Plans of self care. Face masks, glass of wine, work on the side.

“Whenever you don’t have plans, you should reschedule with me.”

“I’ll keep you in mind.” Ending the conversation there. I won’t let him get carried away.

Self care Wednesday night. I owe it to myself. No one bothered me. Peace and clarity in my mind. I waited for the weekend. Demanding what I could. He accepted the offer.

I stood with a glass of red wine. Staring at the CN Tower lit brightly from his glass windows. Another rental for his liking. Perfection was his thing.

“Why?” I turned to him. Staring up slightly at his tall stature. His eyes were tired. I hit that right on the nose.

A soft smile. “You’re here because you want to be here.”

“Why did you want to see me?”

“For the same reason, I’ve always wanted to see you.” He missed me. He couldn’t get through to me through texting or calling. The atmosphere would be different.

“Well, I’m doing fine.” My eyes went back to the view. I tried to reassure him. “What made you worry?”

“I didn’t like our ending. It wasn’t an end. It just fizzed out….and it shouldn’t have.”

My eyebrow raised. “Why not? You were not going to put in the necessary effort. I wasn’t trying to be the heat of the moment or another phase. Phases are cycles and I can’t do that with someone I love.”

His cocky grin made me roll my eyes. “Why didn’t you say that?”

“You never reciprocated like you meant it. What do you want?” The side of my face rested against the glass.

“Can you wait on me?” Something about his words were sad. I stared up at him.

“Do you even want me?” An annoying sigh left his lips. “Seriously. Asking me that is pointless at this point. You can have whatever you want whenever you’re ready. So why put me here? If you want sex then say that. I’m not going to keep this up with you….especially when you know what you want.”

“You can’t handle this life.”

My eyes rolled. I placed my glass on a table. Walking by him to leave. He grabbed him before I could leave the room. Picking me up into his arms. Kissing with love. Taking me to his bed. All at the same time.

I stopped him. “If I can’t handle this life, then I won’t be here. I’m not gonna fall in love with you.”

Removing myself from him. Realizing that this has to be the last time. I can’t come at his every call. I have to leave him alone. I was doing so well.

His thumb brushed against my cheek. I realized I was crying. I pushed his thumb away. I hated him. I hated that he wasn’t ready. I hated that he wasn’t ready for me. I wanted to be there for him. That was the honest truth. That was the twisted false sense of reality,

“Zhuri….” He was confused as well. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t.” Shaking my head. “I can’t just be here waiting for you. I can’t. I can’t just wait anymore. I’m sorry if that’s selfish. I’m just tired. I can’t give you what we’ve always wanted. There’s nothing romantic about this...whatever this is.”

“Is this the end? Are you really over and done with me? Is this what you want?” His tone was relaxed. He wasn’t surprised. This wasn’t his first rodeo. I knew this.

“It’s over. We can be cordial somewhere down the road if that’s what is meant for us. I’m done with you. I’m done waiting for you. Trust me, I don’t want to be but I can’t continue to sacrifice when you’ve never offered to sacrifice anything. I’ll always love you and I won’t ever stop but I can’t be in love with you anymore.”

All of strength was used. A weight lifted off of my shoulders. I held in that thought very tightly. It hurt more than I imagined.

He let me go. I let him go.

Years later, we bump into each other. Two different people with two different lives. I presume he was happy. He met this girl from Toronto. They were in love happily. He stopped doing music. He was strictly business man. One of the greatest the city has ever seen.

As for me, I was married to a pediatrician. He is my best friend. He has made me so happy. We travel whenever we can. We moved into a house last month. We have a beautiful baby girl together. Emery Sade Parker. She’s my everything.

Yet, we stood glancing at each other from across the room. It was Maya’s baby shower. She was expecting baby number two with Lou. She was glowing with joy for many reasons.

We haven’t seen each other in years. He was mad at me last time I recalled. Rather, mad and hurt simultaneously because he wasn’t invited to my wedding. He didn’t find out about it until months after the wedding that I was with someone. Inviting him wasn’t the best for either of us. It would just be a reminder that it could’ve been us and I’m happy now.

Hugging him tightly was nostalgic. Inhaling his scent that was his. The hug lasted longer than I expected. It couldn’t be misinterpreted to mean anything else.

A quiet smile between us like giddy kids. “You look amazing.” His charm still present.

“Somehow your beard has aged better than you.” A cheesy comment to make him laugh.

“I’m trying age like your pops. He’s a legend.” Our eyes fell on my parents. A goal.

“You’re getting there.” A soft smile. I wanted to walk away. His girlfriend was approaching.

“Maya told me, you had a baby girl.” I kept my life extremely private...from Aubrey. I knew my family still brought me up to him. Pictures were the way to my life.

“Yeah. Emery.” I missed her and her dad. She had a cold and couldn’t fly out to L.A. Aryan wouldn’t allow the traveling risk.

“Hey, you must be Zhuri.” A beautiful black woman stood across from me. Her hand extended.

“Yeah, and you are….Ivy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Shaking hands. “I’m gonna go get these games started.”

One last look at Aubrey. He was happy but I could feel his longing to talk to me. It hurt him and he hurt me. We were going to move away from this. It was best for both of us.

He was never going to leave my life. He was apart of my family’s life. I was fine with that. I wasn’t shaky or hesitant about Aryan knowing about him. We coexist...as two different people with two different lives.

#aubrey drake graham fanfic #drakefanfiction #drake fan fic #drake fanfic #drake fanfiction

24 notes · View notes

autismserenity · 7 years

Link

This was one of my favorite books as a kid. I checked it out of the library about a billion times.

If you’ve never read it, then you probably don’t know about The Story of Baby X!

