#fred design left

[camfredkitties]

8. Darkstripe

[marciaillust]

more chara design

[jamesmcalover]

cinematic

Fred Hechinger x afab!reader

Warnings: fluff, awkwardness???

Summary: reader works at the cinema and a really cute blonde man walks in one day

3.5k words

Tiny pearls of sweat were beginning to run down my forehead, which I quickly wiped away with the sleeve of my work uniform. It hadn't been a busy day at all, but it was hot.

"They still haven't fixed the AC," I mumbled to Nick, my co-worker, who only shrugged his shoulders. He was busy filling up a bucket of popcorn for the customers he was currently serving.

It wasn't even a hot summer day, but it still felt like a sauna behind the counter. All the machines designed to keep the food warm also kept us warm, turning our workspace into a humid, sticky mess.

"Excuse me," someone said behind me. I turned around quickly, ready to put on my best customer service voice, only to freeze mid-sentence. A very pretty blonde man was standing in front of me. He was wearing a blue shirt with the Metro Goldwyn Mayer logo – the one with the Lion – on it. He must have really enjoyed movies. His eyes were a really pretty shade of blue that made it hard for me to focus.

I blinked, trying to shake the daze from my mind. Get it together, I reminded myself.

"Hi, how can I help you?" I asked, forcing a professional smile.

"Hey," he said, smiling. I noticed a small gap between his teeth. "Could you point me to Theater 4?"

The request was simple, but something about the way he asked it made me stumble over my words for a moment. I could feel his gaze lingering, as if he was waiting for me to answer, but all I could think was how familiar his face looked.

"Uh, sure," I said, shaking myself out of the moment. "It's down the hall, to your left. You can't miss it."

"Thanks," he said, smiling at me again. My heart skipped a beat.

He turned to walk away, and I found myself watching him go, that same nagging feeling settling at the back of my mind. Where did I know him from?

"Well that was awkward to watch," Nick's voice startled me, snapping me out of my daze.

I turned to look at him, my heart still fluttering from the interaction. "What do you mean?" I asked, trying to sound casual, though my voice betrayed me with an edge of uncertainty.

Nick gave me an amused look. "You were staring at him like a deer caught in headlights."

I flushed, feeling both embarrassed and annoyed. "I wasn't staring," I muttered, half-defensive, half-embarrassed.

"Uh-huh," Nick said, his grin widening. "So, you don't know who he is?"

I blinked, caught off guard. "What do you mean? Should I?"

Nick's eyebrows shot up. "It's Fred Hechinger, dude. You seriously don't recognize him?"

I stared at Nick, confusion written all over my face. "Fred Hechinger?” The name didn’t ring any bells, and Nick could see my blank expression clearly.

"I thought you were a film nerd," Nick said, raising and eyebrow as I struggled to connect the dots. "His face is on every poster and screen in this building right now."

My gaze instinctively shifted towards the big infor screen advertising the newest movie, Gladiator II. The bold poster featured the man that I had just spoken to, alongside Pedro Pascal and Paul Mescal.

"You really didn't recognize him?" Nick asked.

I felt my cheeks heat up as the realization hit. "I… I mean, I thought he looked familiar, but I wasn't sure," I admitted, flustered. "No wonder I couldn't stop staring. I bet he thinks I'm some weird fan."

My stomach flipped at the thought. I'd been acting like an awkward idiot in front of a pretty well-known actor without even realizing who he was.

Nick smirked. "Well, if you're gonna act like a fan girl, at least do it when I'm not watching."

"Shut up," I muttered, rolling my eyes. I still couldn't shake the feeling that I'd made a total fool of myself. "I didn't know, okay?"

The rest of my shift dragged on in boring monotony after the brief encounter. Nick had already clocked out, leaving me alone behind the counter. With the last movie nearing its end, I began cleaning up, wiping down the counters and restocking the shelves with candy.

The quiet hum of the soda machine and the muffled sound of a movie playing in one of the theaters were my only company. I tried not to think too much about earlier, but Fred's face kept popping into my mind.

I was deep in thought, wiping down the popcorn machine, when the sound of footsteps startled me. I turned around quickly, half expecting it to be my manager reminding me to lock up. Instead, it was him.

He looked slightly sheepish but undeniably charming, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. "Hey," he said, his voice soft and a little hesitant.

"Oh," I stammered, caught completely off guard. "Hi. Um… Can I help you with anything?"

He smiled, one of those soft, slightly crooked smiles, and shook his head. "No just... thought I'd come back and... I don't know," he said, his gaze flickering down for a moment, like he was gathering his thoughts. "It's quieter now."

I blinked, caught off guard, then glancing around the empty lobby. "Oh yeah. We're almost closed," I replied, trying to sound casual, "How was the movie."

He ran a hand through his messy blonde hair, and shrugged. "It was good. A little intense, but I like that kind of stuff."

I tilted my head. "So, you're a movie buff?"

"Something like that," he said with a small grin. I looked at the poster on the wall behind him again. He looked nothing like the character in real life, his face was much friendlier, much more approachable. I knew that he was an actor now – thanks to Nick – but I didn't want him to know I knew.

"Have you seen Gladiator II yet? I heard it's a pretty good movie," I said, trying to act cool.

"Yeah," he replied, a slight laugh escaping. "A few times, actually."

"Oh, so you're one of those people who rewatch movies over and over again?" I teased lightly, folding my arms across my chest.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "You could say that. It's, uh, kind of a special project to me."

"Special how?" I asked, tilting my head again, genuinely curious.

He hesitated for a second, his grin faltering slightly, before shrugging. "It's the biggest movie I've ever been in."

I blinked at him, momentarily thrown off. I wasn't expecting him to admit it so casually. "Oh. You're... an actor."

"Yeah," he said, his grin turning slightly sheepish.

"That's, um, really cool. I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you earlier. I'm… kind of bad at keeping up with celebrities. I, uh... I'm Y/N, by the way."

"Fred," he said, offering a slightly crooked smile. "Nice to meet you, Y/N. And don't apologize, honestly, it's kind of refreshing. Most of the time, people either freak out or start asking for pictures."

"Guess I missed my chance to fangirl, huh?" I joked, trying to lighten the mood. He chuckled, and for a second I was distracted by how cute he was.

He tilted his head, his smile widening just a bit. "Well, since you missed your chance to fangirl, how about grabbing a drink instead?"

I blinked, not entirely sure I'd heard him right. "Wait… are you serious?"

"Yeah," he said with an easy shrug, though there was a hint of nervousness in his expression. "If you're free after your shift, of course. Unless you have better plans, like, I don't know, reorganizing popcorn buckets or something."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Reorganizing popcorn buckets is a pretty thrilling way to spend an evening, but I think I could make some time."

"Great," he said, his smile widening. "I'll wait."

"Wait, really?" I asked, startled.

"Yeah. Unless you'd rather bail," he teased, leaning back against the counter like he had all the time in the world.

Never in my life had I gotten things done so fast. I wasn't sure if it was the adrenaline of Fred watching me doing my work or excitement of knowing I was going to grab a drink with him – or both – but I managed to close up that cinema in record time.

As I grabbed my bag and headed toward the door, Fred straightened from where he'd been leaning against the counter, hands stuffed casually into his pockets. "Ready?"

I nodded, trying to suppress the nervous fluttering in my stomach. "Yeah. Do you have a place in mind?

He tilted his head, considering. "I passed a bar a couple of streets over on my way here. Looked low-key. How does that sound?"

"Perfect," I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

We stepped outside, and the cool night air was a relief after hours spent in the sauna-like heat of the cinema. The city felt hushed, the kind of quiet you only get after dark, punctuated by the distant sound of cars and the faint hum of streetlamps.

The walk was short, but I couldn't help stealing a few glances at him along the way. Under the soft glow of the streetlights, he looked so different from the posters plastered all over the cinema. Less polished, more real. And when he caught me staring, I felt a blush creep up my neck.

"You know," he said, a teasing edge to his voice, "I think you do recognize me."

I scoffed, looking away to hide my embarrassment. "I already told you I didn't."

"Mm-hmm," he hummed, clearly unconvinced.

"You don't mind hanging out with your local cinema employee, do you?" I joked after a brief pause, trying to ease the tension I felt rising in my chest.

Fred glanced at me, a small smile playing on his lips. "Not at all. You're better company than half the people I've met."

The bar wasn't crowded, which was a relief. The dim lighting and faint buzz of conversation made it feel intimate without being suffocating. Fred held the door open for me, and I thanked him, stepping inside and scanning for a spot to sit.

We slid into a booth near the back, and Fred leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "What would you like to drink?" He asked, so I scanned the menu quickly.

"I think I'll just go for a beer," I replied to which he nodded and excused himself to go over to the bar and get our drinks.

The faint hum of a jukebox lingered in the background, and the soft glow of fairy lights hanging above gave the place a cozy, low-key vibe.

When he came back with two ice-cold bottles of Heinecken, I thanked him.

"I could've payed myself, you know?" I said, offering him a playful smile.

He waved his hand dismissively, setting the bottle in front of me. "Don't worry about it."

"Is this what you usually do after a movie? Find a random bar and invite strangers?"

Fred smirked, shaking his head. "Nope. This is a first, actually."

"Oh, so I'm special, huh?" I teased, leaning back against the booth.

"Something like that," he replied, his grin widening.

For a moment, we just sat there, sipping our beers, and the comfortable silence felt surprisingly natural. This wasn't something that happened to me, not in real life. Actors didn't stroll back into empty cinemas to chat with nobodies like me. And yet, here he was, smiling across the table like this was the most natural thing in the world.

"So," he said, leaning back against the booth, his gaze settling on me. "You still haven't told me your movie recommendation. What's something you think I have to watch?"

I tilted my head, pretending to think hard. "Hmm… depends. Are you looking for something fun or something that'll emotionally destroy you?"

He chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Emotionally destroy me? Sounds intense."

"Sometimes you just have to sob hysterically over fictional characters," I said, almost laughing at myself for that weird comment.

Fred thought it was funny, though, and laughed, warm and genuine. "Okay, hit me. What's the most devastating one you've got?"

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table, and listed off a couple of films, my enthusiasm growing as I talked. He listened intently, his gaze fixed on me, and it was only when I stopped talking that I realized how closely he was watching me.

"What?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"Nothing," he said, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You just… really light up when you talk about this stuff. It's nice."

I felt my cheeks heat up and took a sip of my beer to hide my embarrassment. "Well, you are talking to a cinema employee. Movies are kind of my thing."

"And here I thought this was just your day job," he teased, his tone light.

"Well, it is," I said, laughing. "But it doesn't mean I don't love it."

He nodded, taking another sip of his drink. "I get that. It's nice when work doesn't feel like… well, just work."

"Exactly," I said, smiling. "And you? What's the best part of your job?"

Fred hesitated, his expression softening as he thought about it. "I think it's when people connect with something I've done. Like, when they tell me a character or a story meant something to them. That's pretty special."

I nodded, leaning forward slightly. "That makes sense. And I guess playing an emperor probably didn't hurt, huh?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "So, you did recognise me!"

I felt my face getting red and hot immediately. "I'm sorry, I just- I didn't wanna seem like some weird fan. I've probably made it really worse now, though."

Fred's smile softened, and his eyes held mine for a moment longer than I expected. "I think it's cute."

My face burned even more, and I ducked my head, letting out a nervous laugh. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"I'm not," he replied, still grinning as he took another sip of his beer. "It's nice. Refreshing, even. You don't get that a lot in this business – people pretending they do't know you."

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "To be fair, I actually didn't know at first!"

"Which is even better," he teased, his voice warm with amusement. "Honest confusion. It's a rare thing."

I peeked at him through my fingers before lowering my hands with an embarrassed smile. "Well, good. I'll just keep being 'refreshing,' then."

"If you had recognized me, what would you have done? Freaked out? Asked for an autograph?" He asked with a playful grin and I laughed, shaking my head. "No way. I probably just would've stared at you more than I aready did and made it even more awkward. You know, like a real professional."

He laughed too, the sound bright and genuine. "Well, I'm glad you didn't. I like this version of you better."

The way he said it, so casual but sincere, sent a flutter through my chest. I smiled, trying to play it cool. "You don't even know me yet."

He tilted his head, his expression soft. "Then let's change that."

And just like that, I felt the flutter again, stronger this time. I leaned back in my seat, trying to suppress the goofy grin threatening to spread across my face. "Alright, Fred. What do you want to know?"

"Everything," he replied simply, his tone light, but his eyes serious.

For a moment, I just stared at him, caught off guard by his answer, but I couldn't stop myself from smiling. "That’s a tall order."

He shrugged, leaning back with a playful smirk. "We've got time."

And somehow, sitting there in that dimly lit bar with a half-empty beer in my hand and Fred Hechinger watching me like I was the most interesting thing in the room, I believe him. There was something about the way he looked at me – like I wasn't just another face in the crowd – that made me feel seen, and it scared me how much I liked it.

I don't remember how long we sat there, lost in conversation. The bar seemed to dim around us, the hum of other patrons fading into the background until it was just the two of us, trading stories like old friends.

Eventually, the bartender gave us a look that said it was time to go. I glanced at my phone, surprised at how late it had gotten. "I should probably catch the last train," I said, half-apologetic.

Fred stood with me, pulling on his coat. "I'll walk you."

"You don't have to do that," I replied, but he was already waiting by the door.

Outside, the city felt different – quieter, softer, as if the night itself had been holding its breath for us. The walk to the train station wasn't long, but it stretched just enough to let the silence settle between us, comfortable and charged.

When we reached the stairs leading down to the platform, I turned to him. "Well… thanks for tonight. I had fun."

Fred smiled, hands shoved in his pockets. "Me too." And there it was again. The way he looked at me, steady and unassuming, like he wasn't in a rush to let the moment end.

He reached a hand out to my face. I noticed it slightly shaking. He carefully brushed a single strand of hair, I haven't even noticed it was in my eyelashes, out of my face.

"Sorry," he murmured, his voice softer now, almost as if he was afraid to break the quiet between us. His hand lingered for half a second before he pulled it back, tucking it into his pocket again. The corner of his mouth twitched into a sheepish smile, and I wondered if his heart was racing as much as mine.

I swallowed, my heart fluttering at the unexpected closeness. "It's okay."

I tried to find something to say, anything to fill the space, but my mind felt blank—too full of the way his touch had made my breath hitch.

The streetlamp above us cast a warm glow, and in its light, he looked almost unsure.

"I should–"

"I want to see you again," he interrupted, his voice gentle but firm.

My breath caught, and for a moment, all I could do was stare at him. He looked so certain, like it wasn't even a question worth hesitating over.

"I mean… if you'd want to," he added, the confidence faltering just slightly.

I couldn't stop the smile that tugged at my lips. "Yeah," I said softly, my pulse quickening. "I think I'd like that."

Fred's face lit up with a grin, one so genuine it made my stomach flip. "Good."

For a moment, we just stood there, neither of us moving. It felt like the kind of moment you didn't want to break, like holding onto it a little longer might make it last forever.

But the distant rumble of the approaching train reminded me that time didn't wait. I shifted, glancing toward the stairs. "I should probably..."

Fred nodded, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. "Yeah." He hesitated, then added, "Text me when you get home?"

Before I could respond, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled receipt from the bar we were just in. He smoothed it out awkwardly, then handed it to me. I took it, unfolding the paper to find his number scrawled across it in slightly messy handwriting.

I smiled, feeling a flutter in my chest. For some reason, this felt like the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me. It meant he’d been thinking about giving me his number back at the bar. "I will."

He stepped back just enough to give me space, his hands back in his coat pockets. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Fred."

I turned and descended the steps, the sound of the train growing louder with each step. At the platform, I glanced back one last time. He was still there at the top of the stairs, silhouetted against the glow of the streetlamp. He raised a hand in a small wave, and I waved back just as the train doors slid open.

As I sank into a seat by the window, the night’s events played over in my head like scenes from a movie, too perfect to feel real. But as the train pulled away, I couldn't stop the smile spreading across my face.

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part 2!! <3

[httpknjoon]

the boy is mine! | myg

plot | that time when rumors about bassist!yoongi went around that popstar!yn cannot really stop herself from addressing it.

w.c | 1.1k

pairing | bass guitarist!yoongi x popstar!reader

genre | enemies to lovers, popstar x bassist

note | slightly angsty, but enjoy!

main masterlist | series masterlist | want to request?

DAY 283: MILAN, ITALY

There is this warmth forming in you, specifically in your face. You tried to ignore it, giving your attention to your phone while you waited for the rehearsals to start.

But in hindsight, you looked irritated, annoyed, and sulking in one corner of the stage. Your left hand is literally gripping on the device while you puffed every minute passes, Everyone around you can feel it, they just won't talk about it while you're still around. Cal, your assistant, has been on her phone since last night to talk with your tour publicist after the news that went around last night. Art stood in front of the band with his arms crossed.

The band members were already in their designated spaces. Akio had her lips pursed as she awkwardly looked back to the rest of the present members. Noah, Fred, and Akio joined in this wordless, eyes-only conversation. Fred shrugged his shoulders. The youngest scratched the back of her head, dumbfounded. Noah sighed, rolling his eyes.

Art spoke again as he pushed back his glasses up his nose, "Where is Yoongi?"

It was only day two after you arrived in Milan from your show in Barcelona when you learned about a piece of news through a fan who saw you while strolling around the city. You just came from a lunch with the other band members except Yoongi, who probably went solo touring around. He didn't really say anything about his itinerary.

"I just have to ask..." the fan who stopped you began after you took a couple of selfies. "Is the rumor true?"

Your eyebrows scrunched together before chuckling, "Hon, I need you to be more specific with the rumor. I have many of them."

The fan embarrassed, laughed before trying not to stutter with her next sentence, "Okay, of course, uhm... Is it true that Yoongi is leaving the tour?"

Your smile almost dropped. There was a brief pause as you still processed the unexpected rumor. But you tried to shield any reaction as you pushed the sunglasses that were covering your eyes.

"Well," you chuckled, more awkward this time as what you just heard was unexpected. "I didn't know that. I'm sure my bassist too. That rumor definitely came from the left field."

You said that sentence like an assurance to yourself even though you have not really talked with Yoongi about that. Hell, you two barely have any serious conversation again. But it didn't feel like he had plans of leaving your band despite being petty and childish around each other most of the time.

The fan went on, "Yoongi was literally seen in Verona yesterday with Kylie."

Every background noise faded for a second. Your throat suddenly felt dry and tight. You feel like clenching your teeth, but you don't want to give any reaction that a fan might notice.

Kylie? Like the pop star, you went head-to-head on for number one on Billboard 200 last year? The one you usually chat with during major music events? She's nice and kind. But why is he with her? In Italy? Are they-

"Girl, let's go."

Thankfully, Noah, who was watching everything happen from your table, got up and tapped on your shoulder. He didn't really hear anything because of the other members talking, but he noticed how your mood shifted. So he knew you need to go.

It was like you were snapped out of your thoughts. You tried to smile at the fan again, maybe too tight, before letting yourself be pulled away by your friend. Fred and Akio followed behind you and Noah, who had his arm clung to yours.

