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theweasleysredhair · 4 years

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I Wanna Be Yours [G.W.]

Character: George Weasley

Word Count: 6025

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Love is complicated. Especially when the boy you love likes someone else. Or does he? [Based on the film Some Kind of Wonderful].

WARNING: brief mentions of alcohol and drinking

Tags: @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @firewhisky-kisses @obsessedwithrandomthings @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @rexorangecouny @mytreec @hemmoporro @thisismysketchbook @acciotwinz @shadowsinger11 @aaannabbanana @lestersglitterglue @anyasthoughts @lxncelot @harrypotter289 @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @valwritesx @hufflrpuffforfred @cappsikle @kiwi-sloan @potter-redheads @pigwidgexn @twinkyjohnson @tinylumpiaa @locke-writes @user12345321 @wand3ringr0s3 @ickle-ronniekins @sehunasbitch @cryingforcrystalpepsi @kashishwrites @girl-next-door-writes @susceptible-but-siriusexual @crissdanvers @whizbangs-78 @heart-of-tempered-steel @oh-for-merlins-sake @heavenlymidnight @aylinw3asley @andineversawyoucoming | message or send an ask to be added/removed!

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: i am again naming my fics after arctic monkeys’ songs - fun fact this one is named after my favourite one of theirs, i’m considering having it for my wedding song bc it cute af

also yes i watched some kind of wonderful whilst writing this and cried. it’s not even a sad fic, i’m just emotional smh

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

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“Y/n! Wait up!”

You span round on your heels, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen, “I said I’m fine, Fred! Okay? I’m fine. Absolutely fabulous, in fact.”

Fred stopped in front of you, a shimmer of pity in his brown eyes that made you feel even worse than you already did, “I just want to make sure you’re okay. I-I’m sorry-“

“I know. I know, Freddie,” you replied, your voice quiet as you pressed your lips together, reaching out to grab his hands in yours, “It’s okay. It is, really. I just... I need to be alone.”

“But I- I just... it’s his loss, just so you know!” He pleaded, shaking his head at you, and swore under his breath at the sight of one of his closest friends in tears over his brother, “Merlin, he shouldn’t have given that to her- I shouldn’t have said anything-“

And that’s where your problem had started. Because a few weeks ago, you were, as you claimed, fine. Well, you had a few essays due and were having trouble finding the textbooks to help you write them, but that was all really.

How you wished you could steal a time turner and go back in time.

And yes, when this all started you knew that George had his heart taken by someone else. It’s not his fault, not really, that his whole plan, scheme, escapade turned into something that would completely crush your heart.

Affairs of the heart. That’s where this started. Because before a few days ago, you were unaware of your own feelings. Before a few days ago, you were unaware of any feelings towards him at all.

But that fateful moment - the one where you were sat with George in front of the fireplace, a half-drank bottle of firewhisky sitting between you, laughing and joking - was the one that changed everything.

You hadn’t even realised yourself, until Fred pointed it out to you the morning after, when he’d found you curled up by George’s side, empty firewhisky bottle laying on the floor in front of the couch, George’s arm around your waist, your face buried into his chest.

In Fred’s defence, he thought you knew. He thought you’d be aware of your own feelings.

How was he supposed to know that you didn’t know you were in love with his twin?

_________~*~_________

“This is the year I reckon,” George announced to you as he collapsed onto the sofa beside you, throwing his legs over your thighs as he rested his back against the arm of the couch, his arms resting behind his neck, “She’s finally single, first time since second year. Now’s my chance!”

You popped a Bertie’s Every Flavour Bean into your mouth and closed the book you weren’t really paying attention to, before dropping it on the table in front of the couch, “And how long have you liked her again?”

George blinked at the way you raised an eyebrow at him and sat up a little, “Since I found out she was single again.” At your pointed look, he shot you a grin, “Nah, since before the summer. Point is, I reckon I could really like this girl.”

“Poor love, having you snivelling around her all the time. I wonder how she’ll cope,” you grinned back, throwing one of the jelly beans at his head.

“Well you seem to cope just fine,” he retorted, batting another jelly bean away from his head.

“That’s just because I’m desensitised to you by now.”

“Is that so?” George asked with a raised eyebrow, a grin etched onto his face as he sat up properly, leaning a little closer to you. You turned your head to face him, meeting his stare as you nodded, “Course, how else would I have put up with you so long?”

He leant further forward and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, “Willingly, because you love me, stupid.”

You nudged him, making him laugh as he went back to lying down comfortably, “Yeah, yeah.”

You watched a few first years clamber through the portrait hole, laughing to each other as they made their way through the common room, an absent-minded smile gracing your lips as you recalled being the same in your first year with your friends.

“How do you reckon I should ask her out?” George’s voice brought you away from your reminiscing as you looked over at him, “She deserves something amazing, something no other guy will have thought of for her.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing this would be the topic of conversation for the rest of the evening, but nevertheless gestured for him to continue on. “I wanna go all out if she’s gonna turn out to be everything I’ve ever wanted in a girl,” George finished, a dreamy, faraway look crossing his features.

Reaching into the box of jelly beans, you grabbed a handful and threw them at him, ignoring his indignant “hey!” as you replied pointedly, “Don’t go mistaking paradise for a pair of long legs.”

Because truthfully, that was why a lot of guys were interested in Kiara. She was smart - being a Ravenclaw and all - surprisingly funny, and, as far as you knew, was really kind too. Not that this mattered to many of the boys in your year (and the years above and below), apparently, because she was also beautiful, with long, glossy brown hair, perfect doll-like features and, yes, long, lean legs.

“That’s not why I like her,” George insisted, grabbing one of the jelly beans that had fallen onto his lap and throwing it back at you, laughing as it hit you on the forehead. You playfully glared at him, rubbing your forehead in mock-hurt.

“Sure it’s not, stupid,” you replied, using his minor insult from before. “Ohhh, I’m the stupid one now, am I?” He scoffed, though the smile on his face told you he wasn’t offended in the slightest, “Now you’re in for it.”

He moved his legs off you and poked your sides, knowing you were ticklish, making you laugh out and push him away, “George, stop!”

“Take it back then, love. Say I’m the smartest wizard you know,” he grinned, continuing his minor tickling assault, making you move away from him so abruptly that you fell off the couch and onto the carpeted floor, bringing him down on top of you.

“Ouch- never! You are stupid, stupid!” You laughed, laying on the floor as you tried to catch your breath, George’s hands either side of your head, holding his weight up above you.

Both of your laughter faded a little and you found yourself staring into his brown eyes, his face barely centimetres from your own. You could have almost sworn that he started moving closer - though maybe it was your imagination - before he rolled away and lay beside you on the floor, his hand brushing yours.

“You’ll help me right?” He asked after a moment. You turned your head to look at him, taking in his side profile as he stared up at the ceiling.

“I’ll help you what?”

“Get a date with her,” he said as if it were obvious, turning his head to meet your gaze. You shot him a smile, “You’re George Weasley. You could get a date with anyone you wanted.”

“Just not you, right?” He turned onto his side, resting on his elbow as he looked down at you. You shook your head with a laugh, “Yeah well, I don’t count. I’m not just anyone.”

The smile he gave you made your heart beat a little faster, “You’re right about that.”

***

“All I’m saying is, is it such a bad idea if you just, I don’t know, asked her out simply? By using words? I really don’t think you need to wax poetic, or write her a bloody song to ask her out,” you shook your head in despair at the nerve-wracked boy sat across from you in the Great Hall.

“I can’t just ask her out,” George replied in a horrified voice, “What if she thinks I’ve not put enough effort into it and rejects me?”

“Trust me, Georgie, if she’s going to reject you, it won’t be because of the way you asked her out, I can guarantee that. It’ll be because you’re annoying, or because you smell, or, and I can’t stress this enough, because of your below-average skills in potions,” you laughed at his unimpressed look, taking the opportunity to grab a slice of toast off his plate.

“You’re supposed to be my best friend, you know,” he grumbled, waving his fork at you. “Yes,” you replied, “And as your best friend, I say to just ask her out. Look, joking aside, you’re a great guy, George. She’d be lucky to have you.”

He nodded, smiling gratefully at you as he reached forward and grabbed your hand to give it a squeeze, “Okay, I’ll trust you on this one. I’ll just... ask her out. How difficult could it be?”

Turns out, extremely difficult. You felt second hand embarrassment as you watched George head over to the Ravenclaw table, to where Kiara was sitting, wincing as he nearly dropped a goblet of pumpkin juice over her.

“Who’re you watching?” A voice said from beside you, making you jump. Fred laughed as you rolled your eyes at him, before replying, “For your information, I’m watching your brother ask Kiara on a date.”

“Wait, he’s asking another girl on a date?” Fred frowned, his eyes darting from George, who was currently speaking to Kiara, his cheeks reddening as she touched his shoulder and laughed, to your confused expression as you looked up at the older twin. “Yes?” You replied, bemused, “Why?”

“Does it not... bother you?” He asked gently. You laughed, “Why would it?”

And as you watched Kiara throw her arms around George’s neck, his hands coming to hold her waist, you swallowed thickly, before shaking your head at the odd feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Why would it bother you?

You forced a smile onto your face as George made his way back to his original seat, a smug grin adorning his features. “Well?” You asked, rather redundantly as you had seen the whole thing yourself.

“She said yes,” he replied excitedly, picking up his fork and popping some bacon into his mouth. “I told you!” You grinned at him, though you pushed your own plate away, no longer hungry.

“Attaboy, Georgie!” Fred congratulated his twin, “When’s the date?”

“This Saturday, at The Three Broomsticks,” the younger twin replied. You zoned out of the chatter on the table about this newest revelation, feeling your heart plummet at George’s words, though you couldn’t place your finger on why.

George was your best friend, you should be happy for him... right?

***

Saturday arrived quicker than you wanted, after a week of tedious lessons, and a bombardment of questions over what George should do on his date.

You watched him pull out two different jumpers, holding each one up at a time and looking at you expectedly. Tilting your head to the side, you pointed to the red one, “Was always my favourite one.”

“Red it is,” he nodded, throwing the other jumper onto his bed as he held the red jumper out to you for you to hold. Without warning, he pulled the t shirt he was currently wearing off, leaving his toned torso on show as he dropped said t shirt onto the floor and held his hand out for the jumper.

You handed it to him, gulping a little as you forced yourself not to stare at his abs. It was no secret the George was good looking - you’d always known it - but knowing and seeing were two different things. Being a Beater had done tremendous things to his body, you noted.

“Do you reckon I should bring her flowers?” George asked you, looking at you through the reflection of his mirror as he messed his hair up a little.

“Couldn’t hurt,” you shrugged, sending him a half-hearted smile as you grabbed your wand, muttering ‘orchideous’ and handing him the bouquet that was produced.

He thanked you, before taking a deep breath, “Well, what do you reckon?”

The smile that spread across your face this time was genuine, a soft look in your eye as you replied, “You look great, Georgie. Now go get her!”

He shot you one last grin, pressing a kiss to your forehead, before heading out of his dorm, leaving you alone. You picked up the t shirt he’d dropped, folding it and placing it at the end of his bed, before grabbing the jumper he’d discarded.