1974. Thirty-three years ago. This anthology included a story. About a kid being raised without an assigned gender. As a positive thing.

I didn’t know I was genderqueer at the time, or that that was a thing, or... anything. But it had a huge influence on me. It made it very easy to imagine raising a kid by using gender-neutral pronouns, and waiting to hear a gender, and/or pronouns, from the kid themself.

And here it is.

Once upon a time a baby named X was born. It was named X so that no one could tell whether it was a boy or a girl.

Before it was born, scientists created an Official Instruction Manual that would help the families raise baby X.

Many families were interviewed to find the perfect parents for baby X. Families with grandparents named Milton or Agatha, families with aunts who wanted to knit blue shirts and pink dresses, families with other children who wanted a little brother or sister. All of these families didn’t want a baby X, they wanted a baby girl or boy.

Finally, scientists found the Jones family The Jones family wanted to raise a healthy, happy baby, no matter what kind. They wanted, most of all, to raise a baby X.

The Jones promised to take turns holding X, feeding X, and singing X to sleep.

They promised to never hire any babysitters, because babysitters might try to peek at baby X’s secret.

The day the Joneses brought home their baby, everyone asked, ”Is it a boy or a girl?” To which Mr. Jones replied proudly, ”It’s an X!”

No one knew what to say. They couldn’t say, “look at her cute dimples” or “look at his husky biceps!” And just saying “kitchy-coo” didn’t seem right either.

The neighbors were unsure, and the relatives were embarrassed. “People will think there is something wrong with it!”

And the Joneses didn’t understand this. “What could be wrong with a perfectly healthy and happy baby?” they sat and wondered.

Suddenly everything changed for the Joneses: The cousins who sent a tiny helmet did not come and visit anymore. The neighbors who sent pink, flowered dresses pulled their shades when the Joneses passed their house.

The Official Instruction Manual had warned the new parents this would happen, so they didn’t worry too much. Besides, they were having too much fun raising baby X.

Mr. & Mrs. Jones had to be very careful. Because if they kept bouncing baby X up in the air and saying how strong and active X is, they’d be treating baby X more like a boy. But, if they cuddle and kiss baby X and tell it how sweet and dainty X is, they’d be treating baby X more like a girl rather than an X.

So they consulted the Official Instruction Manual, and the scientists prescribed, “Plenty of bouncing and plenty of cuddling. X ought to be strong, sweet, and active. Forget about dainty altogether.” [Continued below the cut]

There were other problems too, like clothes & toys. On his first shopping trip, Mr. Jones said to the store clerk, “I need some things for my baby.” The clerk smiled and asked, “boy or girl?”

Mr. Jones replied, ”It’s an X,” smiling. The clerk got red in the face and said huffily, “In that case, I’m sorry I can’t help you,” and she stalked away.

Poor Mr. Jones!

Mr. Jones was very confused, but continued to walk down the aisle. But everything in the store was marked BOYS or GIRLS: boys’ pajamas, girls’ underwear, boys’ fire engines, girls’ doll set.

That night Mr. & Mrs. Jones consulted The Official Instruction Manual. It said firmly, “buy plenty of everything! But try to keep it gender neutral.”

So they bought all kinds of toys. A boy doll that made pee-pee and cried. A girl doll that talked three languages and said, "I am the President of General Motors."

They bought story books about a brave princess who rescued a handsome prince, and another one about a sister and brother who grew up to be a baseball star and a ballet star and you had to guess which.

The scientists were pleased with the Joneses. They checked in with the Joneses and baby X often, and they were thrilled with the progress baby X was making.

They made sure the Joneses knew to "never make baby X feel embarrassed or ashamed about what it wants to play with. And if X gets dirty climbing rocks, never say, ‘nice little Xes don't get dirty climbing rocks.’ Likewise, if baby X fell down and cries, don't ever say, "Brave little Xes don't cry."

Because after all, little Xes DO get dirty and brave little Xes CAN cry.

Once a little girl grabbed X's shovel In the sandbox and hit X on the head with it. Her mother immediately scolded her, "Now Tracy, you know better than that, little girls mustn't hit little….” The mother turned to X and asked, "dear, are you a little boy or a girl?"

Mr. Jones held his breath and waited hopefully for X's reply. X smiled politely, holding back tears from being hit on the head, and said, "I'm a little X."

"You're a what?!" the lady exclaimed angrily. "You're a little brat is what you are. Either way Tracy, little girls mustn't hit... whatever this child is." And the woman took her child away.

Mr. Jones was upset, but he was pleased that Baby X didn't associate with either gender, nor did X recognize a difference in gender.

The hardest part was yet to come.

Baby X wasn't a baby anymore. It was time for X to start school, and with school came a whole new set of problems.

Schools are full of rules for girls and girls, and they weren't sure where their little X would fit in. Teachers tell students to form a boy line and a girl line. There are games for boys and areas to play for girls. Even the school library has a girl section and a boy section. The bathrooms are marked girl and boy to keep their secrets, but how would they keep X's secret?

The Joneses were summoned to a meeting with the scientists. The scientists were confident that with the school’s cooperation, everything would be fine.

The Joneses followed the Official Instruction Manual. They made sure that X's mother taught X how to throw and catch a ball, and that X's father had taught X what to serve at a doll's tea party. X knew how to play with kitchen sets, shoot marbles, play sports, and color in the lines, but best of all, X knew what to say when asked if it was a boy or a girl. X was, above all else, an extremely happy child.

X's teachers had promised to cooperate. X's class would line up alphabetically, instead of separate lines for boys and girls. The principal gave X permission to use his private bathroom because it wasn't marked by gender, it simply said “bathroom."

No one, however, could help with what might pose the biggest problem at school -- other children.

