#and i mean smacking arthur over the head when he's being annoying

[mrs-dr-reid]

Found

(A Criminal Minds Fic)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Summary: The team often misplaces Spencer in a crowd, and the Reader usually has to resort to “drastic measures” to find him so they can get back to work.

Genre: Sooooo fluffy, my guy.

Warnings: A few swears. One F-Bomb.

A/N: Okay, so, I love those tumblr posts where a fictional character can’t find their friend/sidekick/partner in a crowd, and they yell something to make the other person respond, then go, “Found him/her”, so that’s why I wrote this. Enjoy!

Word Count: 1,630

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Spencer Reid is notorious for getting lost and/or distracted when the team has to enter a large crowd on a case. And funnily enough, Y/N L/N is most known for always being able to find him again so the team can keep working. Albeit through unorthodox means. Here are the top four best instances of how Y/N found Spencer, and one of how Spencer found Y/N.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One.

The team was canvassing the Santa Monica Pier in regards to a series of drownings in the area. Only problem was it was the busiest day of the week, and it was teeming with people. Hotch, Rossi, and JJ were back at the local police station setting up the investigation board, which left Emily, Derek, Spencer, and Y/N on canvas duty.

They spilt into pairs, and Derek and Emily took the left side of the pier while Spencer and Y/N took the right. After about 20 minutes, Derek called Y/N and said, “You’re on speaker, L/N. We’ve got nothing so far, Little Mama. How’s it going for you and Pretty Boy?”, so she replied, “We managed to get a few things that could be helpful. We’ll have to compare them against the case info, but that shouldn’t be too hard once we get back to the sta...tion,” but trailed off when she noticed Spencer was out of her eyeline.

She said, “Hey, Derek? You or Emily got eyes on Spencer?”, so he responded, “Can’t say we do. Why?”, and Y/N said, “I seem to have misplaced him,” while craning her neck to look around.

Emily said, “Should we try his cell?”, so Y/N said, “No. I’ve got this,” hung up, then cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “GEE, I SURE DO WISH SOMEONE COULD TELL ME HOW MANY KERNELS THERE ARE ON THE AVERAGE EAR OF CORN!!!”

A few seconds went by, then she heard Spencer yell from a churro stand, “STATISTICALLY, THERE ARE OVER 800 KERNELS ARRANGED IN 16 SEPARATE ROWS!”, which made Y/N smile and say, “Found him,” before working her way through the crowd to get to Spencer.

He offered her a churro with a smile, so she accepted it and said, “Thank you. Alright, back to the station with you, Churro Boy,” before grabbing his arm and pulling him along with her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two.

JJ, Hotch, Spencer, and Y/N were checking out the dumpsite for the latest victim in a series of strangulations in Shipshewana, Indiana. The body was found in an alley by a flea market, and while Hotch was talking to the local police on the scene and JJ was questioning the garbage truck driver who discovered the body, Y/N looked up from examining the body and realized that Spencer had wandered off when she wasn’t paying attention, making her whisper, “Goddamnit, not again,” and try to locate Spencer in the sea of heads flowing through the flea market.

Hotch walked over to her and said, “We’re heading back to the station. You know where Reid is?”, so she said, “Not yet, but we both will momentarily,” which made him shoot her a confused look. JJ came over to them, noticed Hotch’s confusion, then said, “You’ll see,” just before Y/N yelled, “I WONDER IF SHERLOCK HOLMES WAS BASED ON A REAL PERSON!!!”

Just before Hotch could ask what that meant, Spencer yelled back, “HE IS!!! SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE MODELED HIM AFTER ONE OF HIS MEDICAL SCHOOL PROFESSORS, DR. JOSEPH BELL!”, which made Y/N smile, say, “There he is,” and pat Hotch’s arm before going to get Spencer. JJ said, “Told you,” and went to get in the SUV.

Y/N found Spencer at a second-hand book stall, and he held up a slightly worn copy of Gone With the Wind and said, “Nearly mint condition for six bucks! Can you believe it?”, so she responded, “Crazy. Let’s get moving, Bookworm,” and grabbed his hand to bring him back over to the SUV.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three.

Rossi, Spencer, and Y/N were retracing an unsub’s footsteps through a farmer’s market in Nashville, Tennesse because Emily had made the connection that all four previous victims and the latest victim in a series of abduction-homicides had made purchases there before they vanished.

Rossi took the north end of the market while Spencer and Y/N took the south. After the two of them had interviewed five stall owners, Y/N noticed the absence of a 6’1” shadow looming over her. She took a quick look around her, let out an annoyed sigh when she couldn’t spot Spencer, then said to the owner of the strawberry stall, “Thank you for the information. Now if you’ll excuse me, I seem to have lost track of my colleague,” before venturing into the crowd.

Y/N called Rossi and said, “Did Spencer make his way over to you?”, which prompted his response of, “He did not. Why? Did he wander off on you again?”, so she said, “Yup. I swear, that man has the attention span of a golden retriever. I’ll find him, one sec,” then hung up and put her phone in her pocket. She yelled, “HOW COOL WOULD IT BE TO KNOW THE EXACT NUMBER OF RIVETS THERE ARE IN THE EIFFEL TOWER?!!”, and waited, apologizing to the patrons in her near vicinity for her volume.

Spencer’s voice came from a handful of stalls down with the reply of, “THERE ARE APPROXIMATELY 2,500,000!!!”, which made her mutter, “Bingo,” before heading in the direction of his voice. She found him at a homemade donut stand, and he held up a brown paper bag while saying, “She had my favorite! Chocolate frosted with sprinkles! And she had yours too! Homemade bear claws!”, which made her say, “Excellent. Remind me to put a bell on you when we get back to the precinct,” before taking his arm in hers and dragging him off to find Rossi.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four.

Emily, Spencer, and Y/N were tasked with scoping out the latest crime scene in a series of stabbings in Duluth, Minnesota. This particular crime scene happened to be right near a pop-up carnival, and while Emily was talking to the local police, Y/N was interviewing the witnesses, and Spencer was surveying the scene, Y/N turned her head to see that Spencer was no longer by the crime scene.

She whispered, “Son of a bitch,” just as Emily came over to her, which prompted Emily to say, “Reid go AWOL, again?”, and Y/N to respond, “And the man swears he doesn’t have ADHD,” making Emily laugh slightly before saying, “Do your thing, Girlfriend,” and going back to talk to the lead detective.

Y/N yelled, “IF ONLY SOMEONE KNEW HOW LONG PLAYING CARDS HAVE BEEN AROUND FOR!!!”, and a few seconds later, Spencer yelled back, “PLAYING CARDS WERE FOUND IN CHINA THAT DATED BACK TO AT LEAST THE TANG DYNASTY, WHICH WOULD HAVE BEEN FROM AROUND 618 TO 907 A.D.!!!”, which made her mumble, “Yep. Boy Genius located,” before trotting off to look for him.

She found him at the cotton candy vendor with a bag full of the sugary pink stuff, and when she shot him an exasperated look, he said, “What? I was done looking over the crime scene!”, so she grabbed his hand and said, “One of these days, I’m buying you a backpack leash,” before dragging him back to where Emily was, but not before she snatched a handful of cotton candy from the bag he was holding.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Five.

The whole team was out on Bourbon Street in New Orleans, Louisiana looking to catch an unsub in the act of hunting for their next victim when Y/N got separated from Spencer and Derek. When Spencer noticed, he said, “Hey, Morgan. Did you see where Y/N went?”, which made Derek say, “Nah, man. I thought you two were joined at the hip. Y’all are coming up on three months now,” and wink at Spencer.

He scoffed and said, “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean she won’t wander off,” before the two men tried looking around in an attempt to spot her. Derek said, “Huh. Normally she’s the one that has to track you down, Pretty Boy. This must be one hell of a role reversal,” and ruffled Spencer’s hair.

Spencer shrugged him off, then said, “Hang on, I want to try something,” and Derek said, “Alright. Get your girl, Lover Boy,” so Spencer rolled his eyes, then cupped his mouth with his hands and yelled, “SPENCER REID IS THE WORST PROFILER IN THE BAU!!!”, and it took less than three seconds for Y/N to yell back, “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?!?!”, from a few yards away.

Derek burst out laughing, and Spencer smiled fondly before saying, “Found her,” and going to look for Y/N. He found her near some street musicians playing a variety of jazz songs, and when they started playing “La Vie en Rose” by Louis Armstrong, Spencer said, “It’s our song, Y/N/N,” which made her jump before saying, “Yeah, it is,” with a wistful smile on her face.

Spencer wrapped an arm around her waist, then led her back to where Derek was waiting while saying, “You’re never going to live that down. You know that, right?”, so she smacked his chest and said, “Yeah, I know. And here I was always teasing you for wandering away from the group,” before smiling and kissing his cheek.

Spencer smiled, then pressed a quick kiss to her lips before they rejoined Derek to keep an eye out for the unsub, but both Spencer and Y/N had a bit more pep in their step.

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Tag List: @homoose, @hurricanejjareau , @xgoldentigerlilyx, @therestisconfettis, @less-intelligent-spencerreid, @aryaarathornson, @thomasgibsonfan01

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added

[theclockworkmonk]

Out of the Mouths of Babes — Chapter 5

AO3 | FFN

Previous chapter on Tumblr

Written for Hinny Ficfest 2021

Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

*******

Harry barely reacted in time to put up a Shield Charm before two Stunning Spells shot across the kitchen table at him and deflected up into the ceiling.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Ginny and Ron shouted at the same time, Ron flailing and tipping over backward in his chair.

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" Charlie screamed at Harry.

"Is he pressuring you into this?" Bill growled at Ginny.

"There is no reason to resort to something so drastic!" said Percy.

"And it's definitely not something to laugh about," said George.

Fleur was babbling a mile a minute in French, tears welling in her eyes and trying to get Victoire to stop crying.

Molly had collapsed into Arthur's arms and fainted.

"Have you lot all lost your minds!?" shouted Harry. "Why is it so important that I keep it?"

"What use do we have for it, anyway?" asked Ginny.

A second explosion of angry shouting erupted as all the Weasleys talked over each other.

"How in the WORLD is all this the appropriate response to Harry and Ginny living together!?" pleaded Hermione.

"THAT'S NOT — wait, they're living together!?" said Percy.

Hermione gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Oh please," George rolled his eyes, "Anyone with a brain already knew that."

"What!? Why didn't you say anything!" said Charlie, "We could have stopped this before it happened!"

"Gee, thanks, Hermione," growled Harry as she blushed harder.

"Then what the hell are all you gits talking about!?" barked Ginny loudly to cut through the cacophony of testosterone. "As annoying as you always are when treating me like an innocent girl, it makes more sense than getting upset about Harry's stupid Wizengamot seat!"

"Harry has a Wizengamot seat!?" asked Percy in awe.

"Don't get any ideas, Perce, Harry's taken," said George.

"Of course we're not talking about that!" said Molly, her voice shaking as she regained consciousness and stood up straight. "We're talking about the baby!"

Harry and Ginny looked sideways at Victoire.

"THE NEW BABY!" Molly shrieked, growing more exasperated.

"What, Hermione's baby?" asked Ginny.

Molly fainted again.

"Ex-CUSE me!?" cried Hermione as every head in the room spun to face her, Ron's turning a sickly shade of green.

"Oh...I shouldn't have eaten all those biscuits," Ron muttered fearfully, holding his stomach.

"Wait, Hermione's pregnant too?" asked Percy.

"No, I am not!" said Hermione forcefully.

"Wait, what do you mean 'too?'" asked Ginny. "Who else is pregnant?"

"THERE IS NO 'ELSE!' I AM NOT PREGNANT!" Hermione screamed. "Can we please establish that first?"

"Love, just calm down," said Ron softly, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. "It's okay, we can handle this. Why don't you just sit down…."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron, even if I were pregnant, if you start coddling me you'll regret it. Ginny, why the hell did you say that I'm pregnant?"

"Well she kept dropping hints left and right that someone was pregnant!" Ginny gestured wildly towards Fleur, who until now was doing a good job of avoiding the chaos, and blushed self-consciously when it was her turn to be the focus of all the anger.

"Ginny, just stop it!" Fleur lashed out. "I was trying to encourage you to come clean!"

"...Me?"

"Ginny, we know about the baby," said Arthur calmly. "We've known for days."

About a dozen different emotions collided violently inside Harry. He couldn't imagine what the expression on his face might look like. He slowly turned on the spot towards Ginny.

"I'm sure you're about to say something all noble and comforting," said Ginny dryly. "But you don't have to be that good of a boyfriend yet. No, I'm not pregnant."

"I applaud your performance, Gin-Gin," said George, "but nothing stays secret for long in this family." He jerked his head toward Ron.

"Wha—Why are you jerking your head towards me, don't jerk your head towards me!" Ron panicked.

"Why is he jerking his head towards you, Ron?" Ginny seethed.

"Hell if I know!" Ron said defensively. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, this is the first I've heard of any new babies!"

"Sorry, Ronniekins, but you spilled the beans to Teddy, and he sold you out," said George.

"You told Teddy that I'm pregnant!?" Ron flinched as Ginny smacked his arm.

"Using much more vulgar language," Molly whimpered, still trembling and desperately clutching onto Arthur for support.

"I did not tell Teddy that you're pregnant!" Ron spoke up. "I never even—"

He stopped speaking and his eyes bulged out. He and Hermione faced each other, realization dawning on their faces.

Ron's voice is small. "...Oh—Ow! Ow! Ow! Stop it!" he cowered as Hermione started furiously hitting him.

"You — complete — idiot Ronald Weasley!" she shouted with each hit.

Ginny's older brothers were looking far too pleased with themselves for her taste.

"Okay, so can we stop this charade now?" asked Bill.

"Okay, I don't know what this latest domestic incident is about," said Ginny, pointing at the sparring couple, "I just know that I'm not pregnant."

"Teddy heard Ron saying that Harry had knocked you up!" said Charlie.

"No….but I might have said that it was likely that he would knock her up."

Harry gaped at him. "Why were you discussing me knocking up Ginny at all!?" he demanded, as he physically restrained Ginny from attacking Ron.

"Because you both were being so bloody shameless!" Ron shouted back. "It's enough to drive anyone mental! Don't try to annoy your brother by having no self-control and then get mad when he says you have no self control!"

"I want the record to show that I did not partake in this line of reasoning and told him he was being ridiculous," said Hermione.

"Thanks for the support, Love," said Ron.

Bill, Charlie, and Percy all seemed to have deflated like balloons. Their faces matched their hair and they were looking anywhere but Ginny's furious face.

"Well...erm…." said Charlie, trying to keep his face stern, "Ron's right, you should still—"

"Oh, do not try to still chest-beat after you've all been exposed as idiots!" Ginny hissed. "You've all been absolutely terrible to Harry and me based on what a toddler overheard!"

"She is right," Fleur scolded her husband, rejoining the row now that she had calmed Victoire down, "If you zink zat she is pregnant, you should not start fights to stress 'er out! Shame on you!" Bill hung his head.

"You know, I really don't think that trying to manipulate Ginny into talking about it is much better," said Harry flatly, "You all need to mind your own business!"

"Yes, don't think I'm going to forget this any time soon!" Ginny waved a threatening finger at all of them. "Not only treating me like an idiot child who's been taken advantage of, but actually thinking we're stupid and reckless enough to unintentionally get pregnant in the first place!"

"See, Molly dear?" Arthur told his wife gently, "it was all just a misunderstanding." He had guided her into a chair and was trying to calm her down. Her breathing was quick and shallow and her eyes were darting around madly.

"...No. No, it all fit…" she shook her head violently, "They're covering it up. You need to tell the truth, Ginny!"

It was clear that there was no reasoning with her, she had become delirious by now from all the chaos and panic.

Ginny groaned. "All right, you want to settle this? Fine, let's settle this." And without another word, she marched out of the kitchen into the sitting room, threw some floo powder into the fireplace, called out "Diagon Alley!" and disappeared into the flames.

The kitchen was finally quiet for the next few minutes as Molly's breathing slowly but surely slowed down to merely anxious instead of an outright panic attack. Bill and Fleur were bickering quietly in French, while Hermione silently gave Ron her best "I told you so" look for not watching what he said around Teddy.

After what felt like an eternity, the fireplace roared to life again and Ginny marched back into the kitchen, dusting soot off her clothes.

"Where did you go?" asked Harry.

She held up a vial of clear liquid. "Apothecary," she said shortly. The unique shape of the bottle was instantly recognizable.

"Oh, well that's just great," said Ron tiredly. "Harry Potter's girlfriend hastily buying a pregnancy test potion, I'm sure that won't be in the headlines tomorrow."

Ginny ignored him as she skimmed over the card that came attached to the potion. "Okay, yeah, blue for boy, pink for girl, white for not pregnant."

She uncorked the flask, set it down on the table, used her wand to cut off a single strand of her hair, and lowered it into the solution. The clear, colorless contents of the bottle instantly started bubbling furiously.

"See?" Ginny barked furiously, "So, now that we've gotten this circus over with, I would greatly appreciate it if you gits kindly butted the hell out of my love life, and we can all….just….move….on…."

Her voice trailed off into nothing as her eyes remained locked on the vial on the table.

Which was now a bright, vibrant blue.

[fandomscombine]

It's the Lease I Can Do

Platonic! Weasley Twins x Reader

BG: The Weasley twins are so close to having their joke shop become a reality. They had found the perfect location but they had hit a minor problem that could cause them everything. You want to help, but how can you when they, the birthday boys themselves had given up?

a/n: I had this idea for a almst a year now and waited til ther twins bday to write it. I hope you enjoy.

WC: 2111

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

Fred and George causing a ruckus in the common room is a daily occurrence that everyone is accustomed to. However ever since the start of Year 7, the amount of commotion these two had caused can be counted in one hand.

At first glance, it could be attributed to NEWTS or in this year's case-to a pink toad acting as High Inquisitor. Still, more and more nights the twins had claimed the back corner of the common room.

~

The last remaining batch of students were making their way through Filch's checkpoint (an added security protection which also serves for Umbridge having a list of names on who comes in and out of Hogwarts). You glanced down at your watch- 2:27pm, they’re late. Weird, the twins never pass a chance to go to Hogsmeade.

You hear the castle door open behind you. Thank Merlin, you thought but instead you were greeted with a disheveled Angelina. “I’m coming! Wait!”

“Have you seen Fred and George?” You called as she ran past you.

“I think I saw them in the common room!” Angelina shouted back.

The common room? “What are they up to now?” You sighed. Stomping heavily up the stairs. “Ditching me….”

~

“Oi Weaslebees! I know you’re in here!” You rounded the corner of their secret spot. “AHa!”

You caught them red handed, midway into shoving papers into their “Weasley & Weasley'' Trunk. Though what they were hiding, you weren't exactly sure.