You took a breath before deciding to put the jumper on, relishing in the smell of George’s aftershave as you pulled it over your head, before rolling up the sleeves and heading out of the dorm.

***

“How many dates has it been now, three? Four?” You asked, wrapping your coat further around yourself as you trudged through the thick snow of Hogsmeade, passing by a couple of cute shops.

“The Yule Ball will be the fifth.”

You froze at the mention of the Ball. Somehow you’d assumed you’d be going with George - you didn’t even think about the fact that he’d have a girlfriend he could take, “Oh! So you um, asked Kiara to the Ball then?”

“Last night,” George bit his lip as he smiled, “Can’t wait!”

Your stomach clenched and mind raced, eyebrows furrowing as you realised you now had just under a week and half to find a date to the Ball - if anyone was still available, that was. You thought about every single eligible boy you knew of, wondering if you had the courage to even ask any of them, before you were pulled from your thoughts by George’s voice.

“I wanna buy her something for Christmas, what do you reckon?” George asked, picking at a strand coming off his woollen hat before placing it back onto his head.

“I don’t really know the girl,” you said truthfully, forcing yourself to stop thinking about George and Kiara dancing and him holding her all night, “I assume you’d have better judgment.”

He nodded over to a small shop on your left, one that you’d passed by many times but never had the chance to look in.

“The jewellery shop?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him. He grabbed your hand and pulled you over to the door, “Let’s just have a look, yeah?”

The bell chimed as you stepped inside and you instantly became enamoured with the little shop, rows of glass cases showing off sparkly pieces of jewellery and adornments. Most, you noticed quickly, were much too expensive for you - and by default, much too expensive for George, too.

“Are you sure about something from in here?” You asked, staring down at a ring adorned with sapphires, “These are pretty pricey.”

“They might be, but she deserves it. Besides, gotta prove I’m better than all the guys that want to date her, right?” George replied from across the shop.

“Georgie,” you looked over at him with a pointed look, “I can promise you are better than all the other guys.”

“No harm in making sure.”

You gave up arguing, knowing he wouldn’t listen anyway, your eyes taking in the beautiful products, before your focus was taken by a rather stunning necklace. Stepping over to it for a closer look, you breathed out in shock at the price, but nevertheless knew you were in love with the chain, a little pendant surrounded by crystals displayed at the centre.

“What’ve you seen?” George spoke, suddenly standing behind you and leaning over your shoulder.

You pointed at the necklace, “Someday, I’m gonna buy that one.”

George glanced down at the look on your face and grinned to himself, “Someday, I’ll buy that one for you.” You turned to look at him, shaking your head in amusement, “You need to choose something for your girlfriend before you start promising me presents.”

“What’s the fun in that?” George laughed as you both left the shop.

You sat beside George on the couch later that night, resting your head on his shoulder as you shared a bottle of firewhisky between you.

“It was not!” You screeched, your laugh echoing through the empty common room as you nudged the ginger boy, making him laugh along with you. “It absolutely was,” he insisted, grinning before taking a sip of the firewhisky, taking in the sight of you looking so happy, and realising your laugh was one of his favourite sounds, “You were the one who wanted to sneak food from the kitchens, so it was your fault we got caught!”

You shook your head, “It was you tripping into that metal armour. All that noise when the bloody head fell off.”

“You pushed me, stupid!” George scolded indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting like a child.

“I shoved you,” you corrected, laughing as George playfully nudged you, causing you to nudge him back, and soon you were play fighting on the couch.

He, once again, was above you, almost pinning you to the couch as he looked down at you, and it was only then that you realised just how inebriated you both were, the empty firewhisky bottle having fallen onto the floor.

George’s tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, “You know I love you, right?”

You smiled softly up at him, arms around his neck as you nodded, somehow feeling like those words had more weight to them than usual. Leaning up to kiss his cheek, you replied, “Of course, Georgie.”

Morning arrived quickly, much to your dismay, and you were woken abruptly by the sound of heavy footsteps stomping down the stairs. You couldn’t bring yourself to move to see who it was, too comfortable with your head resting on George’s chest, his arm securely around your waist, but luckily for you, said culprit of the noise came right by your line of sight, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“Well what do we have here?” Fred cooed, rocking back and forth as he looked at you curled up in his twin’s arms. “Me and George falling asleep after drinking maybe a tad too much?” You replied as if it were obvious.

“You look awfully cosy,” he grinned, “But then, I suppose I would too if I was cuddling someone I was in love with.”

You felt like your heart stopped and you nearly choked on air, “Wait wait wait, someone I what?!”

“‘Someone I was in love with’?” Fred repeated slowly, narrowing his eyes at you, “You do know... right?”

At your blank expression, Fred raised an eyebrow, “You do know you’re in love with George... right?”

“I’m not in love with-“ You paused as you thought back over the years of your friendship. You’d never really thought about it before - never really had to. But you treated George differently to any other friend you had. No one could make you laugh like he could, or make you feel as protected and safe as he did. And no one ever made you feel like you were flying, like he did.

“Oh Godric... I’m in love with George!” You whisper-shouted, a hand coming to cover your mouth as the realisation dawned on you.

Fred nodded, “I didn’t know that you didn’t know.”

“That’s why you asked me if it bothered me when he asked out Kiara, isn’t it?” You suddenly realised, gulping harshly.

Fred nodded again, though a tad more hesitantly than before, “Hey, but listen- I really think he feels the same, if it makes you feel any better! He just doesn’t know it either.”

You moved out of George’s grasp and stood up, pressing your lips together as you looked at Fred, “He’s got a girlfriend, who he’s taking to the Yule Ball and who he adores and they’re probably gonna get married and have kids and I’m going to be alone forever!”

“Hey, that’s not- that won’t happen,” Fred replied, his gaze softening as he saw a tear fall down your cheek. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest and stroking your back comfortingly.

“He loves you, I know it. And he knows it too. He just doesn’t know that he knows it.”

***

Ever since your realisation in the early morning, you’d tried your best to act normal around George. It wasn’t easy, and you felt that maybe you were being a little more distant than usual, however you quickly pushed that thought aside as you noticed George being equally - if not more - distant, sitting at the end of the table beside Fred, Kiara on his other side as he whispered things in her ear, making her laugh.

You felt a pang of hurt, one that got worse the longer you stared at them, watching as they kissed, as George stared at her lovingly, as he pushed her long, brown, stupidly perfect hair behind her ear and making her blush.

Sitting on the opposite side of the table, you made yourself look away, instead immersing yourself in the conversation Ron and Harry were having about the Yule Ball.

“This is mad, at this rate we’ll be the only ones in our year without dates!” Ron hissed at Harry as you were all sat in the Great Hall, supposedly studying. You hid a laugh as Snape walked past and pushed his head.

“Well, us and Neville,” he continued with a small laugh. Harry leant over to him, “Yeah but then again, he can take himself.”

“It might interest you to know that Neville has already got someone,” Hermione interrupted their laughing with a frown.

Ron sighed, catching your gaze as you laughed at him - which made him sigh again, “Now I’m really depressed.”

You observed from the other side of the table as Fred threw a piece of parchment over to his younger brother, winking at you when he noticed you watching, as Ron frowned at the words on the page.

Ron handed the parchment back, glancing around to avoid Snape and whispered, “Who are you going with then?”

Fred grabbed the parchment and crumpled it up into a ball, before throwing it at you, the paper bouncing off your shoulder. You looked down at the paper, before meeting Fred’s gaze with a raised eyebrow.

He grinned at you, before miming the Ball, nodding over at you. You rolled your eyes, glancing round for Snape before throwing the parchment back at him, hitting him square in the face and causing half the table to hid their faces as they laughed.

“Well?” He asked, seemingly unfazed by the parchment that was now resting at his feet.

“Yeah, go on then, I suppose,” you whispered, shaking your head at him as he winked at Ron. When all the attention went back to school work, you caught Fred’s gaze again and smiled thankfully.

He saluted playfully, making you laugh, neither one of you noticing George’s frown and clenched fists beside him.

***

You hadn’t seen much of George since Fred had asked you to the Ball, him being too busy spending practically all of his time with Kiara.

It hurt, you had to admit, that he was constantly choosing her over you. Though you assumed it was only natural, what with Kiara being his first proper girlfriend.

Didn’t mean it hurt any less. And the fact you were so used to having George to yourself didn’t help - sometimes turning to ask him something, and then realising he’s not there.

He’d moved seats in class to sit by Kiara, meaning in some classes you were sat with whoever happened to be her previous partner, which therefore meant you were forced to watch as the boy you loved flirted with another girl, his hands constantly on her waist, sneaking kisses when the professor wasn’t looking, and, more often than not, simply not even acknowledging your existence, not even saying a simple ‘hello’.

In other classes you were sat by Fred, who, by all accounts, was actually a pretty good partner, being able to make you laugh and distract you from the show that tore your heart every time you saw it.

In fact, Fred had pretty much mastered exactly how to make you laugh until you cried, his aim in most lessons now, as he hated how sad you were because of his twin.

You were both giggling in the back of the classroom at something he’d said when McGonagall had pointed it out, asking you both to “Please quieten down.”

You bit your lip to muffle your laughing as Fred looked down at you, just happy he could make his friend smile when he knew how much you were hurting.

Much to the dislike of a certain redhead towards the front of the room, who immediately frowned every time he heard your laugh, knowing he wasn’t the one causing it, but his older twin.

His twin who was taking you to the Yule Ball.

George clenched his jaw as he heard you whispering something to Fred, barely being able to focus on anything else.

He knew you and Fred were friends, but since when were you both that close?

***

By the time the Yule Ball arrived, you and George were barely speaking at all. You’d cried about it more times than you’d like to admit, but you had decided that tonight, at the Ball, you would make it a night to remember, not wanting to mope and ruin Fred’s night since he had asked you pretty much as a favour - despite the amount of times he’d insisted he wanted to ask you, you knew he fancied Angelina Johnson, and had things played out differently, you were sure she’d have been the one he’d thrown the parchment at in the hall that day, not you.

Either way, when you’d made your way down the steps to the Great Hall, your dress swirling around you, hair and makeup perfect, Fred made a huge deal of wolf-whistling and complimenting you.

“Well aren’t you bloody gorgeous,” he grinned, taking your hand and bringing it up to his lips to kiss the back of it, “I am one lucky guy.”

“You clean up pretty good too, Weasley,” you grinned, reaching up to straighten out his tie.

George scowled as he watched you with Fred, hating you being in such proximity to his brother, hands clenching and knuckles turning white as he watched Fred kiss the back of your hand. He had to force himself not to run over and shove Fred’s hands away from your waist, as he guided you off to the Hall. He was so distracted by firstly how stunning you looked, and secondly by how forward his brother was being, that he barely even noticed when Kiara had arrived by his side, until she nudged him a little and he forced out a smile.

He complimented the brunette girl, guiding her into the Hall as his hand reached into his pocket, brushing over a box to make sure it was still there.

Fred had been the perfect date all evening. He was a gentlemen - besides the occasional flirty comment - and insisted on staying by your side and dancing, even when you tried to usher him to ask Angelina to dance.