Nobody in X's class had ever known an X. None of the other children had ever even heard of an X. What would the other children think? What would they say? Would they make Xist jokes? Or would they make friends?

You couldn't tell what X was by its clothing. Overalls don't button right to left, like girls' clothes, or left to right like boys' clothes. And did X have long hair for a boy or short hair for a girl? As for the games X liked to play, either X played ball very well for a girl, or played house very well for a boy.

The children tried to figure it out by asking X tricky questions. Like, "who's your favorite sports star?" and X had two favorite sports stars: A male gymnast and a female boxer.

Then they asked, "What's your favorite TV show?" And X said “Lassie," a show that stars a girl dog played by a boy dog.

When X said its favorite toy was a doll, they all thought X was a girl… until X told them the doll was really a robot, that X had programmed to bake fudge.

After that the children stopped trying to figure out what X was. All they knew they'd like to see that doll (which the boys kept calling an "action figure”).

After school X wanted to play with the other kids. "How about shooting some baskets in the gym," X asked the girls. They just made faces at X and giggled behind X's back. "Boy, is she weird," they said.

"Would you like to make a basket in the arts and crafts room," X asked the boys. But they just made faces and laughed behind X's back. "Boy, is he weird," they said.

Poor X just walked away sadly. "Why don't the other kids want to play with me?" X thought.

That night Mr. & Mrs. Jones asked X how things had gone at school. X tried to smile, but there were tears in X's eyes. "The lessons are ok, but….”

"But? But what, dear?" Mrs. Jones asked anxiously. She hated seeing her child upset.

"The other children hate me," X exclaimed as tears fell.

"They hate you? Surely they can't hate you."

"They do," cried X, "they won't play with me."

The Joneses grabbed their child and told X it would be all right, as they tried to convince themselves the same thing.

The Joneses called the scientist about their troubled child.

Their response was simply, "What did you expect? Other children have to obey silly boy/girl rules, because their parents taught them to, whether they realized it or not. Luckily, X, you don't have rules at all. All you have to do is be yourself. We know this isn't easy, but you are so much more lucky than the other kids."

X liked being itself, but X was still upset and cried a lot that night. The Joneses tucked their child into bed and held X while X cried, and Mr. and Mrs. Jones cried too. Mrs. Jones then read X one of X's favorite stories about an enchanted prince called Sleeping Handsome who woke up only after the Brave Princess kissed him.

The next morning they all felt much better. Little X went back to school with a brave smile and a clean pair of red and white overalls.

That day at school there was a 7 letter spelling bee, a 7 lap boys relay race, and a 7 layer cake baking contest in the girls kitchen corner. X won the spelling bee. X also won the relay race. And X almost won the baking contest, but forgot to put the sprinkles on top. Hey, no one is perfect. Many students however, complained that X just wanted to win at everything. But then something strange happened.

The children began to really look at X. One even said, "X doesn't care about winning. X just thinks its fun playing boys' stuff and girls' stuff." Another child added, "If you think about it, it’s like X gets to have twice as much fun as we are."

After school that day, the girl who beat X in the baking contest gave X the biggest slice of her cake. The boy who X beat in the relay race asked to race X across the playground. After that, things really started to get strange.

Suzie, who sat next to X, refused to wear pink dresses to school anymore. She wanted to wear pants. Pants, she told her mom, were easier for climbing monkey bars.

Then, Jim, the football nut, started carrying his football around and treating it like it was a person, or a doll. Even when he put his entire uniform on, he treated his football like it was a person and sang to it. The kids didn't think anything of it because that's what X did, and X was the star quarterback.

Suzie's parents were horrified by her behavior. Jim's parents were worried sick about his. But the worst was when the twins, Joe and Peggy, started sharing everything. Peggy used Joe's hockey skates, his microscope, and took half of his paper route. Joe used Peggy's needlepoint kit, her cookbooks, and took on half of her baby-sitting jobs. Joe showed Peggy how to use the lawnmower and Peggy showed Joe how to use the vacuum.

Their parents were not pleased. Even if Peggy mowed the lawn better, or Joe loved to vacuum. They were furious. "It's all that kid X's fault."

That's what all the parents started saying. "That kid doesn't know what it is, or how it's supposed to act," Suzie's mom argued.

"X is trying to do the same thing to our kids so it isn't the only one acting like that," cried another parent. Suddenly kids were forbidden to play with X, even at school.

But it was too late, the kids loved their new friend. They refused to go back to the way they were before X came along.

Finally, the parents held a meeting to discuss "The X Problem." They sent a report to the principal saying the X was a "bad influence" and immediate action needed to be taken. They said the Joneses should be forced to tell whether X was a boy or a girl and that X should have to start acting like whichever it was.

If the Joneses refused to tell, the parents felt that X should have to take an Xamination. An Impartial Team of Experts would figure out X's secret and X would have to start obeying the gender rules.

They also felt that if X ended up being some sort of confused misfit, then X must be Xpelled from school so X could stop filling their children's heads with nonsense ideas.

The principal was very upset. Was X really a bad influence? Was X a mixed-up misfit?

He told the parents that X was a wonderful student, caring and compassionate, inclusive, and never negative towards another student. X was student council president, X was respected and looked up to by other students. X had won honorable mention at the art show and was a key player on many of their sports teams. X was the example of what a good student should be at the school.

The parents wouldn't listen. "X is a problem child," they shouted. And the principal had no choice but to notify X's parents, and the Joneses reported this to the scientists.

They said, "we knew this would come sooner or later. This will be the ultimate test to know the effects of X's upbringing, and to see if X is in some way ‘mixed up,’ or if everyone else is."

The scientists were nervous, but the Joneses knew their child was not mixed up at all. They knew they had raised their child to know exactly who it was.