Should I ask Yoongi? Text him? Call him? Fuck, why do I even care? He's my fucking bassist, that's why!

Your brain was swimming in questions and thoughts as you walked on the streets of Milan. But, your head is flying to someone who you heard was in Verona with someone. Noah was obviously trying to distract you as he pulled you from one shop to another. He points to every display you see while talking about how glamorous they are, but you cannot comprehend anything.

"So, what do you think?"

You blinked. Suddenly, you are sitting in front of Noah, who's holding two metal-colored tops, in a boutique. Your eyebrows raised as he waited for you to say something like he asked you something. But you barely registered anything.

"Oh. Uhm... The silver one." you acted like you caught up. But Noah looked at you for a second and shook his head, laughing. Lines formed between your brows, "What?"

"I was asking where should we go after this." He hung the clothes back to the rack before sitting next to you. "What's going on?"

You sighed, looking away before pursing your lips. "Is Yoongi leaving the band?"

For someone who only goes running once a week, Yoongi is still pretty fast with the way he is picking up his pace to get to the stage. He can feel the sweat forming at the edge of his forehead while every staff member who has seen him ever since he arrived quietly stares at him. Their eyes feel heavy on him, but the only reason he can think of is him being extremely late for today's rehearsal.

Yoongi could hear that the rehearsals already started and it was obvious that there was something missing. His chest heaves as he stopped near the entrance to the main stage, where Art and Cal stood.

"Where the hell were you?!"

Unexpectedly, it was Cal who seemed to be more stressed out than her fiance who stood there and simply nodded his chin at him.

"Why were you not in the hotel?!" Cal asked again, more tensed this time.

"I was in another city." Yoongi shortly replied. "I'm really, really sorry. I wasn't able to text, I lost my phone last night when I was with my friend in Ve-"

"Friend? You mean, Kylie?" she cuts him off.

Yoongi, unaware of how your assistant knew, dumbfoundedly nodded his head. He was about to ask but Art finally spoke.

"Just fo inside. We can just talk later."

Yoongi nods, "Okay, thank you. I'm sorry again."

He turned his head down as he made his way inside the arena. It was easy to find you in the center of the stage, lazily dancing while singing. He assumed you were just saving energy for the show later, but when you turned around and saw him. You paused. Your eyes met like magnets and suddenly, it's hard to pull away.

The rehearsal lasted longer than usual due to two main reasons. The first is because of the new changes to your setlist. Second, although no one will say it, it's because of your bassist being an hour late for no reason at all.

When you saw Yoongi standing just below the stage, you automatically stopped. Like you had to make sure that he really came today. Your tensed shoulders dropped slowly as the tightness in your chest loosened. Fuck. It would have been really easy to be mad and confront him in front of everyone right now if only you weren't just so relieved to see him. And if only he hadn't looked hot and sweaty.

You were a bundle of emotions and you felt like a mess. And you didn't like that it's because of the same guy you literally had a fight over water bottles with. He's just standing there, probably dating one of your colleagues, and you're here, having mixed feelings upon seeing him.

"Oh, fuck."

As you are the center of the show, everyone noticed when you stopped moving and decided to stop as well. You were too lost to remember that you have an in-ear microphone just under your lips that caught you cursing very clearly. You gasped as you looked around.

"I-I'm sorry."

Yoongi's eyes widened after you cursed while literally staring at him like he was a ghost. He cannot tell if you were pissed or mad at him when he looked into your eyes, but one thing he can tell. Something switched in you while having quiet eye contact with him.

"Come on!" Noah whispered-shouted at him while Akio signaled him to come up and joined them.

Yoongi nodded and jogged up to the stage and immediately put on his guitar. The rehearsals went on. Yoongi watched you from behind as always, but you never looked at him again. When Yoongi's guitar had an issue, you simply signed with your hand without turning around to him. Avoiding him all over again. He still got to play for an hour before the rehearsals concluded.

"Where were you, man?" Fred was the first to ask while everyone began leaving. Yoongi sees you talk with Cal as you walk out, making his jaw clench as he can feel you actively avoiding him again.

He turned back to his co-members, "I toured around Verona with my old friend-"

"Oh, how long have you been friends with Kylie?" the drummer was quick to ask.

"Huh?" Yoongi's brows scrunched together. "I don't really know her. My old friend is her producer though, he introduced me to her before but we barely talked. Why is everyone asking me about her?"

Yoongi hears a collective gasp from the band. Akio had her hand over her open mouth. Fred looked confused. Noah was quick to recover, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You've literally been in a dating rumor with her since last night," he told him.

Yoongi blinked, confused, "What?"

"Where the hell is your phone? It's everywhere." Akio chimed in.

That's why everyone is staring at me?! There was a sudden realization in Yoongi's head. The weird stares from the staff and Cal's reaction makes more sense.

"I lost it somewhere last night," he replied, still in shock and confusion. And that's why you were avoiding him. "I'm sorry, I need to go talk with YN."

The others didn't even get a chance to respond properly since Yoongi was already running off stage to get to you. He really hates running, but he's been doing it a lot today. But he knows he has to explain himself as soon as possible. He then found you in front of your dressing room, talking with Art about your concerns about the stage. Art notices him quickly and can tell that Yoongi needs something from you, so he wordlessly nods his chin behind you before walking away with Cal.

"Can I help you with anything?"

You tried to act normal because that's what your head is telling you to do. But with all honesty, you felt like your stomach was doing cartwheels over and over again as he stood before you, catching his breath. You wondered why was he breathless.

"Can we talk?" he asked, gulping.

"About what?" you replied unbothered or that was trying to be perceived.

But Yoongi already knows what you are trying to do, so he just went straight to the point. "I am not dating anyone."

A second passed before your right brow raised, "And what do you want me to do about it? Congratulate you?"

Just like your mini, childish banter, you acted sarcastic and you expected Yoongi to maybe fight back. But instead, all you got is him looking at you or maybe your soul. Because you felt like he is reading through you again.

Yoongi knows that you're probably deflecting. You talked about this before, but he wondered if you think he already forgot about it.

"What would you say if I tell you I'm dating someone?" he asked, just out of curiosity, since he knows that you won't really talk seriously with him.

You didn't let his serious tone affect you. You shrugged your shoulders, "Congratulations, I guess."

"Okay." If that is how you want to play this game. Yoongi turned his back.

Getting that unexpected reply, you asked, "What do you mean by that?"

Turning around for the last time, Yoongi shrugged his shoulders, "Okay."

"How's everybody doing tonight?"

In contrast to your mood earlier today and the day before, you asked your fans full of energy and excitement. You were jumping around, dancing, and skipping on stage as you performed your songs along with the band and backup dancers. The fans matched your energy, screaming, even though that is what they have been doing the last hour. You took the time to sip some water and look around the audience and their homemade signs. Your eyes widened as you spotted a particular one.

You put down the water bottle at the edge of the stage before pointing your finger to the fan, "Can I have that?"

The fan excitedly nodded while the others cheered and helped her sign to get to you. One of the guards handed it to you. You immediately pressed the carton sign to your body to hide what was written on it.

"What's your name?" you asked the fan.

She was jumping, "Sammie!"

"Sammie, I think you just made the most relevant sign right now." you chuckled before turning the sign around.

YN PLS MAKE ME UR BASSIST IF YOONGI EVER LEAVES

You posed with it right in front of the camera, making sure that everyone in the arena would see it. Everyone laughed and cheered, including the band members. Yoongi, on the other hand, tries not to show much reaction. But when the camera lands on him, showing him on the big screens, he has a smug smirk on his lips while shaking his head. The arena was filled with cheers when you walked towards him.

"Well, what do you say? Any plans of leaving? Or even moving?" you asked, directly addressing the rumor that played with your emotions since yesterday.

Yoongi, who rarely speaks on stage, shook his head. He leaned closer to your mic, "Never even thought of it."

His voice was deep enough to make you shiver inside. You bite the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from smiling too hard.

"That's your answer, Sammie. Sorry! Not looking for bassist right now. What's mine is mine, I guess."

note | thank you to the anons who requested this song! <3 this turned more angsty than what I expected haha

SERIES TAGLIST

kindly check out my taglist rules on my pinned post :)

@busanbby-jjk @jimingirl95 @treacherqus @jajabro @marnz1990 @ktownshizzle @notarshia @m00njinnie @thelilbutifulthings @tarahardcore @livisdoingfine @jungshaking @eridanus-lynx @enthralled-bandit @goodnight-n-go-home @ronyiboniyy @jimeg629 @lveegsoi @madussthoughts @jalexad @ryryvna @kiki-zb

PERMANENT TAGLIST (CLOSED)

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21 @marblemoonstones

[cherry-pop-elf]

Weasley Siblings Reacting To You Saying You Are Pregnant

Writing Comission’s Are Open

William ‘Bill’

“Excuse me-?” He was left practically speechless, when he picked up the onesie on his bedside table. A little blue thing, with the words To The Moon And Back. He was so full of emotions. Panic, excitement, horror, joy. Would the baby inherit his wolf tendencies? Would something go wrong, because of his bad blood? He was so scared. Would you be in danger, because of him? With his eyes turning to you, and seeing that excited smile, he couldn’t help but calm down. Teddy existed after all, didn’t he? He was as fine as he could be. The idea of holding his own little ball of joy. To see that orange hair, and watch you nurse. “I’m going to be a dad….” He trailed, with a smile. “I’m going to be a dad-“ He repeated, as he would hold the little sleep wear to his chest. Tears ran down his broken cheeks, as he kept reacting it. So full of pride. He’s going to be a dad, with you.

Charlie

“IM GONNA BE A DAD-!” He was screaming, bloody damn murder, as he was running around at the sanctuary. Screaming it with pride, as you chased after him. Just laughing, as the dragons would lift up their heads. “IM A DAD IM A DAD IM A DAD-!” He keeps roaring, as the dragons would tilt their heads. Watching their motherly figure jump for joy. Literally. “Charlie-!” You laughed, as he was just to full of excitement. Laughing, cheering, and crying. That’s when one of the older mothers would grab him by the collar. Yanking him into the air, before plopping him right next to you. As if to convey that he better step up now. That had you laugh, as he pouted at her. “I am I am-!” He said, before he was on his knees. Holding your belly. “I’m gonna be your daddy-!” He squealed, as he kissed it over. All the excitement getting the new borns curious, but those mothers made sure they didn’t get to close. Letting him have his moment. A new baby, to join the herd.

Percy

“You cannot be serious-“ Percy was blinking, as he had hardly taken two steps through the fire place. Just gotten off work, early for once, only to be surprised by you making a baby box. It was meant to be a surprise, and something you would give to him after dinner. Seems like he was still surprised, regardless. “Who had the baby this time-?” He asked, as he would set his belongings where they were designated. That had you snort, as it didn’t quite dawn on him yet. With the fact you didn’t say anything, he turned around. “Honey?” He asked again, as you keep smiling. Slowly, the gears turned, before he was left with his cloak dropped from his hands. It was him. He didn’t expect that. Was like the last one to join the family gang. He couldn’t help his worry. He didn’t exactly grow up to well. He wasn’t to well connected with his family, and only came around when it was almost to late. He didn’t want that to happen to his kid. To have such a divide. You could tell he was worried, and patted the seat next to you. He joined, and you would kiss his head. “Who do you wanna tell first?” You asked, as he held your hand. The name he said, reassured himself that this kid won’t have that tension. Not like what he made. “George is perfect.” Another kiss to his head, as the plans were made. A big and happy family.

Fred

The words barley left your lips, before you were tossed over his shoulder. As quickly as you were tossed, you were soon hearing the noise of the busy shop. "HEY EVERYONE!" He shouted, causing everyone to look up at one of the railings. George as well, with curious eyes all the same. "IM GONNA BE A DAD, AND GEORGE IS GONNA BE A UNCLE!" He cheered, and everyone was a roar of cheers as well. George was quick to drop what he was doing, and soon aparate next to him. "Put your damn mother to be down!" He laughed, as Fred finally set you down. All three of you in a warm, and tight, hug. "i'm gonna be a uncle!" George cheered, as you laughed. You had to wonder who was more excited for the baby. Your husband, or his twin? It did not matter to you. They were both so happy for this wonderful news. They just could not let you go, as they were just laughing in joy. Children. More children. What could make them hate that?

George

"Pregnant?" He whispered, as he almost looked like he would burst into tears. "I heard that right, didn't I?" He asked, as he felt over the scarred skin that was once his ear. You nodded, before you held up your hands. You could not grasp sign as fast as George did, but you knew the alphabet. P.R.E.G.N.A.N.T. Pregnant. He was soon tackling you, as he was sobbing into your shoulder. "I'm going to be a dad-" He sobbed, as you rubbed his back. Some joy, in his world of darkness. You had fallen pregnant, not long after the death of Voldemort. Made senes, since the stress was gone. For you, anyway. "Jellybean....If its a boy...." You would peck his cheek, and nod. "A boy, Fred. If a girl, Fredrick works as a beautiful middle name." You comforted, getting another hiccup in return. The world was moving on, but the world will not be forgotten. Fred lived on, and hes going to be your tiny terror. How excited you two were, for it.

Ron

“No-“ He gasped. “Really-? No-! Are you-? No-“ Was like he was trapped in a loop, as he now paced around your living room. Looking at you, before looking at his feet, then repeating. As if every time he made a full pace, he turned. You had to admit, was pretty adorable. Figured news like this would make your Auror husband short circuit a bit. You let him pace, with a smile. Just grinning, as he was trying to register it all. Suppose work fatigue makes anyone’s brain mush. Especially a job like his. You would watch him pace, until his brain was finally registering that YEP you are indeed pregnant. “Bloody hell….IM GONNA BE A DAD-!” His face was beaming, before he was stealing you into his arms. He was exhausted, but not tired enough to not huggle and cuddle. “We need to tells ‘Mione and Harry-! Oh those two will be so excited-!” He beams. Uncle Harry and Auntie Hermione. He was going to crush you, you swore, if he kept being so happy. “Blimey, guess that over time is finally coming in handy.” You hated his over time, but he had a point. Now you two had a secure start. That had you relax a little more. “Hope Harry doesn’t mine if I slow down on my career a little.” You would stroke his hair, and pecked his cheek. “He’s Harry. I’m doubtful he will be made you want to not be dead on a side walk, and leave me a single parent.” You snorted. “Yeah, probably doesn’t want history repeating.” Morbid, but point proven. “Gonna be a dad-“ He kept smiling, as he pulled you into his lap. Unable to stop holding you close. He was so happy, and you were all the same. Your family.

Ginny

“SHUT UP-!” She gasped, as she was looking towards the Quidditch stands. No way was she seeing what she was seeing. Your wife just won the first game of the season, and she was looking straight at you. In the VIP seats, and holding up a sign. I’m Pregnant. In bold and colorful letters, so she couldn’t miss it. “NO WAY-!” Ginny kept screaming, as her team mates looked over, as they were shaking hands with the enemy team. “What’s up?!” One of them asked. “IM GONNA BE A MUM-!” Ginny cheered, as that had all the broomstick flyers stare towards where her eyes looked. “CONGRATS-!” The enemy seeker said, with a clap. Good sportsmanship. “IM GONNA BE A MUM-!” What a way to start her quidditch season. The first win, and the fact she’s going to be a mom. “Well, go and fly over-!” A team mate smacked her back, and she wasn’t needed to told twice. The fans went nuts, with famous Quidditch Star Ginny Weasley was flying towards the stands. Right to you, and nearly tackling you down in the box. The fellow VIP seaters clapped for you two, as she planted a big kiss on you. Tears in the corner of her eyes, as she hugged you tightly. “You knew I would win, didn’t you?” She asked. “No, but I mean what better way to recover from a loss?” That had her smack your shoulder, but she was soon was wiping her eyes on her gloves. “Oh fuck, look at me. Crying like a girl-“ She joked, as she sniffled. She was so happy, and you were as well. She just couldn’t contain her joy. Her, you, and your own little precious snitch. What more could a girl want?

[kmt123whatsthetea]

The art of having kids

Fred Weasley x reader x George Weasley

Requested by: @jelloangela

Request gist: “Overstimulation and breeding with the Weasley twins”

A/N: Thanks for the request! When it comes to the twins, magic must be real cause I'm under some sort of horny spell lol. I don't know why this one took me so long, writer's block has me in a choke hold.

T/W: Breeding, Overstimulation, Praise, sweet nicknames (I went for one's different than usual), a teeny bit of nipple play (thought I’d add a warning anyway), no aftercare

The day had been such a drag at the joke shop. Normal customers looking at the same old stock. The twins had been at the till all day just people watching. At around 4pm, a couple came in with a small boy. The boy looked so excited by all the colours and noises that the shop provided. He was giggling and touching everything in his reach. His parents trailed behind him, putting everything back in its designated place.

Normally, customers touching things and putting them down would be one of the worst things a retail worker could come across, but this kid was so adorable. After the small family had left, the twins turned to each other. The shared look only meant one thing, you were in for a rough night.

____________________________________________

You had been upstairs in the flat above the shop preparing dinner for when the twins locked up. At first when you hear them running up the stairs, you thought something bad was happening, like a fire or a howler from Mrs Weasley.

The twins practically burst through the door and pulled you out of the kitchen, directing you towards the bedroom before you could even ask questions. Fred was in front of you pulling you by yours hands while George was behind you pushing you with eager hands on your waist. They often got like this, where they’d just ambush you and start tugging at whatever you were wearing.

Fred sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you to stand between his legs while George trapped you there with his slim body. Fred tugged your jeans down along with your underwear, George pulled your blouse up. Both twins worked towards the same thing, getting you as bare as possible, as quick as possible.

When they achieved their goal of getting you naked, they both watched you the same way a hungry owl would watch a lost baby bunny, just waiting to strike with sharp talons. Fred stood up, pushing you onto the bed in his place. The boys stripped off their suits until they both stood before you in their underwear.

“Isn’t our girl so pretty and perfect, Georgie? She’s gonna make an amazing mother”

Fred’s words caught you off guard a little, but didn't put you off. George sat next to you and tutted at his brother.

“Freddie, you’re gonna scare our pretty girl away. How does it sound, angel? Being a pretty mummy for our babies? We’ll keep you so full of our cum until it takes, until you become so round and swollen. Just think of how perfect you’d look with a swollen tummy all because of us”.

George always had a way of talking you into kinky situations. Fred has always been the one to jump at the chance to try a new kink, whereas George would sit you down and discuss it first. He’d give you those puppy dog eyes that only he could and you’d be nodding, eager to try it. And nothing changed this time around.

You nodded, giving the boys the green light to do whatever they pleased. George's lips connected with your neck while Fred snaked his hands to your thighs, pulling your legs around his hips. Fred moved his tip up and down your slit, bumping it against your clit in an effort to get you wetter. George left marks along the skin of your neck while his hand made its way to rub over your nipples, which were slowly hardening beneath his rough fingers.

When Fred felt you were wet enough, he pushed in. Even when he was balls deep, he didn't stop to let you adjust. Fred had always claimed that you never needed to adjust, because they fucked you on a daily basis.