He was just about to give into your insistence with a laugh, when he noticed your expression changed as your attention was taken from him to whatever was going on behind him.

He cursed under his breath as he watched George hold out a small black box to Kiara, who had a huge smile on her face as she took the lid off. She pulled out a necklace, bringing George into a hug immediately, pressing kisses to his face.

Fred stood in front of your view of them, taking your hands in his, “Y/n... I’m sorry. He’s an idiot- he doesn’t know he’s got such a good thing, and wouldn’t know it if you punched him in the face - which, for the record, I think you should do.”

You wiped a stray tear from your eye, forcing yourself not to cry, “He gave her the necklace.”

“I know. I know, but he-“

“No Fred,” you interrupted gently, “He gave her the necklace. That necklace is one I saw when we were in Hogsmeade, and I said I wanted it. He-He even said he’d buy it for me one day! Not that I’d let him but- He bought it for her.”

Fred’s gaze softened, his heart breaking at the sight of your sad face, wrapping his arms around you and swaying a little to the music absent-mindedly.

“I’m sorry,” Fred whispered in your ear. You nodded, leaning against his shoulder, “Not your fault your brother is stupid.”

The song that was playing ended, and Fred grabbed your hand, leading you over to the table where the food and drinks were, pouring you a glass and offering it out to you. You took it gratefully, thanking him before taking a sip.

“Didn’t know you two were that close,” a voice came from behind you. A voice you knew well, one you could pick out anywhere. Fred reached out to squeeze your hand reassuringly, as you placed your glass down, nodding at him before turning around.

“Fred and I have always been good friends. I do have friends, other than you, you know. Which is a good job, considering you’ve been so distant with me,” you replied, focusing on keeping your voice level, rather than on the fact that he’d just given your necklace to his girlfriend.

George felt himself get angry as he noticed yours and Fred’s intertwined hands, swallowing harshly and shoving his hands into his trouser pockets.

“You know I’ve been trying to impress Kiara, being in a relationship takes up time. Not that you’d know, but I thought you’d understand. Didn’t think you’d replace me that quickly,” George retaliated in the midst of his anger, only being able to focus on you and Fred, and how close you were.

“Replaced you?” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, “You barely even say hello to me! So yes, I turned to a friend so I wasn’t alone. You’re the one who replaced me! And you gave her the necklace, George. The necklace you knew I wanted. You gave it to her.”

Not waiting for a response, you shot an apologetic glance towards Fred before rushing out of the Hall, suddenly needing some fresh air.

“Look what you did now!” Fred almost growled, before storming out after you, in an attempt to find you.

George took a shaky breath, cursing as he watched the two most important people to him leave.

“George?” A soft voice spoke from beside him.

“Kiara?”

The brunette girl smiled, pressing her lips together as she looked at the ginger, “I um... I think we should break up.”

George frowned, though he was surprised to find he didn’t feel too badly about what she’d said.

The girl held out a black box and placed it into George’s hands, “This should be hers. It’s more her style than mine, I think you know that too.”

The redhead hesitated, unsure of what to say in this situation, “Look, Kiara, I’m sorry-“

“She likes you,” Kiara interrupted him, grinning despite the situation.

“She doesn’t-“

“She does. And you like her. Now go find her.”

With one last hug, and another muttered apology, he nodded determinedly at her, and ran off in the direction of his brother and, he realised now, the girl he truly loved.

***

“Y/n! Wait up!”

You span round on your heels, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen, “I said I’m fine, Fred! Okay? I’m fine. Absolutely fabulous, in fact.”

Fred stopped in front of you, a shimmer of pity in his brown eyes that made you feel even worse than you already did, “I just want to make sure you’re okay. I-I’m sorry-“

“It’s okay, I promise. It was always bound to happen right? I was always destined to fall for him, whilst he fell for her. Even if you hadn’t said anything, I would’ve realised. I’m- I’m so stupid, aren’t I? Falling for my best friend,” you let out a broken sob.

“You’re not stupid.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and you swallowed back another sob as you turned around slowly, your eyes catching George’s gaze.

He stood, hair messy as if he’d raked his hands through it a few too many times, tie askew and shirt almost untucked in his haste to run and find you. He felt his heart clench, knowing he was the one to make you feel like this, and stepped forward reaching a hand out towards you as you blinked back tears, allowing him to bring you into his arms as you finally let the tears fall.

You knew you shouldn’t, that you should leave to your dorm, but being in George’s arms had always made you feel safe, made you feel protected.

More tears fell as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, muttering over and over again how sorry he was. How he was a fool, a git, a complete idiot.

You finally calmed down a little, looking around the empty hallway, not being sure exactly when Fred had disappeared but thankful for the privacy.

You wiped away the last of your tears, cursing mentally as you realise your makeup would be a mess - if the state of George’s shirt was anything to go by.

“Kiara told me you like- I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” he breathed out, a hand cupping your cheek as you blinked up at him.

“Yeah well, you’re stupid. I always knew you were stupid,” you replied with a sad laugh.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked with a frown, his hands moving to hold your waist.

“You never asked. And then you-you got a girlfriend. What was I supposed to do?” You asked quietly.

“I’m in love with you,” George said suddenly, earnestly, genuinely as he held you against him.

“Not Kiara?”

He shook his head quickly, “She knew I liked you before I knew I liked you. Maybe I am stupid.”

“Maybe you are,” you let out a watery laugh, looking away from his gaze.

George suddenly reached into his pocket and brought out a familiar box, “This is yours. I don’t know what I was thinking, giving it to her. It’s yours - it’s always been yours.”

He opened the box, taking out the necklace you loved so much, and offering you a sheepish smile, “It’s not a good enough apology, I know. But I’m hoping it’s a start.”

He gently turned you around, placing the necklace around your neck, you shivering at the feel of his fingers brushing against your skin, before turning you back around to face him, this time much closer than before, his forehead resting against yours.

“So, and correct me if I’m wrong,” he spoke as he leant forward a little more, his lips almost touching yours, “Does this mean that I like you and you like me and we both don’t think of each other as friends?”

You nodded a little, offering him a soft smile, “I don’t want to be friends, George,” you whispered just as his lips brushed your own, “I wanna be yours.”

#george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines #george weasley

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potter-imagines · 4 years

Text

George Weasley Dating Ravenclaw!Reader Would Include...

- George loves to take photos of you

- Like absolutely adores it

- His side of his dorm has at least ten different pics of the two of you taped to the walls

- Fred never misses an opportunity to taunt George for this

- “Jesus, George, you’d think you’re an obsessive stalker with the amount of photos you have of Y/n. Kinda of concerning…”

- George brings you home for Christmas break

- Molly adores you- like is way more excited to see you walking through the front door, rather than her actual children. “Y/n! Oh, Y/n, dear, you look beautiful! Come inside! Out of the cold you go- I’ve got a warm cup of tea waiting for you, dear.”

- Fred would walk in behind you rolling his eyes mumbling, “Good to see you too, birth giver. I missed you as well, love you too.”

- Pulling all nighters with him

- Some were for studying, some just to spend some more time with each other, and some because you two couldn’t seem to uh, ‘fall asleep’ or rather, keep your hands off one another

- If you didn’t know how to already, George would teach you how to play Quidditch

- You’re typically the little spoon and even though he’d never mention in aloud, he secretly loved when you were the big spoon

- When you first started dating, George’s friends would tease him for being with a Ravenclaw

- They classed you as a stereotypical Ravenclaw, before even speaking with you

- Fred reassured them they’d like you but Ron was skeptical

- Mostly because he couldn’t understand why a Ravenclaw was dating his brother

- Although you were a true Ravenclaw at heart, that didn’t mean you were a bookworm ‘nerd’ who only cared about school and had your nose to the sky

- Most Ravenclaws you knew were more honest that stuck up, you had a tendency to say exactly what you thought

- And George loved this

- He had never met a girl like you before- one who served it the teasing and flirtatious wilderness right back to him

- He’d plan extravagant jokes with his twin to try an woo you

- Your friends would giggle and whisper whenever George came around, all staring at you knowingly

- They had all placed bets on how long it would take George Weasley, the jokester Gryffindor, to ask you, the clever and competitive Ravenclaw, out on a date

- It only took about two weeks after that for him to make the first move

- After Potions class, George would walk with you in towards the Great Hall, complimenting you the entire way

- You two would sit together, much to your surprise and by the end of the meal, he would ask you out on a proper date for that weekend to Hogsmeade

- He’d buy magical eternal flowers at Hogsmeade on your first date

- Flirting doesn’t die down with George just because you’re a couple

- If anything, he becomes cheekier and touchier

- He isn’t huge on PDA, but he likes when you sit on his lap in the courtyard or either of your common rooms.

- PDA for the two of you is more hand holding, forehead kisses, arm around your shoulder, small pecks, tight hugs before class, etc.

- Snape had scolded the two of you more time than you could count “There will be no embracing of any sorts outside, or inside my class, Miss. Y/l/n and Mr. Weasley.” “Yes, professor. We’re sorry-” “No we’re-“ Having to drag George away before he gets you two into more trouble.

- He’d call you sweet names like; love, darling, princess, and angel (His favorite name to use in the bedroom.).

- But his absolute favorite nickname for you is “little Ravenclaw”

- He loves buying you maroon presents

- He likes to think he’s secretly converting you to a Gryffindor, but he knew you had too much pride for your house and would never fully switch to his side

- You two will play childish games like hide and seek around the castle during the weekends

- It’s more fun when you include your other friends

- But when it’s just you and George playing

- The game typically ends with the two of you half naked in an empty classroom

- Walks behind you up the stairs so he can pinch your butt “George- knock it off!” “But it’s so cute and I wanna touch it.” “Not now.”

“So you’re saying there will be a later, right?”

- Studying together

- Despite common assumption, George Weasley is exceptionally brilliant

- You two have competitions on who can score the highest mark

- George was usually a point or two away from you but it didn’t stop you from gloating

- “Ha, ha, Georgie. Take that! Now you owe me a back massage and a butterbeer this weekend!” “I can give you more than a backrub, darling.” “George!”

- Sneaking him into the Ravenclaw towers past curfew

- He loves that you are willing to break rules for him

- It exhilarating to you both

- You’re very close with his friends- especially Fred and Hermione

- Fred and George would convince you to help them with pranks, little at a time

- But soon enough

- You’d basically becoming a trio

- They’d find a way to drag you into planning and executing nearly all their pranks with them

- It made you extremely nervous at first

- You had never been in real trouble before, and it wasn’t something you desired

- But George would reassure you constantly “Love, you don’t have to help if you don’t want to, we won’t be upset. But if you do, I won’t let anything happen to you or let you get caught. I promise, darling.”