At 9 a.m. the next day X reported to the office. The principal, along with the Parents' Association, and X's teachers, classmates, and parents all waited in the hall.

Inside the office, the Xperts were doing different types of psychological evaluations to try and figure out if X was male or female and if X was in any way "mixed up.”

Question after question after question, X answered them all patiently. After what felt like forever, the door opened. Everyone crowded around to hear the results.

X didn't look any different; in fact, X was smiling. The team of experts, however, looked stumped.

"So, what happened?" someone shouted after a long silence. The lead expert took off his glasses and pinched his noise, in a frustrated motion. "In our opinion," he began to say, "In our opinion, young X here is the least mixed up child we have ever seen."

"I told you, mom," exclaimed Suzie. Her mother was furious, but all around her, X's family, teachers, and classmates were cheering.

The parent committee was angry and confused. How could X have passed the entire examination with no issues?! X doesn't know if it is a girl or a boy. How could it not be mixed up?!

The experts spoke up and said, "X knows exactly who it is. X was brought up to be exactly who X wanted to be, with no restrictions on gender, no boundaries to follow."

"We don't care, we still want it to act like whatever it is," one parent shouted.

"Well then, ma'am, the answer is simple. X is an x!" said a male expert. He then went over to the Joneses and hugged them. "Your child is extraordinary. If I ever have children, I hope you'll let me borrow your instruction manual. You've done a fine job raising your child." And they began packing up.

"But wait!" the parents shouted. "We still need to know what it is."

The experts smiled and said, "Don't worry. You'll all know soon enough. And when the time comes, you won't need us to tell you." With that they walked out the door.

"What?! What do you mean?!" A parent asked in confusion.

"They mean that by the time it matters what sex X is, it won't be a secret anymore,” said the principal, smiling.

The Joneses were thrilled. They had raised a beautiful child who knew exactly who it was and wasn't restricted by any gender rules.

The scientists were relieved their ideas were correct.

The students were glad their friend wasn't "mixed up" in any way, because they liked X just the way X was.

The parents eventually came around and promised not to make any more trouble. They even allowed their children to go to X's birthday party that year.

At X's birthday party, they walked into the backyard and found X playing with a tiny baby that none of them had seen before. The baby was wearing a yellow shirt and tiny overalls.

"How do you like our new baby?" X asked proudly.

“It's got cute dimples," Joe said smiling.

“It's got husky biceps too," Suzie laughed.

"What kind of baby is it?" Peggy asked.

X frowned at them. “Can't you tell?!" X broke into a mischievous grin. "It's a Y!"

#baby x #actuallyenby #actuallytrans #trans history #queer history #story time #fiction #lgbt fiction #lgbtqipa fiction #books #genderqueer

848 notes · View notes

marauders70s · 7 years

Note

I love the title thingy! How's this as a title: Only Tonight

so i’ve been getting a lot of anon requests which is totally fine but a) I want to be able to tag you to make sure you’ll see it! b) if people are going to mock you for your interests/ships then hex them with bats for bogeys and c) i somehow always think of every anon as the same person. i think it’s the icon. it’s so weird.

also you didn’t pick a pairing so everyone gets to sail on my litle proudly captained fredmione ship for this one

Title: Only TonightPairing: Fred Weasley & Hermione GrangerSummary: The dream of what might have been was as vivid as waking.

“You don’t have to help wash up,” Hermione said to her brother-in-law exasperatedly.

“It’s alright, really,” George assured her. “I think Angie is out back playing with Ron and Freddy. He’s really making his Mum proud. Going to be a first rate Chaser.”

“And Roxy?” asked Hermione with a smile, spelling the drying dishes to their cupboards.

“Nah, she’s more of a Beater, like me,” said George in pride. He glanced over his shoulder up the stairs where there were giggling sounds of children distinctly not sleeping. “What about Hugo?”

“Rose and Hugo have little chance of not ending up in quidditch,” said Hermione in exasperation. “More than half the family is already on broomsticks before they can walk. But it’s sweet of Roxy to try to help Ron get them to bed.”

“She likes babies,” shrugged George. “And since Hugo was born in February like her, she thinks of him as her special cousin.”

“Well he is very cute,” Hermione admitted in spite of herself.

“And Rose is going to be a heartbreaker,” said George easily. At five, Rose already had two girlfriends and three boyfriends in her kindergarten class.

“Not if she’s anything like her parents,” laughed Hermione. “One relationship apiece? Both bad for different reasons.”

“You had other chances,” said George offhandedly, and Hermione snorted into her mug of hot tea she had let been steeping on the windowsill in front of the kitchen sink.

“You’re sweet,” she told George, making a face. “But I’m no great beauty, and I know that. I think Ron and I were bound to end up together eventually.”

“Maybe,” said George, but this time with a little more evasive offhandedness that sparked Hermione’s interest.

“Why,” she teased. “Did you know someone? Lee maybe?”

George cracked a wry grin. “No, of course not.”

“Not Angelina?” and Hermione was really enjoying herself, pretending to fan the blush in her cheeks. “I don’t know if the world was ready for-”

“It was Fred.”

Hermione stopped short, her breath catching. George so rarely spoke of his twin, just the fact he was mentioning his name aloud was shocking. Hermione shook her head, setting down her mug sharply.

“Don’t be silly,” she said briskly, trying to be as efficient and sensible as possible to keep George from spiraling as he sometimes did when they talked of Fred. He hadn’t suffered heartbreak at the loss of his twin, he had suffered breaking, period. Part of George would always be absent, always dark, always in shadow. It was up to the Weasley family - and its numerous in laws - to keep the darkness at bay before he could get too far into something.

“I’m not being silly,” George was quiet, but didn’t seem to have that manic, desperate edge they all watched for vigilantly. “He really did like you. Loved you, even.”