His thrusts were slow but deep, wanting to keep as much on his cock buried inside of you as he could. His hands gripped your hips, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. George's lips moved along your neck and up to your ear.

“Does he feel good, baby? You like having him deep in that little pussy? I bet you do. We’re gonna take care of you. Can’t have the mother of our children lifting a finger, now can we?”

The thought of the twins getting you pregnant caused a moan to slip past your lips. Both boys knew that they had won you over. They'd keep you bed bound until there was a positive pregnancy test if they had to. Fred’s thrusts slowly got quicker, while his hand moved to rub at your clit. He always did that when he got the chance to fuck you, loving the way your walls squeezed around him.

Fred’s eyes locked onto yours, his breath coming out in groans.

“You wanna cum, pretty baby? Get my cock all nice and wet and I’ll fuck a baby into you”

His fingers got quicker circling your clit, and then it hit you. Your walls squeezed Freds cock as you came. George kept his hand busy with your tits while whispering sweet words in your ear. But Fred didn’t slow down. His thrusts stayed the same rhythm, which eventually led to your moans turning to whines and your legs trying to close around his waist to stop the onslaught of pleasure. Fred held your thighs apart, while George directed your attention onto him with his voice.

“Sweet girl, if you want Freddie to fill you up, you need to stay still. Don't want him to pull out, do you?”

Although the pain was intertwined with the pleasure, you still shook your head at the very thought of him pulling out. Fred kept going, slowly bringing you to the brink again. All it took was another orgasm from you to make his thrusts turn sloppy and his cock pulse. With a low groan, he buried himself deep within your pussy, making sure every last drop of his cum would stay inside of you where it belonged. After catching his breath, he turned to George.

“Get up here, it’s gonna all leak out when I pull out”

George got up from his place next to you to stand beside his brother. As soon as Fred pulled out, George pushed in. Fred sat next to you, trying to gently shush the whimper that threatened to escape your lips. George slowly built up to a quick pace, his eyebrows furrowing at Fred who was rubbing your clit.

“Fred, she can't handle more. I bet in this state, she couldn't even tell us apart”.

George was always the caregiver. While Fred insisted that you could take more, always drawing another orgasm from you, George was the one who would be reluctant to push you. It wasn't that he didn't like seeing you in such a blissed out state or didn't think you could handle an orgasm or two, he didn’t like those little pouts and whimpers when the pleasure morphed with pain.

“Oh come on Georgie, our girl can handle it. She’s not made of glass, she can take it. Can’t you, sweets?”

Even after a couple of orgasms, you weren’t completely in subspace. You nodded at George, hoping to ease his worries.

“Please Georgie, I can take it. I want you to fill me up. Please Georgie?”

How could George ever say no to you?

His thrusts got rougher, desperate to give you what you asked. That building pleasure was quick to release, giving you your third orgasm of the night. George kept thrusting, although somewhat reluctantly. When he felt his own orgasm approaching, his thrusts got more manic. Soon, his cum spurted inside of you, mixing with both your own juices and Fred cum. George slowly pulled out, while Fred picked your underwear up and slipped in back up your legs. He was determined to keep it all inside you.

Even if it didn't take the first time, you could always try again the next night.

[dr-litcrit]

The Betrayal of Nick Blaine: How The Handmaid’s Tale Undermined Its Own Storytelling

As a university professor with a PhD in literature, I’ve dedicated my career to analyzing narrative structure, character arcs, and thematic coherence. And I can say this with full confidence: what the writers did to Nick Blaine in Season 6 of The Handmaid’s Tale was not bold, subversive, or daring — it was a narrative betrayal.

And just to be clear: I’m not a shipper. I didn’t love Nick because of his romance with June. I appreciated him as a deeply layered character — one whose quiet resistance stood in stark contrast to the more performative defiance of others. Not every act of heroism is loud. Nick’s resistance began long before June entered his life, and for several seasons, the writers honored that. Until they didn’t.

Nick represented something rare on television: a portrayal of a man caught inside a brutal system, not loud or showy, but quietly working to survive while retaining his humanity and fighting back in the ways available to him. His arc was thoughtful, subtle, and realistic — and it offered a necessary counterpoint to the broader, more visible forms of rebellion in the series. That narrative was coherent, moving, and consistent — until Season 6 shattered it for the sake of shock value.

A HISTORY OF RESISTANCE — CAREFULLY BUILT

Nick’s arc was never centered on power. In fact, he resisted it. He smuggled contraband to Jezebels, joined the Eyes in order to report predatory Commanders (after Waterford’s first Handmaid died by suicide), and helped take down Commander Guthrie, one of the architects of the Handmaid system. These weren’t incidental moments — they were intentional signs of internal rebellion that the show carefully planted over multiple seasons.

After meeting June, Nick continued to act strategically. He was the one who secretly smuggled the Jezebels letters out of Gilead and delivered them to Luke in Canada — an act that directly led to Canada refusing to sign a diplomatic agreement with Gilead. And crucially, Nick did this without June asking him to or even knowing about it. At the time, June was in a terrible mental state, so desperate that she tried to burn the letters in the sink. Nick hid the Jezebels letters in his apartment before Eden moved in — making it all the more risky once she arrived and began snooping through his things.

His promotions weren’t rewards but consequences. Serena arranged his marriage to Eden out of jealousy. His rise to Commander wasn’t a reward for loyalty — it was a consequence of his decision to pull a gun on Fred to help June and Nicole escape, as even Joseph Fiennes has confirmed in interviews. Even his marriage to Rose served a clear purpose: to get closer to Hannah’s captors, the Mackenzies, and position himself in a place where he could act.

Importantly, the Marthas in Season 4 speak to Nick like an equal, not like someone they fear. One even asks him, “Is this business as usual?” — a small but significant clue that Nick had been working with the Martha network for a long time. This wasn’t a sudden shift. His ties to the resistance were consistent and deliberate. Even other Commanders call him a “boy scout” in Season 6 — a nickname that reflects his perceived moral rigidity and difference from the men around him.

THE HINTS THE WRITERS LEFT — THEN ABANDONED

Throughout the first five seasons of The Handmaid’s Tale, the writers laid down clear and deliberate hints that Nick was meant to function as a quiet resistor embedded within Gilead’s system. His actions were not accidental or incidental — they were purposeful choices, woven into the narrative to build a coherent, morally complex character.

Another major hint came in a cut scene from Season 3 — one that never made it to the screen but is preserved in the official scripts. In that scene, Nick is shown at the front during Gilead’s military campaigns, standing alongside Commander Mackenzie. This wasn’t designed to show him as complicit — quite the opposite. It placed him close to Hannah’s captors, setting up his position to act as an inside link, a person who might eventually help June find and rescue her daughter. This scene reinforced what the show had been quietly building all along: Nick was where he needed to be, playing the long game.

His abrupt marriage to Rose further aligned with this arc. It wasn’t a romantic choice or a reward — it was another calculated move to get close to the Mackenzie family. The fact that we saw him and Rose at dinners with them in Season 5 wasn’t coincidence — it was strategy. Nick was positioning himself exactly where he could observe, influence, and perhaps, one day, act.

And here’s something telling: in his apartment above the garage, we see Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez. That’s not just a random prop. It’s a novel about enduring love and resistance in the face of cruelty and loss. The writers deliberately placed that book in his apartment. It was a clear, intentional signal: Nick was written as someone with inner depth, quiet resistance, and a poetic soul. Bruce Miller says in The Art and Making of The Handmaid’s Tale:

“We were very careful about what books he reads, what books he has, and where we got them.” (p. 34)

And yet, all of these threads were dropped in Season 6. The Mackenzies vanished from the story. The careful groundwork that had been laid for Nick’s internal resistance arc was erased, discarded in favor of a last-minute, illogical narrative pivot that portrayed him as complicit without reckoning with everything the show had previously told us about him.

What’s worse, both the show’s own deleted material and the actual scenes up until Season 6 make it clear that Nick was never meant to be the villain they later tried to paint him as.The official scripts and cut scenes show him as a man horrified by the violence of Gilead’s rise, caught in it but never fully part of it. These clues weren’t just abandoned — they were actively contradicted in a way that undermined both the character and the larger themes of the series.

WHAT THE CREATORS & ACTOR SAY

Before Season 6, both the creators of The Handmaid’s Tale and actor Max Minghella consistently described Nick as a fundamentally decent man — a character carefully constructed to be morally complex, but not complicit in Gilead’s ideology.

Max Minghella, who portrayed Nick, made his view of the character clear as early as 2018:

“I trust Nick. I stand by him … at the root of Nick, he’s a good person. Whether he always does the right thing is a different question.” (Glamour, 2018)

Minghella recognized Nick as morally conflicted but ultimately decent — a man navigating impossible choices in an impossible world. His performance was built on the understanding that Nick was not a villain, but a man trapped by circumstances beyond his control, revealing himself through small gestures and quiet decisions.

In 2022, at the end of Season 5, showrunner Bruce Miller reinforced this characterization:

“I know what we’re setting up for Nick, which is exactly what you think it is. He’s the guy who we think he is. And even if he tries not to be the guy he thinks he is, it’s either going to be very uncomfortable for him like he is with Rose, or it’s going to fail and he’s going to end up not being able to stop himself from punching Lawrence. I think the nice thing is he follows his heart, and the scary thing is he follows his heart.” (Deadline, June 2022)

This statement from Miller is especially revealing in light of what ultimately unfolded in Season 6. His words confirm that as of the end of Season 5, Nick was intended to remain exactly as the audience understood him: a man driven by emotion, not ideology; someone uncomfortable when forced to conform; someone who couldn’t suppress his decency even when doing so put him at risk.

However, after Season 6, Miller’s commentary took on a different tone, attempting to reframe Nick’s arc:

“Nick isn’t choosing Gilead as a sudden endorsement of its beliefs and practices, but rather a belief that there’s no beating this regime; it’s better to protect yourself by moving with it rather than against it.” “Nick was trying to stay out of trouble … thinking about how to keep himself safe for his family.” (TV Insider, 2025)

These post-finale remarks sought to justify Nick’s sudden portrayal as complicit in Gilead’s horrors, but they stand in stark contrast to Miller’s earlier statements. What happened in Season 6 was not the culmination of a long-planned character journey; it was a last-minute pivot that abandoned Nick’s carefully built arc. His proximity to Gilead’s power structures had always been framed as about survival, not ideology — a distinction that Season 6 discarded.

Even Minghella was surprised by the shift in Nick’s moral framing, as he revealed in an interview with ELLE in 2025:

“Transparently, I was surprised … I thought it was a really bold and interesting choice to bring that story into this more nihilistic viewpoint.” “Maybe I hadn’t been playing this character correctly the whole time … there was probably a darker side to him that I didn’t realize was there.”

When even the actor playing Nick for six seasons no longer recognizes the character he’s portraying, it highlights how drastic and jarring the shift in writing was. Nick’s final arc wasn’t the result of a gradual, coherent evolution — it was a sudden, dissonant rewrite that undermined everything the audience, and even the show’s own team, had come to understand about him.

Where once the creators framed Nick as a survivor and quiet resistor, they later attempted to retroactively paint him as complicit. This contradiction is not just a failure of internal consistency — it’s a betrayal of the character they themselves had worked so carefully to build.

A SHIFT BEHIND THE SCENES — AND ONSCREEN

The betrayal of Nick’s arc didn’t happen in a vacuum. It was the result of major shifts behind the scenes that dramatically altered the show’s direction and tone, particularly in Season 6.

After Season 4, there were significant changes in the writers’ room, and after Season 5, Bruce Miller — who had been the showrunner and primary architect of the series’ complex moral landscape — stepped down as showrunner to focus on developing The Testaments adaptation. What followed was a tonal and narrative shift that was most starkly reflected in the treatment of Nick’s character.

In Season 5, the writers appeared to be setting up Commander Lawrence as the morally compromised figure whose choices would catch up with him. Lawrence, after all, had designed Gilead. He was one of its architects — a man who wielded enormous power and made decisions that cost thousands of lives, including the bombing of Chicago and the systemic torture of women. He was unwilling to help June find Hannah, even when she begged him, and he stood by as Gilead shot down American planes attempting to raid Hannah’s school. He didn’t intervene to stop this act of brutality, just as he never truly opposed the suggestions of other Commanders to have June killed when she became too much of a threat. But reportedly, Bradley Whitford — who plays Lawrence — pushed back against having his character face the full consequences of those choices.

So what did the writers do instead? They redirected that arc onto Nick. Rather than grappling with the moral failings of Gilead’s true architects, the show chose to scapegoat the one male character who had consistently resisted, quietly and at great personal risk, from the inside.

The result was a jarring pivot in Season 6, where Nick was denied the nuance and complexity afforded to characters like Serena, Lydia, Lawrence, and even Naomi Putnam. Naomi, a character who had benefitted enormously from Gilead’s brutal hierarchy and who had always relished her privileged position, was suddenly handed a redemption arc without narrative justification. Her decision to give Charlotte to Janine came out of nowhere, contradicting everything we had seen of her character before.

Meanwhile, Nick — who had quietly resisted for years, who had risked his life for June, Nicole, and the resistance — was given no such grace. His entire arc was collapsed into a simplistic and inconsistent portrayal of complicity, as if all his sacrifices and small acts of rebellion had never happened.

The complexity that had once made The Handmaid’s Tale so compelling was flattened in favor of a reductive, black-and-white view of its characters — one that betrayed both Nick and the show’s own core themes.

THE GASLIGHTING OF FANS

To make matters worse, in the wake of justified fan backlash over the abrupt and illogical rewriting of Nick’s character, the public statements from the show’s creators, writers, directors, and even lead actor felt like gaslighting. Rather than acknowledging the inconsistency or taking responsibility for the narrative pivot, they shifted blame onto the audience — particularly the female fans who had thoughtfully engaged with Nick’s arc for years.

The writers claimed that viewers misunderstood Nick because “we don’t see 95% of the things Nick does in Gilead.” This was offered as an explanation for why fans were supposedly confused — suggesting that any contradictions in Nick’s character came not from inconsistent storytelling, but from unseen off-screen actions. The writers also implied that fans had misjudged Nick because they saw him primarily through June’s eyes, and that her love for him clouded both her perception and, by extension, that of the audience. This framing felt deeply patronizing. It reduced thoughtful, critical engagement with the character to the idea that fans (especially women) were simply too emotionally attached to see the truth. The creative team further argued that Nick had plenty of chances to leave Gilead but chose not to, reinforcing their revisionist narrative. What makes this claim especially disingenuous is that the show itself repeatedly demonstrated how difficult, if not impossible, it was to leave Gilead. Even Lawrence — a man with immense power — tried to leave in Season 3 and couldn’t. To suggest that Nick could have simply walked away contradicts the very world-building the writers established.

And then Eric Tuchman went on to claim:

“Even though Nick is a wonderful savior and protector for June and Max Minghella is an incredibly charismatic actor with wonderful chemistry with Elisabeth Moss, Nick has a life beyond June in Gilead. We’ve known since Season 1 he was an Eye, as well as a driver. The Swiss didn’t want to talk to Nick because he was a war criminal and couldn’t be trusted. Serena told June, ‘Didn’t Nick tell you what he did? To help create Gilead?’ — and it was something ominous. June chose not to ask any further questions. We know that he bombed Chicago and a lot of innocent people were killed — June and Janine were there. Yes, he was following orders, but Nick has always been a fully willing participant in Gilead. He’s always embraced Gilead. The only times he ever helped the resistance were because of his connection to June. She has been his beacon to do the right thing. Nick’s betrayal was proof he wasn’t really part of the resistance.” (Cast Q&A, @handmaidsonhulu on Threads, 2025)

But these statements are deeply misleading. They ignore what the actual canon of the show established and contradict the very material the writers originally produced. The Swiss refused to talk to Nick not because of war crimes, but because of optics and politics — as shown in official deleted scenes and the scripts archived at the Writers Guild. In those cut scenes, Nick is portrayed during the rise of Gilead not as a war criminal, but as a minor guard, visibly horrified, described as “looking sick” at the violence unfolding around him. When a comrade is killed, Nick fires back “out of instinct” — hardly the mark of a man shaping or embracing the regime.

Another scene — one that did air — shows Nick returning a salute from Gilead troops. In the official script, this moment is described with a crucial note: Nick is “hating all the choices that led him here.” His internal conflict is explicitly spelled out, revealing that even in this small gesture of outward compliance, he is burdened by regret and trapped by circumstances. This wasn’t a man embracing Gilead’s ideology. It was a man caught in a web he couldn’t easily escape, trying to survive while carrying the weight of every decision that brought him to that point.

Bruce Miller himself confirmed that Serena’s ominous comment to June about Nick’s role in creating Gilead was a lie, meant to hurt her emotionally. And we know from canon that Nick objected to bombing Chicago, but didn’t have the power to stop it.

Director Daina Reid added fuel to the fire, directly targeting women in the fandom. In her Eyes on Gilead podcast interview, she said she “doesn’t understand these women who still defend Nick.” She went even further, claiming that viewers “invent scenes” to justify Nick’s actions — as if fans who had paid close attention to his arc were simply imagining things to excuse him. In doing so, she dismissed female fans specifically — implying that their continued support for Nick was irrational or misguided, and reducing thoughtful engagement with the character to naive emotionalism. This wasn’t just dismissive; it was a troubling attack on a loyal, thoughtful fanbase that had engaged deeply with the show’s themes of resistance, complicity, and survival.

Even Elisabeth Moss, who plays June, contributed to this gaslighting. In interviews, she misremembered key parts of the story — for instance, forgetting that Eden suspected Nick’s lack of sexual interest in her and feared he might be a gender traitor. This was a significant part of Eden’s arc, yet Moss appeared unaware of it, undermining her credibility when discussing Nick and June’s relationship. Moss also insisted in interviews that June “absolutely did not want Nick to die,” while simultaneously suggesting that June could never forgive Nick for his so-called betrayal — despite the fact that if Nick hadn’t made that difficult choice in the moment, he would have died on the spot. The logic simply doesn’t hold: how can June not want him dead but also not forgive him for the very act that saved his life?

If we’re now expected to view Nick as a villain based on things we never saw, it’s not the audience inventing scenes — it’s the creators retroactively rewriting them. That’s not a failure of interpretation on the part of the fans; it’s a failure of storytelling on the part of the writers.

Adding to the irony, Elisabeth Moss recently explained in interviews that in respecting the book, they wanted to preserve a sense of open-endedness — to “keep a lot of loose ends” as the novel itself ends on a cliffhanger. Yet in doing so, they chose to alter one of the most crucial threads from the book: Nick’s arc. Adding to this contradiction, Bruce Miller himself asserted:

“I think the series has been good in large part because I chose to follow the story and tonal spirit of the novel as much as possible.” (Deadline, 2025)

If preserving the spirit of the book was truly the goal, they would have honored Nick’s role as Atwood envisioned it: a symbol of survival, moral conflict, and quiet rebellion.

What’s most telling is how drastically the messaging from the creative team has shifted. The Nick who was once described by Bruce Miller as a man of survival instincts, not ideology — a man navigating impossible circumstances while trying to protect his family — was suddenly reframed post-Season 6 as a willing and eager participant in Gilead’s horrors. This contradiction not only betrayed Nick’s character but also undermined the integrity of the show’s moral universe.