“Y/N!” Fred greeted, grabbing onto your shoulders, effectively covering George and the table. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Narrowing your eyes at him. “Really?” Hands on hips you blatantly say “2:15 am, courtyard?? Ring any bells?” Fred shook his head.

Meanwhile George’s head shot up. “Oh shit, y/n we’re so sorry!”

Fred turned to his brother, still clueless on what the heck George was talking about.

Abandoning the trunk, George gave his twin a classic smack on the head. “Hogsmeade, you idiot! We were supposed to all go together.”

“OHHHH FU--” Fred knew he was screwed. “I’M SO SORRY! WE’RE SORRY.” Seizing the messy trunk, he strategized. “Right, here’s the plan: I’m gonna quickly drop this off back in the dorm while you two make your way to the gate. If you run, I guess you can make it. I’ll catch up with you two then.”

“Fred….. We’re not gonna make it” you argued.

“Not if we don’t try.”

“It’s almost 3, Filch would be closing the gates by now.” You sat down on Fred’s empty seat. “Besides we can go to Hogsmeade next time, we could just hang out here. I miss having my best lads around.”

“Awww…we’ve been upgraded from annoying pricks to best lads!” Gushed George, pulling you into a side hug.

“Yea, I could help in whatever it was you guys were doing before I came. I don’t mind.”

At that, you could feel George tense up, his arm around you dropping. “Uhhh…” He looked to the older twin, silently conversing.

You gaze between the boys, sometimes they get so caught up in their scheming that they don’t notice that to others, especially those who had known them for years that their non verbal communication is not so sly.

In the end, Fred gave his brother a subtle shake. “No, that’s alright. I’ll just put this back and we could play gobstones or something, anything you like.”

As Fred headed up to his dorm room, you noticed a piece of paper under the table. Picking it up, the header caught your eye. RE: Lease Agreement. Were the twins looking for a new home after graduation? You didn’t mean to pry. You were close friends, they would tell you if they were moving right? This is big news….you decided to brush it off until another line caught your attention. The shop premise located at Number 93 Diagon Alley. Shop? They are trying to set up shop? That’s brilliant! The twins would get to showcase their inventions to the world! You could feel your pride swell. Leasing Agreements would not proceed if tenants, Mr. Fred Weasley and Mr. George Weasley, are unable to provide an endorser by the date of 31st of March.

“Where’d you get that?” George standing across from you, gobstones on one hand and another pointing at the document. There’s no backing out now.

“It was under the table.” You explained. “I didn’t know you were this far along with the shop.”

“Yea, well it’s not happening now is it?”

“What?”

“Cmon y/n. I know you read it.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright. We aren’t getting the place anyway.”

“Wait what? Why?”

“No endorsers.” George stated matter of factly but you sense the pain in his voice.

“How about your parents surely-”

George laughed. “As if mum would suddenly have a change of heart. You knew how she disapproves of our inventions, calling it a waste.”

“Arthur then.”

“Mum won’t let him.”

“Anyone then?” George huffed in defeat. “How about me! I could back you up.”

“You have to be an adult with a proven financial stability.” He stated, effectively shutting you down. “Forget it y/n. The hold ends in 3 days. We’ve tried everything. Just don’t let Fred know that you know. He’s devastated. Promise?”

“I promise.”

“And no pity, sad eyes!” He added as footsteps are heard descending the staircase.

“But I suck at poker faces!”

“Then let’s hope that Freddie is distracted even to not notice.”

~

It’s been 4 days since you had sent the letter to your father.

“Dear papa,

I know that this is a huge favour to ask but I believe it would be worth your while.

So remember back in the summer when you caught Fred Weasley, George Weasley and me snooping around with the Extendable Ears but let us go because you were so enamored?

Well turns out the twins and trying to get a shop up and running! How amazing is that?

The only problem is that they need an endorser to back them up in order to proceed with the lease agreements. The are currently on hold for the Shop Number 93 in Diagon Alley until the 31st.

This is where the huge favour comes in. Could you please be their backer? You did say that you’d love to help in some part in their invention, be an investor of sorts. Please papa. I would love to do it myself but I have to wait a couple more months to qualify. Plus it’s their 18th birthday on April 1st. Imagine their surprise if it were to come through.

I’d love to hear from you soon, regardless of your choice.

Your favourite child

y/n.”

The twin’s 18th birthday was spent with absolute love and madness.

Lee had unloaded his stash of butterbeer and firewhiskey, Fred had slipped Angelina with one of their new prank inventions- which changes the person into a sickly color of vomit green, a perfect way to ditch class or events.

Upon learning that the color would last for a few days and would only fade with the ingestion of an antidote, antidote that George said they still had yet to create. Angelina (understandably) threw cake at them. The Gryffindor chaser with perfect aim, hits its mark. However, Fred using his beater skills, instinctively blocks the incoming cake.

Resulting in a wide splat zone. Fred’s arm was covered in frosting, having sprayed everyone around him in whipped cream during the impact. George wasn’t safe too, despite being across from Fred, the rebounce of the cake had made him the new target.

You had just changed into your pajamas when a tapping sound came from your window.

Your family owl, Lanny, was outside carrying a large yellow envelope.

Quickly letting him in, you gave Lanny a gentle pat and brought out some owl treats for the tired bird.

Unscrolling the note tied to his leg, you begin to read.

“My dearest y/n,

My sincere apologies for the late reply, it’s been quite hectic at work.

In regards to your favour, you need not worry. Everything is taken care of. I had met with the landlord of Number 93 Diagon Alley and had all the documents settled. I had also gone and checked to make sure the two lads aren’t being ripped off. Fred and George had picked a nice prime location.

Greet them a happy birthday for me alright? And tell them that I look forward to witnessing them succeed in their endeavors.

They would undoubtedly be bringing a lot of much needed joy into these darkening times. The people would be thankful for them.

I also had Lanny bring the twins’ copy of the Lease Agreement.

I can’t wait to see you all soon.

Much love,

Papa.”

~

Fred was grateful that their friends had retired into the night, leaving him and George to sulk into the dreadful reality.

“We were this close Georgie, this close!” Fred winced, pinching his fingers close without touching.

“I know but there was nothing else we could have done.” consoled George but even he himself was having a hard time. Number 93 was the perfect location for their joke shop. But now it’s gone.They are back to square one, scouting for locations.

“Fred! George! There you are! I have great news!” You yelled, not caring if you could wake up the other students.

“Oi Y/N! Be careful!.” Even in a bad mood, Fred Weasley couldn’t help being protective.

You banged the envelope on the table. “Surprise! Happy Birthday! From papa and I.”

“Another gift?” wondered George.

“So you don’t want it then?” You challenged, crossing your arms. You tried to look intimidating but the pajamas weren’t doing any good. “Cause I bet a hundred galleons that you’d shit your pants if you were to reject it.”

“That confident eh?” Smirked Fred, taking the contents of the envelope out. “ What do you think is so grand that Georgie and I would---BLOODY HELL! Y/N!” Fred kept looking down at the paper and up to you, unbelieving.

“What is it Freddie?” asked George leaning over to read whatever it was that left his brother speechless.

Re: Lease Agreement

Mr. y/l/n has submitted his endorsement to Mr. Fred Weasley and Mr. George Weasley.

The turnover of the leasing property of Shop Number 93 Diagon Alley would begin on April 1st …..

“Oh My- Y/n? Is this real?” George whispered, afraid that if he were any louder this dream would end.

“Yes, absolutely, 100%.” You affirmed. “The shop is yours! Opff-”

George embraced you tight, catching you off guard. You could feel your right shoulder getting wet. “Heyya big guy, don’t cry.” Running a hand up and down his back.

“But how?” Fred with brows creased was still stuck in a trance, you could see the paper shake in his grasp.

“You left the agreement noticed a couple of days ago. I might have accidentally read it. George said to not let you know cause you might get angry-”

“YOu KNEW?!?”

“George only knew I saw the paper. Nothing else.” You defended. “I thought i might try and help, so I called in a favour with papa. You knew how much he was impressed with the Extendable Ear, so I mentioned if he wanted to back you up. I only got his reply just now, said he’d love to and got onto ironing out the paperwork and viola!” Pointing at the document. “Oh and he also said Happy 18th Birthday, looking forward to your success and the people would be thankful for bringing a lot of much needed joy into these darkening times.”

“Thanks Y/n but this is a lot we can’t possibly-”

You cut Fred off before he could say more. “Oh please, you have done countless things for me. And I know what you’re gonna say- but see you would do the same for me. Besides think of this as your first investors. We want to help. We see your potential, we know you two, Fred, George, are gifted with bringing laughter and joy to people with your inventions."

"Thank you, truly y/n and to your dad too." Fred admitted, opening himself up. "No one's really backed us up with our inventions before, we've been always told off for being childish. It really means a lot."

“Hey, it’s the lease I could do.” You replied, causing the twins to chuckle immediately lightening up the mood.

It's great to see them relax again after weeks of stressing over the shop. Times might be changing but at least tonight, you got your best lads back.

~

Everything Taglist : @gruffle1

HP Taglist: @onlyfreds

[fandom-puff]

Hi! I've finally narrowed it down to 53 and 54 on the smut list for a Tommy Shelby x reader. And if it's between mild and spicy smut, FOR SURE SPICY. I was thinking maybe there was like a family meeting (or any sort of meeting), and the reader "misbehaves" or does something that maybe annoys him? And then smut in whatever office they're in. No worries if you don't want to do it btw! And if you totally wanna change the concept that's cool too! 53 and 54 are just such good prompts. 🥺💖

Yay!! Buzzing to write this! Hope you enjoy <3

Gif creds to owner

Behave

Warnings: hella smutty, swearing

You were in a FOUL mood. It was Saturday, which was normally your day off anyway, but earlier in the week, Tommy had promised he’d take the day off to spend time with you. Yet here you were, choking on smoke in the betting shop, slumped over the books with a face like thunder. He hadn’t even looked at you all day, and his brothers, who were usually up for a bit of banter with you, had been in Tommy’s office since 9:30. 

You sat pouting, arms crossed, glaring at the books you were meant to be adding up when the door opened and the brothers poured out. Seizing your opportunity, you called out, “Tommy?” he turned around, eyebrows raised and cigarette hanging from his lips. “I-I was just wondering if you... wanna go to that nice restaurant- after work, I mean?” 

He rolled his eyes slightly and stared hard at you for a moment before turning away. You furrowed your brows, about to call after him again when he said bluntly “Family meeting,” 

“Go on then. I’m going to pick up some lunch,” you said, unable to keep the bite out of your tone. 

“Family meeting. That includes you,” he said stonily, still walking. 

“For fuck’s sake, Tom! Fine!” you hissed, storming ahead of him to the adjoining kitchen. John snorted with laughter at his sister in law’s temper, but you threw him a middle finger over your shoulder and called “Piss off, John,” 

Tommy glowered after you, shaking his head as Arthur clapped him on the shoulder. “You in the doghouse, brother? Take her out to dinner after work, eh? Might calm her down,” he said, grinning. 

“Fuck off, Arthur,”

You took your usual seat at the table, arms crossed and pouting. Polly glanced at you. 

“What’s up with you?” she asked, sliding you a teacup and offering tea. 

“Your nephew’s a dick,” you said, allowing her to pour it for you. 

“You’re going to have to narrow it down for me, YN, though I have a good idea who you’re on about,” she said knowingly. 

“Tommy!” you exclaimed. “I’m not arsed about having to work on my day off- I’m pissed at him for breaking his fucking promises. Again.” you ranted. Pol patted your shoulder. You both straightened up when the Shelby boys entered the room. They sat around the table, Tommy next to you, resting his hand on your thigh. It wasn’t a tender gesture like usual; it was firm and unmoving, and he was ready to squeeze should you get ahead of yourself. 

“Finally,” you hissed. “Hurry up then and get this over with,” you said, not looking at your husband. 

“No. I’m waiting for Johnny Dogs and Uncle Charlie to get here,” he said, and you rolled your eyes. He arched his brows at your attitude. 

“Waiting for someone to come? Never stopped you before,” you snapped, and Arthur and John choked on their drinks. 

“Watch it, YN,” Tommy said darkly, grabbing your cheek with his free hand and squeezing your thigh tightly with the other. “You’ve been running your mouth all day and you’re skating on very thin ice, My Girl,” 

You snorted at the nickname and shook your head, pulling away from his grip.  “’My Girl’? You better start bloody treating me like it, Thomas,” you growled. The family watched- Arthur and John exchanged a few shillings under the table on the outcome of the argument. 

“Thomas, eh? You must be in trouble, huh?” Johnny Dogs’ voice cut through the tension. You stood up. 

“Thank fuck for that. You can start your meeting now,” 

“YN, sit the fuck down, this includes you too,” Tommy said, stubbing his cigarette out. 

“Shove it up your arse, Thomas,” you hissed, but he pulled you back down to sit in the chair. 

“Stop making a show, YN,” he growled. 

“Stop being a twat then,” you countered and pulled away from him, scooting your chair away from his side. 

The meeting wore on, but you weren't paying attention. You were too busy glaring at the table, a slight pout on your lips. Admittedly, you were being childish, but it had been ages since you and Tommy had properly spent time together. For the past fortnight, you had gone to sleep with an empty bed, and woken up just as he slipped out of the room. Today was meant to be a day for you both to relax and spend time together- and maybe get intimate for the first time in about a month. 

The meeting ended, and you stood up quickly, wanting to leave as soon as possible, but Tommy grabbed your wrist and began dragging you upstairs like an unruly child. “For Christ’s sake, Tom, let me go and fuck off to your precious office!” you complained. Having enough, you were slammed against the wall. 

“Right, YN, I’ve tried to be patient with you. But if you’re going to act like a little brat, then I’m going to treat you like one. Now fuck off upstairs, and when I get up there, I expect you stripped down and on your knees,” 

You were about to argue back, but you looked into Tommy’s eyes, blown wide with lust, and nodded, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw. “Yes, sir,” you whispered, rubbing your thighs together. 

“Good girl,” he said gently. “Off you go,” 

You practically ran to Tommy’s old bedroom, tossing your clothes off and slamming the door. You glanced at the pile of clothes on the floor and quickly folded them up, knowing you’d get a telling off for being messy. You knelt down beside the bed, hands folded in your lap and eyes down, a healthy blush rising to your cheeks as you tried not to fidget. Five minutes later, the door opened and Tommy walked in, jacket abandoned and sleeves rolled up. You licked your lips slightly and resisted the temptation to stand and attach your lips to his. 

He looked down at you, slowly walking over, stroking a hand over your flushed face and pushing a stray strand of hair off your forehead. You hummed, leaning into his gentle touch, letting your eyes flutter shut. “Been feeling a bit neglected, my girl?” he asked and you whined softly and nodded, nuzzling your head against the luxurious, slightly scratchy material of his trousers. He chuckled slightly, the sound low, rumbling from his chest. “Nevertheless,” he said, voice a little harder. “Your behaviour today has been less than satisfactory, hm?” you blushed and nodded, looking down and mumbling. “What’s that?” he coaxed, tipping your face up to face him. 

“Said ‘m sorry,” you said, a little louder this time. He smirked and knelt down so that he was eye level with you, dropping the gentleness. 

“You will be,” 

You whimpered as he pulled you up. “Right, over my knee. I think 15 should do, don’t you?” you nodded and settled yourself over his knee, his trousers scratching your bare belly, his belt buckle digging into your waist. You shut your eyes as Tommy instructed you to thank him for each hit. 

SMACK! “Thank you,”

“Thank you what?” SMACK! 

“Ah! Fuck! Sir! Thank you, sir!” you cry

Tommy doesn’t get you to count- he’s capable of keeping count himself. He admires your arse, watching as it reddens and rubbing away the sting each time. By the last hit, a tear slips down your cheek and drips onto the floor, but you’re moaning and writhing, and Tommy dips his fingers between your legs after the last spank, smirking. “What do we have here, hm?” he asks, pulling you up to sit on your lap, pressing you down so your raw arse rubs against the rough tweed of his trousers. You gasp and whine as he strokes his index finger languidly up your soaked heat before pressing his slicked up finger to your lips. You take the digit into your mouth and suckle eagerly, squirming on his lap, thighs brushing against his tented trousers. “Somebody enjoying herself?” He smirked and you nodded, the bobbing of your head around his finger causing you to gag slightly. You groan and he helps you up. 

“Now, part of me wants to choke you with my cock and leave you like the little slut you’ve shown yourself to be...” you look up at him with wide eyes, shaking your head slightly, though you don’t dare open your mouth to beg. “However... you took your punishment so well... and as naughty as you’ve been today, I have been neglecting my little girl, haven’t I, darling?” you nod and he smirks, starting to unbutton his vest. You lick your lips and watch, fingers itching to help- he’s unbuttoning each button torturously slowly, but you don't want to earn yourself another punishment when you're already so close to pleasure. Once shirtless, he looks at you, nodding to the bed. You scramble to lay on your back, already spreading your legs eagerly. He laughs slightly and lines himself up, cock throbbing with need. You buck your hips despite yourself and he pushes in slowly, stretching you deliciously. You groan lowly, the burning stretch making you see spots- he hasn't even started yet. 

Tommy starts a brutal pace, hooking your legs around his waist as he thrusts into you, his cock bumping a deep spot inside you that made your eyes roll back. “Fuck! Tommy!” you cried out, reaching to scratch your nails down his back, the stinging scrape causing his to hiss and fuck you rougher. Your cries came in sharp bursts, increasing in pitch and volume as you chased your climax. 

“Fucking hell, YN, love, you better be quiet or everyone's going to know what a naughty little slut you are,” you groan in response and arch your back, pinching your nipples. 

“Good! I’m y-yours, Tommy!” you cried out, your walls throbbing and clenching around him as your pleasure peaked. Sensing this, he didn't even bother to hold off your climax, instead ramming his cock into you harder, faster, grabbing your hand and telling you to rub your pulsing clit. “Pl-please! Please, I’m gonna- gonna-” 

Tommy grunted, hair plastered to his forehead. “Cum,” he demanded. “Come on my cock, good girl,” he instructed and you yelped, screaming for him. He pressed his lips to yours, swallowing your moans as he pumped you full of his seed, riding out your pleasure. he gathered you into his arms and, still trembling, you snuggled into his side. Your makeup was ruined, lips swollen and eyes glassy. You looked dazed, ragged and well-fucked; just the way he liked it. 

You pressed a kiss to his chest, tasting the salty tang of sweat, head swirling with the heady scent of sex. ou shivered and he rubbed your side gently. “My girl,” he murmured. “I'm sorry for... being a dick,” he whispered. “Go clean your face, then I’m taking you for lunch. Pack a bag... I’m gonna take you to London for a bit- nowhere near Camden Town, don't worry,” 

you look up at him and kiss his lips sloppily. “Anywhere’s fine, so long as I’m with you,” 

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

A Hundred Stitches

Summary: Arthur comes home after hunting with some serious injuries. You try to be the dutiful wife and patch him up, the keyword is try.