“Fred?” Hermione asked flatly, trying to make sure they were talking about the same person.

George nodded.

“No he didn’t,” said Hermione, and she knew it was useless to argue with George, his heart, his soul. But it was just so incredibly impossible that -

“He did. It started in your fourth year. Just a comment here and there.”

Hermione was shaking her head, smiling stupidly, denying it all, but George persisted.

“Ron was hanging out with us, talking about you all the time. Drove Fred batty. He and Ron used to get in fights about imagined slights Ron thought you were taking Harry’s side against him, and of course Fred and I liked Harry so Fred started arguing for you, saying Ron was bonkers about the whole thing. I think it sort of went from there.”

Hermione only stared at him, eyes wide but mouth shut in disbelief.

George continued on, regardless. “But fifth year I thought even you’d notice.”

“What?” asked Hermione faintly.

“That punching telescope? Dabbing cream on your eye? He was head over heels by summertime in Grimmauld Place. Always volunteering to clean with you. Fred. My brother. Cleaning. We avoided our Mum making us clean so much growing up we developed a spell to shove everything into a closet if she came in.”

“No…” said Hermione, but her voice was doubtful.

“And the teasing?” George was incredulous. “Teasing you so badly when we were testing for the shop with the First Years? I admit now, that was well bad, but we didn’t have the real money for focus groups. And Fred just loved when you tried to tell us off. He’d live for it. Sometimes I think he’d wait to start the testing until you were around.”

Hermione’s thoughts were racing, rearranging memory with the tidbit of knowledge George had given her and the years of experience. She sank into a chair, pulling her tea mug closer to her, but not picking it up. The steam was comforting on the underside of her chin. “He can’t have,” she whispered, and she didn’t know why this was such a revelation to her. “He thought I was annoying.”

“Sure,” shrugged George. “When you were twelve. Then you were only Ron’s friend. But you know Mum. Knitting you a Christmas sweater and making you an Easter basket…you sort of became permanent, all the time. None of our friends ever did that.”

Hermione blushed, realizing that George was right. None of Bill, Charlie, Percy, the twins, or even Ginny’s friends had been adopted by Mrs. Weasley the way she and Harry had been.

“Did he really like me?” Hermione asked, her voice smaller than she liked it, “Or was it just a crush?” She didn’t know why that mattered. Either would have been fine. Something not realistic. Not going to happen.

“I think he really loved you,” said George. “Or he would have, if you would have let him.”

Hermione felt hot tears on her face, and for the first time, it was George holding her arm tightly over a mug of tea, while she mourned for their brother.

“Hermione?” and it was Ron’s voice floating down the stairs. “Have you seen Bun-Bun? Rose says she can’t sleep without him!”

Hermione quickly stood up, brushing tears away and excusing herself from George, grateful for the menial task of looking for her daughter’s stuffed rabbit to take her mind off of all she had learned.

***

She couldn’t sleep. Not even after Ron had dropped off, exhausted at wrangling Hugo and Rose into bed. Their goodnights to their niece and nephew had been brief; they would see them both in the morning, most likely. Or at least this week at Saturday family dinners with Molly.

She turned over again, forcing her eyes shut. She was loathe to take a sleeping draft lest she miss Hugo crying. Ron had even let her buy a muggle baby monitor, though she usually caught his stirring with her sharp ears even before the radio did.

A heavy, sleepy hand fell on her hip. Ron stirred awake slightly. “Can’t sleep?” he asked drowsily.

“Sorry, love,” said Hermione at once. “I can go out on the couch.”

“No,” yawned Ron. “I thought you’d want to-”

Hermione almost said no, but thought better of it. It might relax her and help her sleep, after all. She had a strange creeping feeling she should never tell Ron what George had said. He might develop some sort of complex over it.

“Sure,” she said instead, turning into his arms and letting him kiss her.

Ron was half asleep, but he did the job properly. Hermione felt her face flaming in the darkness, grateful that Ron was no legilimens, when she thought of a different red head down between her legs, this one grinning and teasing as she gasped, instead of methodical, knowledgable, sleepy but happy.

“Thank you,” she said, when Ron rolled over, stretching his arms up above his head like a starfish. She knew he always slept his deepest, most comfortable sleeps like this, and he didn’t even answer before he was dead into one.

Hermione lay for a while in the afterglow, hoping that sleep would creep up on her, but instead her mind only furiously worked over old memories, thinking of the differences that could have happened. If in Grimmauld Place, that summer of anger, he had just acknowledged it once. Their sneaking around old portraits and Order Meetings could have been very different indeed. His messages on the radio horcrux hunting could have been for her. And if he had -

If he had, she would have asked Fred to the Chamber of Secrets. He wouldn’t have been there to greet Percy. He could have kissed her in front of Ron freeing the house elves. Ron would have been okay with it somehow…

Hermione realized she had drifted into half a daydream and half a waking dream when the baby monitor crackled with Hugo’s cry.

Ron didn’t stir, and Hermione was grateful this once for his insensibility. She did not club him with a pillow for his turn, but gratefully rolled out of bed to get her son, happy for the excuse not to toss and turn.

“There we go,” Hermione said to Hugo, pulling him from his crib and crossing to the rocking chair. She put him to her breast and he began suckling at once as she set a steady swooping motion with one idle foot, tipping her head back and continuing the thoughts.

“They’re at it again,” said Fred morosely to his audience gathered around the extendable ears.

“Again?” asked Ginny scathingly.

“Just ignore them Gin,” said George. “Percy can’t help that he was born a bastard.”

“George,” Hermione scolded, but without heart. What was her place to correct siblings?

“Come on,” said Ron moodily, feeling the echoes of the screams up the stairs. “If they don’t can it soon they’ll wake the kraken.”