ATWOOD’S VISION, THE BOOKS, AND THE DANGER OF THIS REWRITE

Resistance from within is a hallmark of dystopian literature. From 1984 to The Hunger Games, these narratives often explore how individuals embedded in oppressive systems work quietly, strategically, and at great personal risk to undermine them. These characters are complex, morally ambiguous, and realistic — because real-world resistance is rarely loud or simple. The Handmaid’s Tale, as originally written by Margaret Atwood, understood this nuance, and Nick Blaine was designed to embody it.

Atwood herself envisioned Nick as a figure of internal dissent — a man trapped by circumstances, but capable of moral clarity and quiet rebellion. In The Testaments, set fifteen years after the events of The Handmaid’s Tale, Nick is still alive, still inside Gilead, and still working as part of the underground resistance. We see him reunite with Nicole, the daughter he risked everything to save, and we see that his arc was meant to reflect the endurance of hope and the power of resistance that survives even in the darkest places.

The show, for five seasons, respected this vision. Nick stayed in Gilead because that was his purpose — to help destroy it from within. His positioning near Hannah’s captors reinforced his role as an inside man. The writers kept him in Gilead because he was meant to be there, playing the long game. Until Tuchman and Chang decided they knew better than Atwood and discarded this crucial thread.

Atwood has been outspoken in her view that dystopian systems like Gilead harm everyone — men and women alike. As she has said:

“Patriarchy hurts men too. Totalitarianism hurts everyone — men and women alike.” (CBC, 2017)

And on feminism:

“Feminism is not about demonizing men. It’s about working with men so that everyone has the same rights.” (New York Times, 2018)

The show’s final season abandoned this fundamental ethos. Instead of portraying the complexities of complicity and resistance across genders, it simplified its moral world: all Commanders were framed as irredeemable, while even characters like Naomi Putnam — who had thrived under Gilead’s brutality — were suddenly offered redemption with no coherent justification. This flattening of moral nuance betrayed the depth and realism that had defined the show’s earlier seasons.

By erasing Nick’s internal resistance arc, the show not only disrespected Atwood’s source material but also weakened its own critique of authoritarianism. The danger of this rewrite isn’t just that it harmed a character — it’s that it undermined the very lessons dystopian literature is meant to teach us. It replaced complex truths about power, survival, and quiet resistance with simplistic, black-and-white moral judgments that serve neither feminism nor thoughtful storytelling.

Nick’s character was supposed to remind us that even those caught inside the machinery of oppression can still fight back in their own way. Erasing that lesson robbed the audience of hope — the most vital tool dystopian fiction can offer.

NICK’S ATTRACTIVENESS AND THE MISOGYNY BEHIND THE CRITICISM

One of the most troubling aspects of the backlash against Nick’s character — and against the fans who continue to care for him — is the way his physical attractiveness has been weaponized as a reason to dismiss thoughtful engagement with his arc. Critics, including members of the show’s creative team, have implied that fans (especially women) only care about Nick because of his looks — as if audiences are too shallow or simple to appreciate deeper qualities.

Disturbingly, this attitude wasn’t just reflected in off-screen commentary. It became embedded in the writing of the final season itself. After five seasons in which no character ever explicitly commented on Nick’s appearance, Season 6 abruptly shifted focus, framing his physical attractiveness as the defining reason June loved him. For the first time, June says that she would have noticed Nick even if he were bagging groceries or driving for Uber because he was very handsome. Moira joins in, comparing Nick’s looks to Rihanna’s and rating his hotness as if she were judging a celebrity. Even Lawrence remarks that June was “swept away” by Nick’s “smothering looks.”

This was no accident. The writers deliberately chose to center Nick’s attractiveness in a way they had never done before — as if to validate their own revisionist narrative that June’s love for Nick was shallow, and that fans’ attachment to him was based only on surface-level traits. In doing so, they reduced what had been a deeply layered, emotionally rich relationship to a matter of lust and superficiality — diminishing not only Nick’s character, but June’s as well.

As brilliantly articulated in the Above the Garage podcast’s cathartic essay on Nick:

“Nick’s physical attractiveness has nothing to do with the reason we love his character. Women are not as simple and shallow as you’re making them out to be. No matter how someone may try to shame you, it is not antifeminist to believe in, and care about, romantic love. Our protagonist herself has said, many times, that it is for love that she lives. Love is empowering, and we thought that was a message the show understood.”

What Nick represents is not some idealized, flawless hero. No one who values Nick as a character denies his flaws or excuses his moments of complicity. What Nick offers is a vision of the human capacity for joy, tenderness, and compassion in the bleakest circumstances. His quiet support of June, his ability to love and be loved amid horror, reflects the reality that even in war, oppression, and captivity, people have found ways to fall in love, to marry, to create art, to dream of a better world. Nick’s story was an opportunity to show how resistance can be sustained not just through defiance, but through humanity and connection.

The suggestion that shipping Nick and June, or simply caring about Nick as a character, is somehow naive or antifeminist, fundamentally misunderstands the complexity of these relationships. As the essay points out, the show could have leaned into Nick and June’s profound connection — a connection that empowered June, supported her agency, and could have stood as one of television’s greatest romances, without undermining the power of her friendships or her other relationships. Life is not either/or. Women can value deep friendships and romantic love. The audience can appreciate both without one diminishing the other.

Finally, it’s important to call out the hypocrisy in how romantic love is treated. As the essay puts it: “You know who else thought romantic love was naive and silly? Our old friend, Fred Waterford. May he rest in peace.”

Dismissing viewers who value love and connection as naive is not progressive — it echoes the mindset of the very villains the story sought to critique. It is not antifeminist to care about love, or to see beauty and strength in a character who represents its survival under tyranny. And it is certainly not a weakness or character flaw to find meaning in these narratives.

THE DANGEROUS MISLABELING: NICK AS A “NAZI”

One of the most disturbing narrative choices in Season 6 was the decision to have multiple characters — including June’s mother, Holly, and Luke — refer to Nick as a “Nazi.” This label was not used in earlier seasons, despite Nick’s long-standing position within Gilead’s structures. It was introduced only in Season 6, coinciding with the writers’ abrupt pivot toward framing Nick as complicit and irredeemable.

The comparison is not only morally and historically inaccurate — it is dangerous. Nick is not portrayed as an architect of genocide, nor as a willing enforcer of Gilead’s ideology. As the show itself spent five seasons establishing, Nick is a survivor — a man who joined the Eyes not to impose tyranny, but to report on and take down predatory Commanders after witnessing the suicide of Waterford’s first Handmaid. He smuggled contraband, helped the resistance, facilitated June’s and Nicole’s escape, and positioned himself near Hannah’s captors in hopes of aiding in her rescue. These are not the actions of a true believer in the system; they are the actions of a man trapped within it, trying to undermine it where he can.

Calling Nick a Nazi collapses the moral complexity that The Handmaid’s Tale once prided itself on. It flattens the nuances of complicity, survival, and resistance into simplistic, black-and-white thinking that does a disservice not only to Nick’s character but to the audience’s understanding of history. Gilead is a fictional regime meant to reflect elements of real-world authoritarianism, but equating every man in a uniform with a Nazi trivializes both the horrors of the Holocaust and the lived realities of people trapped within oppressive systems who did not have the power to change them, but found small, courageous ways to resist.

It’s also worth noting that the writers making these choices surely have not lived under totalitarian regimes themselves — which cannot be said about many of the show’s viewers. For those who have experienced or have family histories marked by real-world authoritarian rule, these labels are not just inaccurate; they are deeply offensive and reflect a dangerous misunderstanding of what life under such regimes actually entails.

June’s mother’s use of the term might be explained by her extremism and ideological rigidity — but when Luke adopts the same language, it becomes clear that the writers themselves wanted to frame Nick through this lens, erasing the character they had spent five seasons building. This lazy labeling serves neither history, feminism, nor good storytelling. It reduces complex questions about survival, complicity, and moral ambiguity to cheap, inflammatory rhetoric — the opposite of what dystopian fiction is meant to encourage us to grapple with

WHY THIS MATTERS

Nick didn’t need a heroic ending. But he deserved a consistent one. His arc represented a type of resistance that is rarely shown on screen: strategic, quiet, and deeply human. Nick’s story gave voice to the reality that not all acts of rebellion are loud, and not all heroes stand on podiums. His form of dissent — subtle, calculated, often invisible — was no less important than June’s louder, more visible defiance. In fact, it reflected the kind of resistance that most people caught inside authoritarian regimes actually engage in: the quiet, careful acts that chip away at power without drawing lethal attention.

More than that, Nick was the show’s most realistic character. He was an ordinary man swept up by the rise of Gilead — lured into the Sons of Jacob not out of malice or ideology, but because of the brutal socio-economic conditions that preceded Gilead’s rise. Like many who find themselves caught in the machinery of authoritarian systems, Nick became increasingly trapped as the years passed. But crucially, Nick almost immediately saw Gilead for what it was. He recognized the horror. And despite the danger, he chose to resist in the ways available to him — quietly, strategically, and at great personal cost.

We needed that Nick. His arc was supposed to remind us that even those inside the system, even those who have made mistakes, can choose to act with compassion, courage, and moral clarity. His story offered a rare and vital kind of hope: that decency can survive in the darkest of places, and that ordinary people can make extraordinary choices even when the odds are against them.

In the difficult times we live in, as extremism and authoritarianism rise in the real world, Nick’s story could have served as a reminder of the importance of quiet resistance — of the fact that the fight against oppression doesn’t always look like a revolution, but can begin with small, courageous acts.

By collapsing his arc into a simplistic tale of complicity, the writers not only betrayed Nick as a character but stripped the audience of that hope. What happened to him wasn’t just a sad ending. It was bad writing. And it was a missed opportunity — a failure to honor both the character they had built and the powerful tradition of resistance that dystopian fiction exists to celebrate.

[marshvlovestv]

Oh oh oh, so I've talked before about how incredible it is to see how Double Fine matured in its handling of neurodivergence in the fifteen years between Psychonauts 1 and 2, but you know what else is addressed more sensitively in Psychonauts 2?

War.

The first game talks about war a weird amount, for it not really being the thing that the game is about, and it's all through the lens of insecure dudes in military cosplay (Fred I still love you the most but it had to be said). Oleander got rejected from every branch and now he's made this military fantasyland his whole personality, acting like a drill sergeant around the kids and dreaming up horrible superweapons, and all the while his construct in Lungfishopolis proves he doesn't really understand how the Navy works or how a revolution against the military complex would actually look. (Aside, I still find it very funny that Psychonauts 2 establishes that designing superweapons is just something he does all the time, even when he's good, and Hollis's austerity is the only thing getting in his way.) Waterloo World, meanwhile, has its roots in a real world conflict, but the real world conflict is not Fred's issue; the things casting a shadow over Fred are the mythologized legacy of Napoleon and a board game which is an abstracted mockery of real military strategy.

And all of this, treating the war and military as some abstract fantasy, is just for giggles and goofs. Which is totally fine by the way! Psychonauts is a comedy game and a dark one at that. I don't have a problem with a comedy deriving some harmless laughs from a dark topic. I'm just pointing out that the first game had an odd and irreverent fascination with war so I can say that the contrast between it and Psychonauts 2 is kind of mind-boggling.

In Psychonauts 2, war is no longer some heady hypothetical thing. This game puts an actual, in-universe war at the center of its backstory. This war had real casualties. It tore apart families, displaced people from their homes, left so much pain in its wake that even mentioning the name Maligula is said to cause a massive psychic outcry. Of course, every character in the game who was touched by this war has trauma coming out of their ears. And the villain of the piece is Gristol, the one person who (despite, yes, having associated traumas of his own) doesn't take what happened seriously, the person who wants the war machine that was Maligula to come back.

Anyway so yeah I played Psychonauts for one (1) hour yesterday and the Video Game Thoughts are alllllll coming back.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

dad!charles x reader where their it is their baby daughter’s 1st time attending a race and her reaction when charles wins !!

For us

3.1K words a little angsty mostly fluff

ooo I love this!! thank you anon for asking I hope you like it!! 🎀

Odette was only 1 when her parents decided to reveal her to the world. The smiling baby was the center of attention wherever she went. A perfect mix between her mother and father, Odette was stunning to say the least. 

 Ever since Odette was conceived, Charles had refused to let anything hurt y/n or his baby girl. Both parents agreed that y/n should take a break from the busy paddock. 

It was the Monaco Grand Prix, Charles' home race. There was no way y/n and Odette were going to miss that. The paddock was bustling with a hue of burnt rubber in the air. Oh now y/n had missed this. Apparently, her daughter had missed it too, cooing at anything and everyone who gave her a glimpse. It was safe to say Odette loved the paddock and the Ferrari motor home where she currently lay with little earmuffs on her head close to her mother giggling loudly as the cameras panned on her father.

 Charles was on pole, followed by Carlos and then Max, the top ten separated by 8 one hundred of a second safe to say it was tight. With his family watching on, Charles wanted to win this race more than ever, but with Ferrari's recent technical problems, it was easy to say the task in hand wasn’t easy at all. 

 Odette knew nothing about what was going on, all she knew was that her daddy was no longer in the car that was near her. A small quiver left her lips which was quickly followed by y/n picking her up. 

The race was halfway through when Charles reported a sudden brake issue. The sigh from the crowd was instant. Y/n never wanted her husband to win as badly as she did today. Waking into the paddock, she had overheard Fred talking about how her and Odette were no good for Charles and that they were the biggest distraction for him currently, Y/n had kept that to herself. It wasn’t wrong for her to want her husband to win so that he would shut Fred up. 

Miraculously, the Monégasque had won, for the first time ever a Monégasque had won the Monaco Grand Prix. It was almost as if Odette knew what had happened. Her little hands were fiercely clapping alongside everyone in the garage. Tears of joy leaked out of y/n’s eyes because her husband had done it. 

“Tu vois odette ton papa l'a fait petit” Charles rushed out of the car once he had reached his designated P1 spot. He could hear the coos of his little girl and wasted no time in getting towards his wife and daughter. 

Odette wiggled harder in her mother's tight grip as she saw her father come close. In an instant, father's arms were cuddled around her side, while her mother and father shared a kiss. It was at this moment when little Odette Leclerc decided to utter her first word “dada”. It was almost a little murmur that could go unnoticed but not by her father. No way did Charles hear what she said and the smile on his face grew twice as much. It almost looked like it hurt from how much he was smiling. 

Looking down at his family from the podium was one of the best feelings for him. He wouldn’t change that moment for the world. 

That day, the little family celebrated two milestones; Charles' first Monaco Grand Prix win and Odette Leclerc's first words. 

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Stars are bright for a new future; George Weasley x reader

*Author's note*

Alright this is the LAST of the mini-series that I promised. For those that came across my Sirius Black daughter fic years ago and for the past few months had come in to see how I started to form a relationship between the reader and George, well now's the end of their journey. It's a long, ANGSTY road so buckle up, get your tissues ready and some comfort food, stuffed toy, fav pet idc.

Taglist:

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@waddles03

@queen-paladin

@plethora-of-things

@remussl0vers

@psychosupernatural

___________________________________________________

I stood before the mirror at the Burrow and saw myself in my wedding dress.  Much like my Yule Ball dress, constellations of stars decorated the skirt of the dress and the bodice had a beautiful golden stitched design of the crescent moon cradling the North Star under it’s tip.  Molly, Ginny, Hermione, Luna and Fleur were all gathered around me as Molly was helping me adjust my veil.

“Oh (Y/n), you truly are a star in human form. My brother is so lucky to have you as his bride.” Praised Ginny.

“I’m the lucky one. But you Weasley’s not too heartbroken that I’m not sharing your name as per tradition.”

“George made his decision when he proposed the question. Trust me dearie they’ll be plenty of Weasley’s to go around but you are the last of the Black family. And who better to bring that family into a better light than you and my son?” Said Molly as she cupped my face.  I smiled at her and hugged her.

“Thank you for all you’ve done for me these past several years, mum.” I whispered to her.  I heard her softly gasp as she embraced me tighter to the point where I’d feel my bones pop.  A knock was soon heard and Harry’s voice came from the other side.

“Everyone descent?”

“We’re all good Harry.” Hermione called out.  He soon opened the door wearing his dark blue tux.

“Who would’ve thought you’d look good in Ravenclaw blue Harry Potter.” I couldn’t help but tease.

“It does make his eyes stand out, don’t they?” Luna stated.

“One day, you get this for one day.”

“That’s fine. But just know you would’ve made a fine honorary Ravenclaw in my books.”

“Alright then, come along now girls, the boys are waiting for you downstairs. Let’s give the bride and the brother some time alone.” Molly stated and soon she and the rest of my bridesmaids all left the room leaving Harry and I alone.  Harry came up to me and he said.

“You really do look beautiful (Y/n). And I know they would’ve thought so too.”

“It’s been two years since the War at Hogwarts. And 4 nearly 5 years since dad died. But it’s like dad once told us, the ones that love us—”

“Never really leave us.” Finished Harry with a soft smile.

“I just never thought George would be willing to do the wedding so soon. He was—broken when we lost Fred. Sure you and I have lost people we loved but I cannot imagine the pain of losing someone who you’ve practically shared a life with. The other half of your own person, especially since Fred was the oldest of the pair. George always followed in his brother’s shadow.”

“Which always amazed me of how you were the only one able to tell them apart. Or even know which one it was that you’d end up falling for.” I playfully shoved Harry.

“But it still hurts that he’s not here to see this day. When we finally got together, Fred always used to joke and tease us about wedding planning or how he’d set off the biggest firework display in the middle of the ceremony. And I’m talking about our exit out of Hogwarts when Umbridge was Headmaster level.”

“I would not want to be in Fred’s shoes if I had done that. A scary bride is one thing, a scary bride who can also transform into a puma at will is a whole other level of terrifying.”

“And that’s why you’re the best little brother ever.” I embraced him and kissed his cheek.  “Thanks for being the one to give me away.”

“You’ve been there for me many times before (Y/n). Figure I’d return the favor for the biggest day of your life.” He embraced me back.  “What is that amazing smell?” he asked after a brief moment of silence.  I separated from him and we both sniffed the air and said together.

“Chocolate.” We couldn’t help but softly laugh thinking about uncle Remus.  He always did say ‘a piece of chocolate is the key to a better day.’ And knowing of the chocolate fountain that was downstairs as well as a chocolate wedding cake, he would’ve enjoyed the dessert spread. 

“You ready Black?”

“Ready Potter.” He extended his arm out to me and I placed my arm through his and we walked out together of the house and headed outside where the ceremony was being held.

The sun was setting over the horizon basking the sky in a beautiful orange, pink and yellow glow.  The torches were lit along the walkway and George stood there with Minister Kingsley who would officiate the wedding.  George wore a similar dark blue tux with his special Weasley Wizard Wheezes tie and flashing pin.  He stared at me in complete awe and love and I couldn’t help but think back to everything that’s happened in the last two years.