Warnings: Blood mention, smut, Low Honor Arthur, cursing, cockwarming

Author’s Note: I typed this up on the fly cause I thought it was a cute and different idea.

“Good Lord, Arthur Morgan. What happened to you?”

Your eyes were fixated on the disheveled appearance of your husband standing before you. As an outlaw you’d grown accustomed to him arriving with wounds both large and small over the years. Now the two of you lived in a cabin tucked away in West Elizabeth, free from the chains that dragged the both of you down from being on the run. Running into danger hadn’t been much of an afterthought this past year.

Arthur however, didn’t seem to understand that. He strode into the cabin appearing as if he’d crawled out of a grave. His shirt was torn in multiple places and stained with dirt and splattered blood. His face was mottled with bruises and scrapes and his hair matted with blood as well. His hands – oh heavens above, his hands – were dyed crimson as if he’d stuck them in a vat of paint. The one detail that caught your eye was a large gash on his shoulder that shone fresh in the sunlight behind him.

“You look like you fought with –”

“A cougar,” he finished for you. “I won that fight.”

You caught his lips splitting into a grin. “Not before it took a chunk outta you,” you sighed and waved toward one of the kitchen chairs. “Strip and sit.”

Arthur followed your direction without a word, shrugging off his tattered clothing as he walked across the wooden floor. You hurried outside to fetch a fresh pail of water from the well. When you walked back in, your eyes caught him sitting patiently in the chair. He’d stripped down to his union suit, although the top half had been peeled off. Besides the gash on his shoulder, obvious claw marks were raked across his abdomen.

“Fucking hell, Arthur. How did you manage to escape without dying?” you exasperated.

He merely laughed at your exclamation. “I ain’t that easy to kill, sweetheart.”

You only rolled your eyes. Of course he’d find it amusing. You strode over to one of the cabinets to retrieve a clean rag, suture kit, and a roll of bandages. You weren’t a nurse or healer by any means, but with Arthur often coming to you with a medley of injuries over the years, you’d learned your way around a needle and dressing wounds.

You moved back over to him, eyeing the wounds with scrutiny. They weren’t as deep as you anticipated, that to which you were thankful for. It appeared that the only one that required stitching was the one on his shoulder. You grabbed the pail and placed it at your feet, dunking the rag into the water.

“You’re lucky I love you.” You grumbled, bending over and gingerly wiping the rag over the wounds on his stomach. Arthur flinched just the slightest as the fabric passed over the raw skin.

“Or what, you wouldn’t be as gentle?” he countered with a small smirk.

A small scoff escaped your lips. The white rag turned crimson, and you dunked it back into the bucket to rinse. “Or I wouldn’t yell at you for stupidly wrestling big cats.”

His chest rumbled with deep laughter, filling the space of the small cabin. “Weren’t intentional, darlin’. I was out huntin’. Turns out I weren’t the only one followin’ a buck.”

You hummed in response, bending over once again to wipe the rest of his wounds. You were very aware of his eyes snapping toward your blouse, or rather, down it. The tip of his tongue darted between his lips for a short second. Not that you minded, you were his wife after all.

Once the remainder of dirt and blood had been washed clean of his skin, he washed his hands and face while you grabbed the bandages first to take care of his stomach. You reached around his thick torso to begin unraveling – when his arms encompassed you and pulled you onto his lap. You hadn’t expected this and uttered a squeak of surprise. Eye to eye with him, he smiled at you.

“Make it easier for ya.” He said, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

It was a lie. You knew exactly what he was trying to do. The flash of hunger reflected in those blue eyes of his could not be hidden. You didn’t acknowledge it as you continued to wrap the bandages around him. You were very aware of his hand on your ass, squeezing your supple flesh through the fabric of your skirt. It didn’t take much longer for him to find the waistband. His palm snaked inside, wasting no time to seek his target. He pressed against your bundle of nerves through the thin shield of your chemise.

Your jaw clenched slightly, keeping your focus on bandaging. The linen was nice and even without too much overlap, just enough pressure to not constrict him –

You stopped abruptly when he pinched your clit. A small gasp escaped your throat. A small smile of satisfaction crossed his face. He wanted a reaction from you and achieved it. Your eyes met his briefly before you continued.

He slipped past your bloomers now. His thick fingers parted your lower lips to gain easier access, sliding a calloused pad along your nub. Your body was responding faster than your mind was. A small spark that bloomed deep within you was growing slowly.

Your concentration was slipping in his grasp. You bit your lip and finished the bandage, neatly tying the end despite how your hands trembled.

His free hand slinked to the back of your neck, pulling you in to meet his lips with yours. Sweet it was in the beginning, his lips became more fervent before his tongue invaded your mouth. You allowed him to, eliciting a small moan as his fingers toyed you. To call him an expert of your body was an understatement. He had every curve and swell memorized like a well-read map, always tracing his fingertips on your skin as if it were the very first time. He knew which spots were more sensitive than others, where exactly to tease to reduce you to a writhing mess.

The ease of his fingers entering you was a sign of your own arousal, and god damn did he make it more difficult for you to continue. You dragged yourself from the lust-filled corner of your mind and pulled from his lap.

“I’m not finished.” You say rather breathlessly.

“Neither am I, darlin’.” He responds, the darkness in his eyes prominent as he gazes at you with a hungry glare. You weren’t ignorant of the bulge underneath his union suit.

“You can wait.”

Moving the pail out of the way, you go to grab the suture kit that you’d placed on the table next to him. As you reached over to grab it, Arthur’s hands were on you again. You expected him to pull you back onto his lap, yet instead the weight of your skirt vanished, pooling at your feet. You gasped and straightened up, only to have him repeat the process with your bloomers. The sheer fabric immediately dropped from your waist, leaving your lower half completely bare.

You swiveled around to glare at him, and he met your indignant gaze with a smile that you fought every urge to smack off his face.

He greedily found your hips, pulling you to sit upon his thighs. His length had been released from its constraints, standing tall and waiting. You glanced at it, a burning need building within you. Damn this man for playing with you this way. You however did not indulge him, instead threading the suture through the needle and focusing on the deep gash.

Upon pinching the torn skin and poking the needle through, you felt him flinch around you. You pulled it taut and tugged the corner lip of the wound closed before creating a knot at the end. One down, many more to go. You were preparing the second when Arthur suddenly pulled your hips closer, the head of his cock prodding your entrance. You’d twitched involuntarily.

“Arthur.” You hissed in warning.

A mischievous smirk appeared on his lips. Keeping your eyes on his wound, you took a deep breath and kept your eyes focused on his shoulder. Threading a second through the skin, you were quicker to knot it closed than the first.

His hips bucked forward, slipping into you with ease. You elicited a yelp, having to dodge grabbing onto his wounded shoulder as pleasure racked through you. You drew in a ragged breath, reeling in the more coherent part of your mind. He kept you seated on his length with no intent to move...yet.

You pinched his skin and quickly drove the needle through. You kept your breath even, pushing aside the carnal desire to drop everything and ride him at the moment.

Third suture done. Now on to the next –

His mouth found your neck, nibbling and suckling at your pulse point. His heated breath tickled your sensitive skin, attempting to push you to the point of no return.

“I – need to – finish.” You choked out, your heart beginning to wildly race from his ministrations.

“Ain’t stoppin’ you.” He murmured against your neck.

“You’re distracting me,” you groaned. “Can’t you wait?”

And Arthur decidedly answered by thrusting up into you.

Your moan of ecstasy turned to that of frustration. As annoyed as you were with him at the moment, it certainly wouldn’t last long. He was turning you to jelly in his hands, molding you to his liking regardless of the situation. His hips moved at a steady rhythm, allowing the slightest of friction for both of you. He was aware of how his simple movement could nearly drive you wild.

The growing bubble in your core was becoming harder to ignore. You quickly stitched up the next suture and squeezed your eyes shut, willing not to succumb to him. With his teeth grazing your neck and his cock grazing along that delicate spot, it took nearly all of your willpower.

You held the needle to his skin, ready to poke through when he thrust up into you again. The needle slipped from your fingers and you fumbled with it, saving it before it could drop to the floor.

You gritted your teeth. “Arthur, I’m going to stab you if you don’t stop!” You growled, the feeble attempt to sound intimidating quickly drained from how shaky your voice was.

He simply laughed, sending vibrations along your skin. “Didn’t think you could be so violent, Mrs. Morgan.” he joked, moving his head to peer up at you.

“You know what I meant!”

His laughter hadn’t ceased. Though by some odd miracle, he was good for you during the remainder of the sutures. You kept still on his lap, soon almost forgetting how deep he was inside of you. He would twitch every once in a while in attempts to keep himself from growing soft. You knew that once you were done he would become relentless, and so you punished him by taking your time. Each and every stitch became perfectly aligned with your capable hands, each having triple knots before moving on to the next. He was growing impatient from how bright his eyes smoldered.

You’d come to the last suture, moving the absolute slowest you could. The beast beneath you was only contained by a thin tether that was ready to snap at any given moment. Your eyes met his, reading every unspoken word hidden within them. It nearly cast a shiver down your spine.

The final knot was completed. You barely had time to place the needle and thread down when his hands grabbed at your hips. He rose to his feet, lifting you up effortlessly within him while still keeping inside you. A quick movement and your back was pressed to the table. He grabbed at your legs, pushing them up by your head and driving deep within you.

You yelped out loud, tilting your head back as he fucked you mercilessly. Prior teasings and the pause in between did nothing to staunch your quickly growing climax. You whined to him, calling out his name with your ascent. His gravelly voice demanded it from you, stroking the innermost depths of your desire. His hand found your nub again, vainly stroking it in pursuit of your orgasm.

And gave it to him you did. Erupted from your core to burn through your veins, his name tangled in with a string of swears. He hadn’t let up with his hand, and you could not even try to wiggle away. Oversensitivity was a foreign language to him. His eyes locked to yours, a silent command to keep giving until he was satisfied.

You don’t know how that power even took hold of you. It however worked each and every time. Soon gone was the urge to escape his touch and building your second release. It was slower than the first, though more powerful. Undulating thrusts and dragging against your most sensitive spot rendered you to a writhing mess beneath him. That smirk of his…so unnecessarily sexy.

Why had you married such a specimen of a man to torture you in the most intimate of ways?

He drove you absolutely crazy, but damn if you didn’t enjoy every second of it.

“You’re close sweetheart, let me feel it.”

Your own voice seemed disembodied from the way you expressed your pleasure. The swell burst immediately, once again overtaking you as your inner walls clenched down him. You fought to catch your breath, your eyes never leaving his. You watched as his face contorted and he huffed a grunt, a sign he was close to his own release. He removed his hand to grip your leg again, using the added leverage to fuck you with abandon.

His hips broke rhythm, shuddering against yours. He gritted his teeth threw his head back, swearing out loud as he pressed himself deep, unleashing his seed into you.

Both of you were still for a moment, lost in your own attempts to catch your breath. After a long moment his hands slid off your legs and he stepped back. The sound of his body leaving yours sent a flush licking at your cheeks. His now softened dick was soaked with your combined fluids, dripping slowly to the floor. Even Arthur seemed surprised.

“Maybe I should wrestle cougars more often.” He grinned at you.

“Do that and I will leave you.” You grumbled. You stretched your legs out and found purchase on the floor, forcing yourself to stand up despite the tremble that overtook your lower half.

He chuckled, lifting his arms to draw you into an embrace. You were careful not to lean your weight on his fresh wounds. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Only jokin’, Y/N. But I do like the idea of teasin’ ya more while ya patch me up.”

You picked your head up to give him a hot glower, smacking his good shoulder. “Arthur, I swear to God.”

[rons-hermiones]

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Five

“Oh Arthur it’s horrible, just horrible! The poor girl.” Molly says sadly, just now finishing her talk with Hermione. 

Arthur has just gotten in from his shed. Nearby, Ron heard his parents exchange from his spot at the chess board in the living room. 

“What’s happened dear, is it Ron?” His voice drops in a whisper, but Ron can still hear them speaking despite being in the kitchen. 

“She didn’t mention him,” he breathes in relief, “surely that’s got to do with it, but it’s her grandmother.” 

“Her grandmother?” Arthur asked. 

There was a pause, no doubt his mother was nodding, “she’s sick with a Muggle illness, she has been for sometime. From the letter Hermione showed me her parents don’t think she has much time. They’ve traveled to France to make sure she’s comfortable.” Molly is beginning to sound choked up, Ron’s starting to feel the same way. 

The youngest Weasley boy hears the shuffle of feet. Nearby, his father embraces his mother. 

“It’ll be okay Molly Wobbles.” He soothes. 

“What are we going to do Arthur? The poor girl seemed so sad, so unlike Hermione when we spoke. She’s one of our own you know.” The older woman cries into her husband's shoulder. 

He pulls back to look into her sad eyes, “I know she is, she means so much to the kids, to all of us.” He promises, “we’ll do our best to give her a happy Christmas, take her mind off of everything. It’ll be good for all of us.” 

Molly sighs, “you’re right Arthur, you always are.” then her voice drops again, “I’m worried about her and Ronnie. I’m sure there’s a strain there.” 

Now it’s her husbands turn to sign, “me too Molly, but Ron will fix it. He loves her too much, I can see it. He’ll figure it out, have some faith dear.” He finishes it off by pecking her head lightly. 

As Ron hears their conversation end he can’t help but nod to himself in agreement. His father was right. 

He loves Hermione too much to let things stay this way. 

Before his thoughts could wander further, or his mother and father could draw on, a loud crack is heard beyond the wards. 

Instantly, the entire house is running out to the garden with their wands drawn. 

Ron, Arthur, and Molly are outside first, having been the only ones downstairs. Fred and George appear next with Harry. Immediately after Ginny and Hermione clamber out. 

Instinctively Ron’s hand finds hers, not giving two shits if there’s all this tension between them. He needs to make sure she’s alright. 

And shocking to him, she doesn’t pull away or resist as he gently tugs her slightly behind him. He knows she’s too stubborn to allow him to completely shield her. And he knows she’s more than capable of holding her own, probably more so than him, but again, he can’t help it. 

Over the horizon a somewhat familiar figure is approaching as everyone grows more tense. 

“Well,” a man's voice hollers, “this is some welcome, isn’t it?” 

As he steps into the light, everyone drops their wands with a relieved huff. Molly flings herself at her son. 

“I thought you were coming tomorrow.” She chastises lightly, but isn’t disappointed at all. 

Charlie hugs his mother in return, “I thought I’d surprise you, but I definitely should’ve given a warning.” He laughs lightly. 

Molly let’s go as Arthur moves closer, clapping his son the shoulder, “nonsense. You’re always welcome, happy to have you home son.” 

Charlie hasn’t spent Christmas at the Burrow since he graduated from Hogwarts, always being too busy in Romania. 

“Charles!” The twins shouted in unison approaching their older brother. 

“Gits!” He responds by mocking their tones. 

“We can’t wait to hear about how you tamed all those dragons in Romania.” Fred started. 

“How you tamed those Romanian chicks too.” George winked. 

In response, Molly smacked them both upside their head. 

Ginny then came crashing into Charlie. 

“Wow you got big,” he laughed as he embraced her, “and stronger too.” 

She pulled away and smiled, “and you got...scruffier?” The girl says, noticing his growing stubble. 

Charlie peers over his shoulder to find Harry standing awkwardly, “oh, you must be Harry.” 

Harry then steps forward and holds out his hand, “yeah that’d be me. I’ve heard a lot about you too. Thanks for those gifts you sent in my fourth year.” He joked lightly. 

Charlie cringes slightly before letting out a chuckle. However, his laugh halts as he spots a familiar face. 

“Ronnie!” He exclaims excitedly, tackling his youngest brother in a hug and forcing him to let go of Hermione’s soft hand. 

“Alright Charlie, you’d think we hadn’t seen each other in three years.” He jokes lightly. 

At this, his older brother pulls away a bit red, “I’m sorry, it’s just when you write it’s usually about how you’ve nearly escaped death. I’m just happy to see you alright is all.” He justifies. He pulls away quickly as if he’s seen the golden snitch, “and you!”

Hermione jumps a little as his blue eyes find hers. 

“So I hear you’re the reason Ronnie is even alive. Hermione, am I right? I’ve heard so much about you.” 

She flushes, “no, it’s a group effort really. Normally all I do is browse a little, in hindsight it’s not very challenging, or amazing really, I kind of just-“ she rambles nervously. 

“Hermione!” Ginny cuts off with a smile. 

Even more embarrassed, the witch extends her hand, “yes that’s me, Hermione Granger.” 

Charlie accepts her hand and shakes it, “charmed.” He laughs. 

At this, she manages a small smile as well, “I must ask about your work in Romania, it must be fascinating! I myself am very interested in Magical Creatures, especially their rights, things of that nature. Now, I must ask you...” her voice trails as she walks back inside the Burrow with Charlie. 

For a moment, Ron allows himself to smile at how animated Hermione has become. It’s the most lively he’s seen her in weeks, no, months. But, as quickly as the smile comes, it fades away at the notion that it wasn’t Ron who got her that way. 

...

Hermione’s outburst was short-lived. It only lasted about five more minutes after they had entered the house. She had expressed interest in Magical Creatures and their rights, Charlie had filled her in some, and before anyone knew it she was gone. The far off look in her eyes had returned before she announced she was tired and ran back to Ginny’s room to continue some research. 

In her wake was a stunned Charlie, a cringing set of twins, a very uncomfortable Harry and Arthur, a frowning Ginny and Molly, and a devastated Ron. 

“Was it something I said?” Charlie asked, sounding a little guilty as his ears twinged pink. 

“No dear,” Molly soon assured, “there’s something I’d actually like to talk to you all about.” 

At this everyone dropped their tasks at hand (quidditch magazines and chess) and turned to the matriarch. 

“Now as I am sure some of you are aware,” she starts, eyes momentarily flickering to the younger children, “Hermione’s grandmother is rather unwell. Her Mum thinks she’ll pass any day now.”

At this the twins let out a small gasp, instantly feeling bad about all the teasing she’s been the center of as of late. Charlie nodded his head sadly. 

“It’s a very hard thing for her, from what I understand they were close,” 

“She’s the only one who knew she was a witch. Besides her parents I mean.” Ron interjects before he can help himself. 

“Yes,” his mother nods, “so it is our duty to make sure that Hermione has a wonderful Christmas despite everything, yes?” It seems as if her eyes are now drilling holes into the twins heads. 

“We didn’t do anything Mum!” Fred defended. 

“Not a thing!” George added,

 “Yeah, if anything you should be telling Ronnie to clean up his act, not us!” Fred stated rather boldly, making his youngest brother turn red. 

“As much as I would love for Ron to fix whatever has gotten him and Hermione avoiding one another,” Molly began making her son flush deeper, “that is his business. You two just mind yours!” 