He meant the painting of Sirius’ mother, and the others drew back, grimacing.

“Fancy a game of chess?” Ron asked Hermione, but without hope.

“I’ll play you,” said George, resigned.

“I’ll play him,” said a new voice, and Ginny threw herself down the stairs in a rush to get to him.

“Charlie!” she whisper-screamed. “You’re here!”

“And don’t want to interrupt,” her brother grimaced, indicating the sunken kitchen door with their parents behind it. “Plus, Ron’s getting too cocky at chess. Needs a few pegs down.”

“Will you tell us about what’s happening in Romania?” Ginny demanded, and Charlie nodded.

“Of course.”

“Think you can play gobstones with one hand and chess with another?” George asked slyly.

Charlie grinned. “A sickle says I can.”

Hermione-in-the-dream felt the rest of the memory play out. It was before she and Ron had gotten their prefect letters. Before Harry had arrived. Fred had gone with George and the rest of his siblings, as usual, and Hermione had gone up to the room she shared with Ginny and read a book, trying not to feel excluded. And if she had stayed, she would have only felt she were intruding.

But now.

“Want to see what I’ve done up on the roof?” Fred asked her cheekily - another memory, but not the same day.

Hermione shrugged.

“Beats sitting around,” Fred challenged, and Hermione nodded.

“Fine. Sure.”

Fred lead the way up the endless tight staircase. The Black Manse was five stories not counting the basement. Each floor only had three or four rooms in a tight square around the staircase balustrade. The top of the Manse was a flat rooftop for a garden or a sitting area. But of course, like the rest of the house, it was a complete decrepit trash receptacle full of rusting parts of things, old nails, broken potion bottles, a broken laundry line, and other molding and odorous things. No one liked to spend time up there if they could help it, not the least of which was the chance of passing too high above the boundary spell to keep 12 Grimmauld Place hidden. There wasn’t even quidditch or broom flying to pass the time.

“Ta-da,” announced Fred, showing her the exact same trash heap she had seen before.

“You’ve done a lovely job with it,” she said scathingly.

“No, that’s not it,” said Fred, grinning at her irritation. “This is!” And he pulled two old battered golf clubs from behind the door to the stairwell. They were slightly bent, and as rusted and dented as everything else.

“New sport?” she asked sweetly.

“Watch,” said Fred, lining up a half broken bottle. He took a huge swing, and launched the shower of glass over the edge of the building and onto the street. It disappeared halfway down in the barrier spell.

Hermione moved closer, impressed. “That’s one way to clear rubbish.”

“It’s incredibly satisfying,” said Fred, not looking at her. He was still shading his brown eyes, as if looking at an impressive long shot on the green, but really watching the thick haze of South London crowding the power lines across the way.

“Line me up,” said Hermione at once, and Fred gave her an old dented tin can, with something black congealing out of the mold on its side. Hermione made a disgusted face, wound up the golf club, and thwacked it satisfyingly against the can, sending it and its contents spiraling everywhere before plunking over the edge.

“You’ve hit it too high,” said Fred, coming over and giving her another one. He took the club from behind - how had she not seen this in her memory - before carefully tapping the top of a new piece of metal with the club face.

“Nice and low. Really sweep it out of here. Like my mother with a broom.”

Hermione’s face split into a grin as she drew back. It was so rare to smile in Grimmauld Place. The whole miasma of it grew into the bones until everyone was curt and skittish and angry.

“You’ve cut up your hands,” said Fred after Hermione sent another projectile launching into the nothingness around the rooftop.

Hermione looked down at her hands. “Oh, no,” she said, somewhat embarrassed. “It was Hedwig.”

“Harry’s owl?” asked Fred, astonished.

Hermione nodded. “He’s really…really angry, being all by himself.”

“Probably a party compared to here,” Fred muttered.

Hermione had never seen Fred anything but jocular. He was always trying to get everyone else to laugh. She hadn’t realized it was his way of coping. That he never was laughing. Not really.

“It’s been a hard summer,” she sympathized.

“You only got here last week,” Fred said bitterly, and then looked furious with himself. “Not that we’re not-”

“I know,” said Hermione, and this time she lined up the trash for both of them. In tandem, they swung and launched the garbage over the roofline. “That is satisfying,” she added, and Fred looked gratified.

“We’ll be going back to school, anyway,” Fred continued as they rummaged for more things small enough to hit, stockpiling.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Hermione. “About making…an Order for ourselves.”

Fred perked up. “Yeah? With who?”

“I don’t know,” said Hermione self-consciously. “Me, and you. George and Ron. Harry, of course. Ginny.”

“So the people here?” asked Fred dryly.

Hermione blushed. “It was only an idea,” she muttered.

They both launched trash over the roof with the violence they could not bring against the house itself. As they swung, Hermione sensed Fred was putting much more of a Beater’s effort into it than she was. So much, in fact, that he was spattering himself with the backlash of bursting things apart with the force of it, swinging over and over and over.

“I think that’s enough,” said Hermione, pulling the club out of Fred’s hands. That hadn’t happened, she had only thought about it….

Fred was panting, brown eyes hard and angry. “I hate it here,” he said bitterly, all at once. The words came pouring out of him. “And we have to be good for Ginny. And we have to make Mum try to laugh or else she’ll always be crying. Even anger is better than…than…and George and I are in a stupid old bed that someone probably died in and there’s not even beds enough to have separate ones. And Bill and Charlie get to go out and do and we’re in our last year and we’re of age and we’re supposed to sit by and sleep in little beds and pretend it’s fine and-”

Hermione didn’t know how to stop him. She only leaned in and hugged him. It was strange. She and Fred had never been alone together so much. Usually Ron was there, or at least George.