- And he never failed to keep his word

- Until one day

- There was one time, late winter of your final year

- Fred and George were readying to leave Hogwarts to open their shop, Weasley Wizard Wheezes, and had invited you to join them

- You contemplated the thought for a week before deciding to finish off the end of your year, then move in with George and his brother once summer came

- The twins’ pranking antics had grown more intense since Umbridge arrived

- Everyone despised her- well except the Slytherin’s who she favored

- The twins’ landed themselves in detention with her on more than five occasions and they had enough

- Late one Saturday in February, Fred and George had enchanted a portal swamp outside Umbridge’s office door, a spell you had taught them

- Right as the swamp appeared, footsteps began to approach quickly from behind

- Fred darted left and George took off after him, both assuming you’d follow

- But panic hit and you ran in the opposite direction, smacking right into Filch, Umbridge emerging not long after from the other corridor

- You were caught red handed, Umbridge took the wand in your grip as enough evidence to prosecute you

- George had reached the end of the corridor when he turned around and realized you weren’t behind him but by the time he and Fred stealthily snuck back to Umbridge’s office

- The door was swinging shut

- And the once bubbling green swamp was gone

- Not long passed before George could hear your voice and his chest stiffened at once

- The twins hid behind a wall, until George ushered Fred off to monitor the hall leading towards their common room

- Ten or so minutes passed until the door squeaked open and you quickly rushed off, salty tears threatening to spill over your eyes

- George yanked you softly from behind a wall before you could make it up the first step of the shifting stairs

- You hissed in pain when his fingers unknowingly wrapped around your fresh wound “Ow, my hand- George it hurts.”

- His eyes would widen, then soften with comfort as he studies your hand “Darling, I’m so sorry. I should’ve taken the fall- I should’ve realized you weren’t following us and went back sooner. I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

- You’d cry, not because you were mad at him or blame him but because of the never ending burning sensation in your bloodied hand

- You’d reassure him and insist it was your own fault

“I froze, Georgie. I’m the only one to blame. I don’t know why I didn’t go the same way as you guys, I just got scared of getting caught… and now this happened cause I was dumb.” “You’re not dumb, darling, don’t say that. I promised to never let you get hurt because of one of our pranks and I broke that promise. Umbridge is a cold bitch, I can’t keep putting you in these risks situations and letting you get hurt.”

- He’d sneak you into his dorm that night

- None of his friends would oppose, especially after hearing about what happened

- Fred and Lee slept on the large couches in the common room so the two of you could have the night alone

- George is an amazing cuddling partner- like the best

- You two would lay in his bed together, snuggled under a stack of blankets

- He’d convince you to wear one of his Gryffindor shirts

- Then take a picture of you in it when you weren’t paying attention to tease you with

- “I’m going to show this to all your little Ravenclaw friends to show them that you’re really a Gryffindor!” “Am not! I’m a Ravenclaw-“ “I’m gonna put some Gryffindor inside of you tonight, princess.” “You dirty bastard! Don’t you say that in front of any of my friends, please, I’m begging you.” “I’m sure they already know, love. It’s not like they haven’t heard us before.”

- You would get annoyed beyond beliefs after being with George for years and your friends still confusing him with Fred, or assuming they were the same person

- You loved Fred, but you were in-love with George, and there were many differences between them besides your relationship status

- Fred was the friend who could cheer you up, listen to you rant, help you get revenge on a professor for poor marks, hangout with you, give you advice, and all the great qualities that a best friend should have

- But George Weasley

- George was all of the above and more

- He had a different thought process- slightly different mindset than his twin

- You loved the deep, intellectual conversations you could have with George

- One moment you two would be discussing the purpose of life and the origination of languages

- Then the next you’d be debating over the worst flavor of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans

“George, how you can you even argue this? You know vomit and rotten egg are the two worst flavors!” “Vomit, yes. Rotten eggs, no. I’d take that over earthworm. Now that one is bloody disgusting!”

- There was a connection- a magnetic pull that drew you and George together

- He understood you on a more personal level than any other person you knew

- There were secrets he’d share with you late at night that not even Fred knew

- Like how he wanted to be a Mediwizard up until his fourth year

- George would bring you books he’d read on break for you

- You two liked to start a book together right before break, then finish over break and talk about it once you returned to each other

- Fred would tease George relentlessly for reading over the holiday break “God, next thing I know you’re going to starting knitting sweaters with each other and painting your nails together.” “Jealous, Fred? A shame you can’t find an intelligent girl of your own but don’t be made that I have.”

- George will write you letters when you’re away for each other

- He’ll do cute little things like send a single dainty flower that he picked from his mom’s garden and seal it inside the envelope

- His favorite to gift you are lilacs- the smell reminds him of you and is comforting when you’re gone

- He’s always been a bit more in touch with his emotional side than his twin

- But you loved those differences

- You two hard a pretty serious relationship from the start but that didn’t mean you weren’t playful

- Both George and you knew you wanted to spend forever together the first time you walked through Hogsmeade together

- And neither of you wanted to waste anytime fooling around when you knew what you wanted

- George is a honest gentleman, always putting your needs first

- Even after you leave Hogwarts with the twins

- With all his busy work and the booming business and success of the shop, you assumed your time together would be spared

- It was in a way

- But George always put in the extra effort to keep the spark alive

- Before opening the shop, he’d usually try to set your alarm clock back three hours in hopes of you getting the extra sleep he knew you deserved

- Sometimes it worked, but other times you’d meet him in the shop at open with a smug smile on your face “Love, you should be asleep! You’re too clever, little Ravenclaw.” “You still call me that, even after all this time?” “You’ll always be my little Ravenclaw. I could never love another.”

- He’ll surprise you during work with random sweets, sentimental cards, picking you up lunch and a coffee/tea, and buying you flowers

- George can be extremely sweet when he wants to and for you, there is never a moment where he doesn’t

- The two of you would get married shortly after the second war ended, not that anyone was surprised.

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bluejayblueskies · 2 years

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You’ve already answered TMA for the fandom game so how about fandom of your choice! ❤️

send me a fandom!

i'm going to do rusty quill gaming!!

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most)

wilde!!! i enjoyed the episodes without him of course ... but i did also count the episodes until he returned lol

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped)

this isn't quite 100% accurate for this category but grizzop is indeed very Shaped ... i enjoy his ears and i miss him 💛

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave)

idk if he's unappreciated but i really grew to like carter tbh ... he's the kind of obnoxious i can deal with and the episode where azu brings him back from the dead makes me feel things

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week)

einstein falls into this category i think lol ... i just really enjoy how unhinged he is 💕

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave)

hmmmm i don't know who's problematic etc. in the rqg fandom but i do like bertie even though he's objectively kind of horrible ... i would never want to spend time with him but he's an enjoyable character to listen to

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason)

zolf ... specifically post-time jump zolf who's Been Through It. 10/10 would apply hurt/comfort

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell)

also bertie alskgjaldsg. have fun in the poo dimension 💛

#ask game #f0xesand0wls #i guess i do pretty much only tma post on here lol but here's my rqg thoughts

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ye4gerismarchives · 3 years

Text

the bachelorette chp 4, part 3: visiting jean’s mom

an: so, i decided i'd write the elimination in a separate chapter, one, just to mess with y'all and two, to give you time. i honestly think picking one of these three guys is really hard. obviously, i know who i want to win, but i look at the two other guys and i'm like 'oh, they would be good too!'. i like pulling at your heartstrings ;). i'll probably put together another q&a (depending on the numbers of questions i get) and once i do that, i'll wait for a day and then close the poll to start writing! anyways, let me stop sharing my thought process with yall and start your date with jean. link at the bottom!

tags: black, fem reader

tag list: @taybird

Bertholdt drove you back to the mansion and you texted Connie asking him to prepare something for you, Bertholdt. Jean and Connie to eat. And maybe a lil something for that brat Levi. Connie responded with an 'ok' and a smiley face.

The car ride home was silent. You felt awful for Bertholdt. You wondered how many silent post-hospital drives he's been through.

Once you got home, Bertholdt told you he wasn't very hungry and just wanted to lay down. You wanted to argue with him but Bertholdt needed space. You wish him good night before making your way to the kitchen.

Connie and Jean were chatting it up in the kitchen once you walked in. Connie was the one to announce your entrance. "Hey, y/n," he greets. Jean then turns around. "Hey, y/n. How is Bert holding up? I understand that visit was really hard."

"Thank you for asking, Jean. Bertie...well...he's just being human. His dad...it's really bad," you reply. You take a seat by Jean at the kitchen island. "The fact that he's been holding in for a while...it's crazy. I would have never thought he was in that situation. No wonder he was so stressed after that Porco got angry with him," Jean says. You raise an eyebrow at Jean. "Oh...after Porco got angry with him about you, Bert seemed sadder and more introverted than usual. He only really confided in Reiner, though," Jean explained.

"Ah, that makes sense. Poor Bertie."

Connie had made some garlic bread with ava ado toast and egg. You didn't expect that out of him but you all enjoyed it. You felt tired, so you told the guys you were ready to lay down. They wished you good night before diving into a conversation about...y'all i don't even know what men talk about 😐

The next morning, you woke up at the same time as you did for Connie's visit. Your final visit would be Jean's mom. She also lived far away from the mansion but Jean insisted that you could take your time. She would still be at her home. No nurses to rush you out or kids bugging their parents. You hoped this visit would be as peaceful as it sounded.

You were very hungry though. You didn't realize it last night about the whole Bertholdt thing and you only had those little stupid avocado things that Connie made. It was good but didn't feel you up. You decided you would take a bath and get ready for your visit later.

You crept downstairs, hoping not to wake anyone up. You didn't want Levi questioning you and you didn't want to stop and talk to the boys because you would probably have a day-long conversation and if that conversation was with Jean, you probably wouldn't see his mom.

You made a few turns and found yourself in the kitchen. And you weren't alone. Jean was leaning on the kitchen counter, sipping on some coffee that he had made. His eyebrows widened at your presence.

"Good morning," he greeted, "I didn't expect you to be up right now."

"Oh, I'm just hungry right now. Didn't eat much yesterday," you say. Jean places his coffee down on the table. "Would you like me to make you something?"

You were about to say yes but a greater idea came into mind. "Why don't we make something together? It would be fun and give you bonus points..." You wiggle your eyebrows when you say that last part. Jean let out a laugh. "Well, you're hungry and I can't let you starve. Us working together will make things faster...and those 'bonus points' would help a lot."

You walk towards Jean and his eyes remain on you. You find yourself wrapping his arms around his waist. It was just on-demand. Jean pulls you close and kisses your forehead. "What do you wanna make?"You think for a minute. "You know how to make (meal of your choice)?"

Whether Jean says yes or no is up to you. However, Jean is really good at following directions. If you need something, he'll get it. If you needed him to watch something, he watches it with intensity.

After a few minutes, the meal was ready and you both sat by the kitchen island and dug in. "I hope Connie doesn't wake up and butt into our breakfast," you joke. Jean let out a small laugh. "Connie's really nice. He hasn't shown me or anyone else any hostility during our time here."

"If you could say...who did you think was the worst person here?" you ask. Jean doesn't even have to wait to answer. "I'd have to Floch. Confidence is key but Floch just got disrespectful about it. Talking about how we should all go home and let him have you. And he was only here one night and everyone already had a bad vibe about him."

Your heart panged at that answer. "Thank you for telling me. I know everyone likes drama but Floch sounds...dangerous. I don't know what would have happened if he stayed." "Yeah, of course. Sorry if that made you uncomfortable," Jean said sheepishly. The discomfort must have been visible on your face. "No, don't apologize. I asked."