“Alright Mum.” George appeased, “we promise to behave. Now I’m off to bed, work in the morning. Night everyone, good to have you back Charlie.” 

As George clambered up the steps Fred followed, sending a nod to his older brother and kissing his Mum sweetly on the cheek. 

From a nearby corner, Arthur yawned, “I think they had the right idea. I’ve got to be at the Ministry early. I’m doing extra time to get off earlier Christmas Eve.” 

“Come on then,” Molly said ushering her tired husband to the steps, “don’t say up too late kids.” She reminds, before disappearing upstairs. 

After a few moments of silence, Harry spoke, “I think I’d better check on Hermione. I haven’t really had the chance to talk to her since we arrived.” He said sheepishly. 

In response, Ginny nodded, “good idea. I’ll make some tea to bring up to her.” 

At this proclamation the pair stood up and parted ways, each determined to finish their self assigned tasks. 

“Speaking of Hermione,” Charlie said as soon as Ginny had left the room, “what is all this so called tension between the two of you?” He asked curiously, “I swear I saw the pair of you holding hands when I walked up.” 

Sighing, Ron flopped onto the couch next to his older brother, “I reckon Bill’s filled in you in some yeah?” 

Bill and Charlie shared just about everything with each other. By telling one something, it was bound to get to the other. They were like the twins but less annoying. 

Besides that, Ron did make a habit of trying to write Charlie once a month. In his most recent letter he briefly mentioned an incident with Lavender, and not wanting to go into more detail, Ron simply wrote Charlie to ask Bill for more information. 

At the statement about Bill, his older brother nodded. Charlie’s somewhat up to date knowledge on the events were a great relief to Ron. He didn’t think he had it in him to relive the past few months anymore then he did at dinner. 

“So you know much I’ve effed up?” Charlie didn’t agree nor disagree with Ron’s statement, “don’t worry, I’ve managed to mess it up more.” He promises his older brother. 

“Come off it Ronnie, don’t be so hard on yourself.” The dragon tamer said despite not knowing what’s happened now. 

Telling about Hermione ignoring him and lavender. 

At this, Ron delves into an explanation similar to the one he gave about Harry. He recapped the events outside the dining hall and on the train. 

By the end, Charlie’s teeth were clenched in sympathy, “so now she thinks you want her to just ignore you? That you’d be happier that way?” He asks. 

“I wouldn’t be.”

Charlie sighs, “I know and I reckon Hermione does too,” at this Ron’s eyes meet his brothers, “she’s under a lot of stress right now and with everything that’s happened between you and her. She’s heartbroken Ron. Heart break will make you think things you know aren’t true, it just does the worst to people.”

At his words, the youngest Weasley brother felt as if someone had poured cold water over him. An astounding chill worked its way up his spine. 

“Mental isn’t it?” He starts after a few moments, voice hoarse, “that her heart had even been mine to break. If I had known that were the case I would’ve been, I would’ve made sure,” he was frustrated with his lack of words, “I would’ve been more careful. I wouldn’t have hurt her, I never wanted to.” He admitted. 

Ron felt fresh tears prick the corners of his eyes. Not wanting to cry in front of his brother, he sucks them in and speaks again, “how do I fix this?” 

Charlie thinks for a moment, “well you could tell her what you’re telling me?” He suggested. 

Quickly Ron shook his head, “I’ve tried trust me, she’s just, she’s just so brilliant. She’s so brilliant that she’s managed to convince herself I don’t give a rats arse about her so whenever I try to tell her otherwise it always comes out wrong, or she takes it the wrong way.” He explains recalling what happened on the train. 

“Right,” his older brother nodded, “you’ve never been great with words Ronnie.” 

At this, Ron rolled his eyes. 

“Okay, I have an idea,” Charlie’s eyes brighten, “if words aren’t enough to let her know then you need to take some action.” 

“Action?” 

“Sure, a grand gesture of sorts, something that’ll do all the talking for you, you know what I mean?” Ron’s face remained blank, “come on Ronnie! Like a grand gesture, write her a letter, snog her senseless, a gift, something,” 

Before the dragon tamer could go on something sparked in Ron’s brain, “Merlin, I’ve had the best idea!” He leaps from the couch, “Charlie, have you still got that old copy of Hogwarts, A History in yours and Bill’s room?” 

His brother stands now, even more confused than before, “considering I haven’t been in my room in years, then maybe?” He tries. 

“Never mind, I’ll look myself! Thank you Charlie, you’re brilliant! Brilliant!” He exclaims as he heads to the steps. 

“Ron! What in the hell could you want with some bloody old book Muriel got Bill and I when I was a first year?” 

“No time to explain! Christmas is in just three days, I have to work fast!” At this Ron flew up the steps. 

Finally, he’s had an epiphany. One that’ll hopefully help him make things right.

[xenolithium]

Gingerbread Memories (Prussia/America)

Alfred scraped the inside of his bowl with his whisk, his gaze mostly unfocused as he thought about literally anything else besides the batter he was currently stirring. There was still flour stuck to the sides of the stainless steel bowl and it felt like no matter how many times he pushed it into the mixture below it, more would be left over. He wondered momentarily if he should add more since the concoction was kind of runny, but decided against it. He didn't want to make it too dry either. 

In his mindless contemplation he would hear the door open and close, signaling someone had just snuck into his apartment. Not that he particularly cared, people 'snuck' into his place all the time. It wasn't like he couldn't defend himself, what with his super strength and all, even if it was a threat. So he gave the approximate amount of fucks needed to get him past the holidays without too much stress. Which happened to be none at all. He just continued making his gingerbread cookies. 

"Hah ah ah!" He suddenly squeaked when the feeling of a pair of what seemed like icicles suddenly ran up the length of his spine uninvited. "Do you mind?!" He asked in annoyance at the intrusion, as they continued their trek all the way up towards the nape of his neck before running back down to rest at his midsection. He heard the telltale signs of laughter in his ear before they came out, full blown with amusement; following soon after the weight of a body pressed against his back. He also noticed wisps of white hair ghosting his earlobe as his rigid posture slowly but surely relaxed once more. Calming down from the instinctual reaction at being annoyed by the unwelcome cold feeling on his otherwise warm skin.

"You should be honored my awesome hands are up your shirt~" Gilbert teased as he began to run his freezing digits all along Al's flesh without remorse before they returned to the American's lower back once more. 

Alfred shivered, feeling a chill travel through him before quickly dissipating as fast as it had come. "What the hell were you doing out there? Rolling around in the snow?" He whined, but didn't fight for the albino to take his playful antics elsewhere. 

"For a bit. Why didn't you come out with me?" Gilbert asked, his voice as cheerful as ever but Alfred could tell he sounded a little dejected and lonely. He was always good at picking up on the subtle hints hidden within Gilbert's voice. Like how it would crack more often when he'd get emotional, even if he tried to keep the tone of his words light and airy. 

"I said I'd come join you after I finished baking these."

"Yeah, well you took too long." Gil pouted, hoping throwing a bit of a tantrum might sway his blonde companion a bit. Usually it did, but when Al's mind was set on something it was particularly hard to change. "Besides, I've never known you to want to bake a single thing in your life, what's the deal?"

"Hey, I have!" He argued, glaring up at the reflection in the window above his kitchen counter. Hoping to send his anger towards Gil through it, but instead his expression immediately softened at what he saw. Yes, there was the gorgeous view of the city but then there was also Gil, peeking above his shoulder at the same reflection he was staring at. His cheeks pink, scarf still hung lazily around his neck and eyes holding nothing but innocent playfulness in that moment, that it caused Alfred's heart to flutter involuntarily. He was so cute, he just had to turn and peck his cheek. Tilting his head to the side just slightly and giving it a nice big, wet smack with his lips as Gilbert's immediate reaction was to whine. Loudly. The blonde male laughed, watching those rosy cheeks in the reflection turn a darker shade of pink before he pressed his face against Alfred's shoulders and hid them from his view. "Besides, the centuries I've been alive makes it kind of a stretch to say I've never tried to bake anything."

"Don't keep talking like you didn't slobber all over my face!"

"Then why don't you leave?" Al replied, his voice taking on a high pitch as he mocked his partner. The smile on his lips telling Gil that obviously he wasn't being serious. 

"Because the awesome Prussia doesn't retreat from battle, even if the enemy surprises me."

"Oh, so I'm the enemy na-AH-OW?! Hey, don't pinch my nipples!" Alfred began to squirm in response, trying to wiggle away from the Prussian who was doing nothing but being a leech and giggling like a madman in his ears. On top of that, he was still playing with his nipples. "That's it, you're banned, go warm your hands in the microwave or something."

"The microwave? What kind of suggestion is that?" He laughed, his grip on Al growing ever tighter. 

"A great one!" Eventually Alfred stopped putting up a fight, not that it was much of one to begin with as he settled down again and let Gilbert continue to tease his chest. 

"They're hard now~"

"I wonder why," Alfred answered sarcastically before Gilbert halted his actions, laying his head on Al's sweater and allowing his hands to rest on the younger nation's waist. 

The room went silent after that, as they both seemed content listening to the other breathe and work. Alfred adding his finishing touches into his bowl before lining and preparing a cookie sheet. The oven was already preheated so at least he didn't have to worry about that, he could just cut the cookies into various shapes and shove them in. 

"You know, you never answered me…" Gilbert piped up, sounding as though he was halfway towards dreamland. Practically napping on the back of Alfred's ugly Christmas sweater by this point. Not that his boyfriend minded one bit, the extra weight wasn't exactly uncomfortable, in fact the superpower barely noticed it. 

"Huh? You have to be more specific, I already forgot."

"About why you're making them," he drawled. 

"Oooh! Uh, for the Christmas party we're going to."

"The one Arthur is hosting? I thought you said it was lame and you weren't going," Gilbert mumbled, catching him in his bluff. Alfred stiffened in his embarrassment, licking his lips. "And now you're putting all this effort into making him something, funny…" he chuckled. 

"I was angry at the time for stupid reasons. But I realized later it was childish of me."

"Hmm?"

Alfred sighed, "I know it means a lot to him and because it means a lot to him, it means a lot to me. I just want to spend Christmas with my family and...stuff," he mumbled out, glad that Gil couldn't see his face. But his reflection gave him away as Gilbert chuckled. 

"I feel West would do the same thing, it's just funny to me that you're doing it. He'll say no, one second and change his mind the next. But his heart is always in the right place, I'm proud of him." Gilbert yawned, tracing his fingers over Al's chest, along his pectoral muscles. 

Alfred nodded, the room going silent for a long moment before Al eventually piped up again. "Do you want to help me cut and decorate these?"

"Nope, the only thing I'm going to help you do is eat them~" 

"You're completely useless."

"I try." 

Alfred blinked as he felt Gilbert finally slide away from him, feeling the space around him was almost too empty now as he turned to look at his lover. His blue eyes twinkling with yearning for him to return to his side. "Where are you going?"

"To the bedroom." He turned to look at Alfred as he walked, wiggling his brows to which he received an eye roll in response.

"I'll be there in a sec."

"You better, the awesome me waits for no one!" He'd announce before stepping out of sight. 

[rubysunnday]

Big sister

A/N: guess who deleted this and had to write it again? The first draft was so much better as well...oh well

“ We have a problem,” Finn said, bursting into your room.

“No,” you said, looking up at him, “you have a problem. I have an idiotic brother who keeps getting into one.”

Finn groaned, sitting down next to you on your bed, ignoring your protests.

“I might have, accidentally, set fire to Tommy’s car.”

You stared at him. “The expensive bently?” He nodded. “The one thing he cherishes more than Charlie, Rose and his horse?” Another nod. “Fuck’s sake, Finn.”

“I didn’t mean to! I was having a cigarette, dropped it to put it out and, it must’ve been leaking fuel, as it suddenly went poof!”

“Poof?”

“Poof!” Finn made an explosion with his hands.

You sighed, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and standing up. “Did you try and put it out?”

Finn nodded. “The hose wasn’t long enough, so I tried to use a bucket but it didn’t work.”

“So?”

“So,” Finn led you down the corridor and towards the back stairs, away from Tommy’s office, “I came to my amazing big sister for help.”

“Yes or no, does the car currently have a full tank of fuel?”

Finn froze on the stairs. “Shit!” He yelled, descending the stairs at a rapid pace and slamming the door open.

“For God’s sake,” you muttered as you followed after him at a much more leisurely pace.

When you reached the car, which was now nothing more than a shall, Finn was frantically throwing buckets of sand and water into it, trying to stop it from spreading.

“What’s that meant to do?” You yelled, standing back to avoid the heat of the flames.

“Put it out!” Finn yelled back, spilling half a bucket of water down him.

“Just, hypothetically speaking,” you said, standing back as water splashed over you, “would this fire be spreading towards the leak?” Finn nodded. “Ok, another hypothetical question: yes or no, is most of the fuel in that puddle that the fire is about to reach.”

Finn froze, panting. He glanced down at the puddle of fuel and then back at you. “Hypothetically speaking, I think we should run.”

“Agreed.”

Finn dropped the bucket and the two of you ran towards the house, barely making it out of the blast zone as the fire reached the fuel. A huge fireball exploded into the sky as the car exploded, debris raining down everywhere.

You groaned as you sat up on the gravel. Your scraped your arm and leg when you’d fallen, bits of gravel stuck in the grazes. You stared at the smoking wreck as Finn sat up and sighed.

“Hypothetically speaking, how mad do you think Tommy will be?”

“Y/N! FINN!” Tommy yelled as he, along with your other two brothers, emerged from the house in a panic.

“What the fuck?” Arthur exclaimed, staring at the burning car.

“Somebody has better have a very good explanation,” Tommy hissed, looking between the two of you. His eyes were brimmed with anger and his tone was stone cold. He was pissed.

You looked over at Finn and saw the true fear in his eyes at Tommy’s uncontained anger. No matter how much he idolised him, Tommy scared him.

So, you forced yourself to stand up and face Tommy, ignoring the blood pouring down your arm and leg. “It was my fault, Tommy. I was having a cigarette and dropped it to put it or. The car must’ve had a leak because it went up so quickly. Finn only just managed to get my away in time.”

Tommy took a step forward and you forced yourself to keep your ground. “Do you have any idea how idiotic and reckless that was?! I’ve told you about smoking near the cars! What if Charlie and Rose had been around, huh? You need to grow up, y/n, you’re not a child anymore. I’m done with pandering to your every need.” He turned towards the door. “My office, now.”

You limped after him, giving Finn a reassuring smile over your shoulder. John squeezed your shoulder as you passed, giving you a knowing look.

You stepped into Tommy’s office and as soon as you’d shut the door, he began yelling. You just stood there, taking it all in. The two of you had had a lot of arguments recently, the worst one being where neither one of you had spoken to each other for a week. Needless to say, it was a surprise that he sunk his teeth into you. And, despite knowing most of it came from anger and stress, it still hurt.

You loved your big brother, despite hardly seeing him anymore, and him telling you to grow up the way he did, hurt.

“You’ll be paying for a new car out of your wages,” Tommy finished, slamming his glass down on the table so hard you thought it’d smash. “Get our of my sight.”

You quickly left the room, shutting the door behind you gently. Surprisingly, you hadn’t shed a single tear over Tommy’s yelling and your whole near death experience. But, as you limped down to the kitchen, you felt all your injuries.

You nearly fell over as you walked into the kitchen. Finn ran straight at you, hugging you tightly, his eyes red from crying. You looked over his head and saw John and Polly sitting at the table, watching you both fondly.

“You told them?” You asked, pushing Finn away slightly so that you could look at him.

“Almost as soon as you’d gone,” he admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“Finn, let your sister sit down before she jerks over,” Polly said as John pulled out a chair. Finn helped you over, letting you put your leg in his lap as Polly began cleaning your injuries.

“Is he really angry?” Finn asked quietly as he watched Polly pick out the gravel.

You hissed in pain, gripping John’s hand. “Nah, no more than when I accidentally flooded the betting shop.”

“Arthur’s gone to talk to him,” John said quietly.

“I doubt that’s going to do anything,” you replied. “It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

“But it’s my fault,” Finn said.

“And I’m your big sister. A big sister is meant to protect their little brothers from big annoying, angry brothers.”

Finn laughed. “Your twelve minutes older than me.”

“Precisely. Technically, we were born on seperate days so I’m a day older than you.”

“In your fucking dreams,” Finn replied, yelping when Polly reached over and smacked his head.

“Next time you do something stupid, however, I ain’t taking the blame,” you said, gripping John’s hand as Polly started cleaning your scrape. “This hurts too much to repeat it anytime soon.”

“I think that’s fair,” Finn said, smiling fondly at you, grabbing your other hand and holding it.

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

Fred Weasley requests you say? Well, how about a Fred Weasley x Slytherin girl, their relationship and maybe then fighting in the war. Fred doesn't die because we all know that didn't happen lol or a Fred Weasley x a muggle girl after the war. How they meet how he introduced her to his family? Idk, here's what I've been craving lol hope you have a wonderful day! 😊

I LOVE THESE. LIKE I LOVE THIS SO MUCH OMFG. I'M GOING TO DO THE MUGGLE GIRL IN A SEPARATE ONE BUT THIS IS SO GOOD.

Warnings: Swearing, injuries

Fred noticed you. How could he not you were captivating. Annnndd a bit of a trouble maker which automatically made him like "WOW. SHE'S AWESOME." You had this spectacular sense of humor and this beautiful laugh that you hated but he loved. Fred and George honestly loved to have you around. George loved you like a sister but Fred... Fred was head over heels in love with you. It didn't help that you were staying with them this summer. "George can you PLEASE PICK UP YOUR QUIDDITCH EQUIPMENT!?" Fred whined. "... I'm sorry, how are you the one who's cleaning!?" Ginny asked. "Fred's soulmate is crashing here, you didn't know?" George said and Fred smacked his head with a book. "She cannot see this disaster!" Fred whined. "Dear, it's fine. Although Fred is right, move your quidditch equipment upstairs." Molly said. "Fine!? This is not fine! What do I even say!? Hi Y/n, how's it going!?" Fred asked panicked. "Well, I say it's going fine but I kind of got lost at one point." You answered making Fred whip around. "Hi." You waved. "....How long have you been standing there?" Fred asked. "Like two or three seconds tops." You shrugged. "It is so nice to meet you dear!" Molly said hugging you. "Oh this is happening-- hi." You said surprised. Ron snorted looking at Fred who was obviously screaming internally. "So have you enjoyed your time at hogwarts?" Arthur asked you as you sat down. "Absolutely. Although the other kids in Slytherin are... Annoying." You said. "You're from Slytherin?" Arthur asked curiously. "Sadly." You said. "you don't enjoy it?" Ron asked. "No. Not when Malfoy is always watching my every move." You grumbled. "that boy is absolutely dreadful." Ginny mumbled. "Has he been giving you trouble?" George asked. "... No." You lied. "Y/n, we hang out with you enough to know when you're lying." Fred said. "...Okay so he gives me crap for hanging out with you guys." You shrugged. "there's more." George said. "What--" "There's more to the situation, what is it?" Fred asked. You sighed. "He called me a mudblood." You said. "That insult is still going around?" Arthur asked. "Yeah." You nodded. "I'm going to kill him." Fred muttered. "It's not that big of a deal." You said. "Bullshit." Fred said. "Fred!" Arthur and Molly said in unison. "If this is bothering you, it's a big deal." George agreed. "Guys. I'm fine. Really." You said. "There's more." Ginny said. "Oh not you too!" You sighed. "If you're fighting this hard, something else is wrong, what is it?" Ginny asked. "Nothing! He just.... He just knows how to get under my skin. He said some... Things about Fred and George... And I kind of..." You sighed. "I punched him." You admitted. "What!?" Everyone asked. "In front of his dad." You added. "Oh God, you're the student?" Arthur asked. "You knew!?" Molly gaped. "I heard there was a student who punched his son but... I didn't think." Arthur paused. "Look, it's not that big of a deal, okay!?" You finally snapped. Fred frowned. "Upstairs." He said. "What?" You asked. "Upstairs. Now." He said. You sighed and walked upstairs. "Next time Malfoy gives you trouble you come to me and George. Got it?" He said. "Fred--" "Promise me." Fred said. "...Okay." you nodded.