*Fred’s funeral*

          It was finally over.  Voldemort was finally dead, Bellatrix was dead, Peter Pettigrew was dead.  But there was also a great loss on our side as well.  Many students as well as powerful aurors had lost their lives in the Second Wizard’s war.  The Marauders were all dead now that my godfather Remus has now joined with my dad and uncle James in the afterlife.  The same goes for Tonks after we had finally just started to get to know each other and naming me Teddy’s godmother.

But the biggest loss of all came from the Weasley’s.  Fred had been crushed when a wall had exploded from a Death eater’s attack.  Everyone was devastated but none so more than my George.

He lost the other half of his soul.  I may be his girlfriend but even I can’t compete with the bond that he and Fred shared.  So once the bodies had been counted for, we held a conjoined funeral for both Fred and Remus and Tonks.

Remus and Tonks were buried at Godric’s Hollow right next to my dad, aunt Lily and uncle James while Fred was buried within the borders of The Burrows.  I’ll never forget the sound of George’s screams of heartbreak the second Fred’s casket was being lowered.  He could barely keep himself standing as he fell to his knees crying hysterically.

I knelt down beside him and tried my best to console him but I knew it wasn’t enough.  One by one each member of the Weasley’s left, then Harry and Hermione leaving only George and I as the sun set in the background.

George was left a sullen shell as he stared at his older twin’s grave.  His eyes bloodshot red, his cheeks glistening with tearstains and the smile that I had fallen for time and time again seemed nonexistent, like he had never smiled before in his entire life and probably wouldn’t ever again.

We stayed at Fred’s grave all night and into the next morning.

He didn’t want to go back to the flat above the shop, nor did he wish to stay at the Burrows.  So I had suggested Grimmauld place.  We apparated there and I allowed him to stay in one of the bedrooms and sleep while I did some cleaning and prepared him a well-cooked meal.

He hadn’t really eaten at the funerals (hell neither did I really) so needless to say I was hungry was an understatement.  But it wasn’t until I had accidentally dropped the plates that it all suddenly hit me.  Fred, my brother was dead, my godfather was dead, my cousin turned godmother Tonks was dead, I was officially the last member of the Black Family.

I wept into my hands alone in the kitchen.

The world moved on and tried to heal.  Some managed to get back on their feet and continue on with life, while others were stuck in their grief.  This time around I had to stay strong for George, when I lost my dad I was broken and he was the one there to pick me up.

For days he never left his room, all I heard was either silence or the faint sounds of his sobbing whenever I’d go and check up on him or deliver his food.  Some days he wouldn’t even touch the food and other days there’d be a couple of bites out of a sandwich or the spoon had been dipped into the soup.

Days soon turned into weeks and I had to face reality.  The shop needed to be managed because we were running behind on the payments and nearly risking foreclosure on the property.  So nearly using every ounce of my father’s and mother’s inheritance they had left for me, I paid them what they owed plus interest to ensure George wouldn’t lose the only thing left of his brother he had.  Even if he never wanted to set foot in it again.

 With Ron’s help, the two of us came together and managed the shop together.  Of course its not to say that it wasn’t hard being back in the shop especially seeing all the products that came from the brilliance of Fred’s mind, especially the pranks and jokes that he’d pull on us back in the day.

But talking about it actually brought Ron and I got closer to each other as we’d reminisce over Fred’s memory and love for practical jokes and nautical nonsense.  He also asked me about George but when I stayed silent, he told me that his mum and Ginny were the same.

Apparently Molly had been seen finishing Fred’s Christmas sweater she had planned to give him this year before realizing that he’d never get to wear it and started bawling over it.  While Ginny had been seen sitting in Fred and George’s old room sitting on his bed holding a picture of the first time she would be leaving for Hogwarts.

He told me more about how each family member was taking the loss of Fred so hard, especially Percy.  Now I could honestly care less for that prick after all he did to them but I didn’t want to cause a scene within the grieving family.

How could someone abandon their family and treat them the way Percy did and then just switch back like nothing happened.  Hell there are days I wish that it was Percy that died and not Fred, after all he was there when Fred took the hit, why didn’t he do something about it?  But like I said, I didn’t want to cause a scene with the family.

After sweeping up and locking up the shop for the night, I left with the paperwork and sat there in the kitchen with papers scattered everywhere.  The dying lights of the hearth being my only source of light as I looked over everything.  Being co-owner meant that I was the next capable person to go over this type of stuff since George is—well.

When I went to stretch my arms out, I soon saw George standing at the kitchen door.

“George!” I wiped away the tired tears from my eyes. “I didn’t hear you come down.” The first time in a month he had finally left the bedroom.  His eyes sunken in and the light of his brown eyes seemed dead.  He was ghostly pale and thinner than I’ve ever seen him.  “Love, you okay?”

“Can I have a cup of tea?” He whispered hoarsely.  The first real request he’s asked for since before the battle at Hogwarts and it warmed my heart to hear him ask for something instead of hoping he’d take whatever I had given him.

“Coming right up.” He walked over and set down at the chair closest to me and I stacked away all the papers while reigniting the fireplace so that the tea could get boiling.  Once it was ready, I poured him his cup and set it down in front of him.

He slowly reached out and held it in his hands for a moment or two before lifting it up and taking a small sip.

“Do we have anything to eat?”

“Thanks to your mum we’ve got plenty of food to last us nearly ten years here. Been sending us pies and casseroles galore.”

“Did…..she send over a meat pie?”

“About seven of them. Would you like a slice?” he nodded and I sat up and got a plate ready then went into the fridge and took out of the pies that I had already started eating whenever I wanted to stuff my face while going through one of my depressed moods.  I warmed up the pie with a simple spell before having a piece be cut up and placed it onto the plate. “Here you are George. Tuck in.”

He cut into the tip of the pie and ate it.  His eyes closed as I could see the quiver from his lips as he got the taste of home once again.  I’ll admit even though she’d helped me, nothing will ever compare to a mother’s homecooked meal, especially if your mum is Molly Weasley.

Amazingly George managed to finish the pie right down to the last crumb as well as drink all the tea I had prepped for him.  He sat there before asking me.

“What were all those papers who had scattered out?”

“Just paperwork for the shop. Won’t have to worry about anymore foreclosures for a long, long time. But there’s also partnership deals with Zonko’s, inventory, delivery contracts, just the normal business stuff.”

“And you’ve been doing all of this on your own?”

“Not completely alone. Just the paperwork. Ron’s actually helped out in the shop. He’s quite the salesman when he wants to be. Really knows how to sell a product while reminiscing of said product being used on him. He may complain and grumble about it but I see that smile he tries to hide.” I turned to see George looking down shamefully.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“For what Georgie?”

“I’ve been such a soiled sod. Here you are trying to keep the ship from sinking and I’m just sulking not doing a bloody thing about it!”

“George.”

“If he were here, oh he’d give me hell for this. All our hard work and I’m almost about to toss it all away! Let it sink into the ground and…..”

“George Fabian Weasley!” I snapped.  I gripped his face in between my hands forcing him to look at me.  “You’re not a soiled sod, you’re grieving. I’ve been where you’ve been, trust me. Don’t you remember how distraught I was after my dad died? How angry and disassociated I was from the rest of the world?” he gave me a soft nod.  “But a wise and kindhearted man once told me that I didn’t need to slap a smile on my face and move on so quickly. He told me that I was allowed to feel what I wanted to feel, even if it meant taking a couple of steps backward.”

“Gee this fellow sounds pretty wise.” There he was.  I could see the hint of light of my Georgie in his eyes and the slightest twinge of his smile.

“And quite handsome if I must say.” Having played this quip back and forth I had expected him to reply with ‘The better looking one?’ but I saw as his face once again crumbled apart as he leaned in and hugged me.

“I miss him (Y/n). I miss him so much!” George wept into my neck.

“So do I George. So do I.” I brushed my fingers through his hair softly stroking his scalp and rubbed his back while he squeezed me as tight as he could while he continued to weep.

*6 months later*

As the months went by George started coming around bit by bit.  He had his off days where he’d go back to shutting himself up in the room but mostly he’d come out.  Eat a snack or two, drink some water or tea, help around the house, or just watch me as I do the paperwork.

Now that the Christmas holiday was around the corner, there were more owl-mail in orders from some of the parents or older siblings for the younger students who had just attended Hogwarts.  Molly had also sent in both mine and George’s presents.  I had gotten another Weasley Christmas jumper as well as a cute beanie with the Ravenclaw sigil on it.  George got a new scarf and a jumper of his own.

He looked at the jumper solemnly stroking the golden lettering that stood proudly at the center of it.  I reached out and took his hand.

“You doing okay, George?”

“I—” he dropped his gift and let out a sniffle before harshly wiping his eyes away.

“Hey,” I squeezed his hand before reaching out and taking his other hand.  I knelt down in front of him and pressed my forehead to his.  “What’s going on up there?”

“It……it doesn’t f-feel the same. Not without him. N—no more matching sets.” He choked out.  Tears slipped down past his eyelashes and I kissed his nose.

“I know. Like the first Christmas at Hogwarts when you two switched jumpers and went about calling each other the other’s names. That really threw me for a loop.”

“(Y/n) please I—I can’t hear any stories of him. I’m sorry I….” he stood up and ran back upstairs, his jumper falling in the middle of the kitchen and the doorway out.  I sighed deeply and walked over to pick up his jumper and hold it in my hands.

I pressed the jumper close to my chest as tears of my own fell down my face.  I headed outside and looked up at the night sky, the stars twinkling under the half-moon.

“What do I do Freddie?” I softly pleaded.  “I’ve tried everything but—the only thing that could make George happy again is if you come back to life. You two share a bond that I can’t have with him. Please….tell me what to do. How do I help the man I love?” but they remained silent.

I put on George’s jumper and headed back inside and cleaned up the mess and stored the food away for later.  As I went to fill the stockings over by the fireplace, a picture over the mantle suddenly tipped over and was nearly about to crack when my cat reflexes came into play and I caught the picture.

As I went to put it back up, I saw that the picture was me and the twins on the grand opening of Weasley Wizard Wheezes.  The three of us standing outside the building dressed in our best.  Fred spinning me around before George took me in his arms and kissed me.

Even though he and I had been up all night reminiscing the past and eventually confessing our feelings for one another, it was still a great day.  We saw more sales than we could ever imagine within the first few hours of the day.  I smiled sadly and kissed the picture before setting it back down and decided to retire for the night.

The next morning, I peeked inside George’s room and saw him laying on the bed once again.  I brought him his jumper that I had worn to bed last night and set it over him.

“I’m gonna pop by the shop for a moment. I’ll be back later this afternoon, send Arella if you need me for anything, okay?” he remained still but I still gave him a kiss goodbye before apparating to the shop.

There really wasn’t anything to do.  Ron and I had decided to have the shop remain closed until the New Year and there wasn’t any new deliveries around the same time.  I just really wanted to be in the shop and think about all the memories of Fred.

Picking up each product that he had a hand in producing whether from his own hands or from his clever brain.  I stroked my hand over the puking pastilles before seeing the Skiving snack boxes just across from them.  Our last year of them finally getting the bugs out of the product before finally selling it as a collection, those first years didn’t know what hit them.

I looked up to my funny Umbridge dummy on the tight rope carrying the weight of crème.  While it had been my idea, it was Fred who made the design and brought my vision to light truthfully I didn’t even think he’d actually do it.  I just did it for shits and laughs but low and behold there it was calling it a brilliant idea to really stick it to the toad-faced bitch.

I went up the stairs to the next level and soon caught sight of the love potion products.  I walked over to it and picked up one of the bottles and observed it.

“I wonder if you gave this to George when testing it out? After all didn’t you once say that you tested all of these products on yourselves before selling it to others.”

“He tried to.” I jumped and saw George standing there.

“How did—”

“Floo powder.” He answered.  He was still in his pjs but that didn’t matter we weren’t opened so no one had to see him like this.  “Once we had the perfect brew for it, he constantly got me to test it out. Thinking that I’d finally have the balls to admit my feelings for you. And everytime I rejected it, he then threatened to test it out on you.”

“And what did you do?”

“What else? I drank the whole bloody bottle and threatened to use the Imperio curse on him if he dared to try testing it on you.”

“So threatening.” I teased as I set the potion down and wrapped my arms around his waist.  George pulled me closer to him.  “There was only one man meant for me, and no love potion is ever gonna change that.” He squeezed me tighter.

“So—you and Ron really kept this ship from sinking.”

“Don’t underestimate little Ronald. Like I said he knows how to be a salesman. And being co-owner you’d think you’d have more faith in me.”

“You? Never.” He kissed my forehead before looking around the shop and walked off.  I slowly trailed behind him and saw him go over to the ‘Caramel Cat-titude cough-drops.’

“This was one of the first original ideas we had.” He said.

“I thought it was the nosebleed nougats?”

“No. This was it. When you told us that you were an animagus and you showed us your other form. Fred thought it’d be brilliant to make a cough drop out of it. While getting the taste of caramel, there’s a salty taste to it and it gives you the attitude of a cougar for about 30min.”

“At first I had no idea why you guys needed a sample of my fur until I had seen Alicia throwing a fit after your loss to us at Quidditch our third year. She even let out a cougar roar.”

“She’ll swear up and down that you cheated.”

“I can’t let Harry get all the wins now can I?” a brief smile came across his face when I reached up and grabbed the Instant thoughts beans.

Pop one of these babies into your mouth and instantly you’ll be bursting out the first though that’s in your head.  It’s not quite as powerful as the Veritaserum spell but it forces the eater to just speak their thoughts no matter how random they were, whether being asked a question or not.

“Did I ever tell you that my parents got together because of the Veritaserum spell?” I asked him.

“Oh rubbish.”

“No, no it’s all true. My dad and uncle James had switched out my mum’s favorite cup of tea for Veritaserum. And instantly she started blabbering every secret, including her feelings for my dad. She swore to never forgive him for it but he soon wooed her over. But it took a lot of work please believe it.”

“But it worked out in the end for them. You’re the final product of their love story.” George said as he wrapped his arms from behind me swaying us from side to side.

“George, what made you want to step into the store? Not that I’m not happy you’re here. I mean you just left the house for the first time in months. But I’m just curious, why?” he sighed as he buried his face into my neck.

“Truthfully I didn’t even want to leave. But as I went to see the stockings, I saw the picture of the three of us together on the opening day of the shop. And hearing you trying to tell the story of our first Christmas at Hogwarts as friends, I guess…..I wanted to try and remember more. But it hurts everytime I think about him. Hell even looking into a mirror hurts because……” I reached up and cupped the side of his face with my right hand.

“When my dad died, all I kept thinking about were the memories of the two of us together. Sure thinking about them did hurt me on the inside but there was something else there to. The love he had for me, and that I had for him. 12 years of being locked up in Azkaban and he never once gave up on the love he had for me. He told me that just remembering my face and saying my name filled him with a light that not even the Dementors could take away from him. And even from the short time we had at the time before he was taken, he held onto those memories keeping them buried deep inside so that his sanity would remain if there ever came a day that we’d be reunited again.”

George and I looked at one another as I turned in his arms cupping his face.

“And even though—he’s gone. The memories you two shared together will always be there. And yeah while it will hurt to talk about or even think about, they’ll eventually turn into the love that you both shared and had for one another. So always hold onto that my darling, and the pain of losing him won’t hurt as much. Because he wouldn’t want your memories together to be filled with pain, like he said—”

“The world deserves a good laugh every once in a while.” We both softly laughed.

Oh Merlin how have I missed that laugh, and that smile of his.  I stroked his cheeks as I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him.  George wrapped his arms around me and lifted me up as our lips refused to break apart.

A true loving and heartfelt kiss was made between us.  A mixture of love and sorrow.  I knew he was still hurting but there was still the love that he always made sure to bring forth everytime he kissed me in the past.  And bit by bit, hopefully George would be able to full accept his grief but not let the sorrow consume him.

*One year later*

After braving of going back into the shop and helping me manage it, George felt that it was time to reconnect with the family again.  He hadn’t spoken a word to the rest of his family since the funeral.  Of course, Molly and Arthur sent their love whenever they could whether it was through Christmas presents or just friendly letters letting him know they were thinking of him and that they loved and missed him.

So we had taken the Floo powder to the Burrow and when we had arrived, we were immediately greeted by Molly.  The warmth sparkle in her eyes lit up just a bit more as she first greeted me.

“Welcome home (Y/n) darling.”

“Hey Molly, been awhile. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to visit lately, the store’s just kept me busy.”

“Oh no matter dearie. So long as you take the time to visit me. Running a business is a full time commitment.”

“Without her we would’ve lost it.” George spoke up.  Molly turned to her son and tried her best to not look sympathetic as she walked up to him and embraced him.  George hugged his mother back.

“You’ve gotten skinnier last time I saw you George. Come on, you’re just in time for lunch.”

“Really mum I’m not—”

“Oh don’t you give me that! You may not live here anymore but you’re still my son and I won’t have my boys go hungry. If you won’t listen to (Y/n) you’ll surely listen to me.” She then went straight for the kitchen and he muttered to me.

“You had to tell her that?”

“You know you can’t hide anything from your mother.” We walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table.  It nearly felt like old times of us sitting at the Weasley family table where the only thing we had to worry about was trying to hide the latest Weasley prank product from Molly.

The sound of footsteps came down the stairs and soon Ron and Ginny made themselves known.  Ginny stared at her big brother in shock and muttered his name.

“Hey Gin.” She walked up to him and gave him a hard punch at his shoulder.  George exclaimed in pain but before he could say anything, Ginny immediately hugged him.

“Welcome back you dummy.” George wrapped his arm around his little sister and whispered.

“Sorry it took so long sis. And sorry to worry you so much.”

“You’re here now. And I hope you’ll visit around more often, especially since I’m getting closer to my own graduation at Hogwarts.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Ginny kissed her brother’s cheek before sitting down.  Ron and George shook hands before embracing each other as well and George thanked Ron for helping me with the shop but Ron brushed it off and told him it wasn’t a big deal.

“Afternoon Weasleys!” Arthur’s voice soon proclaimed.  We all greeted him back as he came walking through the kitchen door entrance.  When Arthur spotted us, he greeted us softly and George greeted his father back with a sad smile.

Arthur immediately embraced his son and told him.

“Glad to have you home son.”

“Thanks dad. Sorry that I—”

“I understand George. You and…..and Fred. You two were something special from the day you both were born. We all missed him but you had a stronger bond than any of us could ever know.”

“Alright Arthur, have a seat and tuck in. I’ve made everyone’s favorite.” Molly spoke up and we all gathered around and had a comforting lunch.

As the day went on, we had all just sat around the family living room and just talked.  Ginny told us about her offerings for playing professional Quidditch once she graduated, Ron had said that he had been offered a position as an Auror and was thinking about taking it. 

He also talked about Harry and Hermione.  How he and Hermione had managed to find a place of their own and how well Harry was doing as an Auror for the Ministry.

I felt George take my hand and raise it up to his lips as he kissed the back of my hand.  I smiled softly at him and squeezed his hand three times.  I. Love. You.  He squeezed back the same number of times before he stood up and said.

“I uhh—I actually have an announcement to make.” Okay now this was a surprise.  Ginny turned to me and looked at me and mouthed.