Fred only breathed hard and angry and hot into the top of her hair, his arms finally going around her in return. His breath made her scalp tingle, and his nose came down to find the top of her head. He was shorter than Ron was. Ron would be able to fit Hermione under his chin, but Fred held her near his mouth, his panting not quite slowed, hot against the skin of her head as she stared at the place where his neck met his collarbones, watching the fluttering of his heartbeat in the summer sun.

“Hermione, I-” said Fred, drawing back. He looked embarrassed, and he flicked his eyes to the clubs where they had dropped them. He let go of her to get them and lean them against the brickwork.

“I get it,” she said, her voice full of compassion. “It’s stupid, and not fair. You’ll be eighteen in April and-”

“And you’re going to be sixteen next month,” said Fred in a strange voice.

Hermione was taken aback. She nodded tentatively. “September 19th.”

“You’re older than Ron.”

Hermione smiled a little, lopsided. “I got my letter to Hogwarts almost a year in advance. I had plenty of time to memorize my textbooks. Poor Harry got his only four weeks to wrap his head around being a wizard.”

Fred actually laughed, his eyes growing crinkly at the corners, though she wasn’t sure his mouth was smiling because for some reason she didn’t trust herself to look at it. Against her will, her eyes flicked to it, and his smile grew.

“We’re going to be a year apart for half a year,” said Fred, leaning against the masonry of the house, not ready to go back in the gloom.

Relaxing a bit, Hermione leaned beside him. “I know. Only eighteen months apart, actually.”

“I am awfully sorry about that punching telescope.”

Was it her, or did he seem closer than a few moments before when she had looked away?

She blushed, looking down. “It’s alright,” she said, though it had hurt, quite a bit.

“Let me see,” Fred commanded, tipping her chin up, and her blush grew at the touch of his fingers, though she didn’t know why.

“It looks better,” he said teasingly, his nose crinkling at her nervous swallow.

“Doesn’t hurt as much,” she managed, and his face grew serious.

“I am sorry,” he whispered, his other hand creeping up. “Let me make it up to you.”

She had plenty of time to pull away, but she was a deer in the headlights. He cupped her face gently, sweetly, the sun making her squint up at his freckled face as he descended on her slow and sure, making sure she had plenty of time to refuse.

The kiss lingered. Deepened. Until she felt it sparking through places she wasn’t sure she was ready for. Her mouth opened and -

“Good morning,” said Ron, self satisfied at her wide eyed astonishment. He had found her sleeping upright, nursing Hugo who had long since fallen back asleep.

“R-Ron,” Hermione stammered.

He grinned at her. “Breakfast is ready,” he announced. She could hear Rose at the kitchen table already. Everything seemed so confusing. She wasn’t sure if Rose was real. She had opened her eyes to see brown and seen blue instead.

“Are you okay?” Ron asked, seeing her blinking astonishment.

“I just…need to wake up,” she managed, flushing to her core. How could she even look at Ron after dreaming about being fifteen again?

“Don’t worry,” said Ron cheerfully, dragging her to the kitchen without noticing her upset. “I made coffee.”

Send me a made up AO3 title and i’ll write you a drabble based off of it!

#drabbles #follower fun #fredmione #m70s writes

82 notes · View notes

fangirl4799 · 7 years

Text

Draco Malfoy X Claire Dursley Chp 2

Claire’s P.O.V

Quickly I went to the room I was staying in, most of my things were almost already packed as we were supposed to leave tomorrow morning, so it didn’t take me long to get ready for leaving. Soon Harry and I were hurrying down the stairs, but just as we got to the bottom, Uncle Vernon appeared from the dining room, “Bring her back now!” he demanded grabbing Harry by his collar, but Harry was quick he pointed a stick thing towards Uncle Vernon.

"I will not, she got what she deserved.“ Harry opposed, I hated it but I didn’t really know whose side to take on this, she is a mother after all but had gone far here.

"I am leaving, I have had enough,” he announced, pushing past Uncle Vernon’s grip. “And you keep away from me.”

“You’re not allowed to do magic outside of school.” argued uncle Vernon. Magic so that is what harry and I could do

“Yeah? Try me.” challenged Harry, still pointing the stick at uncle, it was funny to see huge Uncle Vernon afraid that tiny stick.

“They won’t let you back now. You’ve nowhere to go” Uncle Vernon warned

"I don’t care. Anywhere is better than here.“ Harry went on walking with his trunk and a cage that is when Uncle Vernon noticed me moving along with Harry and asked “Where are you going” I had tried to wiggle out of there without any attention, but seems like I failed, miserably.

“I am sorry but I need to go with him,” I told him politely. “Tell, Mum I will call as soon as I can, uhh whenever she is back."

"You won’t be able to call” Harry informed me.

“A letter then, I will surely send that,” I said as Harry nodded as he got up and we walked further out in the dark, quiet street, heaving his heavy trunk behind him.

“Harry, where are we going?” I asked.

“I don’t know, do you have muggle money with you?” he asked me. What?! Muggle?! What’s that?!

“Money, yes I have that but what on earth is Muggle money?” I asked.

“Merlin, obviously you do not know and now I don’t know what the Ministry is going to do I have broken the law after all,” he said more to himself than me in panic. What the hell? What ministry, what rule?

I don’t know if things are weirder or more confusing right now, generally, I would have annoyed the hell out of Harry but I don’t think even if I do that Harry is going to be any help, for now, he is consumed figuring out where we are going to go. But I knew one thing, it is was going to be a long night.