Fred took this protective nature over you from that point on. When school started back, Fred never left you alone with Draco. He literally would sit in the common room. "Why is this whole common room so dark? How do you even function in here-- is that why you're all so pale!?" Fred asked. You snorted. "I guess so?" You shrugged. Draco scowled at Fred being present. "I see you've brought Weasley." He said. "Problem?" Fred asked. You opened your mouth but Draco spoke. "Of course you'd choose to spend time with her. She's a traitor to her house." He said. "Is that your opinion or is that your father talking?" Fred snapped. "Do not speak of my father." Draco growled. "Don't speak of Y/n like she's an animal and then maybe I'll be less excruciating for you to deal with." Fred said. It was like watching two dogs gearing up to fight. "She practically is one. She's nothing but a mudblo--" Fred's mind was made as he nearly punched Draco but you stopped him. "He's not worth your time Fred." You said. Fred glared at Draco. You both walked towards the exit. "Blood traitor." He said under his breath before you punched Draco in the nose.

So there you sat in detention, Draco and Fred both sitting there. "Why is Weasley here?" Draco grumbled. "I just had to see your pretty face again. Oh Draco take me." Fred said making you snort. "He snuck a howler into Filch's desk." You sighed leaning back into your seat. "That doesn't make any sense that would just earn a--" "It sang." Fred said. "Still--" "Remember the old insulting Slytherin chant?" Fred asked making Draco suck in a breath. You drummed your fingers on the table. "Would you stop that?" Draco snapped. "Okay pretty boy, what the fuck is your problem?" You snapped. "you're my problem! You don't know how to hold your fucking tongue." Draco snapped. "She wouldn't have that problem if you didn't insult her all of the time." Fred said. "Stay out of this Weasley!" Draco said. "Shut up Malfoy!" You said. "Oh my God you two are absolutely insufferable!" Draco said. "We're insufferable!? Have you met you!?" Fred asked. "At least we have reasons for acting the way we do. You're just a dick." You said. "I am not!" Draco said. "Please, you insulted me the second I was in your view!" Fred said. "What do you have against me--" "Why are you always with Potter and his friends!?" Draco snapped. You blinked. "That's why you hate me? Because I hang out with Harry, Ron and Hermione?" You asked. "Yes! You spend time with those insufferable idiots, you come back and you don't shut up!" Draco said. Fred snorted. "This hands down the pettiest thing I've ever heard!" Fred laughed. "I am not petty!" Draco said. "Yes. Yes you are." You said. "I'm friends with Harry because he needs friends. Unlike you he doesn't exactly have a nice home to go back to." You said. Draco sighed. "Still. You get away with everything." Draco said. ".... You say this as I'm sitting in detention.... Please tell me you see the irony and that sentence?" You said. Draco sighed. "Okay maybe not." Draco sighed. "your reasons for hating us are quickly falling apart." Fred said. You looked at Draco. "You don't hate us do you?" You asked. "I never said I did. I just never corrected you." Draco said. "Oh you tricky bastard." Fred noticed. "So why are you... Like that?" You asked. "I'm just aggravated listening to Potter. Over and over that's all anyone hears." Draco muttered. "...I guess that could get irritating." Fred nodded. "I'm sorry." Draco finally said. You blinked a few times. "did you just... Apologize--" "Never speak of this." Draco said. "Of course. We'd never ruin your 'douchier than thou' facade." Fred said making you snort.

Draco stopped giving you so much crap for having Fred around, actually greeting him a couple of times. However he now had a new problem in his hands. You used Draco for an alibi all the time now. The poor bastard went along with it every time driving Filch insane. "I know it was Y/n L/n and Fred Weasley!" "How in the world could it possibly be them when they were with me all day?" Draco would lie. Fred would give him a "Thanks man" nod and George would have to excuse himself to stop from breaking down into a laughing fit. You'd be biting your gums to keep from dying of laughter too and to be honest Even Fred had a hard time keeping it together after hearing the same exasperated sigh from Filch.

Fred always stayed with you though. If you got in trouble, he'd do something to end up in detention with you. If you got hurt in Quidditch he'd be in the medical wing with you. You two were inseparable. You had this massive crush on him that formed after you saw him nearly murder a student for insulting you. Something in you went "Wow... That's attractive". But this year there was this ridiculous dance. You had to watch asking after asking happen in front of you. You were a bit grouchy after seeing so many people ask other people to the Yule. "Hey Y/n!" Fred said, catching up to you as you walked to your dorm. "Hi." You mumbled. He recognized that look. "Is something wrong?" He asked. "Just a whole lot of students being all lovey. It sucks." You muttered. "...Y/n your Slytherin is showing." Fred teased making you smile. "I don't know, everyone seems to be finding love everywhere and it's just aggravating. If I see one more student with a fucking ukulele and a 'go to the yule with me' sign I'm going to scream." You said. "not a fan of musical askings?" Fred asked looking up behind you and shaking his head at a incoming student with a ukulele. "I say, hike up your skirt and ask them normally." You shrugged. "Will you go to the Yule with me?" Fred asked. "Like that. That's norm-- wait seriously?" You asked. "Yes." Fred nodded. Your cheeks heated up. "Uhm... As... As what exactly?" You asked. "Hmm?" Fred asked. "I mean... People are asking their significant others... Are we going as... Something more than friends or..." You asked. He chuckled. "I don't mind being your boyfriend Y/n, but I don't want to overstep any boundaries if you don't want to." Fred said. "I... Uhm..." You shifted, Fred noticing the blush on your face. "I wouldn't... Mind... Dating.." you said quietly. "What was that?" Fred asked. "I wouldn't mind... Dating you." You admitted. Fred smiled and took your books out of your hand. "What-- hey!" You said confused as he walked. "We're going to your dorm right? I hope you realize that you just made me spend even more time with you compared to what I already do." Fred said. "I'm going to try to study! You're not exactly a studious student!" You said. "Oh no dear I'm here as a distraction. A fun distraction that you can make out with when you're bored." He said in your ear making you blush crimson. "Are we still going to your dorm?" He asked. "..............lead the way you little shit." You said.

Weeks went by, Fred always making some sort of contact with you and your favorite thing was his whispers in your ear. He'd wrap his arms around your waist and just whisper compliments in your ear for hours, telling you that you're the best thing in his life. Molly was ecstatic to hear that you two were finally dating. You dreaded that damn dance class though. "Fred, sweetheart, I cannot dance." You said. "Neither can I but we will suck together!" He said making you sigh and take his hand. You two struggled so hard McGonagall was honestly tempted to deduct house points. But after the third try you two got better

When the night of the Yule approached you enlisted the help of your friend Dalia to help you. "So, think you'll blow Weasley's mind tonight?" She asked. "Please, she looks gorgeous she's going make the boy's head explode." Your other friend Riley said. "Har har. I hate that I have to wear heels though. It makes me realize how short I actually am." You sighed. "Haha. Shortie." Riley teased. You flipped her off and Dalia snorted. "Holy shit." George gaped. "George! Is it just you?" Dalia asked. "Yeah.... Fred is actually going to die after seeing you." George gaped. "Is it bad?" You asked. "No! You're just... Wow." He said. "Do you mind walking me there? I have zero confidence walking in these heels." You asked. George nodded and Fred sighed pacing. "Why are you so nervous?" Ron asked. "Yeah, this is literally your girlfriend, you'll be fine." Harry said. "Because what if I say the wrong thing or I do something wrong--" "Woah." Harry said staring at something. "There's so many ways--" "Fred." Ron said staring at the same thing. "That this could go wrong--" "Fred!" Harry and Ron said in unison. "What!?" Fred asked before Harry pointed. You. You were absolutely captivating. Fred sucked in a breath and George helped you down the last step. "Have fun. But not too much fun." George teased before walking away. Fred swallowed hard. "Fred? Is it bad?" You asked. "No! No love you're beautiful!" Fred said. You smiled and he did too. He tucked a stray hair behind your hair and you blushed. "You're absolutely gorgeous dear..." He said softly.

He actually had a ton of fun dancing with you (he may or may not have done the sprinkler at one point). Towards the end of the night you two walked the halls, your shoes in hand. "I swear heels are just to torment women." You whined making Fred chuckle. You shivered and he wrapped his jacket around you. You looked at him and he slinked his arm around your waist. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me... You know that right?" He asked. "I think George would be insulted." You joked making him chuckle. "I love you." He said softly. You kissed him making him smile. "I love you too." You whispered.

Fred and you were this adorable little couple that everyone seemed to have all eyes on. You had no idea how big of a change the games were going to be. You saw Harry come back and you noticed he wasn't getting up. "What's going on--" then you saw Cedric under him, eyes looking up at the sky unblinking. You put a hand over your mouth and Fred's eyes widened pulling you to his chest. "Fred... He's" you whispered. "I know." Fred said softly. The summer was spent helping Harry through grief and shock, along with planning. He made it perfectly clear that Voldemort was back. You had no hesitation joining the order and when you met Sirius he was slightly hesitant to talk to you after seeing the black and green cardigan. But when the phrase "I say we just stab the fuck out of him and call it a day" came out of your mouth Sirius realized how great you were going to be. Umbridge was absolutely awful though, targeting you and the twins. So you gave her hell and participated in the fireworks plan. You all got expelled of course, but hey, at least that dreadful bitch wouldn't be near you. You worked in the shop with them Fred already making up his mind on something. He was going to marry you. After the store officially opened you two remained for closing. "This was the best day I swear." You chuckled. "Can I make it even better?" Fred asked. "You can try." You chuckled. He handed you a box and you looked at him surprised. "Fred... Is this--" "Open it." Fred said. You did, seeing the ring and crying. "Yes you fucking idiot!" You said hugging him.

Molly was ecstatic to have a new daughter join the family, George saying "SHE'S THE COOLEST SISTER EVER!" and Ginny staring at her brother like "...Fuck you too buddy." You agreed though, you wouldn't get married until the war was over. You basically acted as the medic for the order, healing any injuries. So when Sirius didn't come back with them you knew how bad this was going to get. When the war officially approached your heart was pounding. You witnessed the first spell fired and immediately pulled out your wand, ready for combat. Fred protected you, as you did the same for him, eventually saving his life at one point. That's when you noticed Remus. He was dealing with too many attacks and you immediately fought back, defending him best to your abilities before Tonks came in and helped out.

When the battle stopped you nearly had a mental breakdown seeing your dead friend in Hagrid's arms. Draco almost went to the other side, but one "we're here for you Draco" from Fred made him stay put. You listened to Neville, watching Voldemort as you did to make sure he wouldn't dare try to hurt him. That's when you noticed movement. You looked at Harry, grabbing Fred's arm before he gasped for air and you let out a relieved laugh as Draco threw the wand to Harry. You all ran to safety, saving Ginny from Bellatrix as you did and witnessed the final second. You hugged Fred as the battle ended, the family and Harry joining as you did.

After the battle you all sat around the Burrow drinking. Shamelessly. "it's finally over." You said. "We can finally breathe." Ginny said with Harry's arm around her. "We can finally get married." Fred said to you. You blinked. "...Can we... Can we get married now?" You asked making Arthur and Molly look up. One quick trip to a courthouse and a cheap white dress later, you were married and officially a Weasley. Ron might've cried. A lot.

Bill and Fleur basically had you over every other night because you were the only other married couple besides their parents. Actually you and Fleur ended up quite close... She was there when you found out you were pregnant. She had learned enough English from Hermione, so when you said "I need a pregnancy test" she understood "Oh shit she thinks she pregnant." Fleur showed up, paper bag in hand ushering you into your bathroom while Fred was at work. Thirty minutes later and you discovered that you were pregnant. And Fred was home. "Uhm... Hi honey." You said, pregnancy test behind your back. "Hi sweetie. It's been a really tiring day, tell me something good." He said. You swallowed. "I'm pregnant." You said. "....What?" Fred asked. "I'm.. pregnant and Fleur is upstairs she... Brought the pregnancy test see?" You said. He looked at it and then you a few times before kissing you with happy tears. "I'M A DAD! HOLY SHIT!"

[axymmetryx]

Ladykeep

Arthur Conan Doyle | Ikemen Vampire

a messy imagine for mr. doyle. didn't even read this as a whole and it's a mess. i'm a mess. :c

Day Two: Tea

"... ! What is your problem, Arthur?!" A very loud, annoyed -pissed- Theo, grumpily stomped up beside Arthur's table after being hit on the face with a flying crumped up paper.

Theo rapped his fingers across his friend's table impatiently, watching the writer groan and did some unhumanly kicks while throwing an exasperated hand on his head, ruffling his hair in the process.

"Well?" Arthur shoved his face on his table as the brunette man questioned him. He looked up at his friend while his cheek is still pressed over the stack of messy paperworks and pouted, "Theo, I'm in need of attention!" he whined and did a small tantrum again, which, he knows, puts Theo in an even badder mood.

Arthur saw his friend's eye twitching instantly and losing all interest in the world before attempting to walk away, and he immediatly shot up to grab the boy's sleeves.

"Off to the pub we go!" he announced to the open, and saw Theo lifting up his chair and was half ready to smack his head without any remorse, but he pulled Theo out the door before he uttered another word, that he was sure as hell, wouldn't even open an ear for.

__

"Arthur, my man! Welcome back." Arthur mustered up a grin, as he saw the pub's owner greeting him with a delighted look that Arthur deemed too genuine for a guy who does too much 'sales-talking', he catched the owner's hand in a familiar handshake before directing the latter's attention to his companion, "Great to be back, Pops! Even brought an extra here." he gestured to an unbothered Theo who just nodded in acknowledgement, trying to ignore Arthur's way of introduction. "Good! Well, hope you both have a heated night, if you know what I mean."

The pair walked towards the counter for a seat after a dreadful talk with the owner as Theo called it, and gestured up for a barkeep. Arthur did a scan around the dimly lit room, trying to spot any good ol' meals for the night, noting a few of his interests as his eyes did a three-sixty. He toned out the sound of Theo's nagging about him being a dick, as he bop his head along with the music in the background, he then patted his friend on the back in hopes of shutting him up, "Aw, have a little fun, Theo! Think of all the women that's about to swarm upon us! Speak of." Just as he was doing an encouragement speech, a group of women had really swarm up to them in hopes of attention.

"Oh, Arthur dear, I didn't notice you enter the pub, oh if I did, I wouldn't have let you in, and pulled you out to my carriage already!"

"Arthur, you're looking fine, tonight, I'd been waiting for you!"

"Arthur, who's your friend? It's the first time I've seen him here."

He was bombared with questions from all the women he was all too familiar with, but didn't fail to show a glimpse of playfulness, as a charming smile appeared on his face, but just as he was about to make a suggestive reply to one of them, he heard an unfamiliar voice behind him. He turned around as a fair maiden he had never seen before appear before his very eyes.

He lift his eyebrows in surprise as he realized that the girl was behind the counter, and asking for their order, but he covered his surprised look with a smirk as he leaned in over the counter to inch his face closer to the ladykeep, "What a fine lady you are, working as a barkeep." he lift a hand up to curl a strand of her hair on the tips of his fingers, forgetting about the crowd of women waiting for his attention behind him.

Even forgetting Theo, as the lad tried to slap away all the hands that tried to touch him, hoping to get a little privacy. Arthur noticed the ladykeep tremble a little at his act, and unconciously cracked a toothless smile.

"Just tell me what you want, sir." he heard a surprisingly confident reply, despite her trembling body, and he saw a flicker of irritation in the light of her eyes and pulled her hair out of his touch.

"Please, call me Arthur. And what if I want you?" his eyes glowed in the dim light of the pub, his voice sounding husky while blending with the party music.

"Sir, I'm not a drink." she said as a matter of fact, and Arthur couldn't hold back his amusement when she not only disregard his playful offer but also refused to call him by his name. He leaned back on his stool, trying to drown the thought that, she was infact a drink to his kind. Though he still grinned at the idea, he decided not to push it around her for now, if he wanted to get a moment alone with her.

"Alright then, dear, then get me the strongest coffee you can make." he flashed her his signature smile that could make a lot of women do almost absolutely anything for him.

He watched as the ladykeep looked at him as if he had lost his mind at his order, "If you wanted coffee, then go to a café, sir." was her obvious reply. His smile never falter even after seeing her showing less and less interest at him. But the smile he had did twitch a little when she offered her attention to Theo instead.

He had almost forgotten he had brought his friend with him, even forgotten the mob of women still clawing at his arms if it wasn't for the sudden lost of attention from this intriguing ladykeep he met. He turned quickly to the crowd and offered the sincerest apology he could pull, saying he was only here to accompany a friend.

Arthur turned his body back to the ladykeep who was just about to go back at the storage room, to probably get Theo's order, but he reached out to grab her arm.

"Hey, I still want the coffee, do find a way, sweetheart." he winked at her as she pulled away from him and openly rolled her eyes before sighing and continuing her way to the storage room.

A moment later, he watched as she emerged from the previously mentioned room and was now holding a tray with two drinks. A glass of colorful mixture of alcohol and a white cup filled with steaming hot liquid. He chuckled earnestly while watching her walk near them, "Splendid job, luv! You really went your way to get me what I want." he exclaimed once she placed down the steaming hot drink in front of him.

She then offered a smile at him, something he noticed was too fake and honestly too sudden for his liking. But he didn't pay no mind it, trying to cover up his thoughts of ways to get her to agree to spend the night with him.

He lift up the drink to his lips, and as he took a sip he immediately spat out the fluid in disgust, "Bollocks! What the-?" he coughed out, and then heard two deafening voices of laughter.