You continued to eat your breakfast and chat and hear about Jean's experience in the mansion so far.

After breakfast, you and Jean got ready for the day and finally decided to head out. Jean was starting his car when you decided to ask another question.

"I've never heard you talk about your dad. I've heard bits about your mom and you've mentioned her to the other guys but I never hear about your father. He isn't dead right? Is he sick? Like Bertholdt's?"

Jean is silent for a minute. "Oh...I don't really like talking about my dad, but you would have to know at some point."

"Oh, Jean...you don't have to. Don't worry about it."

He shakes his head. "It's fine. We were going to have this conversation pretty soon, so it doesn't matter."

Jean starts moving the car and when he's out on the road, he begins to talk.

"My dad has never been in my life. At this point, I don't know if he's dead or not. Sometimes I feel like he isn't my father. We did talk like once or twice when I was a kid and I was actually desperate to see him. But once I reached high school and started preparing for my adult life, I realized he wasn't worth it anymore. If my dad really wanted to be there for me, he would have reached out more often and let me know that things were hard on his end. I know everything I'm saying is being recorded and broadcasted, so if he ever sees me on TV, he can always hit me up. I just won't be naïve and stupid like I was the last time."

You immediately jump in after that last line. "Hey. You weren't naïve or stupid. He was stupid. You were a kid waiting on his dad. You had every right to wait for him, so don't insult yourself over him."

Deep down inside, you weren't sure if you wanted to meet Jean's dad...if he was alive. Jean didn't seem comfortable talking about him at all, so you shouldn't expect any visits or calls from that man. If you were to have kids and he popped up, that'd be hard to deal with. It would probably break Jean's heart to learn that his father would want to see his grandkids before even meeting the guy who helped make them.

Jean doesn't respond to what you said. Again, this was hard for him and he didn't even want to bring his father up in the first place, so you weren't upset.

You end up falling asleep in the car. Hours later, you wake up and Jean is parked in front of a bakery. He's on the phone. "Yeah, ma, we're here. Right in front of it, she's sleeping but we'll head inside....I miss you too...alright then, bye."

Jean hangs up and places the phone down. He jumps slightly when he realizes you're awake. "H-hey. I thought you were sleeping."

"Well, I was. Your mom is ready to see us?" You ask. "Yeah. She owns this bakery and decided to close completely today to meet you. I asked her if we could meet at home but she insisted that her bakery would be best. She's really proud of it," Jean explains. "Are we going to bake something?"

Jean laughs and shakes his head no. "Oh, no. My mom won't let you do any work in there, since you're a special guest. She put some things together if you want to eat something."

You imagined Jean's mother as someone who prioritized her future-in-law over her own son sometimes. It sounds overbearing but you thought this was a good thing. You wouldn't want an evil mother or father-in-law. If Jean were to cheat on you or hurt you, you knew she'd probably be on your side or hear both sides instead of immediately siding with her son.

You also wanted to assume that she was tough on Jean. Considering that she raised him herself, she had to do other things like work. To give herself some peace, she probably had a no-nonsense household- maybe why Jean was more like a puppy and wasn't as scandalous as the eliminated.

Jean got out of the car and helped you out. He didn't take your hand when directing you to the bakery but opened the door for you. Inside was a short, older woman, standing there with her hands clasped. The minute you stepped in, her excitement exploded. "Hi! Welcome! It's finally nice to meet you," she says. The older woman squeezes and you can't help but let out a chuckle...or a wheeze. "H-hey, mom. Maybe you should let her go," Jean steps in nervously. Jean's mom slowly lets go. "I'm sorry! I just got excited. Are you hungry?"

You shake your head. "No, Mrs. Kirstein. Jean actually helped me put together breakfast."

"Good, good. I'm glad he's being useful! And call me June. Come, sit, sit."

Jean's mom takes your hand and leads you to a small table and pulls open a chair for you. Jean quietly pulls a chair up by you. You start to worry about him because all the attention is on you, rather than the both of you.

"Can I get you something to drink?" June asks. "Some water would be nice," you answer. Your eye catches Jean's hand. You place your own on his and you feel him jump slightly. "Jean, would you like something too?"

"I-I'll take water too," Jean croaks. "Well, Jean, I'm sure you can serve yourself. I'm getting old, you know. Make sure you get a glass for y/n too."

Jean looks ready to argue back but he keeps his lips zipped. He carefully removes your hand from

his, gets up, and heads over to the back of the bakery.

You watch Jean do all of this and then finally turn away so that you can give June all your attention. "Please tell me he's been good to you," she starts. You weren't expecting this question but considers why she's asking. "Yes, Jean is...amazing. He's always coming to my defense. Which I shouldn't be surprised by, he is a lawyer."

June sighs in relief. "I hope he stays that way. He told you...about our situation right?" You nod. "It's unfortunate that his father did that to the both of you. If Jean does get married to me, I hope he doesn't pop out of anywhere. Jean's a good guy but I'm not too sure how he'll react to something like that." June let's our a small hum.

"Have you been watching the show?" you ask. "A little. I work, so it's hard to catch up on what's going on. Sometimes I'll read articles and Jean will text me to let me know if he didn't get eliminated. I was a little concerned about him doing the show because nothing is guaranteed."

"Hm...is he cocky about this whole thing? Does he really think he can get me?"

June thinks for a moment. "I can't say cocky but there's nothing wrong with a little confidence. Jean is handsome, he has a good job, he's smart- and he knows that. He believed those would be good reasons for you to like him. But...he does get bashful sometimes. He doesn't want all the attention on him and for people to view him in the wrong way. The fact that he had a mirror in his pocket on the first night was interesting to me. He's never done anything like that before."

You open your mouth but Jean enters once more. He places three water bottles on the table. "Sorry for taking too long. Ma, I'll replace the waters. Don't worry about it," he says. June shakes her head. "Don't worry about it, Jean. We have plenty of water."

"So, have you two discussed wedding plans? Anything for the future?" June suddenly asks. You look at Jean, who looks like his stomach was doing the chacha slide or sum. "M-mom-!"

"Well, we haven't reached that point because we don't know if he's staying or not but I'd like a really elegant wedding. I know we'll have a live-streamed wedding but I'd like to have a private wedding too. That would be nice right?" you cut in. Jean nods in agreement.

"What about kids? I read somewhere that you wanted a family," you tease. Jean's face reddened. "W-well...um...yeah...two would be nice. A girl and b-boy maybe?"

"See? We have a plan," you say with a wide smile. You could imagine Jean as a cautious dad but he still knew how to have fun with his kids. After long days at work, he'd cuddle with them and put them to sleep for you. When the kids are asleep, he'll check on you and make sure you had something to eat. He'd probably make sure to schedule regular date nights and family vacations. He'll have photos of you and the kids and maybe a few bandages in a wallet. Obviously, you would both be in the public eye once in a while but he would make things feel normal.

"I think you two would have beautiful kids. I do hope Jean gets picked. But your two other guys are good too. Bertholdt is absolutely adorable and Connie seems like he knows what he's doing. I don't know how you're ever going to choose. I can't imagine being your situation," June says.

"Wow, thanks for having my back mom," Jean says jokingly. "But if not me, pick Connie. He's a good person."

"Oh, Jean, don't do that to yourself. You're lovely." You cup his cheek and his reddened face returns.

Jean's mom starts talking about Jean when he was a kid- how he was such a big softie and a great helper, how he was popular in high school but still to himself, and all the girlfriends and boyfriends that she didn't like.

It was getting late. Jean's mom offered you her home but Jean stopped her before she could ask. You didn't question why he didn't want to stay at her home but still wondered why. You said your goodbyes, watched her lock the bakery, and drive off. Jean helps you into his car and gets into the drivers' seat.

"You know why she wanted to you go home with her?" he asks.

You shake your head no. "There's only one bed. A twin size bed," Jean says as he starts the car. You let out a chuckle. "Connie's parents tried that with us except Connie had a bigger bed."

Jean looks over at you. "Oh...I should have probably taken her offer."

"Connie and I didn't do anything that night...maybe you could give me a sample of what you can do. It'll help me decide."

Jean didn't hesitate to lean over and cup your cheek. He went in first. Jean was gentle and careful with your lips. You soon gave in and wrapped a hand on his wrist. When things started to get hot, you pulled away. "Didn't expect you to be that gentle...You really want me, huh?"

"Yeah," Jean says scratching his neck. "You're pretty rough... you have experience?"

Whether you say yes or no is up to you.

Jean smiles at your answer and starts driving. You try to fall asleep but it's so hard. All you can see is Bertholdt, Connie, and Jean at the next elimination. You wished Eren or Onyankopon did stupid stuff later on and were a part of the final three so that this could be easier.

Hours later, Jean reaches the mansion. He thinks you're still asleep. He doesn't want to wake you up. So what does he do? Jean opens the passenger door and scoops you up in his arms. Your heart jumps. You hope it's dark enough outside so that he can't see the small smile you're trying not to crack.

It doesn't Jean long to get to the door and ring the doorbell. He must be really strong. The door opens and he's greeted by Connie.

"You need help with that man?"

"Um...no...I think I'll get her up there. But you could get her purse from my car though. She'll probably wonder where that is."

Connie probably gave him a non-verbal response since there was just silence after that. Jean got you up the stairs and struggled with your bedroom door but he got in within ten minutes. Jean turns on your lights, places you on the bed, and removes your shoes. He steps away but you hear ripping sounds proceeding by scribbling. You can hear Jean turning off your lights and closing the door behind him as he leaves. Your eyes flick open and you wait a few moments. You turn on the light on your bed stand to see the note Jean wrote you.

'Wasn't sure what to do with your clothes. It's not my place to decide that- at least not yet. But I hope you slept comfortably.'

You smile softly at the note. It was definitely something he would say.

i use YOUR opinions to not only put together dates but to put together personalities. if y’all say you hate bertholdt, i’ll work my magic to mess with y’all :) anyways here’s the link! ask good questions. this is the last time you’ll see bertholdt, jean, OR connie. vote and ask wisely

#black!reader #jean kirstein x reader #aot x black! reader #bertholdt x reader #connie spinger x reader

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fckinsupreme · 4 years

Text

Saved - Xavier Plympton x Fem!Reader

Description: An AU in which you save Xavier from being killed by Margaret and kick her ass in the process.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: AU, violence, stabbing, blood, gore, ass kicking. No smut this time, sorry y’all.

A/N: @nickisgirl requested - ooo dude can you do a fun one where the female reader goes and saves Xavier from Margaret and kicks her butt? :) For Bertie. :)

Sorry if this has been done before! This turned out a little longer than I planned and I’m not wholly satisfied, but I hope y’all like it!