‘Do you know?’ I shook my head no.

“I….I’m actually glad this time around this house isn’t crowded with people. I just want to have this announcement first be made by family members only.” He turned to me and took my hand once again and stood me up.  “This past year has been…..hell. For all of us. We lost—we lost one of our own but if it weren’t for this saint of a woman I don’t know where I would be. (Y/n), you once said that I was your light at the end of your dark tunnel. Well this past year you became my light in my dark tunnel. And I never want to risk losing you.” He got down on one knee as Ginny and Molly let out a gasp.  I felt my feet root into the very ground as George held my left hand while reaching into his pocket.  “(Y/n) Celeste Black, will you marry me?”

He opened the small red box up to reveal a beautiful diamond engagement ring.  For once tears of joy fell down my face as I nodded and told him.

“Yes.” He smiled softly and took the ring out of the box and placed it on my ring finger.  He stood up and we embraced each other tightly as the rest of the Weasley’s all cheered and gathered around in a group hug.

“I finally get my favorite sister in law!” Ginny cheered.

“About bloody time, I thought Hermione and I were gonna have to get married before you two.” Joked Ron.

“Oh hush up Ronald Weasley!” reprimanded Molly.  We all separated from our group hug and Molly cupped my face into her hands.  “We always knew you’d make it into the family (Y/n) dear.”

“Now it’ll be official. (Y/n) Weasley.”

“Actually dad she won’t be a Weasley.” George spoke up.  We all turned to George in confusion.

“What do you mean love?” I asked.  He took my hands again and held them up between us.

“You are the last member of the Black family lineage. You may not have liked or known most of that family but it is yours. And I feel like with you, we could change the name ‘Black’ into a more respected and prosperous family. I’d like to take on the name Black once we are married.”

“George you—you sure about this?”

“I’ve thought it over and I wouldn’t do this with anyone else.” He stroked under my chin lovingly.

“So does that mean we’ll have to rename the shop?” asked Ron.

“No, it’ll stay the same. In Fred’s honor. I’m sure he would’ve accepted my decision to do this.”

“I’m sure he would George.” Arthur said proudly.

“George Fabian Black.” I tested the name, “It’ll take some getting used to but—I could see the potential of it.”

“Besides dear, they’ll be plenty of Weasleys to come around. I agree with George. You’re not like the rest of your family and I think with you, you could change your family name into something good.” Molly said.

“Thank you Molly, thank you all.”

“Now then, best be off to bed. We’re gonna get started bright and early with the wedding plans.” Molly gestured to all of her kids.  I turned to George and had flashbacks to Bill and Fleur’s wedding preparations.

Oh yeah Mama Weasley the wedding planner was back and this time she had a wedding she’s been waiting for.  So best not to anger her.

*End of Flashback*

Harry and I stood before George and Minister Kingsley and Harry and I turned to each other and he lifted my veil over my head before kissing my cheek.

I smiled at him and he gave me a soft smile back before he went up to George and the two of them shook hands with each other before he went to join alongside the other Groomsmen.

George held out his hand and I immediately took it as he helped me step onto the gazebo and we stood before Minister Kingsley as he said.

“Family, friends, and honored guests. We have gathered here today to celebrate the union of this young wizard and witch in wedding bliss. Magic is and has always been our way of life, powerful spells and hexes have been the wizards bread and butter. But what some may not know is that there is a magic more powerful than even the most powerful of spell, or even the most powerful of curses. Love is a magic unlike any other, and there is no greater love than the witch and wizard that stand before you now.”

George and I smiled at each other as we continued to hold each other’s hands.

“It is to my knowledge that the bride and groom have each prepared their own vows for one another. George Weasley, you may speak first.” George and I turned to face each other, each of us grabbing the other’s free hand.  George rubbed the back of my hands as he said.

“(Y/n) Celeste Black. For years it had just been the—the Weasley twins. Never did I think I could form such a bond with someone who wasn’t……who wasn’t Fred. But like a cheeky raven who wouldn’t fly away, you stuck around.” Myself and the crowd all had a good laugh at that statement.  “You were a true Ravenclaw through and through from your strategic planning to your clever ideas. Your brilliant mind is what became a beacon and I knew I had to keep you in my life. In time I saw just who you really were. Your loyal heart, your kindness, your willingness to lend a helping hand, and even willing to love someone like me. You’re my best friend, the love of my life, my Northern Star in the sky guiding me back to home. And I solemnly swear to spend the rest of my life giving you as much love as you have given me.”

“Ms. Black, now you.” Minister Kingsley said to me.

“George Fabian Weasley, I spent most of my life in the dark. People always judged me based from my name, I thought I would forever be alone in the dark tunnel. But a wise man once told me, ‘Even in the darkest of places, you can still find a glimmer of light.’ You became my light. Your humor, your wit, but it was also your empathy that made me feel a love that I thought I wasn’t worthy of. You saw me not for my name, but the girl I was just trying to be. And I solemnly swear to be your Light in the dark tunnel just like you have been for me.”

“The vows have been spoken, may we have the rings?” Ron and Hermione each gave us our rings and George was to go first.  “Mr. Weasley repeat after me; I George Fabian Weasley.”

“I, George Fabian Weasley.” He repeated.

“Take you, (Y/n) Celeste Black as my wizardly wedded wife.”

“Take you, (Y/n) Celeste Black as my wizardly wedded wife.”

“In sickness and in health, from now until the end of my days.”

“In sickness and in health, from now until the end of my days.”

“I promise to love and cherish you.”

“I promise to love and cherish you.”

“So long as we both shall live.”

“So long as we both shall live.” George slid the wedding ring onto my finger.  Squeezing my hand three times as I tried to keep the tears in.

“And now you Ms. Black.” I repeated the same vows to George and as I finished, I slid on his wedding band and squeezed his hand three times giving him my reply.

I love you too.

“By the power vested onto me as Minister of Magic I now declare these two as Mr. and Mrs. Black. You may now kiss your bride.” George cupped the side of my face and lowered his head down to capture my lips and we shared our first passionate kiss as husband and wife.

The crowd cheered as our closest school mates, favorite professors, and family members all applauded as George and I were finally married.

The reception was done under the tent as the stars and full moon shone brightly.  Beautiful music was playing as we all celebrated the night away.  The tossing of the bouquet was enjoyable as my friends all tried to get the bouquet (of course Hermione was the one to catch it in the end) and when the garter was tossed, Ron (who wasn’t really a part of it) still managed to get a hold of it as it was flung towards him.

George and I had our first dance as husband and wife and dancing with him brought me back to the night of the Yule Ball when my feelings for him truly started to come to light.  Just like that night, George had us chest to chest with each other, our arms wrapped around each other’s waist and neck as we swayed to the love song playing in the background.

George then lifted me up into the air making me giggle before we would resume our dance once again.  And not once did we break our focus from each other’s gaze.  It was like each of us was trying to memorize the other’s facial detail down to the last freckle or eyelash.

As the night went on, I’d gaze up at the stars and anxiously as the time to give George his wedding gift was getting close.  I let out a yelp as George playfully let out a growl as he buried his face into my neck.

“You really can’t get used to that by now, can you?”

“Why bother, you know you love it when you scare me near to death.”

“Not all the time. I just love hearing all those sounds you make. Like you will soon once everyone clears out.” I flicked his forehead and said.

“Before all that good stuff, I’d like you to come with me.”

“Ooo sneaking off at our own wedding. The scandal.” He gasped mockingly as he swayed us from side to side.

“We’re already married you rotter. The cakes been cut, dance has been done and speeches have been said. I don’t think anyone will miss us for a few minutes.”

“Very well, lead the way Mrs. Black.”

“Follow me then, Mr. Black.” I took his hand and we left the reception and headed further out into the fields of the Burrows.  Once George began to realize where we were heading, he stopped.

“(Y/n).” he said anxiously.

“I know love, but do you trust me?” I said turning to face him as I squeezed his hand comfortingly.  He gave me three squeezes back and I gave him a nod telling him that he could take the first step into where we were going.  He took a deep breath before walking forward until we came to an open field.

There a pine tree now stood where at the foot of it lay a grave that read the familiar wording:

Fredrick Gideon Weasley

Born April 1st, 1978

Died May 2nd, 1998

Loyal brother, son, friend and wizard

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good”

George and I stood before Fred’s grave and he turned to me and asked.

“Why are we here?”

“As my dad once said, the ones that love us never really leave us. In my mum’s journals and spell books, her family believed that when a loved one’s spirit dies, they can be chosen to become one of the stars in the night sky. And if it is written by the stars themselves, they can be called back and have one chance to talk with those they left behind in the afterlife.”

I pulled from my dress a vial filled with a crystal clear liquid.  One would think I had filled it with giggly water or something from the fountain of youth. 

It was a potion that I had found in one of mum’s spell books.  The spell would only work if used under the same star constellations as when you had lost the person you wish to talk to.  Even though a lot had happened, being a Celestial witch I knew the stars better than any other witch or wizard.  And when I had found out that our wedding night would have the same star constellations as the night Fred died, I knew I had to prepare this potion quickly.

I only just hope I brewed it correctly because the spell can only work for so long before the stars shift out of place.

“So you’re—saying that I….that we can…..”

“If I brewed it right, one drop of this should call forth his spirit but there’s not much time left. The stars are exactly aligned now but they’ll shift soon. And they won’t align like this for at least 11 years.”

“I…….(Y/n) I…..” tears burned in Georgie’s eyes as he embraced me tightly.  “I love you so much.”

“I love you too Georgie.” He separated from me and took the vial from me and stood before Fred’s grave.  He took the cork off but before he could tip the vial over, he turned to me and extended his hand.

“Together?” I smiled and came up to him and placed my hand over his that held the vial and I said.

“Together.” At the same time we tipped the vial over and a single drop landed at the center of Fred’s grave.  We waited a few minutes but nothing happened.

My heart began to race as I grabbed the vial out of George’s hand and shook my head.

“But I…..”

“It’s alright love.” George assured me.

“No George this—this was supposed to be your wedding gift. I-I don’t understand it…..I slaved over this potion to ensure it would do at least something.”

“Who says it didn’t?” both George and I froze.  Slowly we turned around and there stood Fred Weasley.

He wore the same outfit he was wearing that night at the Battle of Hogwarts.  His face now clear of soot and dirt and his eyes gleaming with mischief and of starlight.  And that cheeky smile, Merlin how I have missed that smile of his.

“You were the best potion maker in our year, even Snape couldn’t deny that. So why doubt yourself now?” George was frozen as he stared at his twin brother’s spirit.  I held my hand to my chest as a single tear of happiness fell down my face.

I knew it. I knew it, deep down I knew it had to be true.  If anyone’s soul deserved to be a star it was most definitely Fred Weasley.

“Freddie.” George softly gasped.

“Hey Georgie,” Fred stepped forward and gave him a nod of approval, “You did it mate, you married the girl of your dreams. And about bloody time too.” I chuckled watery while George smiled nodding at Fred’s statement.  He then directed his attention to me and he said with a warm smile, “I know you’ve heard this all day but you’re gonna hear it one last time. You look absolutely radiant (Y/n).”

“Thank you Fred.”

“Your parents and Remus think so too.” Now I felt my body froze.

“You—wha?”

“They wanted me to tell you that they were watching the entire time. And that they are so proud of you, in everything you’ve done then and for everything you’ll do in the future to come.” He said warmly.

I covered my mouth with my hand as I felt an overwhelming bit of emotions wash over me.  Now hearing from Fred whose seen my parents and Remus in the afterlife and hearing that they’re actually still watching over me (and not just in a metaphorical or theoretical sense), I couldn’t contain my tears.

“Oi now, this is your wedding day. I shouldn’t make either the bride or the groom turn into weeping willows.”

“Oh shut up you sod!” George groaned.

“There’s the Georgie I know.” We all laughed as George and I both wiped our tears.  The three of us stood before each other as Fred said.  “George, I need you to do me this one thing mate.”

“What’s that?”

“Keep smiling. I know these last two years without me haven’t been easy, cause let’s face it I was the better looking twin.” George scoffed as he rolled his eyes.  “But the world needs a laugh now more than ever. We opened our shop during the war so that everyone could have a laugh even in the dark times. Well now everyone needs a laugh to recover from the pain and loss that everyone’s been suffering. Including you. And while your lovely wife has tried to do her best, she needs help. She needs you. After all, you were always the one who made it his mission to get her to laugh every day.”

“Yes. That was the first thing I truly loved about her.”

“And boy did I not hear the end of that.” Laughter once again rang out in our circle.  Fred then turned his attention to me and reached out to me and I felt this warmth overcome me as he touched my cheek.

It may not have been his normal warmth, but it was like touching someone who had just come inside from a warm, summer’s day.

“As for you sister fox, keep an eye on this one.” He said gesturing his head towards George.  “Just because he’s now your husband don’t fall for any of his tricks if he’s hiding something. You know how stubborn he can be.”

“As a Hippogriff.”

“Oi!” George exclaimed.  Fred and I laughed and he whispered to me.

“Also your dad wanted me to tell you that he and Remus are both willing to haunt Georgie boy if he steps out of line with you.” I rolled my eyes.

“Padfoot and Moony. They always did like me more from our days with the Marauder’s map.”

“What’s not to like? I volunteered to join them as well. Just because he’s my brother doesn’t mean I’m gonna side with him if he hurts you.” He slowly took his hand off my face but I could still feel the warmth of his touch on my cheek.

“I promise Fred.” I told him.

“We’ll do our best to make you proud.” George vowed.

“You both already have.” Fred answered us with an assuring smile.  George bowed his head and I saw his shoulders beginning to shake.  He whimpered as he stepped forward and embraced his twin brother tightly.  Fred embraced him back as George wept.

“I wish you were still here.”

“Me too.” Fred choked out as I saw a crystal tear fall from his face.  George continued to cry into his brother’s shoulder as he gripped Fred tighter before finally letting him go.  Fred then turned to me (seeing them embrace had made me bawl like a baby) as I too immediately embraced him.

That same warmth now encompassed my entire body as he held onto me.  A soothing rub on my back made it feel like everything was okay.

“I love you so much Freddie.”

“I love you too sis. I’ll be waiting for you both soon. But not too soon I hope.” I sniffled and as I separated from him, his body soon faded away until nothing but stardust was left as it headed back up into the sky.

“Freddie……I love you my brother.” George whimpered as he just stared at the spot where Fred once stood.  George continued to let out a few shaky breaths before finally exhaling calmly.  His body now still, he turned to me and came up to me and embraced me.  “Thank you my darling, for letting me say goodbye to him. I love you.”

“I love you too George.” We looked at each other and he kissed my lips so gingerly before we looked up at the stars and bid our final farewell to Fred.

*13 years later*

12 Grimmauld Place was once a desolate place of darkness and hate had now been fully remodeled into a place of warmth, laughter and most of all love.  The running of feet pounded through the upper levels of the complex and I rolled my eyes shaking my head as I continued on with preparing dinner.  But when I heard a loud slam and a young female scream out.

“Mama! Mama!”

“Alright up there!” I exclaimed.  “Someone better be bruised, bleeding or dead for me to unleash the cat!” I soon heard the thundering footsteps come down as three 11 year olds.

Two boys and one girl.  The girl was practically a splitting image of me from when I was 11, same hair and everything including mine and her grandfather’s eyes.  The two boys were nearly identical except one had my dark hair while the other inherited his father’s ginger colored hair.  Both boys had their father’s eyes and nose from when he was their age.

“Mama, Sirius and Freddie were tag-teaming me again!” the girls whined out as she kept rubbing her head.

“Not true mum!” the boys chorused together.  The ginger-haired boy said.

“(M/n) started it!”

“Ladies do not start fights but they can finish them!” the dark haired boy stuck his tongue out and I reprimanded.

“Sirius Remus Black, put your tongue back in your mouth we are not a snake.”

“That’s right, snakes aren’t allowed in this house.” George’s voice soon said.

“Dad!” all three children raced over to their father and hugged him.  George set his briefcase down and embraced his triplets giving them each a kiss on the head.  I smiled at the loving greeting George always did with the kids and following right behind him I saw our first born daughter Rowena Nymphadora Black.  She, like her brother Fred, inherited her father’s red hair but had my eyes.

“Rowena, tell the boys that ladies don’t start fights but they can finish them.” Her little sister (M/n) said.

“Fred, Sirius, how many times do I have to tell you two dinguses that picking a fight with a lady will only lead to bad luck? Especially when she’s my favorite sibling.” She told her younger brothers.

“Just because you’re the oldest doesn’t mean you’re the best prankster in the family.” Fred snide out.

“Never underestimate your sister there Freddie.” George said as he took him aside.  “Ravenclaws are a clever, silent bunch. Believe it or not your mum got the best of me and your uncle back in our days at Hogwarts. Just don’t tell her I said that.” He whispered the last part.

“I heard that.” I called out.  “Alright kittens move aside, matriarch of the house coming through.” The kids stepped aside as George and I kissed each other.

“Dad! Dad! We got our Hogwarts letters delivered today!” Sirius exclaimed as he and the kids all raced over to the kitchen table.

“They wanted to wait for you and Rowena to get back to open them.” I told them.

“Ohh well let’s waste no time.” George said as we all sat around the table and the triplets opened up their letters and read them aloud:

“Dear Mr. (Ms.) Black, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” They continued to read the letters out loud and once it ended with Headmaster McGonagall’s signature, the triplets cheered and there was hugs and kisses going all around.

“Alright, alright you three. Our deal was that you three could stay up until your dad and Rowena came home, now say goodnight. We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow to get your school supplies.”

“Dad could we buy some stuff at the shop to take to school?” Fred asked.

“Do you think I wouldn’t allow my own children to miss out on bringing forth Weasley Wizard Wheezes products on their first day of school? The audacity!” George gasped dramatically which made me roll my eyes.  “We’ll stop by and see what we can find after we get the rest of your school supplies. Now go on you lot, off to bed.” The triplets took off racing upstairs while Rowena started up behind when George called out, “Oh and Rowena love.” She stopped at the bottom of the stairs turning to face her dad, “Don’t think I’m not going to ask about you and that Slytherin chap who was at the store today.”

“What Slytherin boy?” I asked.

“Dad please! He’s just a friend!”

“Your mum and I were just friends, and look how we turned out.” George said as he pulled me close nuzzling his face into my neck.  Rowena gagged before racing up the stairs into her room.

“What’s this about a boy?”

“Apparently our little girl has fallen for a Slytherin chap in her year. Said they’ve been friends since second year after they became partners during potions class. But from the way he was holding her hand, I think there’s a bit more than friendship blossoming between them.”

“Like we were any better?”

“Hey I was always a gentleman.” I felt him give my butt a slap which made me yelp before I punched his arm as he laughed.  Before I could get away, he grabbed hold of me holding me chest to chest to him.  “I count my blessings every day that we met on the train, and that you managed to fall for the better looking Weasley twin.”

“Like I said, my heart knew what it wanted. Though your ego could stand to be taken down a beg or two.”

“That’s one of the many qualities that makes me charming.” We laughed softly before he captured my lips with his in a soft and passionate kiss.  “I love you (Y/n) Celeste Black.” His hot breath breathed across my lips sending shivers up my spine.