He looked up at Theo, realizing just now that he was definitely the mastermind of this ungrateful act. "Theo, you- ....! You know I hate tea!" he frowned, wiping the remaining liquid on his lips and tried to pat down his soaking pants, stinking of pure, ungrateful tea.

"Serves you right." he heard Theo mumble before humming and Arthur swore he saw devil horns on his friend's head.

He then looked up to see ladykeep trying to hold in her laughter but was obviously failing, as a few giggles left her pink lips. He thought she was too adorable to not take out on a date- wait! No, he was suppose to take her to bed. not on a date. No.

"Here. Sorry 'bout that." he snapped back to reality when he saw a pink handkerchief in front of his face, being offered to him by ladykeep.

He then switched back to putting on a playful grin as he accepted the handkerchief and patting it gently over his pants, "Why, thank you for worrying about me, luv! But this is partly your fault, so a simple apology is not enough!" he leaned in forward close to her again.

"Now, I think you owe me yourself tonight." he winked at her again and he noticed that she didn't tremble this time, and much to his surprise, he saw a glint in her eyes that didn't suggest any irritation like earlier.

"Arthur, I don't just give myself to anyone temporarily." he took note of the way she held her chin up when she uttered those words, especially when she actually called him by his name - if that ain't the hottest thing he heard, he didn't know what else- and he also took note of how barely visible the smile she offered right then and there and he thought that taking her out on a date might be a good idea after all, and so he smiled.

"Well then tell me you'd give yourself to me, for a lifetime."

__

Bonus!

"This little piece of- have you forgotten that you dragged me in here?!" Theo grumbled in annoyance, downing in his drink in one gulp as he refused to watch his friend and the lady barkeep making heart eyes at each other.

"Ugh, disgusting. Get a damn room!" He shouted at them both, feeling betrayed altogether.

"We will, thanks Theo!" He saw Arthur grinning at him while standing up and taking the barkeep with him outside.

"Dipshit. You owe me."

__

End.

[solbabies]

hello could you write eliott/lucas with lucas the drummer of this great band and eliott model and fanboy?

I don’t know if this is what you were looking for but I hope you enjoy this Elu oneshot anyway! If you want more Lucas and Eliott you can find me on AO3 as @Book_Lover2001

——————

Lucas kept his head down low, his hood drawn over his head casting a dark shadow over his features as he maneuvered the streets of Paris with an expert precision. The shouts were coming from all directions as cameras flashed and crowds began to draw, threatening to block off his route. Rumors had been swirling around western Europe now for weeks and just when he thought they would have died down, another source mysteriously reported to have insider knowledge which only aided in sparking another surge in the story.

The light from the cameras glared off his sunglasses as he rounded another corner down the busy side street and continued to ignore the questions being hurled at him from paparazzi. One of his guards kept everyone at bay but Lucas just wanted to get to the car and put as much distance between the people and him as he could.

“Mr. Lallemant,” his guard ushered him to the black car that was waiting for him.

“Homewrecker!” someone shouted at him as the car door opened.

“Will you address the rumors that you were part of the affair?” another yelled.

“Did you date Minister Jeanson’s daughter to cover it up?”

“Are you actually gay?” was the last thing he heard as the door slammed shut, effectively fading all the words and screams to a faint hum.

~~

“How did I let you get me into this mess” Lucas groaned, allowing himself to sink into the sofa further.

“Because you love me?” the soothing voice of his boyfriend came from across the room. Lucas looked over at him, his face pale with frustration and annoyance. Eliott sent him a sweet apologetic smile from where he was leaning against the doorframe of the room.

“They’re literally ambushing me in the streets now!” Lucas shouted half heartedly before averting his eyes from Eliott.

“They’ll find something else to latch onto in a few days,” he said, trying to keep optimistic.

“They think I’m a homewrecker-- huh, I’ve never been called one of those before,” Lucas tried lightly, although the bitterness was still in his tone.

“You technically are a homewrecker, my love,” Lucas shot him a glare, but Eliott’s light chuckle made his features soften against his will. Eliott pushed off the wall and walked over to him, shifting Lucas’ legs into his lap as he took a seat. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Lucas sighed, running a hand over his face. “We both knew what we were doing.”

“But I should have stopped it before it happened.” Eliott’s confession made Lucas sit up, worry creased in the lines of his face. Eliott immediately realized his slip of the tongue, mouth agape in the process of correcting himself. “No, Lucas, you know I don’t mean-- I mean that I should have broken up with Lucille before I let… this happen, not that I don’t want this-- I…” Lucas dropped his head on Eliott’s shoulder, letting out a breath.

“I get it, don’t worry.” Eliott’s body relaxed, the tension falling away. There was a chime of Eliott’s phone, and a sigh from the older boy.

“I have to get to work,” he announced, although seemingly in no rush to move Lucas off of him.

“What is it today? Nike? Caleo?”

“Dior,” he replied nonchalantly. Lucas still couldn’t believe that he was dating an actual model-- like, an actual, real life, ‘this is my job’ model.

“So now we know Dior?” Eliott laughed, wrapping his arm around him, pulling him closer.

“Dior, as in Christian Dior, died a long time ago, Lucas. Dior is just a company now.”

“A company that you work for.”

“That I’ve been contracted by,” he corrected with an amused grin. “Anyway, you act as if

you don’t work with cool people everyday.”

“I did one song with Booba and you will not let it go.”

“I’m your biggest fan, Mister Lallemant, I don’t know why you’re accusing me of

holding that over your head,” he said through a thin smile pressed on his lips.

“I hate you.”

“I really have to go,” Eliott noted once again, still not getting up.

“Are you coming tonight?” Lucas asked, shifting to face him.

“Like I said, I’m your number one fan,” Eliott replied leaning towards him and giving

him a quick kiss.

“We better prepare ourselves for the onslaught of questions we’re about to get then.”

Another kiss. “Are you trying to distract me--” Another one. “Stop it Eliott, this is serious!”

~~

And there were, an onslaught of questions waiting for them that night. The Gang had finished up their set, the crowd’s screams still roaring throughout the venu; their voices only faintly faded in their dressing room.

Yann was exhausted, already flopping onto the sofa when they got back to the room. Arthur was working through his second bottle of water and Basile seemed to be distracted by his phone the minute they stepped off stage. Lucas was still clutching his drumsticks as he tossed himself next to his best friend, Yann moving to make space.

“Who are you texting?” Arthur asked Bas as he gulped down more water.

“Daphné,” he replied without looking up from his phone. The three other guys shared a

look behind his back.

“That PR girl from the Rolling Stones Magazine photo session?” Lucas said, his eyebrow raised. Basile nodded enthusiastically, a loopy grin on his lips.

“Looks like Lulu wasn’t the only one who walked away from that cover shoot with someone.” Lucas shot Yann a look, ready to protest when he got waved off. “We read the tabloids, dude.”

“Yeah, you both looked pretty cozy on that boat,” Arthur agreed, picking at a fruit platter. Lucas could feel the blush spreading high on his cheeks as his bandmates stared at him expectantly.

“You don’t think…” Lucas started, his sentence trailing off into nothing. Yann patted his shoulder, drawing him into a side hug.

“Dude, we don’t think any less of you,” Yann told him. “Don’t listen to the bullshit online, you two look happy together.”

“Yeah, they’re being assholes,” Basile added, finally putting his phone away. “I mean, I’ll never understand people who cheat but that doesn’t make you a bad person-- you or that guy.”

“Eliott,” Lucas said, a subconscious smile growing on his lips.

“Aww, Lulu’s in love!” Yann pestered, poking Lucas’ cheek with his finger. The smaller boy smacked his hand away.

“So when are we going to meet this Eliott,” Arthur asked, tapping his fingers impatiently on the table, a big supportive grin on his features.

“Well, actually--” there was a knock at the door. They all turned and standing with his hands in his pockets was Eliott, right on time. Lucas smiled up at him, standing up from his spot to greet him.

“You made it!” Lucas announced, happily allowing himself to be drawn in for a hug.

“Told you I would,” Eliott answered, running his fingers through his own hair.

“And? How did it go?”

“Dior? Meh, same old same old. You were great tonight--” Before they could keep up their conversation, Basile cleared his throat causing them to turn their attention to the band; all of whom were annoyed to have not been introduced.

“Oh, well you guys all know Eliott,” Lucas began, suddenly feeling shy under their watchful eyes. “He’s my… boyfriend.” His three friends screeched like middle school girls and he couldn’t help but laugh at the relief he felt-- even though he knew they didn’t care. “Eliott, these are the members of the Gang; Arthur, Basile and Yann.”

“I’m a big fan,” Eliott told them all with a nod.

“You’re just saying that,” Bas gushed, with the wave of his hand. Eliott laughed, but it was Lucas who spoke up.

“Don’t get him started, he could win any trivia contest about us; it’s actually scary.”

“I worked in a music store for a while,” Eliott shrugged, although Lucas could tell he was slightly, if not entirely, starstruck.

“‘A while’, sure. You say that as if you don’t own all of our albums and have our posters lining your bedroom wall.”

“I only have posters of you, my love,” Eliott humoured him, bending down to kiss him quickly. The room was filled with a chorus of ‘awws’ that turned into ‘my eyes’ and ‘get a room’. Yeah, they might have the face all the paparazzi waiting to pounce on them the second they left, but here in this room it didn’t matter. His friends like his boyfriend, and to Lucas, he’d gladly be subjected to hundreds of questions if it meant that his two worlds could fit perfectly together.

[thepulta]

Part 2

Morgan wasn’t pleased to be in Port Prosper. The hatch opened and she looked like someone spat in her tea. There were probably several reasons. It was mid-morning, and Morgan was not a morning person. Her favorite shirt was ripped at the collar. Westlie knew Morgan knew how to sew, but she didn’t like it, which meant she didn’t manage or hadn’t had the time to rope someone into sewing it for her. And the third reasons was she saw Lizzie lurking just behind Westlie’s skirt to the side; too still to be a pickpocket and too subdued to be someone paid to be there.

Morgan paused for a split second in the doorway of the Pellinore. Her eyes dressed Westlie up rather than down, taking in Lizzie first, hands on Westlie’s skirt, and then scanning up Westlie to bore into her eyes. Westlie could hear her sister’s question before Morgan leapt off the train - it had barely docked, the engineer was yelling at another crewhand to moor it tighter - and strolled up to her, swinging the carpetbag with a frighteningly bland face.

She leaned in close to Westlie’s ear when she reached them. “Excuse me. What the fuck is this?”

“Lizzie is staying with me.”

Me. The ‘Me’ was important. Not us.

Morgan’s head twitched back imperceptively. Her eyes were a bit offended and Westlie got the creeping feeling that she’d rehearsed this in her head and still said the wrong thing.

“Why?”

Westlie lowered her voice more, although Lizzie was right at her heels and she could undoubtedly hear anyway. “She has nowhere else to go. The safest place for her is London, so I’m taking her back with us.” It was phrased as a statement, not a question, and she opened her mouth again before Morgan could sulk. Westlie tried to put her normal cheer into it because she was happy to see her. “Welcome home.”

Morgan’s lips pursed, but she didn’t press the issue. Her eyes flickered down on Lizzie again, scanning her over. Westlie could almost see the cogs turning. Black hair, some cheap, but passable coveralls. Westlie had taken a spare ribbon and tied her hair back, sticking a few hair pins to hold it steady. It wasn’t good. It didn’t look good. It looked like a woman who had never fucked with her own hair was tasked with doing a child’s who could barely sit still. But it was up, and it was passable.

Morgan glanced up at Westlie again and she looked curt, reserved. “Right.”

Westlie had no idea how to deal with that. Morgan didn’t say another word until halfway back to the office. “When does the train leave?”

“Tomorrow at 3- PM.”

Morgan knew what she was doing as she swung the carpet bag around herself absentmindedly. She had a way of making personal space around her when she was upset and the semi-lethal projectile of the carpetbag circumfrencing her ankles forced passerby and Westlie a few feet away. Lizzie was watching her on the other side of Westlie with a frightened, subdued awe. There was a long pause before she responded. “Alright.”

What now. Westlie grumbled to herself. That sulking ‘alright’ could mean any number of things from ‘I’m unhappy so I’ll place cheese somewhere in your room to rot’ to ‘I’ll disappear and hide so I won’t go back to London.’

She got no answers and when they reached the office, Morgan promptly disappeared into the spare room. 

It was only nine hours later, when Lizzie was upstairs ‘reading’ - one of the coworkers had kindly offered her a picture book from her own young daughters - and Westlie was in the office after-hours, buried in the ledgers, when a wine bottle smacked on the desk next to her face. She leapt a foot. 

Morgan was unsurprised at the jump and as blasé as that morning, but her face was at least a little softer, and she looked more annoyed at Westlie being up past 8 working - again - than about Lizzie. Her shirt was fixed. She made a little shrug toward the bottle. “Stop working.”

It wasn’t that easy. Westlie glanced at the book.

Morgan eyed her. “Stop. Working.”

”Alright, alright.” Westlie leaned back and puffed out a breath. The ledger smacked shut. She glanced at her sister and managed a self-dereciating guilty smile. “Welcome home?”

“Are you going to drink?”

Westlie glanced at the extra glass. “Some. Maybe.”

Morgan applied straight-up peer pressure with the full glass she poured. Westlie could feel the annoyance leeching off her. The act itself was an aggressive form of affection. In theory, this was all routine. Morgan came home, Westlie stopped working (somewhat) and they went out together- they did things together. They usually weren’t still in the office though, and usually Morgan didn’t look like she was about to piss bitterness as she took her own glass and took a seat on the desk.

Westlie grabbed her glass and took a sip. (Wine was a nice purple; only mildly of mushrooms. Goddamn it, Morgan knew how to pick.) “Well?”

The word burst out of Morgan. She’d been holding it in all day. “Why?!”

“Why what?”

“You know exactly what!” Morgan leapt off the desk she’d just sat on and paced across the room. “The fuck is a girl doing here? Did you just adopt her? How the fuck- Why? Why?!”

“It’s not girl, it’s Lizzie.” Westlie let her eyes follow her sister around the room as she paced. “Look, I didn’t intend-”

“Didn’t intend, didn’t intend? She seems like she’s here with intent!”

“Why are you so upset?! She’s coming with us to London, that’s it. I’m not turning her out on the streets, I’m not giving her back to the orphanage.”

“She’s an orphan?” Morgan took a swig and scowled as she swirled the wine in the glass. “So you just adopt orphans now, like you have time to adopt orphans.”

“She came up to me! I’m not turning her out. I’m not forcing her to go anywhere she doesn’t want to go.” Westlie’s thinly-veiled temper bubbled and her eyes snapped. “I’m not Father.”

Morgan stopped pacing at that. Westlie could see her cogs turning for an argument but they both knew the logic was tight. That’s right. I’m not Arthur. I’m not heartless.

”Look.” Westlie softened and leaned forward after a second. “She came up to me yesterday. She was running from a constable-” (this clearly did not impress Morgan whose crimes rarely left a trace and Westlie had never heard of her getting caught after a chase.) “-and she ran into me. He was going to arrest her- either drag her to jail or the orphanage, either one, or both, and she tried to pretend I was-” Westlie couldn’t get the word ‘mother’ out. That was a step too far. “-a relative, so she wouldn’t have to go. She told me a bit about the orphanage and I did some digging. It’s a bad place. I- I couldn’t let her go back.”

Morgan’s shoulders softened a bit through the story; she took a few more sips and her free hand finally settled on her hip. “I still think this is a bad idea.”

“What’s the harm in it, Mor? We take her to London, we give her to another orphanage there. Somewhere better. She’ll have a better life, maybe get adopted. We can do that.” Westlie realized suddenly she was invested. She wanted this to happen.

“Someone else could do it too.”

“I don’t trust anyone else.”

Morgan eyed her. “And what’s father going to say?” She smirked in sour humor. “You came to pick up one daughter and you brought back two.”

Westlie snorted. “She’s not a daughter. We’re going to take her to the orphanage. He won’t even know.” She leaned in a little, taking a larger sip of the wine. “Morgan, if we hide her, he won’t even know. You know that. He barely looks anyway.”

Morgan gave her a dry look of, He notices you.

”I still think it’s a bad idea.”

“Oh. You have other ideas?”

She sulked and took another drink.

“Right.” Westlie settled back a little. “Look, I couldn’t sleep last night. I’ve thought about this.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Morgan finally said.

“I. I’m the one who doesn’t know what I’m doing?”

A long pause. A salty look. Morgan glanced at the last half of the glass and decided to take it like a shot. She finished the glass and smacked it down on the desk. 

Westlie had hit a nerve - again - and it probably had something to do with one of Arthur’s rants that Morgan had overheard about her being an incompetent leech but that wasn’t quite it because Morgan couldn’t give less of a shit about Arthur’s opinions. It had something to do with her, and maybe Lizzie, but she didn’t know what. 

“Either we take her back to London, she stays here in Port Prosper, fucked over, penniless, homeless, and on the streets, or we give her money to New Winchester and have no idea where she is, if she’s safe, and if their orphanage is any good. It’s the same problem as Prosper. Morgan, this is the best way.”

Morgan snorted and grabbed the wine bottle. She headed for the door. “Just to London, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, she’s definitely your problem.”

[sinningismywinning]

Do As You Please - 1

   This wasn’t something you did often. Yet again, that doesn’t mean you haven’t thought of doing it more. The wet cobblestone clicked and cracked beneath your heels. The smell of musk and filth filled your nose. You tried to avoid bars at night, but after the day you had working alongside head seamstress Jeanne Tousaint, you could really use that bourbon.

 Everyone in Birmingham knew that the best place to drink was the Garrison. Well, all the men knew that. People weren’t particular about women strolling into bars, unless they were whores, or chaperoned by husbands. You knew people would strew you a line of shit once you sat down to drink, but you figured that you’d get too drunk to notice. You pushed open the doors, feeling the central slab of copper, grease your hands with grime.

With your head held high, you made your way inside the dimly lit bar. There was an uproar of conversations. You noticed a few heads turning your way, but this was a regular card you dealt with. The pub was packed, so finding a lone seat was hard enough. You sat far from the door with an empty seat to your left. On the other side of that empty seat, was a man who smelled like the floor of the bar. He had an unkempt mustache. For whatever reason, that stuck with you. The barman walked towards your section. He paused at the man who looked like he had been drinking all day. “Another one Mr. Shelby?” he questioned while puling away his empty glass. Another one? The poor bastard was drunker than a doorknob, yet the man behind the bar seemed to egg him on, or so you thought. 

The man mumbled back incoherently to your ears, but somehow the tender understood perfectly what he said. Must be a regular. It didn’t take long for the bartender to pour your drink. You thanked him kindly and slid your money to him. This process carried on 3 more times, until you stopped counting.Hours had passed, and time was not your friend. Everything in your vision was warping, and quite frankly you had enough confidence to chat up any patron in this vicinity. You loved being social, even in situations when you shouldn’t. It was easy to bite your tongue, but tonight was a night of fun. You spoke freely to the man behind the bar. He didn’t shut you down for speaking about your political beliefs, and quite frankly, seemed to treat you to the same standard as any man within that very pub.