Indeed, it was a long night and still continues, right now Harry and I follow some man into a long dark alley, and how did we end here? If you may ask. A Knight Bus came out of nowhere to pick us up, in the middle of the street after we left from Privet Drive, the ride was crazy, I don’t understand why the people couldn’t see but I thank god they couldn’t; it was insane. As the bus dropped us, we found this man and Harry seem to know him, turns out he is Minister of Magic so here following him in a dark alley, into a pub, a what, why did he bring us to a pub?

As we enter, he takes to a privet room, and says, “Sit down, Harry and young girl”, indicating two chairs by the fire. The man tells Harry how Mum had been saved, it was too dangerous for him to run away like this and he can return to Private Drive next summer and he won’t be punished for whichever law he broke etc.

“I do not intend to be rude, but nothing that you people are talking about really makes sense, though I thank you for saving my mother,” I say losing patience.

“You are Marjorie Dursley’s daughter?” Minister questioned, I nodded.

“Why did you bring her here Harry?’ he asked and Harry explained him the reason he got me here, the Minister just started at me for few seconds and then said, “You are not a Dursley but Black."

"I do not understand” I replied, looking at the man sceptically.

“I am not good at explaining, but I am sure Headmaster Professor Dumbledore will be more than happy to help,” he said, and then called for his innkeeper “Tom!”

“Now who is that?” I ask more to myself than him.

“He is the Headmaster of Hogwarts, the school I go to and most probably you will joining soon as well” Harry explained, I just nodded taking it in.

“Ms.Dursley, Tom will take you to the room you will staying in, for now and Dumbledore waits there for you.” I nod and walk out of the room. As I left the room I heard the Minister saying to Harry. "Mr. Potter, I think you should accompany her it will be as good for you as it is for her.” Soon, Harry was behind me. Tom guided us upstairs and very are soon left in front of room number twelve, which turns to be the room for me, and the room just beside it, room number eleven as Harry’s. We walk in to find an old man with a very long white beard standing by the window with his back to us.

“Professor” Harry calls making the old man turn around and face us.

“Hello, Harry” he greets looking at Harry and then turns to me and says, “and you must be Claire” I nodded examining him. He wore a sash around his beard, Lord knows how long it must be. He wore half-moon spectacles, robes and a cap on his head, with a serene and tranquil expression on his face. Overall it was weird and very rare look as well I guess.

"You look exactly like your mother, so much but one cannot ignore your father’s resemblance,” he said observing me.

“No, she looks like the female version if Uncle Vernon and I are noth-” I began to reply when he interrupted me.

“Listen to me Claire” he says very slowly, “The things that I will tell you may seem difficult to believe, but are all absolutely true.” I nodded my head. “Your mother isn’t Marjorie Brunhilde Dursley, she adopted you when you were very little, and your mother’s name was Violet Evans,” he said.

“Evans,” says Harry, “You mean to say she is my cousin?” Harry asked gesturing towards me.

“Yes Harry, she is Lily’s younger sister’s daughter” the old man informed. So Harry is actually my cousin, through my mother.

“What about my father?” I asked.

“His name was Regulus Black, he belonged to the ancient noble House of the Black.” he said.

“Black, in relation to Sirius black?” I inquired, remembering the conductor from the Knight Bus mentioning him.

“Where did you hear about him?” The old man asked me.

“In the night bus, he was in the newspapers after all,” Harry answered for me.

"Sirius Black is your father’s brother Claire, I will say nothing to you since most things are still a mystery to us, to which the Ministry is investigating, but just that be the judge of your own mind and people. After all, your father supported an evil man once, but he went with your mother. We thought he had killed her, but turned out he neither harmed nor killed her.“ Professor Dumbledore said. "How did, my parents die then?” I asked. It was pretty easy to guess they had died. Since he had just informed me that in different ways, one me being in adopted and second the old man using ‘was’ for them.

“They were killed by Voldemort,” he answered. A moment of pin-drop silence filled the room. I used the moment to absorb the information and break the silence.

“Isn’t he the other criminal you were talking about?” I asked looking at Harry, he nodded and then said “Yes, he killed my parents too”. So this Voldemort,killed both my aunt and uncle, and my parents…., things are just getting more complicated, every answer to my one question, builds up 5 more, but “Oh” was all I could say.

“I am sure till now you must have witnessed the magic you possess within yourself,” asked Dumbledore as I nodded. “You are a witch, and you have a younger sister as well, she currently is studying in France magic school, the Beauxbatons Academy,” he informed me. Okay, I am not who I am, my real parents are dead, I am a witch I have a sister, next thing they tell me is, I am a unicorn.

“Will I be studying magic as well?” I asked and he nodded.

“You will be coming to Hogwarts along with your cousin Harry this year, and will be joining the 3rd year itself, I am sure you will catch up fast, both your parents were brilliant and surely Ms. Granger will help you.”, Seems interesting.

“Professor, why didn’t she get her letter like me at eleven years age?” asked Harry.

“The Blacks had hidden your cousins very well. It was a coincidence that we could locate your younger cousin faster. But we weren’t able to locate where Claire was, that’s why we couldn’t send the letter. Though Claire, the Ministry was able to get hold of this from your parents hide” the old man said as he handed me a photograph.

The picture was of my parents with my sister and I as babies, smile spread across my face as I traced the picture with my fingers, my mother was beautiful and my father was handsome, the babies in that picture were cute, one year gap of age clear in the photograph, older one had brown eyes while the younger had violet. There was something knitted on both their sweaters, older it was ‘Princess’ and the younger 'Kitten’. Must be the nicknames Mum and Dad gave me. I looked up at Dumbledore.

“Sir, can I ask for a favour?” I asked him.

“Ask away Miss Black.” he said.

“I would like to meet my sister,” I said.

“Sure I will arrange for your meeting.” he agreed and with that disappeared in a crack, and I looked from the picture to Harry.

1 note · View note