“And I love you, George Fabian Black.” I whispered back before kissing him again.

Life has it’s ups and downs.  Some good and some bad, we’ve been through hell and back in our brief lives but I count my blessings and thank the stars above that I at least had George Weasley in my life through it all and I know that’ll stay that way until the end of our days.

[camfredkitties]

9. Graystripe

[docgold13]

The Folks behind the Toons

Tex Avery

Frederick Bean "Tex" Avery was born February 26, 1908, in Taylor, Texas.  Following a short stint at the Art Institute of Chicago, Avery headed out to Los Angeles where he got his start in the animation business as an inker, working on cels for animated short films in the Oswald the Lucky Rabbit series.  Soon he was promoted to an assistant to director Bill Nolan.  Avery finagled his way into Warner Brothers pretending to have much more experience as a director than he actually did.  

Avery was assigned to work primarily on the black-and-white Looney Tunes instead of the Technicolor Merrie Melodies, but was allowed to make color Merrie Melodies beginning with Page Miss Glory from 1936.  Later that year he directed Porky the Rainmaker which stared a new version of Porky Pig that Avery designed.  This was followed by Porky's Duck Hunt in 1937, which introduced the character of Daffy Duck, who possessed a new form of zaniness that had not been seen before in animated cartoons. Daffy was an almost completely crazy, bounding about the film frame in double-speed, yammering nonsensically in a high-pitched, sped-up voice provided by actor Mel Blanc.  

The madcap style of Avery’s direction was a significant departure from much of what was being done in animation.  Many of the cartoons were slower, more gentle and similar to those produced at Walt Disney Studios.  Although initially thought of as low-brow and overly silly, Avery's style was a hit with audiences and he went on to direct dozens of subsequent cartoons, introducing many characters who would become staples in Warner Brothers’ catalog, including Elmer Fudd, Cecil Turtle and Willoughby the Dog.  He additionally came up with Bugs Bunny’s trademark phrase eh, what’s up, doc?’  which was how Tex greeted his friends throughout his childhood and teenage years.  

In 1941, Avery left Warners and signed with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, where he formed his own animation unit and directed shorts in Technicolor that were produced by Fred Quimby.  Avery’s work at MGM led to the creation of many new characters, such as Droopy Dog, Screwy Squirrel, a new iteration of the Big Bad Wolf and of course Red Hot Riding Hood (hubba hubba) . 

During his time at MGM, Avery became friends with fellow animators, William Hanna and Joseph Barbera.  Hanna and Barbera would borrow some of Avery’s madcap schtick in crafting their break-out hit, Tom and Jerry.  

Avery left MGM and went to work for Walter Lantz Productions in 1954.  Here he created Chilly Willy and directed numerous toons featuring the penguin.   His 1955 short, Crazy Mixed Up Pup, along with he Chilly Willy short The Legend of Rockabye Point were both nominated for an Academy Award.  

Avery went into semi retirement following the death of his son from a heroin overdose.  The tragedy contributed to the break up of Avery’s marriage to Patricia Johnson and led to a prolonged depression.  He returned to the industry briefly, working for his old friends Hanna and Barbera where he wrote gags for Saturday morning cartoons such as Fred and Barney Meet the Thing and Kwicky Koala.  

Avery passed away from lung cancer in 1980.  He is buried in Forest Lawn Memorial Park, Hollywood Hills, in a grave next to his son.  Avery’s signature style of breakneck pacing, nutty sight gags, exaggerated expressions and fourth-wall breaking bits would become incorporated into many of the other cartoons continuing to this day.   Avery’s influence is especially evident in such projects as The Ren and Stimpy Show, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, The Mask, SpongeBob SquarePants, and many others.  

[postsbycass]

Of Beasts and Bloodlines, Chapter 1

[ blurb ]

At Hogwarts, dark forces threaten student safety and the beloved Quidditch season. But does Oliver Wood know more than he is letting on?

Or…

Oliver Wood and Percy Weasley are forced to work together… but don’t worry, it’s fine, nothing will go horribly wrong. Probably.

AND FINALLY…START OF CHAPTER:

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

Sunday, the 1st of September, 1991.

10:57.

Percy knows—he’s been checking the time every five seconds since he arrived at Platform 9¾

His mother was in the middle of her third round of goodbye hugs, and Percy endured it with minimal squirming. Well, sort of.

“You’ll do brilliantly, my darling,” Molly Weasley whispered fiercely, brushing imaginary dust off his robes.

“Yes, thank you, Mum,” Percy replied. “I have my list. Everything’s in order.”

Behind them, Fred and George were trying to attach a dungbomb to Ron’s trunk while Arthur distractedly checked his muggle watch. He’d been obsessed with that thing lately…

“Right, well, I need to be on board early,” Percy said, stepping back from the embrace. “Prefects are expected to—”

“Yes, yes,” Molly interrupted, tearful. “Go on then, darling. Make us proud.”

Mrs. Weasley kissed both his cheeks, twice, and Percy made a face of discomfort. She was halfway through waving off his siblings when he turned to Ginny, who was hovering nearby, red-eyed and fiercely trying not to sniffle.

“Make sure you keep your room tidy,” he said, adjusting his glasses in that precise way that meant he was nervous. “And help Mum out when you can. I won’t be there to remind you.”

Ginny huffed, scrubbing at her nose. “I know, Percy.”

“I mean it,” he added. “No leaving your socks under the bed. No scribbling on the walls with enchantments—”

“That was Fred and George!”

Percy raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Regardless. Be good. You’re the only one left at home now.”

Ginny crossed her arms, lower lip trembling but held high. “I’m always good.”

“Right,” Percy said, softening just a little. “Well. Stay that way.”

There was a pause—awkward, uncertain—where it looked like he might hug her. But instead, he gave her a brisk nod and turned toward the train, adjusting his badge for what was the fourth time that morning.

10:59.

Inside the train, chaos reigned as usual. Students weaving through narrow corridors, trunks being hauled and dropped, owls shrieking from cages…but Percy only saw checkboxes. He mentally ticked off each item on his itinerary: arrive early, attend Prefect meeting, patrol the corridors, settle into routine.

The designated Prefect compartment was near the front of the train, away from the excited first years. Honestly? It felt like entering a different realm—one where everything was orderly, predictable, and most importantly, serious. The moment he stepped inside, he straightened his spine a little more, adjusted his badge a fifth time (if you can believe it), and took in the other students with the cool scrutiny of someone determined to be seen as an equal.

Penelope Clearwater was already there, seated near the window with her notes lined up in perfect little rows. Her penmanship was maddeningly neat. Ever letter is precisely angled, as though the parchment itself had demanded perfection. Percy, who prided himself on his own tidy scrawl, had the sudden urge to rewrite his entire planner. Dammit.

She glanced up. “Weasley.”

“Clearwater,” he replied smoothly, settling onto the seat opposite her.

The other Prefects trickled in, a mix of returning prefects and the new, 5th year ones, such as Percy himself. There was an informal sense of hierarchy already in place: the older students sat more comfortably, joking with each other, while the younger ones kept their backs straight and their voices quiet..

One Head Boy, a tall Hufflepuff named Davinder Patel, called the meeting to order. Percy immediately sat up even straighter, quill poised, planner open. This was it. The beginning of his prefectship.

“Alright, lads and lasses,” Davinder began, tone easy but commanding. “We’ve got a lot to cover before we get to the school, so let’s keep this moving. Patrol rotations, first-year guidance teams, curfew enforcement—you know the drill.”

Percy’s hand flew across his parchment, writing quite literally every word. His brow furrowed when someone next to him snorted at a joke Davinder made about how Slytherin Prefects always vanish right before trouble starts. Not everything had to be funny. This was important.

Penelope leaned in slightly at one point to clarify something under her breath—“It’s every third Thursday, not second”—and Percy felt a strange twinge of admiration and competition at once. She was sharp. Efficient. Possibly sharper than him.

He hated how much that thrilled him.

There was a brief discussion on disciplinary protocol, during which one of the sixth-year Gryffindor Prefects asked, “Do we have to write everything down, or is that just a Percy thing?”

Several students laughed.

Percy went bright red. “Keeping records is standard practice,” he muttered, not looking up.

Penelope cut in, of course. “Actually, it’s encouraged. The Head Girl said last year that thorough documentation helped when reporting repeat offenses.”

Percy glanced at her. She didn’t even look up from her planner. But he made a note to thank her later. Or maybe never. He hadn’t decided yet.

The meeting wrapped up after thirty minutes, with folders distributed, patrol partners assigned, and everything reviewed. Percy left the compartment feeling…different. Not relaxed, exactly. But he didn’t feel like an imposter. Not entirely. He had a role to play, a place where order mattered. And he planned to be excellent at it.

Even if it meant rewriting his to-do list three times before the train arrived.

11:30

After the meeting, Percy returned to a mostly empty compartment three cars down and settled in. He was only halfway through his notes on Prefect duties when the door slid open again and someone slouched in.

Oliver Wood. Percy’s Quidditch-obsessed dorm mate, for the last 4 years.

His hair looked like he’d run through a wind tunnel, and his uniform was only technically tidy—just enough to pass inspection, but clearly thrown on in a hurry. His eyes had that bleary, battle-worn look of someone who’d slept too little and thought too much.

“Morning,” Oliver grunted, tossing his bag onto the seat across from Percy and collapsing after it like a man who’d run from Hogsmeade to London.

Percy didn’t look up. “It’s nearly noon.”

Oliver waved that off. “Details.”

Fair enough. Percy carefully finished underlining something on his parchment, then frowned, realizing something.

“…Why are you even in here? This is the Prefect compartment.”

Oliver groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah. I know. I’ll leave in a bit. I just…I needed a place to breathe.”

Percy blinked. “Breathe?”

“It’s chaos out there,” Oliver muttered. “I can’t deal with it right now.”

He leaned back, eyes shut, jaw tight.

“Didn’t think the bloody drama would start before we even reached the school.”

Percy opened his mouth, probably to say something about rules or boundaries, but paused. Oliver looked… genuinely tired. Less of the usual firebrand and more like someone already bracing for impact.

“…You’re not supposed to be here,” Percy said, but with less bite than before.

“I know,” Oliver replied, not moving. “Just… give me ten minutes before I have to go back to pretending I have any control over that team.”

Percy sighed, eyes flicking down to his parchment. “Fine. But if Penelope comes back and sees you in here, I’m not defending you.”

Silence settled for a few moments, save for the scribble of Percy’s quill and Oliver’s muffled rummaging through his bag.

Then:

“They’ve gutted us,” Oliver said suddenly.

Percy blinked. “I beg your pardon? Gutted ‘us’ how, exactly?”

“Quidditch,” Oliver replied, rubbing his temples like a man plagued by strategy and ghosts. “Charlie’s gone. Charlie. That’s a massive hole in the lineup. We’ve no Seeker. Bell says Spinnet might not come back this year. Johnson wants to try Beater—she’s good, but we need her as Chaser, and we’ve already got the twins as Beaters. And I’ve just found out something. Something horrid. Bell’s crushing on a Slytherin.”

He said it like she’d announced her plans to join a magical terrorist organization.

Percy looked up, mildly alarmed. “Is that… dangerous, somehow?”

“No. Worse. It’s Quidditch incest.”

There was a beat of silence.

Percy blinked again. “I… don’t follow.”

Oliver flailed an arm. “She’s fraternizing with the enemy! It’s unnatural! Like—like a Bludger and a Snitch having tea together. You don’t like someone who’s actively trying to concuss you!”

From somewhere down the corridor, a voice shouted, “It’s not incest, Oliver!”

“Oh well that makes it okay then, I suppose???” Oliver yelled back. “Cancel the whole season! Bring cupcakes to the matches! Let’s all snog midair and call it a draw!”

He collapsed backward into his seat, looking personally betrayed by romance itself.

Percy slowly set down his quill and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You do realize,” he said carefully, “that liking a member of the opposing team isn’t a war crime.”

“Tell that to the scoreboard,” Oliver muttered. “Slytherin’s stacked this year. Flint’s still Captain, which means he’s still alive somehow, despite the rumors.”

Percy wasn’t going to ask about the rumors. That was a detour he didn’t have time for.

“Marcus Flint is an idiot,” Percy replied primly. “But he plays dirty. That makes him dangerous.”

Oliver pointed at Percy. “See? Exactly. Katie gets distracted by his teammate’s stupid cheekbones, and next thing you know, she’s missing passes and crying on the pitch.”

Percy raised an eyebrow. “Do you actually think that will happen, or are you just catastrophizing to avoid addressing your tactical gaps?”

Oliver stared at him.

“Who hurt you,” he whispered.

Percy flushed. “I’m just saying! Emotional distractions are manageable if you prioritize discipline. Personally, I avoid them altogether.”

Oliver pulled a face. “You say that like you’re proud.”

“I am,” Percy snapped. “It’s my first year as Prefect. I have a reputation to maintain. If you think I’m going to risk—”

“Oh Merlin, you are proud.”

They glared at each other across the compartment.

“Look,” Oliver sighed. “You do your little patrols and make your tidy little lists. That’s your Quidditch. This? This chaos? This is mine.”

He tapped his temple.

Percy, against his better judgment, cracked a smile.

“And here I thought your chaos lived entirely in your vocal cords, with how much you shout.”

Oliver grinned. “Only when Flint’s involved.”

They lapsed into silence again, this time companionable. Outside, the scenery blurred as the train rolled on. Percy resumed his notes with slightly less urgency. Oliver bounced his leg restlessly, as if powered by some sort of magical stimulant.

A knock on the compartment door made them both glance up. Penelope Clearwater slid it open, composed as ever.

“We’re arriving in ten,” she told Percy.

“Right.” Percy stood, smoothing his robes. “Best to start early.”

As he moved past Oliver, the other boy leaned back lazily.

“Try not to enforce any international treaties while you’re at it, Percy.”

7:30

The Great Hall glowed with warm candlelight, its enchanted ceiling mirroring the dusky September sky. The first years shuffled in behind the prefects, wide-eyed and whispering, the newness of it all clinging to them like static. Percy Weasley led the Gryffindors with the brisk, rigid efficiency of someone carrying several invisible clipboards. His badge gleamed just enough to make him sit straighter.

Behind him, the Gryffindor table buzzed—bets on House placements, heated recounts of train compartment drama, Fred and George laughing too hard to be innocent.

That was never a good sign.

Percy slid into a seat midway down the table, eyes sweeping the Hall with quiet precision. He was watching. That was his job now. He looked like a traumatized owl, but hey…that was kind of the point, right?

“Not bad crop this year,” Oliver murmured beside him, making Percy twitch. “Couple of them looked like they could handle a broom.”

“They’re eleven.”

“Exactly. Start ‘em young.”

Percy inhaled through his nose

As the Sorting began, Oliver leaned forward each time a name was called, whispering evaluations like a coach scouting talent at a toddler tryout.

“Too nervous. Nope. That one’s got a good center of gravity. Definitely fast.”

“You can’t tell that from their name.”

“Wrong. You just don’t have The Eye.”

“You do realize this is an ancient House tradition, not a recruitment drive.”

“Why can’t it be both?” Oliver grinned like this was the cleverest thing he’d said all year. “Ooh—Higgins! Percy, did you hear Higgins? He said he likes flying. That’s a good sign. Make a note.”

“I’m not writing that down.”

“You’re thinking about it, though.”

Unfortunately, he was.

The Sorting ended, the Hat’s last echoes fading into the high-arched ceiling. The first years found their places—some glowing with pride, others blinking in numb horror. A tearful, pureblood Hufflepuff was already regretting everything.

Percy scanned the Gryffindor additions, instinctively noting who might need help, and who might end up lighting a toilet on fire. And then, of course, there was the issue of Harry Potter.

Something about him made Percy uneasy—and he had a feeling this year was going to be long.

Very long.

The feast was already winding down. Pudding plates scraped clean, chatter rising like steam. Oliver Wood, meanwhile, was visibly vibrating beside Percy—restraining himself from leaping onto the table and announcing Quidditch tryouts to a room of half-conscious first years. No, genuinely. He’s legitimately trembling.

Percy sliced an apple and muttered, “If you say the word ‘practice’ before the first-years find their beds, I’m leaving.”

“I’m not,” Oliver lied.

His eyes flicked across the Hall—and locked.

“Flint’s looking over here again.”

Across the room, Marcus Flint leaned lazily against the Slytherin table, laughing at something Cassius Warrington had said. Broad-shouldered, square-jawed, and constantly five seconds from a brawl, he looked like he’d been carved out of granite and then left in the sun too long. His smile, when it landed on Oliver, was smug and just a touch too slow. He raised a hand in a mocking little wave.

Oliver scowled. “Gross. Smarmy git.”

“Focus,” Percy warned.

And then, as if summoned by chaos itself, Katie Bell leaned over the table. “Hey, Oliver? Is it true Montague made the Slytherin team this year?”

Oliver paused mid-glare. “Yeah. Why?”

Katie tilted her head, trying to be casual. “No reason. He just… looks taller.”

Percy choked on a bit of apple.

Oliver turned to her, aghast. “Taller?! What does that even—Katie, you can’t be serious—”

“I didn’t say I like him!” Katie insisted, her face pinking. “Just that he’s… tall now. That’s all.”

Before Oliver could spiral further, Marcus Flint chose that exact moment to stroll over, looking like he owned the floorboards.

“Well, well,” he drawled. “Evening, Wood. Congratulations on having the most open-minded Chaser lineup this year.”

He nodded to Katie with exaggerated charm. “Montague says hi, by the way.”

Katie nearly slid under the table. Oliver stood so fast his goblet went flying. “You! You stay the hell away from my Chasers, Flint!”

Flint gave a slow smirk. “Bit possessive, aren’t you? Or are you just jealous she noticed someone with actual talent—”

That was when Angelina Johnson calmly set down her spoon with a little clink.

She folded her arms. “Alright. That’s it.”

Oliver froze. As did Katie…

“Flint,” Angelina said, voice calm but cutting.

Marcus leaned in, cocky as ever. “Yeah, Johnson?”

She gestured to her dessert. “Your face is making my treacle tart taste worse.”

A hush swept down the table.

Flint’s eyebrows lifted. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she said, gesturing to her plate. “You show up, start strutting like a preening Hippogriff, and now all I taste is sweat and ego. Unkindly shove off.”

A snort of laughter came from somewhere near George. Someone at the Ravenclaw table winced sympathetically.

Flint’s smirk twitched. “Y’know what? Fine. Hope you lot enjoy losing this year. Especially with Wood playing captain and emotional support owl.”

He stormed off. Oliver opened his mouth to yell something—

Angelina didn’t even look up. “And you. Don’t.”

Oliver closed his mouth.

“If I hear one more word about Montague, Katie’s tragic preferences, or how Slytherins don’t blink like normal people, I will personally end this meal with violence.”

Oliver held up both hands in surrender.

Angelina picked up her fork again, peaceful as could be. “Thank you. Now let’s all try acting like normal people for five minutes so Dumbledore can give his speech without someone throwing a fork.”

Percy let out a breath.