 The man a few seats down had suddenly traded places, as he began to sober up, and you went in the opposite direction. He would occasionally chime in to whatever conversation you held. The bartender watched his words carefully around the man, but you didn’t get the hint to carry yourself the same way. “Say, I’ve never seen you here before,” he spoke directing his body towards you. Long nose. You always picked up on odd attributes.

“As I, to you.” You slurred raising your glass. Wrong answer. He wanted to know your name, not your input. You saw the squint of his eyes and couldn’t help but giggle. He was trying to pick your brains. “You’ve got a mouth on you, yeah?” You were a smart-ass, but alcohol brought that out completely. You nursed your drink as the bartender rubbed his stubble with angst. “Don’t all faces have mouths, Mr... Sheldon?” you shot back, trying to remember what the bartender referred to him as. He didn’t know whether to laugh, or pity you. “It’s Shelby,” he spoke deeply, getting the hint that you had no clue who you were speaking to. He was right, you didn’t. “Shelby, Sheldon, all sounds the same,” you quipped with a short laugh.

 He didn’t know where you had came from. You were dressed well, and seemed to take care of yourself. You couldn’t be a whore, or a street vendor. This puzzled him more. “Names Arthur, just leave it at that,” he shook his head with thinning patience and turned his body back to the bar. You were a tricky thing to figure out. You noticed the bar drop in noise as a man walked in. He solemnly nodded to a few lads sitting down in booths. Once he filled the gap between you and Arthur, the bar resumed its previous momentum. The man depressed his posture to quickly light a cigarette. His eyes glanced to you, but only momentarily. He didn’t have to flag the man down from behind the bar, it was almost as if the bar-hand waited in place for his arrival. 

You watched the interaction as you sipped your watered-down bourbon. “The usual, Mr. Shelby?” he asked sincerely. The man now sitting next to you just nodded in response. Another Shelby? They certainly didn’t look alike, and they didn’t have the same affect on a crowd as the other did. It puzzled you. You leaned forward and looked down the bar at Arthur. Some would say your balls were bigger than most. “Brothers? Or Cousins?” you asked completely dismissing the presence of the man in-between you. Arthur let out a laugh and just shook his head. He found it entertaining to watch you run your mouth with disregard. Some would find it disrespectful and embarrassing, he simply found it amusing. “Brothers,” he spoke turning to the bar-hand. “Her drinks are on me.” He had taken a liking to you.

Your eyes widened. You didn’t know whether to be flattered, or annoyed. It was as if he spoke down to you by saying that. “I haven’t drank in a long time,” you swirled your glass. “You sure you can keep up with tonight’s habit?” Now the tables turned. He was on the other end of not knowing whether to be annoyed or curious. Maybe both. His brother, the middle-man, didn’t take his eyes off of you. He wanted to see how Arthur would play this one out. The drinks were having quite an unruly effect on your mouth. “Like what you see, love?” Your words made the bartender cringe. Tommy tilted his head with amusement. “Alright miss, I think its time I catch you a walk home,” he spoke lowly. The middle man raised his hand, “No James, it’s quite alright.” he spoke with a smoother voice than his brother. James nodded from behind the bar, not wanting things to get out of grasp.

“Maybe I do like what I see,” he turned to you. His sharp eye contact was more than what you expected. Usually men were intimidated by you. He seemed to have the higher ground with this altercation. Arthur shook his head from behind him in disbelief that his brother was feeding into this. Just as you were about to respond he beat you to it. “How much do you charge?” His words floated just like the smoke that left his mouth. He knew better. He knew you weren’t a whore. You were too posh to be one, and you set your standards low to even drink in a place like this. You let out a hearty laugh. If you didn’t, all of this liquid courage might’ve made you smack him. Men and their entitlement. That’s all that rang through your brain. You could tell by his suit that he had money. Yet, the way he spoke showed that he was raised here, in the slums.    

“I charge more than what you could ever afford,” you stammered, caving in to his false perception of you. Bastard. “Tommy,” Arthur spoke trying to divert his attention from you. “Ooo, like Tommy gun?” you retorted to get under his skin. He may be blunt but you were rude. His face didn’t move in reaction. “No, Tommy as in Thomas,” now he knew why Arthur didn’t move away from you after drinking. No one else spoke to them like this. No one else dared to speak to them like this. You couldn’t be genuine with your remarks, you had to know who they were. How could you not know who the fucking Shelbys were?   

 “Can’t afford? It’s not about money, its about standards.” He said turning away from you. You weren’t going to be walked over like this. You set your drink on the bar to get a better grip at your words, but you managed to tip it over. It spilled onto his lap in a genuine accident. People in the booths were already eyeing your altercation with the brothers. “Aw fuck!” you stumbled trying to stop the spill of the glass. People went dead silent, some even stood. Most knew that the patience of Thomas Shelby, was none.

 You immediately reached for a rag resting on top of the bar. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-” You reached to dry his shirt. Boundaries and bourbon didn’t go hand-in-hand. He grabbed your wrist to stop you. Even in your moments of coldness, you still apologetically tried to help. He opened his mouth slightly to say something, but quickly closed it. You were just a drunk girl on the wrong side of town. He had figured that much by now. Your eyes locked with his. “I think its time for you to go home dear.” Arthur spoke with pity as he got up to stand next to his brothers seat. It wasn’t suppose to be a night like this. Thomas’ cigarette burned in the ash tray. You were defeated. Embarrassed by your actions. He held his grip a little too long. When you looked at his hand he let go of you.

He turned over his shoulder to see everyone else in the bar drawn to you. No one broke their gaze. He turned to Arthur. “I’’ll take her home. Don’t need someone from here following her, and throwing her body in the Cut.” he poorly whispered. Arthur nodded in agreement. Thomas came into the bar to occupy his mind. He didn’t need your interaction weighing him down, as well as how he’d feel if you, a woman, was killed after he let you drunkenly leave the pub. He turned back to you, “Let’s go.” He spoke with no room for interjection. You knew better than to be rude in an instance like this. You looked down at your feet as the floor moved and wobbled. Your eyes played tricks on you as the alcohol warmed your chest. His hand found the small of your back as he pushed your way through the crowd. You didn’t expect your night to end this way.

[merakiaes]

Warmed Up - Arthur Shelby

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x reader

Requested: Yes.

Prompts: #2, #3 and #4 from the common tropes-list. 

Warnings/notes: A bit of implied smut, maybe, nothing too major. Hope this was what you wanted and that you like it!

Wordcount: 3753

Summary: You get caught up in a storm with Arthur on your way home from London and have to seek shelter in an abandoned cabin in the woods, where you are forced to share body heat to keep warm. 

Driving all the way to London with Arthur and only Arthur wasn’t something you’d put in the top ten on your ‘things I want to do’-list. Not that you had a list like that to begin with, but you probably made your point clear.

It wasn’t that you disliked him, quite the opposite, really. You liked him really much. Probably too much. The problem was that he was so God damn socially awkward.

With everyone else, he could laugh and joke around like an absolute madman without any problem whatsoever. It was that side of him that had made you attracted to him in the first place.

But with you, he was the exact opposite. He was quiet, reserved and quiet as a mouse, so to speak. It was infuriating.

You talked a lot, especially when in the company of someone you genuinely enjoyed being with. So it was a given that you would have preferred it if the person on the other side of the conversation actually talked back.

But Arthur never did. He just listened, glanced at you when he thought you weren’t looking, and fidgeted whenever you would visibly catch him in the middle of the act.

You weren’t an idiot. In fact, the reason you had been offered a position as a Peaky Blinder in the first place was because of your abnormally high intelligence and ability to talk yourself into and out of every imaginable situation.

You knew he fancied you, just like you did him. The first three months or so, you had just waited for him to finally gather the courage to spark up a conversation with you alone and act on the attraction everyone – yourself included - could see he had for you.

But that moment never came, so you had to take matters into your own hands. 

You had been trying to get him alone for another three months now, but Tommy kept you busy, and him as well, always sending you off in different directions.

And when you on the very rare occasion actually did get the chance to talk to him alone, he took any excuse he could find to get away from you.

He avoided you as if you had the worst case of the clap in history, which after three months of waiting around for him, and another three months of desperately trying to get his attention, caused your feeling of attraction to be pushed back and locked away in a chest at the back of your mind.

Now, every time you saw his face or heard his name, you would instantly get bitter and turn your head the other way.

Mature, right? Well, in your defense, the women in your family had always had a certain immature stubbornness to them. If anyone should be blamed, it should be the women before you for passing it down another generation.

The car ride to London had been so quiet it was actually physically painful, and the air hanging over the two of you was thick enough to cut with a dull butter knife.

But the entire situation only got worse when you made the mistake of driving home despite being warned about an upcoming storm, in which you were now caught with a broken-down car.

The rain smattered violently on the metal surface of the car, and just as violently on your body. 

You were soaked from head to toe and chilled all the way to your bone. You were hugging your arms close to your chest in a desperate attempt to preserve the little body heat you still had left, but you could sadly admit that it was doing nothing of the sort.

You sighed for what seemed to be the hundredth time in the past ten minutes, bouncing your foot lightly to get your blood running.

“Come on, Arthur.” You called out over the loud rain, squinting your eyes in order to see him cleared through the water that had built up on your eyelashes. “We should go look for some help, you obviously can’t fix it by yourself.”

But Arthur didn’t move and inch, barely even reacting where he was bent into the hood of the car, pulling and pushing at things he probably had no idea what to do with.

“I’ve got it.” He insisted in a snappy voice, without a doubt annoyed from your nagging. But you didn’t care.

You rolled your eyes and uncrossed your arms, taking three long strides towards where he was standing and roughly grabbed at the fabric of his soaked coat, pulling him up from the car to his full height.

He glared down at you, but before he even got the chance to yell anything back at you, you reached up and smacked the hood closed, missing his fingers by barely a millimeter.

“You obviously haven’t got it and that’s fine. There’s no shame in needing help. Now come on, I had a lot of things on my agenda today and getting hit by lighting was not one of them.”

Just as the final word passed your lips, a deafening clap of thunder hit right above you, causing both of you to jump slightly. It was getting significantly closer.

“Where do you suppose we’re gonna get any help then, ay? We’re in the middle of fookin’ nowhere!”  He yelled back, ripping his arm out of your grasp in all his furious glory.

“Well, anywhere is better than here!” You kept arguing, throwing your arms out in exasperation. “If we don’t find help, we can in the very least try to find shelter, somewhere to take cover until the storm’s blown over.”

“There’s cover in the car.” He threw his arm out towards the car for extra emphasis. “I’ve told you to get back in there for the past ten minutes but you just have to be so fookin’ stubborn all the time.”

He turned around to open the hood again, propping it open and getting back to not knowing what he was doing in the slightest.

You yelled out in frustration. “The car is cold, Arthur! There’s surely some place nearby where we could settle down and start a fire or something.”

Without waiting for an answer you re-did the procedure you had done only a minute before, grabbing the back of his coat this time and janking him away from the car so that you could slam the hood shut.

He whipped around to face you with nothing but anger behind his eyes, but before he got the chance to utter a single word, your fist hit his chest in a harsh and actually rather painful blow.

“Could you just stop arguing with me on every single thing and get your head out of your arse?!” You yelled while you delivered another punch to his chest. “I’m fucking freezing and if I stay out in the rain any longer, I’m going to get fucking hypothermia and have to amputate my limbs!”

You went to punch him a third time, but this time around he caught your wrist before you could hit him, and then your second wrist as well when you raised it to try a second time.

You glared up at him, but found that the anger behind his eyes was now gone as if it had never been there in the first place. Instead, he was just staring down at you with a look you couldn’t quite figure out the meaning of in your angry state.

“Alright.” He agreed, his voice now much quieter than it had been before. Once he was sure you weren’t going to hit him again, he carefully let your wrists go. “We’ll go look for help, or shelter. Just, calm yourself.”

His voice was rough, but his eyes were soft, calming you down easier than you would’ve like to admit.

You just gave him a curt and determined nod, straightened out the sleeves of your coat and turned on your heel, starting to walk towards an unknown destination.

He followed behind you silently, coming up to walk at your side. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him stuffing one of his hands to his pocket, while he used the other one to pull his wet hair out of his face, slicking it back over the middle of his head.

But it only stayed in place for a second before it fell right back into his face, and even in the midst of your fuming anger, you had to stop yourself from reaching over and fixing it. 

The longing to touch him wasn’t an unusual occurrence for you, but in the circumstances you were currently in, it just drew a scoff from you, and either he just ignored it, or the rain was too loud for him to hear it.

You walked around in the rain for what seemed like an eternity, not spotting as much as a shed to bunker down in.

It was getting dark and the storm was still raging on without any intent of stopping. You were just about to give up and admit defeat, when you finally caught a glimpse of something red in the middle of the trees in the distance.

You squinted your eyes to make sure you weren’t just fooling yourself, that it wasn’t just a trick of your mind caused by that uncomfortable lightning between light and dark. But as you walked closer, it became apparent that you were truly seeing what you thought you were seeing.

Your eyes widened, relief flooding your body at the sweet sight of the small cabin and your hand shot out to tug on Arthur’s sleeve out of instinct.

“Arthur!” You yelled over the sound of the rain, tugging more aggressively at his coat.

He turned to look at you, and you pointed towards the cabin, yelling out: “There!”

Once Arthur had spotted the small, red house, too, the two of you wasted no time in sprinting off, having to shield your faces as the wind started pulling even harder at your clothes and hair.

Luckily, you made it to your goal in just another minute, and hurried inside, Arthur actually having to force the front door shut as the wind was fighting back so hard.

When he finally got it shut after a few seconds of struggles, thanks to the shitty, loose lock and handle you allowed yourselves to take a look around.

Arthur went into a room to the right of the front door, while you ventured into the one on the opposite side. 

The big table in the middle of the room and the pieces of broken chairs littering the floors suggested that this had once been a kitchen, but judging by the state of the place, no one had lived here for years.

The floorboards were soft and rotten, a thin layer of moss covering a big part of it. The walls were yellow and damaged by water, and you could tell just by looking at it that the house was most definitely mold infested, and that you should get out of there as soon as you possibly could to avoid getting sick.

But then again, you would without a doubt get sick if you left, too. Now that you thought about it, feeling the way your clothes stuck uncomfortably to your skin and hung heavily off of your shaking body, you were probably already on your way there, assuming Arthur was in the same state as you.

You got lost in your thoughts as you were looking around, completely missing that Arthur had entered the room and called your name. It wasn’t until he reached out and touched your shoulder that you came back to reality, or rather jumped back to reality.

Out of pure instinct, you reached your own hand up to grab the one on your shoulder, twisting it and turning around with your other hand fisted in the air, ready to strike.

Luckily, Arthur was well used to your jumpy antics after six months of knowing you and easily caught your fist in the air. 

You quickly registered his face and hurried to let go of his hand, noting by the way that he was clenching his jaw that the position you had twisted it into was less than pleasant.

Rather than apologizing however, you simply glared. “Don’t sneak up on me like that, if I had a gun I could’ve killed you.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t.” He threw back tiredly. “So quit your whinging and come on. We have to get you out of your clothes and get you warm. Started a fire in the living room and found some old blankets that still felt alright enough to use.”

The second he spoke those words, the smell of burning wood reached your nostrils and you could feel your entire body tingling with excitement at the thought of getting warm. 

Taking another look at the man in front of you, you noticed that he was now only wearing his undershirt and pants, with his suspenders hanging limply at his sides, probably having discarded the rest of his clothes by the fire to dry.

Too tired and cold to fight back, you just let him lead you to the room you had watched him disappear into when you first got inside, pleased to see that he had, in fact, managed to start a fire that was now burning high in the long-ago abandoned fireplace in the middle of the room.

To the side of the fire, he had draped his clothes over an old chair, and in front of it he had pulled up an old, moth-eaten couch that he had covered with blankets so that you wouldn’t have to sit directly on the grime that had without a doubt been building up for however long this place had been abandoned.

Had it been under any other circumstances, you probably would have consider the whole thing romantic, even though it probably wasn’t meant to be. But as the circumstances were, in fact, not the best, you were just happy you would be able to get warm.

Arthur left you to undress on your own, crouching down in front of the fire and poking at the wood with a rusty fire poker to get the flames to dance just a little higher.

You raised your hands to start unbuttoning your coat, but soon came to the realization that it wouldn’t be possible. 

Your fingers were completely numb and your hands, and your entire body with them, shaking more than you originally realized, making you completely unable to grasp the tiny buttons between your fingers.

And it you couldn’t even get a hold of them, you sure as hell wouldn’t be able to push them all through the narrow, tiny holes of the fabric, either.

You sighed sourly, coming to term with the fact that now was the time you would have to give up your stubbornness. You needed to get out of your wet clothes in order to get warm, but you wouldn’t be able to on your own.

“Arthur.”

His name fell quietly from your lips, but as the room was silent if you didn’t count the crackling of the fire and smattering of the rain against the roof and windows, he still heard you, turning to look at you at the sound of his names being called.

You silently moved your hands up to the first button, demonstrating with shaky fingers that you couldn’t undo them by yourself.

He stared at you for a moment after you had let your hands fall back to your sides, before wordlessly putting the fire poker to the side and standing up, coming over to you where he wasted no time in starting to unbutton your coat with nimble fingers.

You just stood there limply, gazing at his face as he put all of his concentration on the task at hand. 

It was clear that it took some effort, his hands clearly, although not numb like yours as he was now on the fourth button, still very cold.

He quickly reached the bottom of your coat, and instead of walking away to let you undress by yourself like you had expected him to do, he instead started peeling the article of clothing off your arms to reveal your equally as soaked through white blouse.

And as always with white clothing, when it was soaked through, it was also very see through. And of course, this just happened to be the only day you decided not to wear a bra, as the trip to London had been a last minute call and you were originally supposed to have your day off.

No sane woman walked around their home on a day off with a bra on.

He was flustered by the fact that he could now practically see your bosom, something you could see clearly by the way his eyes flickered from your chest to your eyes before he hurriedly fled to the chair that had held his clothes with your coat in his hand.

He moved his own clothes to the side slightly so that he could hang your coat at the back of the chair, and then made move to go back to his spot by the fireplace. But before he could get very far, you cleared your throat, causing him to halt and turn back to you.

And this time, he wasn’t the only one to be flustered.

You were happy the warm hue of the fire illuminated the room, or else he would’ve for sure been able to see the faint dusty pink on your cheeks.

You cleared your throat again, motioning to the belt and several buttons of your black cargo pants. “I need help with this, too.”