No copyright infringement intended! Any rights belong to proper shareholders and they deserve the ultimate credit. ___________________________

Your heart is pounding in your ears, the smell of blood and the feeling of death hanging heavy in the air. Earlier in the night, you had witnessed people dying all around you, their fates dealt by the cruel hand of Mr. Jingles. It hadn’t helped that Xavier, your boyfriend, had taken off after Rita in a fit of rage (or whatever her name was, since she was actually an imposter) and had ended up God knows where. He was being incredibly foolish, impulsive even, but at the same time, you knew that it was warranted. If you’d been in his shoes, you would have likely done the exact same. Being thrown into an oven to die, surviving but bearing physical & psychological scars, was enough to break anyone.

You were worried, to say the least.

You left Montana and Brooke to go searching for him, a complete ball of nerves and on full alert as you made your way through the woods. You were scared of the type of scene that you may stumble across; would he be dead? Wounded? Safe, but in potential danger? And where in the hell were Chet and Margaret? Surely help should have arrived already and one or both of them should have returned. Yet, there was no sign of them or anyone else as you stumbled along the path. However, it didn’t take much walking until you hear the sound of a familiar voice.

Xavier.

You begin to run, following the sound of his voice to the archery area. You see him, his back to you, one of his burnt hands on a bow as he shoots arrows into Mr. Jingles. You can’t move, frozen in place as you observe the scene with wide eyes. You want nothing more than to make your presence known, but you’re also aware of how fatal that could be. Jingles doesn’t seem to stay down after another shot, so what would he do to Xavier if the blond was caught off guard? You didn’t want to entertain the thought, or bring it to fruition, so you stay put.

You also notice that Margaret is on the ground, apparently unconscious. So, she was back, and her unresponsive state was likely somehow caused by Jingles; but where was Chet? You knew him well enough to know that he would come and find you or Xavier to inform you of what had happened. Did he succumb to his shoulder injury? Did he stay on the opposite shore to find help or wait for it to arrive? You had a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach, and the sight of Margaret’s motionless body did nothing to calm your nerves. What in the hell happened here?

Your eyes flicker toward Jingles again, who was finally down on the ground. Relief swims in your veins, and you compose yourself after a brief moment before stepping out from behind the tree. Xavier is doing a victory dance when you approach him, and he grins widely once he sees you. He pulls you into his chest, and his scent of burnt clothing and damaged flesh is actually more of a comfort now, rather than the sadness and anxiety it originally procured in you. He’s here, he’s safe, and he had just saved the other survivors’ lives. You give him a soft kiss before the two of you make your way to Margaret, feeling a bit uneasy. She’s still out cold, with Xavier on his knees to try rousing her. You remain standing, noticing a knife directly beside of your foot within Margaret’s reach. Before you can pick it up, you hear her eerily calm voice answering Xavier.

“Never better, actually.”

Margaret reaches for the knife, but by some miracle, you’re much faster. You bring your foot down onto her hand, stomping it hard with a loud cry. Margaret screams, both in surprise and in anguish, and you kick the knife far out of her grasp. You bend down to shove Xavier off of her, not knowing what her next move could be. He’s stunned as he hits the ground, gaping at both of you as he tries processing what’s happening. You’re not sure that you understand, either, but it was slowly falling into place within your frazzled mind. She grabs you, throwing you aside as you hit the ground with an audible groan.

Before you can tell Xavier to run and hide or get help somehow, Margaret is upon him again. The knife is in your sight, but she apparently has no time to look or has forgotten about it in her haste, so she opts for a rock instead. You quickly step toward the knife, tucking it into the waistband of your shorts when you realize that trying to charge her with it now would be useless. You watch in helpless horror, a soundless scream leaving your lips as she brings the rock down on Xavier’s head. You feel pure rage bubbling within as he crumples to the ground, not knowing what else to do in your fury besides pushing her down roughly with a disgruntled cry.

“You think something that childish is going to stop me?” she questions, her tone dripping with faux-sweetness as she bats her lashes. “You naive little harlot.”

“Fuck you,” you growl. “What the fuck did you do to Chet? Where is he?”

“I killed him, of course,” she says, holding up the same rock that she’d just used on Xavier. “Just like I killed your boyfriend and how I’m going to kill you, too.”

That was enough for you. Something about the way she spoke to you, her demeanor, how she’d hurt Xavier and God knows who else, just made something snap inside of you. It all sent you flying completely off the handle, and you couldn’t contain yourself anymore. You had a bad feeling about her from the moment you met, and now you knew why. It was her; she was doing this, or at least some of it. You couldn’t piece together her motive, but in this very moment, you didn’t much care. Right now, your only concern was stopping her reign of terror before she hurt anyone else. This notion causes you to charge at her, knocking her to the ground. She’s winded, and you deliver a hard punch to her nose before forcefully grabbing the front of her shirt to pull her up.

“You bitch,” you spit, delighting in the sight of blood gushing from her nostrils. “What did you fucking do?”

“God’s work,” she replies, bringing the rock to the side of your face.

A burst of pain overtakes your right cheekbone, momentarily blurring your vision. You barely register her lifting it again as she throws you down, but you’re still much faster than she is. You kick both feet into her stomach with bruising force, and she falls again with a loud thud and series of wet coughs. She attempts to get up, but you elbow her in the face to keep her down. More blood flies from her nose, squirting onto your clothes, but you pay no mind. She delivers another blow which you rebound from, getting the upper hand yet again.

“Where is Chet?” you cry as you slam her head against the ground, holding her by the throat. “Where did you put him?”

“Lake,” she manages to choke out. “I tied weights to him and I threw him in. No one will ever find him; it’s bottomless, remember?”

The revelation makes you absolutely sick to your stomach. How could anyone be so cruel? So cold and calculating to murder someone so horrifically? Chet was a good man, he was the last person to deserve such a terrifying, painful fate. And what about Trevor and possibly even Xavier? The thought that Xavier could be dead right now, by her hand no less, only fuels your rage. You squeeze as hard as you can on her throat, your body quaking with both anger and adrenaline.

“I’m going to kill you,” you hiss. “Let you see exactly how it feels, you heartless fucking cunt.”

She sputters around your grip, clawing at you and trying to raise the rock again. You press harder, trying with all of your might to make her lose consciousness once more, but it’s in vain. She once again gains her footing, the rock colliding with the same cheek as earlier. More searing, throbbing pain cascades the entire right side of your face, and you feel a bit of blood dripping from around your temple. You hear her coughing and gulping air into her lungs, and you’re so shocked by her latest blow that you temporarily lose traction. A shattering punch is brought to your nose, momentarily paralyzing you as she stands above you once you hit the earth. The bitter, coppery taste of blood fills your mouth, dripping from your nose. You look up at her, ignoring the tremendous amount of pain that you’re in, now faced with what could possibly be your death sentence.

“Poor little Y/N,” Margaret says calmly. “Any last words?”

Tears fall down your bloodied, bruised cheeks, and you turn your head to look at Xavier. He’s still knocked out, perhaps even deceased, and you know that you’re likely going to meet one of those same fates. If he was dead, then what else did you have to live for, anyway? All of your plans with him, the life you wanted to build together, all of it fucking gone because of her. You cast your glance back to Margaret, who was watching you with folded arms. You swallow around the lump in your throat, blinking back a fresh wave of tears as you reach toward your boyfriend. Margaret, surprisingly, doesn’t stop you. She remains planted in the same position, a callous grin painting her red lips.

“I love you,” you whisper in the direction of Xavier’s body. “I’m sorry. I love you so fucking much.”

Margaret tsks, her face displaying false sympathy as she continues looming over you. Her legs are positioned at either side of your torso, bracing herself. You shift slightly, and that’s when you remember that you had the knife. You could feel the blade against your hip, warmed from your body heat yet still somewhat cool. You kept a poker face, not wanting to tip her off that it was in your possession. You wait, biding your time as she straddles your waist. You have to be swift, knowing one slip up or false move could literally cost your life.

You close your eyes, reaching under your shirt to grasp the knife’s handle. When you open your eyes to gaze at her, you can tell she isn’t noticing your actions. She’s too occupied with looking toward the heavens, perhaps silently praying to God for forgiveness or some other reason that makes sense only to her. You keep the knife concealed next to your hip, awaiting her strike. Residuals tears fall from your eyes, trailing down your temples and into your hair, and then the moment finally comes. Margaret bears down onto you, rock in her hands. You bring the knife up, holding the blade toward her, ignoring the sickening squelch! it makes when it penetrates her lower abdomen. It enters on her right side, and you push it in deeper with a triumphant grin. She attempts to grab hold of it, but you withdraw the blade before she gets a chance. Hot blood pours from the gaping wound, and she swings from side to side above you.

You shove Margaret off before she can topple onto you, watching her cover the stab wound with one trembling hand. You debate slicing her throat to finish the job, but you refrain from doing so. This injury was self-defense; anything else would be murder, and you knew that even the best lawyer in the world wouldn’t be able to get you out of that bind. It was best to just leave it alone as it was, let nature take its course if it must. At least now she was subdued and you’d stopped her in her tracks; that was all that mattered now. You take in her struggle to stay awake, before she loses the battle. You don’t even think through your next move, rushing to Xavier and kneeling next to him. You shake him quickly, attempting to bring him back to you. You feel for a pulse, are relieved to see he still has one, and begin rousing him a bit harder.

“Xav,” you plead. “Wake up. Please.”

But if he didn’t wake? What if this was it and he was gone forever? It was all your fault. If you’d been fast enough, if you would have been here before Margaret, none of this would have happened. Even his burns could have been avoided if you’d gone with him to rescue Bertie. Perhaps Bertie would still be alive as well. Perhaps--

You’re brought out of your thoughts by the sound of Xavier groaning softly on the ground. You hold onto his shoulders, a tear of relief falling from your nose and onto his charred tanktop. He blinks up at you in confusion, and you want nothing more than to kiss both of his cheeks. You don’t, though, not wanting to cause him any more pain than necessary. He sits up, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to stave off a wave of dizziness. His concerned eyes meet yours, and you grip his arm as he stands.

“What happened?” he asks, his voice croaky from exhaustion and newfound consciousness. He takes in your appearance, the blood and injuries visible in the moonlight. “Are you okay? Where’s--”

He answers his own question when he turns around, seeing Margaret’s body. He gapes at you, rubbing his temples and the back of his neck as you try to keep him steady. “She killed Chet. She also killed Trevor. She no doubt fucking killed those counselors in 1970. I really think she did most of this, both past and fucking present.”

“Jesus,” Xavier breathes, swaying. “I--”

“Sit,” you instruct. “I’ll go get someone. I don’t know who, but--”

“No,” he says. “I don’t want to be alone. I’ll be fine. Is she--”

“I don’t know,” you interject. “I don’t much care. Either way, she’s going to fucking pay for her crimes. Whether it be here or in Hell where she belongs. I’ll try to explain things better later; let’s just get the fuck out of here. We need to get help and I’m pretty sure that you’ve got a concussion, so let’s just focus on that for now, okay?”

He nods, still pretty rough on his feet. You take his arm again, leading him from the archery site and back into the forest. You had no idea what other horrors awaited you, if Brooke and Montana or anyone else were safe, but you knew one thing: The worst seemed to have passed for now, and you could focus on leaving this place as a survivor. Xavier had a long road ahead with his recovery, but you were more than determined to stick it out with him.