Katie whispered, “All I said was that he’s tall.”

Angelina, still not looking up: “Katie, I swear to Merlin—”

The Great Hall fell into silence.

No one had seen Dumbledore enter. But suddenly, there he stood at the head table. Tall, robed, and far wearier than Percy remembered. His eyes swept across the Hall as he raised his hands for quiet.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice as calm as ever, but distant, too. “To another year at Hogwarts.”

The silence hung close.

“As always, we gather in the spirit of discovery, friendship, and growth. But this year…” he paused, and for a moment, Percy felt the air itself hold its breath, “this year may prove… complicated.”

Chairs creaked. A nervous laugh or two echoed.

“There are things that go unnoticed until they move. Shadows with no shape. Doors that do not open. Whispers you will not trace to any mouth. Should you encounter something unusual—do not dismiss it. Come forward. Tell someone.”

Oliver shifted beside Percy, brow furrowed.

“You may also find,” Dumbledore went on, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “that allies arise in unexpected places. Let that not be a cause for fear. Hogwarts stands when we stand together.”

He raised his goblet.

“To unity. To vigilance. And to another year of magic.”

The hall clapped, quiet and uneven. Percy looked across to Penelope, who met his eyes with a frown.

Something was off.

He looked back toward the staff table—noticed McGonagall whispering something to Flitwick, Snape’s arms crossed tighter than usual, even Hagrid fidgeting. Dumbledore, now seated, wasn’t touching his food. He was staring into nothing with a distant, unreadable look.

It wasn’t just nerves. It wasn’t just a new term.

Something was wrong. Percy didn’t know what, but the air had changed.

Even the ceiling—normally enchanted to look like the sky—looked different now. Too still. Too dark. Like it was watching back, almost.

Beside him, Oliver swallowed, then leaned in and whispered, “This is how it always starts in those horror novels my cousin Victoria reads. Next thing you know, someone’s broom tries to kill them.”

Percy stared at him. “…What?”

Oliver shrugged, already grabbing a final roll off the platter. “I’m just saying. If my broom starts growling or developing opinions, I’m not flying it.”

He took a bite, thoughtful. “Though, I dunno. If it helps block Slytherin goals, might be worth the risk.”

Percy sighed through his nose. “You’re going to die first.”

“Yeah, but it’d be in a wicked way. Probably during a dive.”

[word count: 3,135]

authors note -> I’M SORRY. I’VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR LIKE, EVER. I KNOW I SAID I’D PUT THIS OUT IN JANUARY (twas all a lie) BUT IT IS HERE NOW !!! ENJOY. ALSO TAGGING MY BEAUTIFUL WONDERFUL SCRUMPTIOUS DELIGHTFUL BESTIE BOO WHO HAS ENDURED MY RANTING AND RAVING THESE PAST MONTHS. @amethystandemma

[httpknjoon]

mister cute guy with the white jacket | myg

plot | that one time popstar yn surprised everyone by inviting her live band's bass guitarist with her on stage for a performance.

w.c | 2323

pairing | bass guitarist! yoongi x popstar! reader

genre | fluff (?), enemies to lovers

main masterlist

DAY 32 of Love Is... On Tour

"Please wear this tonight."

The tour's wardrobe supervisor knocks on Yoongi's hotel room door. Almost instantly, when he opens the door, he is handed a white denim jacket with a customized design on the back, bedazzling with rhinestones. It shows his initials in the middle of what seems to be an arrowed heart.

"Oh, is it a new outfit or something?" he asked since the live band members already had their two sets of costumes that fit the aesthetic of your tour.

Instead of answering, Paul pulled down his dark shades and looked at Yoongi in an are-you-seriously-asking-me-that mode. But Yoongi's expression didn't change. He still has the same unaware look that tells your tour's wardrobe supervisor that he still hasn't got the memo.

"You didn't hear the news?" Paul asked him.

"What news?" Yoongi replied, scratching the back of his head.

The corners of Paul's lips pulled up like he was suddenly excited. But he bit it off before it even turns into a full smile. Yoongi squints his eyes at this. Why is he trying not to smile? What was the news?

"You should talk to Cal before the rehearsals."

They were on their way to the arena for the soundcheck for tonight's concert, Yoongi had the jacket folded in his arm, when Fred, their drummer, took notice of it.

"That's a nice jacket you got there," he said, scanning it.

"You didn't get one?" Yoongi asked, getting more confused.

Fred shook his head and asked the others if they had their own jacket. But everyone said no and went back to doing what they were doing.

Arriving at the arena, other live band members began warming up their instruments on stage while Yoongi immediately searched for your personal assistant. He just needs to know why he is getting a jacket because he also learned the other members were not.

It is a little strange because he surely is not your favorite person here to make Cal get him a customized piece of clothing. Ever since he got abruptly signed up for this tour, you two barely had any interaction without having petty disagreements or bickering over little things. You two just see things differently, it's obvious to everyone. But Yoongi needed the gig and you needed a new band after your last one suddenly left. So you two still work together, just more civil with each other.

"Hey, Yoongi." Art, the tour manager, was the first person who greeted him when he got backstage to search for Cal.

"Hi, Art. Have you seen Cal?"

The older guy looked around behind him, "I think I saw her in the catering area— By the way, tell the guys to eat before soundcheck,"

Yoongi nods his head, "Okay, thanks."

He walked forward, looking for that area. After passing by three dressing rooms, he finally spotted your assistant lined up to get food presumably for you and herself since she had two plates on both of her hands. He walked up to her side.

"Hey, Cal. Can I ask you about something?"

"If it's a yes or no question, sure. If it's a long conversation, wait for me after I feed YN," she replied, before turning to the catering staff to tell them your specific menu.

"Okay, is— Why do you have to feed her? I'm sure she can—"

"Oh, cut it off. YN's been feeling under the weather since last night and she needs to take a rest. She's not eating anything but I need to make her so she has energy for later." Cal is quick to cut Yoongi's pettiness, sounding like your mother for a moment. "What's the question."

Yoongi, who feels a little guilty now, cleared his throat before asking, "Is this jacket mine?"

"Yes," Cal replied before walking after getting your food.

He followed next to her as she walked back to where you were resting.

"Why do I get one?"

"Because she wants you to wear it for tonight."

"And why?" Yoongi asked again since he feels like he is not really getting a more helpful answer to his concern.

Cal stopped in front of your dressing room, where your name was printed on a piece of paper that was taped on the door. She looked really busy and hurried.

"Lemme just take care of YN quickly. Then, I promise I'll talk to you in an hour." she sighed. "Now, can you open the door for me first and then come look for me here after soundcheck?"

Although dismayed that he didn't get any explanation, Yoongi opened the door for her to let her inside your room and left to do the sound check.

Before the soundcheck began, one of the staff members said that you would not be able to do both the soundcheck and rehearsals today since you were feeling unwell. That's when Yoongi knows that you need to rest badly. Because in almost five weeks of touring, he has already seen you practice with a portable heating pad when you were having cramps or do a soundcheck with a cooling pad stuck on your forehead.

You love performing and being on stage, Yoongi can see it. So he cannot help but wonder how you are right now.

"She picked you for that."

Just like she promised, Cal talked to Yoongi to explain about the jacket before the dance rehearsals. They sat on one of the thousands of empty seats in the arena while the stage was being set up like a dollhouse.

Yoongi sips in his iced coffee, "For what?"

"We asked her if she wanted to do anything special tonight. She said she wants you as her partner for Bed Chem."

What? Yoongi stopped and slowly put down his coffee to look at Cal. What partner? You already have one of your dancers for that. Plus, he had seen that performance every night. Why would you want him there?!

Cal watched as his expression changed from plain to confused to shocked. He was speechless but his head was exploding with loud questions. So before he can say anything, she explains further,

"We thought that it was going to be fun. She wanted to start a small concert surprise tradition, where she would have an unexpected guest to go with her on stage for that song. For now, we thought of doing it one by one with the live band since you guys are earning some fans in the audience too since this tour began."

That's right. Ever since they got this gig weeks ago, every band member's social media following doubled— tripled in Yoongi's case. He was surprised to get a lot of attention online that they occasionally talked about on Twitter and TikTok. He has seen fan cams, which he finds a little weird but flattering at the same time.

"Don't worry, there will be a rehearsal for it later. Someone will tell you what to do and one of the dancers will stand in for YN. So you will know where to stand and all." Cal added.

Yoongi was silent, staring at the stage in the distance. He chewed on his lower lip, contemplating if he should do it.

"But if you don't want to do it, it's o—"

"I'll do it."

As soon as he agreed to do it, Yoongi joined the rehearsal for the Bed Chem performance. He rolled his eyes to his band members who came to eat their lunch while watching him on stage. Of course, they find it funny knowing that you two don't really get along.

"Is he going to dance?" Noah, their lead guitarist, asked for fun.

Seeing how terrified Yoongi was by that idea, the choreographer immediately denied it and just directed him to his points and what to do. To conclude it, Yoongi can just say that it has a lot of touching.

Next thing he knows, people are filling up the empty seats in the arena and Yoongi is putting on his white jacket before getting on stage. Yoongi still hasn't seen you all day. He heard from two staff members that you were mostly asleep in your bed all day and only got up to get ready for tonight.

"How are we doing, Chicago!"

Yoongi watched you from behind while you greeted everyone on the center stage after your first two songs. You were just as lively as your normal state, totally opposite from what he was told earlier today.

"I was in a sheer dress the day that we met..."

Six songs into the concert, the song he had been dreading waiting for began playing. You were on the bed where the performance would take place. You are now wearing a pastel pink sheer babydoll dress over your sparkling bodysuit, with a glittery garter strap on each thigh.

Fans sing along with you while Yoongi continues playing with the band. He tried to stay focused and not feel nervous about what was about to happen. His stomach is twisting and all he can do is to play the right chords in his guitar. But the feelings heightened even more when he was quickly shown on screens when you sang the lines:

"Who's the cute boy with the white jacket and the thick accent? Like ooh..."

Considering that this is the first time happening on the tour, the audience was surprised at first. Screaming. The, they were curious why did the camera swiftly focused on him. Then they resumed one vibing and singing along until...

"Who's the cute guy with the bass guitar and the big bad mm? Like ooh..."

Your fans squealed as soon as they realized that you changed certain words in the song lyrics, obviously pertaining to your bass guitarist, Yoongi. Then, you were walking out of the curtains around the bed.

It's hard to act like he doesn't notice you when there's a spotlight following you in every part of the stage you walk on. Yoongi tries to focus on playing his bass guitar but he can feel you walking in his direction. The cheers got louder. Yoongi doesn't like how warm he feels at the moment. You just did a few walks in front of the band before you went back on the large bed on the stage to do your choreography with your dancers.

"And I bet we'd both arrive at the same time, and I bet the thermostat's set at six-nine, and I bet it's even better than in my head..."

Just a few lines before the last chorus, the bit they rehearsed for began. Your dancers ran to him like they were encouraging him to go to where you are, on the bed.

"How you talk so sweet when you're doin' bad things, that's bed chem..."

Then, they pulled him with them on the edge of the bed. They leave him alone just in front of the curtains. At this point, the audience was truly engaged and loud.

"Are you free next week? I bet we'd have really good-"

That's his cue. Ignoring the heavy thumps in his chest, he slipped slowly between the curtains. He is on his knees as he gets closer to you while you look directly at him singing the last runs for the song.

Ha (make me go), ha And I know Ha (make me go), ha And I know

Your vocals play in the background while you two begin acting your little bit. Just like what he rehearsed with one of the dancers earlier, you ran your fingers in his damp, jet-black hair. Your index finger then traced down to his next and played with his silver necklace. You two simply look at each other deeply, aware of the fact that the temperature is indeed getting higher.

Fuck, it's too hot in here, Yoongi thought. And you look so good under this red light they put you two into. He mindlessly tucked a few hair strands covering your face behind your eyes. Although it's not in the bit you were told, you just let him. It's fine, it's just hair.

Ha (make me go), ha And I know Ha (make me go), ha Ooh, oh, baby

Just when Yoongi began removing his guitar strap, the curtains began closing. The fans went crazier. With only your silhouette seen from the outside, you lay on your back while he began removing his jacket. The instrumental is slowly fading out. And when he's about to be on top of you, the lights dimmed down.

Behind the curtains, you lay under him. Both his hands were on each side next to your head. The lights were already down but you two can still see each other, the fans' cheers are still dying down on the background.

"How are you?" he asked, breaking off this strange tension between you two. His deep voice didn't help the tightening feeling blooming in your chest.

"Hmm?" you simply hummed, not really knowing what he's talking about.

"Cal said you're not feeling great this morning." he explained.

No one's really doing anything. You're still under him and he's still on top of you. And you are not really annoyed by it.

"Oh, uhm, feeling better now, I don't know, maybe because of the adne—"

"143 seconds left. Get ready for costume change. Kim's waiting outside the curtains."

A voice in your in-ear monitor made you pause. Suddenly, you snapped out of it. You remember there was a concert going on and the stage manager was waiting for you to get you backstage.

"O-kay. Costume change. I need to go."

Yoongi backed up as you quickly got up, leaving him alone. Still in the dark, on his knees, his mind went blank for a second.

What the fuck was that?

He shook his head, snapping out of it, before picking up his guitar and going back to his original place.

note | first yoongi fic after so many years! how was it? thank you so much for reading 🤍

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21

[natequarter]

❄️ icemaiden Follow

Killing myself today btw. If you even care

💻 matrixfucker3000 Follow

we do not care! hurry up and regenerate already

❄️ icemaiden Follow

You're just bitter that I'm smarter than you

#I bet you've never been down to the Vaults #the Academy sucks so baddd

54 notes

🖼️ cardinalcollector Follow

"I bet you've never been down to the Vaults" why must I be cursed with terminally stupid students

🧣 the--adventurer4 Follow

hurts to see ur own nature reflected back at u doesnt it

🖼️ cardinalcollector Follow

I hope you never regenerate again.

#Holy Rassilon why did I ever introduce my brother to Timeblr

3,937 notes

🖼️ cardinalcollector Follow

Curses. I just thought of a better insult

🧣 the--adventurer4 Follow

lol who says "curses" unironically anymore

🖼️ cardinalcollector Follow

Someday you will be cursed with one of my students and then you won't be laughing

94,272 notes

🗡️ worsthumanongallifrey Follow

damn i had no idea the time lord side of timeblr sucked so bad

#like i promise you touching a human is not going to kill you

517 notes

🗡️ worsthumanongallifrey Follow

just had someone tell me i didn't understand offworlder troubles and i'm appropriating their struggles. i literally am human????

#you guys are just jealous my husband is hotter than you 👍

862 notes

⚪️ whiteguardian Follow

Just had a GREAT idea. I am so so smart guys

2 notes

🧣 the--adventurer4 Follow

fuuuuuuuck me

❄️ icemaiden Follow

Is this an offer, a challenge, or a figure of speech?

🧣 the--adventurer4 Follow

U WERENT SUPPOSED TO SEE THIS

12 notes

🧣 the--adventurer4 Follow

my little brother once told me "i hope someday u have to deal with some1 like me" and that day has come. fuck

🖼️ cardinalcollector Follow

My actual words were, and I quote, "Someday you will be cursed with one of my students and then you won't be laughing". But nice try!

#also I was loomed first

957,369 notes

❄️ icemaiden Follow

Saw a woman so beautiful i started crying???

❄️ icemaiden Follow

Killing myself for real this time

#wish me luck #rassilon it would be embarrassing if I ended up with two heads or something

12 notes

👑 fred Follow

success ! new face

🧣 the--adventurer4 Follow

thats unethical put it back

👑 fred Follow

you don't like it ?

🧣 the--adventurer4 Follow

its got nothing to do with not liking it. u cant just steal faces without asking for consent

👑 fred Follow

oh is that what borusa taught you at the academy

#willing to bet you stole at LEAST one of your faces #i mean what about that salamander guy #so much for ethics

52 notes

🖼️ cardinalcollector Follow

My former students routinely fail to make me feel anything other than pure misery

#convinced they're genetically designed to be idiots at this point #oh let's all just regenerate for the fun of it #WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?

0 notes

🧣 the--adventurer4 Follow

getting married wish me luck

🧣 the--adventurer4 Follow

UPDATE: we have adopted an alien son. at no point did i consent to this

🧣 the--adventurer4 Follow

UPDATE: she left me

🧣 the--adventurer4 Follow

i give up

25,269 notes

🧣 the--adventurer4 Follow

ihave died. badly

⚰️ themaster Follow

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

✈️ donewiththisshit573 Follow

what the hell mate

#i am so confused

69,327 notes

🧪 tryingmybest Follow

has anyone seen traken?? i can't find it

⚰️ themaster Follow

LOL have you checked behind all the fucks i don't give

#idiots

58 notes

⚰️ themaster Follow

28,385 notes

🏏 the--adventurer5 Follow

I miss my girlfriend

🏏 the--adventurer5 Follow

Save me Romana... save me...

✈️ donewiththisshit573 Follow

are we just going to skip over adric dying then or

🏏 the--adventurer5 Follow

Obviously

#romanaaaaaaa

478 notes

[shadowbriar]

Fred Gideon Weasley Masterlist

♤ Angst - ♡ Fluff - ✮ AU - ♛ Popular

One-shot

♤ Cherry: Inspired by Cherry by Harry Styles.  Fred thought that by distancing himself, he could do more protection than damage. What he didn’t know is that from this separation, she might have found another man to lean in to.

♡ Oblivious Weasley: "Why are you daft, Fred?" Overthinking and assumptions silently creates the wall that separate the two lovers. As one starts to turn and knock on another door, could they finally meet in the middle before it was too late?

♡♛ I Love you: Years of prank wars finally lead to unintended harm that makes one realise, enough is enough.  

♤ Bridges: In which Fred tries to spare himself the heartbreak from falling for someone he's supposed to love as a sister.  

♤  Stuck on the Puzzle: Inspired by Stuck on the Puzzle by Alex Turner. Having arrived late to the mansion after every attempt of stalling time, Fred finally gathered his last fragment of courage and joined the pre-wedding party, keeping in mind to drink every cocktail on sight so that he’ll be hammered enough tomorrow to skip the wedding.  

♤ Outgrown [Prompt Request]: “I’d ask but judging by the look on your eyes, I can already tell that you’ve closed our chapter.”      

♤♡ Selene and Helios [Prompt Request]: “It has always been you.”

♤♡ Pick Up Where We Left Off: One last Christmas with the Weasleys, would she find her closure from his sudden withdrawal years ago?  

♤ Mother: The fact that their relationship didn't work out was such a tragedy no one could have expected and Fred has no one else to blame but himself.

♡ Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve: The three times Fred Weasley should've professed his feelings and the one time he finally did.

♤ Clandestine Love: His unwillingness to come out of the shadows have finally caused him greater damage one couldn't possibly fix.

Series

♤ Fallen Potter [On-going]: The plan was beautifully designed. False information has also been carried to the Ministry of Magic in hope that the Death Eaters would buy it, giving them the window to transport Harry safely tonight. But just like the calm before storm, Fred has to let go his source of oxygen as one Potter falls.    Part I