Arthur didn’t make any sound of protest, only avoiding your eyes and coming back up to where you stood and wasting no time in getting to work on your belt.

He undid the clasp and left the belt in the loops, going straight to the buttons. One button, two buttons, three buttons, four, and your pants were successfully undone and ready to get rid of.

This time, it was Arthur’s time to clear his throat, as he slowly started inching them down your hips. But it was easier said than done, the wet fabric having sucked onto your skin like a leech.

He had to get down on his knees to even have a chance to get them off, and out of instinct, your hands went to his hair, holding on gently to keep your balance as you helped pull your legs out of the pant-legs.

Once they were completely off he stood back up, his face now much closer to yours than it had been before he kneeled down,

Your eyes locked together, both scanning each other with almost suspicious gazes. 

His breath was warm against your cold lips and smelled of the countless of cigars he had smoked on the way to, in and from London; a smell you had hated before you met him but had now grown to love because you loved him.

You caught yourself by surprise when thinking that, as it had been the first time you had really admitted your feelings towards him to yourself.

But Arthur took both you and himself by surprise when he in the next second with hurried motions leaned in, closing the small space between you and attaching his lips to yours.

Your eyes widened at the sudden turn of events and your body stood frozen on the spot, not daring to move a muscle. 

You didn’t get much time, at least not as much as you would have needed, to respond to his actions, as he pulled away just as quickly.

Even though the kiss barely even lasted five seconds, it left both of you breathless. 

He looked at you, clearly debating what to do next. And to be truthful, he didn’t look to have a clue.

So you did what you had been doing, or attempting to, at least, for the past three months; you took matters into your own hands, grabbing him by the backside of his neck and pulling him back down, crashing your lips against his with thrice the force than before.

And he responded immediately, hands coming to grab at your waist to pull you closer and moving his lips against yours desperately.

As you tensed your muscles, a rather harsh shiver ran through your entire body, causing Arthur to break apart briefly.

“You’re shakin’.” He mumbled against your lips, but you were too eager to even hear what he was saying.

“Yeah.” You only mumbled back, pulling him back in for another kiss by his neck. His fingers slowly started inching the fabric of your wet blouse up and just the intense anticipation building in your chest caused your breath to grow heavier.

But much to your dismay, he came to a stop just as quickly again, visibly flinching when his now somehow warm fingers came in contact with the icy cold skin of your waist, and this time, he broke away from your lips completely, taking a small step back.

“Fookin’ hell, you’re freezing.” He commented.

A trembling chuckle left your lips at that, but whether it was from the cold or from the feeling of his fingers absentmindedly caressing your hip that you were now trembling, you didn’t know.

“Yeah.” You repeated, this time with a shaky chuckle, and you quickly came to conclusion that it was probably the cold in your bones that was causing the tremble of your body when he placed his palm flat against the curve of your back and your entire body started to shiver violently at the contrast of his burning hand against your icy skin.  

How he had managed to get his hands warmed up so quickly when they had been cold only a  minute before, you had no idea.

But no matter what he had done, you knew that you needed his rapidly growing body temperature to get your own up, and he seemed to know it as well. 

He led you over to the couch and sat down, pulling you down on his lap and draping two of the blankets over your shoulders. 

Your hands found their way to his shoulders while his hinds moved to start pulling at the strings of your blouse, all while looking you straight in the eyes. 

“Let’s get ya warmed up, eh?”

[mnthpprt]

Chapter 24: Blame It On The Juice

We finally arrive at the tavern and take a seat at a small table near the bar. Arthur is the only one to remain standing up, and he leans closer so I can hear him over the chatter.

“First round’s on me, darling. What would you like?” he asks. I ponder for a moment before answering.

“I’ve always wanted to try absinthe.” He nods, and looks over at Theo.

“Whiskey for me, half water.”

A few minutes later he returns, balancing three glasses between his hands, and proceeds to set them down on the table, careful not to spill any of them. Outside, it has begun to pour like there’s no tomorrow.

“Pernod Fils for the lady,” he says, imitating a waiter, “and whiskey for the ratbag.” Theo punches his arm, scowling, and sips his drink, making me laugh. Judging by the amount of teasing and insults between these two, they could either be good friends or truly hate each other. I know it is the former, because they seem to spend a lot of time together. They even walk their dogs at the same time every morning, and they do so willingly.

I take a small sip of the pearly green liquid, and am surprised by the sweet taste of anise and fennel in the drink.

“Yo, this is good,” I point out, satisfied. I lift my glass when I notice Arthur doing the same, and Theo begrudgingly joins in.

“To the green fairy, may she bless our dear Anaïs for the first time!” toasts the writer, holding back a laugh. I follow in with my own comedic announcement.

“To the Salon des Refusés du Salon des Refusés!” I say, jokingly, referring to Theo’s exhibition. The groundbreaking art I saw there would have been criticized even by the rejects of this time. “And to your and Vincent’s success, of course!”

“That, I can get behind,” Theo chuckles. “To you idiots.” He punctuates his covertly affectionate statement by taking a gulp of whisky, and Arthur and I follow suit. “So, hondje, you know about art. What is it like in your time?”

I am taken aback by the question. I don’t really know where to begin.

“Well... For starters, it’s incredibly different. To understand it one needs to know the history behind it, you know? Like, what happened between now and then for it to get to that point,” I explain, pausing to take another sip of absinthe. Theo leans forward on his chair, his blue eyes piercing me with interest. “I guess the main movement that started everything would be Dadaism. Do you know about World War One?” Theo shakes his head.

“One? By Jove, there are more?!” Arthur exclaims. I nod, my brows knitted together. If he lived through the first one, the Great War, I am concerned about how he might react if I continue. He seems to want to know more, so I keep talking.

“Arthur, if I remember correctly you died a few years before the second one. What was it, 1920 something?”

“1930,” he corrects me.

“Well, the Second World War started in 1939. It lasted for about six years, and it was brutal. But that’s not the point of this conversation.” I turn to Theo. “So, as you can tell by the name, the First World War was, well... massive. Pretty much all of Europe was involved and severely affected, both by the unprecedented death toll and the poverty that came after. People suffered while the rich clung to what they had, and the art world became increasingly inaccessible. You’ve seen yourself how conservative the elite can be when it comes to their precious culture.” He agrees with a nod. “So a movement emerged in response to this traditionalism, which some artists deemed unacceptable in a world where all of the rules had seemingly been broken already, and devastatingly so. I don’t know where the name came from, but Dadaism represents all the nonsense, everything that is irrational and ugly and primal. What these people were making was basically anti-art. Instead of it being aesthetically pleasing, their work strived to create a reaction in the viewer, to make them think.” I pause to drink again, and glance at Arthur. He knows what I’m talking about, he lived through it.

“And what does it look like?” Theo asks. I laugh.

“Oof, good question. It can look like anything, from sculptures made of random objects piled together to drawings and prints... More than anything, Dadaism was a concept, an ideology. It established that art should be reactionary, and not necessarily for the pleasure of the viewer. This became the basis for what in my time we call ‘conceptual art’, which is basically anything that makes a statement without it being explicit in the piece.”

“Like a riddle?” Arthur asks. He has already finished his glass of whisky.

“Something like that,” I chuckle. “But not always. One of the most outrageous ones I can remember is this man, Piero Manzoni. In the 60s... the 1960s, that is, he produced a series of cans labeled as ‘Artist’s Shit’, supposedly filled with... well, his own shit. It was meant as a critique of the art world at the time.” Theo’s eyes widen, and I hear Arthur let out a boisterous laugh. “Apparently one of his friends said that they were actually filled with plaster, but no one really knows for sure, because they’re too valuable to be opened. I think one of them was auctioned for like 300.000 euros.”

“Euros?” Theo asks after sipping his whisky, trying to recover from the surprise.

“Oh, right, that’s a new thing,” I remember. “So after that Second World War I mentioned before, a bunch of countries in Europe created a coalition, to protect the peace, and all that. And then, around the time I was born, it became a proper union and they changed the money, so we all use euros now. Well, then. Then?” I take a big sip of absinthe and savor it for a moment, frustrated with my own tangled words. “Ugh, time travel is so confusing. Anyway, one of those cans is worth, like, 100 million francs in ‘right now’ money, I think.”

Theo chokes on his drink. Arthur is just staring at me with his mouth hanging open, completely incredulous at my nonchalant statement.

“That is absolutely preposterous,” he finally says. I shrug.

“I guess that proves Manzoni’s point, doesn’t it?” I down what’s left of the absinthe and set the glass in the middle of the table. Arthur scoffs.

“No, no, she’s right.” I am surprised to hear Theo agree with me. He looks rather impressed. “Collectors will buy anything with the right name attached to it. Artist’s shit,” he laughs. “That’s brilliant.”

Maybe it’s his adorable dimples, or maybe it’s the alcohol running through my veins, but I have the sudden urge to mock him.

“Wow, who knew you had a sense of humor, knabbeltje!” I put emphasis on the word, causing him to blush, which subsequently makes me giggle. Arthur puts his fist up, laughing, and I bump it. “Ayyy, you learnt it!”

Theo gets up abruptly, and for a moment I fear I have offended him, but I relax when I see him walk towards the bar. He soon comes back with only two glasses, and leaves again to get his own. I sip my new drink, also containing the green liquor from before, and let out a little moan.

“This drink slaps,” I declare, and Arthur tilts his head in confusion.

“Slaps? Gods, Anaïs, it’s like you’re speaking an entirely different language.” I laugh and proceed to tell him about the ‘snack’ thing, how Theo called me a ‘knabbeltje’ and I took it as a compliment, so now he can’t use it on me anymore. Arthur laughs too when I finish the story. “Oh my, is that why he was blushing? Here I was thinking you two might have- Ow!”

I elbow him before he can finish the sentence, in part because I don’t need to hear it, and in part because I see Theo approaching. When he sits down, Arthur’s face lights up with an idea. I wonder what he’s plotting.

“Let’s play a game,” he says. “Bet I can deduce something about each of you. If I’m right, you drink, and if I’m wrong, I drink. Anaïs,” he turns to me. “There is something between you and Leonardo. You two have been in an awfully good mood lately.” I blush and sip my drink. “Ha! I knew it! Our sweet darling and our dear friend have been basket making in secret,” he exclaims. Judging by his face, I assume that’s an euphemism for sex.

“We have not!” I smack his arm. Although that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to. “Okay, my turn. Theo!” I choose loudly, pointing my finger at the art dealer. “You act so tough because you’re protective of Vincent and want to be taken seriously so nobody messes with him.”

Theo drinks before clearing his throat, and then turns to his friend.

“The reason you’re being so annoying lately is because you’re jealous of Leonardo,” he states. Arthur simply leans back on his chair with a smirk.

“Drink,” he commands. Theo obliges. “You have already scoured this bar for my next potential conquest, and you disapprove of all the options.” Theo drinks again.

“Is that what you do when you’re not pestering Sebastian for more coffee?” I laugh. Then a thought occurs to me. “How do they not find out about...? You know,” I ask, tapping my canine with a fingernail. I can’t risk saying it out loud in a place so crowded.

“They simply look like love bites, dear,” Arthur winks. “And they are, in a sense.”

“Huh.” I tilt my head, trying to imagine what that would be like, but I fail and move on to the game. “You sleep around so much to try to forget your guilt.”

Finally, he drinks. I don’t know what he feels guilty about, but I could recognize that emotion on anyone. However, I don’t ask any further. I do not want to pry.

He changes the topic by pulling a deck of cards from his pocket. I guess he does not like losing at his own game.

[make-me-imagine]

hi! if the special ships are still open here’s my requests: i’m 20, biromantic and genderfluid. i’m 5’9’’, i have curly brown hair and glasses. I’m usually reserved except when I’m with people I’m comfortable with. I like when I make people laugh, reading, musicals, anything that is about stories basically. also i like skying, and art, and i don’t like most sports, people being mean, and the cold. (i’d like a ship from Merlin and Harry Potter)

This is the last ship!!! 

I’m sorry it took so long for me to get them all out, and yours as well! I hope you like them! And also, it would be so cool to be a Knight in Merlin. I would want to just be there in general lol. 

Merlin: 

I ship you with Merlin. Merlin would be very comfortable around you and would love your company. He enjoys making you laugh, and when you make him laugh (usually by making a joke about Arthur or the other knights). Since he knows you don’t like the cold, he often carries around an extra jacket when you are travelling together so he can make sure you are extra warm. He enjoys your more reserved time, as it relaxes and comforts him, especially after he spends all day with Arthur and the Knights lol. 

Prompt: Dancing

You hummed to yourself as you stood, alone you thought, in your room. The distant sound of music filled the air as Uther held a celebration with a nearby kingdom, who were now allies.

Having spent a short time at the celebration you left early, having only went to spend time with some friends. You mostly wanted to see Merlin in his fancy attire, and special hat Arthur forced him to wear. You knew you would not be able to spend any time with him as he would be busy.

Fluffing the pillow on your bed you jumped when you turned and saw a figure in the doorway “Merlin! You scared me, how are you always so quiet?” you breathed out, hand on your chest.

He smirked as he walked further int your room “It’s one of my many talents”

You smiled at him as he approached you “What are you doing here? And where’s your hat?”

He gave you a sarcastic smile at your teasing “Well if you must know, after annoying Arthur a great deal, he finally said I could leave. And as for the hat, it’s in mud where it belongs” as he spoke he wrapped his arms around your waist.

You smiled along with his words as you copied his action and wrapped your own arms around his waist before you leaned in to hug him “Well I’m glad I finally get to see you, I didn’t think I’d get the chance” 

He smiled as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head “Well I figured you wouldn’t hang around, but I had hoped I’d get at least one dance with you” he commented casually.

You pulled away from him to look up at his face ‘You know I don’t like to dance in crowds” 

“Yeah I do. But that doesn’t mean we can’t dance now” he said as he looked off towards your window, knowing he was referring to the still audible music. Looking down at you he smiled before looking around the room, his eyes landing on the candles on your desk.

Muttering a spell, you watched as the candles lit, and the flames rose, multiplied and then began floating around the room along with the music. 

Your smile grew as you watched them before you looked at Merlin who had backed away from you. You giggled as he bowed at you, much deeper than was necessarily, he grinned up at you as he reached out his hand “M’lady”

Rolling your eyes playfully you took his hand “Sir” you commented, your voice in a regal, yet mocking tone.

Pulling you to him, you two began to dance around the room, smiling at each other. You laughed as he suddenly spun you around before pulling you closer to him, a grin on his own face.

You continued to sway around your room, talking quietly, and hold each other well into the night, long after the music faded and the celebration ended. You relished in each others company, not wanting this moment to end.

Harry Potter:

I ship you with George. You wouldn’t expect George to fall for someone reserved, especially given his personality. But you two had many classes together and he slowly developed a crush on you. It hit him like a truck one day when he heard you telling a joke to your friend, and he saw the look on your face when you made them laugh. He loves to make you laugh as well, and enjoys your sense of humor. Since he loves quidditch he makes you come along to his games (though of course you would go anyway, you gotta support bae right?), and you slowly developed a love of the game, even if you didn’t celebrate it as much as he did. 

Prompt: Fake Boyfriend/Girlfriend (sort of lol, it’s very brief)

You walked down the Hogsmead streets with your friends, pointing out all the shops and stores you wanted to go into. Your mind occasionally drifting to the thought that Fred and George where not the far behind you. You wondered if you’d spend any time with them. You had only recently be-friended the brothers, but had grown close in a short time, especially to the one named George.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts you and your friends wandered into a small charms shop. You had walked around looking at items, before your eyes caught on a familiar red head nearby. Your eyes met Georges, and before you could look away George rose his finger to his lips in a “shh” motion. 

Watching in curiosity, he pointed at his younger brother Ron who was standing nearby. George carefully grabbed a charmed toy spider and turned it on, causing it to quickly scurry towards Ron. As soon as Ron’s eyes caught on the large spider, a rather “un-manly” shriek escaped his mouth as he darted out of the store, Hermione and Harry quickly following him trying to shout reassurances that the spider was fake. 

Fred began to laugh hysterically as George met your eyes. You had covered your mouth with your hand, trying not to laugh. Removing it, you gave him a finger wag and a faux disappointed frown and shake of the head, even though you could both tell you were trying hard not to laugh.

Your attention was taken away from George, when a hand suddenly tapped your shoulder. Looking over your eyes met those of another boys. You didn’t recognize him, but as your eyes grazed over his Hogwarts scarf, you knew he was a student.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you” he chuckled “I just wanted to introduce myself. My name is Trevor, I’ve seen you around school”

“Oh, uh, hi, I’m Y/n” your mind wandered to the thought of how much he resembled the younger boy, Neville’s toad of the same name. 

The boys presence made you slightly uncomfortable as you were suspicious, due to his occasional glance back at a group of boys you could only figure were his friends. All of whom had smirks on their faces.

George watched from the other side of the store, annoyed that your attention was taken away, due to a boy he recognized from school. He could tell you were growing uncomfortable and wanting to get away from the boy. George knew that you were too nice and wouldn’t be blunt or rude so he decided to help.

As you listened to the boys failing flirty remarks and boring conversation, you couldn’t get a word in edge wise, and you desperately wanted to tell him you needed to get back to your friends, who were watching from the other side of the store, not sure if they should intervene. 

The appearance of a tall figure behind you caused you to turn away from Trevor. Your eyes landed on George as he briefly looked down at you, giving you a sly wink and small reassuring smile.

“Hey” he said, this time to the boy in front of you.”Mind if I steal Y/n away from you, we were planning on leaving”

“Oh. Uh, who are you?” the boy asked, clearly knowing who he and Fred were, who appeared next to George.

 “He’s Y/n’s boyfriend’” Fred commented.

You felt not only your own body stiffen, but also Georges. You made eye contact with him, both of you sharing a “what did he just say?” look.

“Oh, are you?” the boy said, clearly not believing Fred. 

“Yeah. I am actually. And who are you?” George said, not really feigning his annoyance. 

The boy was suddenly taken aback at Georges tone. It took him a moment before he responded “Well y/n here didn’t mention you” he smirked before looking down at you.

His growing arrogant attitude annoyed you, and the twins’s presence helped your confidence “Well I would have, had you let me say anything at all Mr chatterbox”

Fred snickered at your comment as George grinned, Trevor now even more surprised. “Whatever” he said, his confidence diminished as he suddenly turned with a dismissive wave of his hand as he walked back to his friends. 

You were now the surprised one when you suddenly felt Georges hand slip into yours, his face next to yours as he spoke quietly to you “Lets leave before he decides to come back”

Before you could response, George was pulling you out of the store, your friends watching with amused smiles and giggles of approval, all of them having known of your growing crush on George. 

As you escaped the store, you pretended not to notice the smack George gave Fred, or the small blush, remnant on his cheeks. Just as he pretended not to notice the blush on your own face, or the heavy pulse of both of your heartbeats, both of you could surely feel through your intertwined hands.