Margaret be damned. She had failed to take the most important thing from you, and for that, you were already better off. You, unlike her, had something special, something worth fighting for. It felt like the most surreal dream, an eternal nightmare, but as always, Xavier was going to be here with you. You were going to get out and get through this--together.

___

Taglist!

@littledemondani, @wroteclassicaly, @venusxxlangdon, @ringpop-poppy, @ccodyfern, @icylangdon, @duncvns, @mantorokk, @queencocoakimmie, @codyswhore, @sebastianshoe, @rocketgirl2410, @hisgirlwonder, @sherlocklaufeyson, @disa, @hxdesworld, @w0nder-marie, @hplotrfan, @holylangdon, @losers-club6, @langdonsdemon, @melodylangdon, @idespac, @femaleantichrist, @chaoticevillangdon, @lotsofhunny, @maso-xchrist, @lvnabanana, @iloveziggystardust, @hecohansen31, @lvngdvns, @michael-langdon-owns-my-soul, @michealsheep, @codyssfern, @lovelylangdonx, @1-800-bitchcraft, @coollangdon, @leatherduncan, @thorohdamnson, @angel-langdon, @kaetastic, @jetblackpayne, @arkhamren, @madamaholmes, @theinevitableprophecy, @langdonsblood, @daydreamingofcody, @ittakesmanyf0rms, @psychobitchtess, @michael-langdon-appreciation, @confettucini, @sojournmichael, @xavierplymptonsangel, @heavymetalover, @littlegirlsdontplaynice, @syndaselur, @xavierrplymptons, @divinelangdon, @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern, @swishandflick889, @langdens, @ashyblondwaves

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langdonsvcrd · 5 years

Text

Hot & Cold: Xavier x Fem!oc Reader

Summary: OC Reader sees Xaviers favourite purple jumper in the lake of Camp Refwood and almost drowns retrieving it, the two had been best friends [with hidden feelings] for one another since they were 14. Xavier hears Mavrey’s Chimes that she’d set up with Chef Bertie an hour before the incident, Ms Bertie had a suspicion the two had mixed feelings for one another yet wouldn’t admit it. This ends with Xavier clutching tightly against his lovers limp corpse feeling the wet sensation of water seep within his burns, Mavrey comforts the man and kisses his burns as if he’d never not been beautiful his entire life with or without his burns, but then Xavier notices her bloody chest, Mavrey stutters and confesses her love for him before kissing his lips like a hazey ghost, then falls. Collapsing into an oblivion like darkness set awaitimg for her arrival.

Warnings: none just an extremely sad: hurting/ xavier

____

RUELLE: War of Hearts [acoustic]

Come to me.

—

“Mav?” Xaviers pet name for his best friend came off rather hesitant, because she’d always answer him the first few times to when he’d call it. Xavier shifted himself into the cookhouse rolling his eyes at this sneaky game. “Mavrey I’m not playing with you, come on you need to go to bed I know how you get all cranky and shit over a few hours of sleep missed princess.”

Xaviers eyes moved along the kitchen appearance, his heart pondered over the concept that his best friend might be sneaking around the kitchen for snacks again.

In the night hours.

“Mavy you idiot it’s 2:45 in the fucking morning, a king needs his sleep too. Princess come the fuck on!” But that’s all Xavier could murmur under a whisper, before his gaze became hazy and unbearable. “What th-“

I will wait for you.

“Xav?” Mavrey swept across the riverside, her voice slightly weary in her interruption unto Xaviers whereabouts, she was told by Montana that her dearest best friend had stalked off to the lakeside for a quick jazz sesh in the Woods. His words exact were: ‘I’m becoming one with nature Tana who knows maybe I’ll stumble upon Chef Bertie on my stroll.’

And I can't sleep.

“Xav, Tana told me you were out here? Come on it’s 2 fucking something in the morning headass and I’m tired!” Mavrey kept stalking the lakeside before fleeting upon Xaviers favourite sweet violet jumper. “Do I always have to pick up after you asshole. Jesus! I want to go to BED!” Mavrey bent down to retrieve the slightly wet jacket, she was confused it was in direct aim of the lake.

“Oh.” That’s when the dots had clicked into place.

'Cause thoughts devour, Thoughts of you consume’

“If this is some kind of way to lure me into this stupid Ice bath think again!” After murmuring this a soft set of bubbles floated above the moonlit lake, just a few feet aways from where Xaviers purple beloved jacket was thrown. At this point Mavery’s heart had exploded, with worry. She did what she thought was right: she ran into that stupid lake to save her best friend or so she thought he was there.

I can't help but love you.

“Mav!” Xavier screamed eyes straining for tears to spill, his skin began blister and his heart wrenched out of his chest. Literally. “Mavrey! Help me!” The soft sobs of Xavier could be heard but whoever had the intention to shove him into this human like oven, watched with a gentle wave before speaking to him.

“Shes down too deep for your warmth now. Pretty boy” With that the unknown suspect strained to leave, just after hearing this Xavier bumbled an escape. Painful cries left his chapped and crusted lips and at this point he couldn’t careless about himself or his ego. He had to get out of this boiling hell.

Even though I try not too.

“N-No! Someone!” Stuttering at the thought of Mavrey getting hurt triggered his ambition to fight for his life. “SOMEONE! Please.” Falling to push the oven glass door once again fell hopeless for Xavier. “I love you!” His soft statement fell on deaf ears. He only wished Mavrey could hear his pleading.

I can't help but want you.

Mavrey’s skin ran cold, her eyes were shut and lungs soaked with heavy falls of water. Yet she still had her hand shackled to Xaviers sweet soft purple jumper as if her lifeline were connected to it. She had no idea what happened but she was being dragged deeper into the darkest part of whatever this hell was in an instant.

She tried to pull her feet away, kicking down towards the source but seemed to have failed in keeping air within her at the same time. The hand that was latched to her had vanished and now she was lost in her own mind to snap out of this hazy settlement. Memories flipped along her brain in order to help her fight for her own life, sweet thoughts.

Happy ones that made her heart flatter and it was all directed to the man who’d brought her here to begin with. “Xav?” Air bubbles formed around the small girl, heart pondering over the male, she had to get out of this predicament. She had to fight for him.

I know that I'd die without you.

—

Pulling herself out of the lake bubbled the girls attention, Mavrey blinked the tears away, her eyes strained with them still yet she wanted to be that ‘big girl’ Xav always taunted her to be. Falling to her feet Mavrey whimpered at the seeping sensation set in the centre of her chest directly set between her breasts. She muffled a cry when she pressed down unto the open wound, she was penitrated with a wooden stake, Mavrey hadn’t noticed since Xaviers jumper covered the wound. “Xa-“

SCREAMING FROM THE CAFETERIA ROOM:

That’s when Mavrey limped off, tears trailing down her face as she pushed her way down to the Cafeteria Room in order to retrieve her best friends precious life. “I’m coming Xav wait for me!” The small girl whipped her left to right feet up the sturdy wooden steps, she felt her heart drop when the door to the Cafeteria openedher eyes watered, leaving her gaze to drop on a slightly disgorged Chef Bertie. An unsteady breath left the girls mouth, Bertie was stabbed constantly from the back, she was beaten and bashed.

Stay with me a little longer.

“K-kitchen.” Berties words came out as a sob, Mavrey set herself next to the broken woman. Heart shattering when Bertie pushed the child away. “Y-you have t-t-to get h-him.” - “N-no Bert-“ Bertie pulled the girl to face hers I’m a demanding manner. “Kitchen!” Bertie muttered.

Mavrey’s eyes snapped to the slightly dimmed Kitchen doorway. It was lit like a warm fire on Christmas. But what came next only ceased for Mavrey to fall teary. “Xavier.” She’s rushed to the male in a hurry her voice cracking when her gaze fell on the boy she’d loved trapped within his personal hell.

I will wait for you.

Falling from the heated contraption, Mavrey clutched herself unto her best friend. Her arms pulled the man in as he too pulled her unto him, Xavier sighed deeply at the cold sensation set to sooth his blistering skin. He’d cried whilst clunging himself to the small rigid girl, his heart broke and it wouldn’t stop. He just cried and held his lover closer to him. “I-thought id lost you.” Mavrey’s voice came out sturdy and slightly different. Xavier shut his eyes switching to cup the girls face in the palms of his hands. “I couldn’t find you.” He sobbed lips pulling into a frown. Mavrey lightly laid his soaked purple jumper she had cover her chest to his shoulders letting the soft water seep his hot body. “I- I c-couldn’t find you e-either.” Xavier eyes opened and shone over his best friend, Mavrey had a gentle smile plastered on her face as she gazed up at this precious wonder boy. “I couldn’t lose you too.” She whispered. Xav bit his bottom lip tears streaming down his face before his eyes trailed down to the dark red soaked blue overalls set in the centre of Mavrey’s chest.

And want grows stronger, deeper than the truth.

“N-no-“ Xavier shuttered at the wound his hands pulled from the girls face to the seeping red stake wound. Mavrey wasn’t just cold from the lake, she was losing a lot of blood too. “Mav-“

I can't help but love you.

Mavrey just smiled up at Xavier, her lips fell agap when she’d finally gotten to see the appearance of the boy. Tears fell from her eyes before she softly reached up to cup Xaviers face for the last time. “Ma-Mav you’ll be okay- I just w-we ha-“ Mavrey’s bottom lip trembled along with Xaviers. “Still pretty.” She’d shuttered out. The poor boy shut his eyes at the way Mavrey had said that, his hands covered his best friends. The wonder boy was broken he just couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t live with himself if she did die on him. The two had sobbed together, their breathing in sync with one another like a harmony set to rhyme.

I can't help but want oceans to part.

“I-I love you.” And that was all it took for the two to break. After Xavier had said this his eyes softly fluttered open in an instant, but when they did his breathing stopped like the limp body set beneath him had fallen. The love of his life had stopped breathing, her cold hand had slipped from his and her eyes had closed. “M-Mav?”

The first time he’d said ‘I love you’ felt as if it were going to be the only time. Xavier never had the intention to say I love you in his entire life, he thought the sentence was a cheap way to say “I want to fuck you.”Yet now he finally knew the real intention to the sentence.

Cause I'm overcome in this war of hearts.

“Mavrey h-hey.” Yanking his limp best friend to sit on his lap felt heavy on Xavier. “Wake up- P-please.” His sobs became more intense and he thought the girl was joking, like she usually did. But she wasn’t. “M-Mavrey.” -“I-I said I loved you- w-wake up.” Xavier kneeled Forward hands falling to pull the girl to his chest, his cries began to build and fall out of his mouth harsher and harsher in anger. “Y-you ca-can’t leave m-me!” Xaviers head fell into his best friends soaked/cold shoulder. Tears pooling over his blistering skin. “I-I can’t do t-this without you!”

I can't help but be wrong in the dark.

The man couldn’t bring his mind around to believe that his best friend had passed nor did he want to leave her at this stupid camp, she was his and his alone. “I-I’m sorry. I-I’m so sorry- p-please come back to me please.” Everything was cold now, Xaviers heart had sunk and the more he’d held onto this girl the more he’d wanted to bring her back. He awaited for her to breathe but she never ceased to do so. Xavier never knew that this would be the first time he’d ever love and the last time he’d ever feel feel loved. She was gone.

I know that I'd die without you.

And he couldn’t bring her back even if he tried.

#ahs #ahs apocalypse #ahs coven #ahs spoilers #ahs8 #american horror story #cody fern #codyfern #michael langdon #michael langdon smut #xavier plympton smut #xavier plympton x reader #xavier plympton american horror story 1984 #xavierplympton #xavier plympton

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ladykeane · 4 years

Note

something angsty or hurt/comforty about bertie missing his parents and reg comforting him?

Filled below! (Will post this on AO3 at length, tonight its interface is being a butt)

I do feel justified in declaring Bertram to be a singularly courageous soul, despite the detractions of some of his peers. Not only because of the aid he provides to friends (and even strangers) in need, or his unswerving devotion to his beloved ‘Code of the Woosters’. Bertram is brave because he dares to be cheerful in a world that can be oppressively bleak.

This is precisely why I was so affected to come home one dark January day, to find him slumped on the carpet of our unlit sitting room, listening to an album of vintage novelty songs, and crying his poor dear eyes out.

My fiance, Bertram Wilberforce Wooster, has proven to be a constant source of inspiration. There has been many a grey weekday morning that I have dreaded the prospect of leaving our bed, to face the bustle of London and the onerous task of placating my legal clients, who can often be disagreeable and demanding. Bertram blesses me with his bright blue gaze and sweet rosy smile, and his natural buoyancy quickly uplifts me. I am able to approach the day in a lighter mood, and with a strengthened resolve. This is one of the many ways in which he makes me into a better version of myself. Despite our occasional squabbles and his sometimes imperfect domestic habits, I am elevated and improved by the love we share.

He has inspired me again in the writing of this prose. His blog is a source of entertainment for many, and I am proud of his accomplishment. This composition may prove much less whimsical, and will certainly not be fit for public consumption. I confess I lack Bertram’s bravery to share my innermost thoughts with the digital multitudes.

And I do feel justified in declaring Bertram to be a singularly courageous soul, despite the detractions of some of his peers. Not only because of the aid he provides to friends (and even strangers) in need, or his unswerving devotion to his beloved ‘Code of the Woosters’. Bertram is brave because he dares to be cheerful in a world that can be oppressively bleak.

Bertram always takes to the festivities around Christmas and New Years’ with an almost manic enthusiasm. This is unsurprising, but in the years we have celebrated the yuletide together, I have often detected a vague sort of wistfulness arise in him. Even this Christmas just past, which was exalted by his marriage proposal to me, saw him a tad doleful during quieter moments.

I have often suspected the reason for this anomaly in his character. I have never dared to interrogate him about it, lest I worsen the wound.However, seeing my songbird in such keen despair finally spurred me to address the matter.

I sat down beside him, my actions slow, so as not to startle him. He did not flinch as I carefully wrapped my arms about his wilted frame. He buried his wet face in my collar, and I stroked his back gently as he heaved with sobs. His misery flooded its way into me, and I burned with it. My hand found its way into his soft curls, cradling his precious head.

I listened to the music playing. A jazz band tootled away, over which a pleasant light baritone crooned:

‘Everybody loves my baby

But my baby don't love nobody but me

Yes, everybody wants my baby

but my baby don't want nobody but me

that's plain to see!...’

It was not hard to discern that the voice belonged to Bertram’s late father.The song eventually came to an end with a blare of horns, and the vinyl crackled and fell silent.

Bertram rose, tearing away from my embrace. ‘Ah. Awfully sorry about that, Reg,’ he said shakily, and flicked on the light. His eyes were painfully red and puffy. His sorrow was not disguised by the hardy little smile he managed for me.

He began striding towards the kitchen, ostensibly to start dinner or put on the kettle. I could see him struggling to conjure his prized stiff upper lip. I was stung; I did not want my future husband to believe that he required such a mask in my presence.

‘Bertram… you have no need to apologise to me. It is alright to feel what you feel.’He stopped in the doorway, and slackened a little. ��I suppose. It’s just… this time of year, you know. Makes it harder not to miss them.’

I arose to meet him, my hand caressing his shoulder once more. ‘Please allow me. Darjeeling, my angel?’

***

We agreed upon a dinner of take-away, and afterwards enjoyed a drowsy snuggle on the sofa. It grew late; Bertram went to change into his pajamas, and I began clearing up the sitting room, quite unhurried.

The novelty jazz album still sat upon the turntable, and I reverently slid it back into its sleeve. The cover gave me pause, the bright blue gaze of the late Mr Wooster was unmistakable. I know the man had been a music teacher at Dulwich College in life, and an accomplished musician like his son. According to the accounts of his sister Mrs Travers, he had also the same sunny, kind-hearted temperament.

‘It was thirteen years, today, don’t you know. An icy road and a drunk driver. I’ve never even visited their graves, if you can believe it. Just couldn’t bring myself.’

He stood in the bedroom doorway, a look of glass on his face. ‘The last day I ever spent with them was New Years’. Got packed off back to Eton, after that. You know the last thing I ever said to my mother? “Don’t forget to send on my iPod.” Over the phone. I still kick myself for that.’We locked eyes. ‘One of the biggest regrets is that they’ll never get to meet you, Reg…’

He began to crumble again, and I rushed to his arms. I imagined my love, a stricken adolescent boy, being delivered the news by a laconic house master. Being dragged home for a dual funeral, being shunted about by busy relatives lost in their own grief. That monstrous Mrs Gregson chiding him for his unmanly snivelling, and even the sympathetic Mrs Travers encouraging him to bear up and stay strong. How often had that boy ever had a chance to properly grieve for himself?

Framing the distraught, beautiful tear-strewn face between my hands, I pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.As a solicitor, I well know that advisory words seldom assist in mitigating such clean, sharp-edged mourning. I have often tasked my clients to report upon some of their greatest personal traumas: divorce, bereavement, the falling out of relationships. When lost in the midst of their pain, I cannot reach them with talk of practical solutions. All I could do now was hold my Bertram, and ride out the tempest with him.

At length his crying abated, and I was able to draw him into bed. I encased him in my arms and he buried himself in my chest. Gradually our pulses fell into rhythm, and Morpheus mercifully numbed us both.

When I awoke the next morning, I was met with a bright blue gaze, and a rosy, if slightly muted, sweet smile.‘What sort of day is it, Reg?’I checked the forecast on my phone. ‘Clear and sunny, with a projected top of 14 degrees, and a light breeze to the South-West.’‘I say, that’s jolly good weather for this time of year.’‘Positively clement, Bertram.’‘What do you say we traipse down to Dulwich Park today? Grab a spot of lunch?’

I examined him. That park had been the place of his childhood gambols, a place he had not visited since his parents had died.‘Do you feel up to it?’ I asked delicately.

He huffed into the pillowcase. ‘Well… it’s been such a long time, and it really is a nice little spot, packed with joyful memories… I should love to show you the old oak that I always loved to climb. One time I dragged Angela up there too. She nearly screamed my ear off that it was too high, until I pointed out that you could just glimpse Tower Bridge from the highest branch. Then there’s the little copse by the West Lawn, where Father and I once had a run-in with a miniature grizzly hedgehog. Spunky little thing, he was…’

It stayed sunny for the entire day.

#jeeves and wooster #fanfiction #prompt filled #jooster #bertie's blog #reginald jeeves #bertie wooster #hurt/comfort

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jovialyouthmusic · 6 years

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Two’s Company, Three’s Allowed, a Royal Romance fanfic

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An Unusual Wedding Part 3

Warning; Mention of miscarriage and bereavement

Lucy and Brad were waiting outside the Chateau to greet them, along with Gladys. Brad opened the car door and Bianca got out, followed by Savannah while Drake got out of the other side of the car.

‘Mrs Walker, it’s wonderful to see you again.’ beamed Brad. ‘I can’t tell you how much I appreciate Drake’s friendship and loyalty. He’s a credit to you and your husband.’ He gently touched her upper arms by way of a token hug and leaned down to kiss her on either cheek.

‘Brad, you’ve grown into such a fine young man.’ she said fondly. ‘I was so sorry to hear of your father’s death. He was always good to us.’

Uncharacteristically, Lucy hung back, but only for a fraction of a second. Only Brad and Drake would have noticed her hesitation, but she held out her hand to Bianca, smiling sweetly.

‘Mrs Walker, so good to meet you. Drake has told me all about you.’ Drake knew that was a white lie as he found it hard to talk about his parents at the best of times. At least she hadn’t said ‘told me so much about you’. Bianca accepted her hand, and they leaned into each other for a kiss on the cheek. They parted, and Lucy looked hopeful, but her smile was beginning to wane as Bianca looked her over critically.

‘My my Drake, what a lovely pretty young wife you’ll be sharing with Brad.’ she said to him, then turned her attention back to Lucy. ‘You’re rather pale my dear, it must be tiring trying to keep two men happy.’ Lucy looked crestfallen for a moment before she plastered on a smile again.

‘Not at all Mrs Walker, they look after me very well. I’m hardly ever alone.’ Drake felt moved to defend Lucy and stood close to her facing his mother. He sneaked his hand into hers.

‘Lucy had an accident a week or so ago, Mom. She’s still getting over it.’

‘Oh don’t be silly Drake, I’m just fine.’ smiled Lucy. ‘Brad has been very attentive.’

‘Accident? What happened?’ Bianca asked. ‘Should you be putting so much pressure on her if she’s not well?’ By this time Savannah was standing next to her mother.

‘Mom, come in and let’s see if Bartie is awake.’ Bianca’s face lit up and the two women went off into the house chattering and smiling. Drake looked to Lucy, who was looking a little shocked at his mother’s comment.

‘Don’t mind her Lucy, she always says what she thinks. I’m sure she’ll be more relaxed after she’s seen Bartie.’ Lucy smiled wanly

‘I can see where you got your forthright nature from.’ Lucy said tartly. Drake made a face, the corners of his mouth turning down.

‘You do look pale, are you okay?’

’I wish you would all stop fussing, I’m fine. I’m naturally fair skinned and I’ve not seen much sunlight lately.’ Lucy said testily.

‘In that case we cna have tea and cake on the terrace.’ said Drake ‘By the time we’ve had a stroll around the knot garden it will all be ready, and anyone who wants to can join us.’

‘That’s a good idea, it’s still warm and it will be a while before dinner is ready.’ Brad nodded to Drake.

‘I’ll go and arrange it and let folk know, you two catch up.’ he said, disappearing into the house, leaving Lucy to stroll arm in arm with Drake.

‘You must be excited to have your Mom here at last.’ she smiled.

‘Honestly, yes, but a part of me still remembers how she left me and Savannah here when Dad died, and you saw how she speaks her mind. I’m sure things will settle down when she gets to know you better but…’

‘It’s not going to be easy, is it?’ Lucy sighed. ‘In some ways – I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but she reminds me of…’

‘Olivia, I know.’ said Drake miserably. ‘There is a big difference though, Mom doesn’t mean to be unkind, she just doesn’t realise how saying what you think can be hurtful. I’m sorry I didn’t warn you.’

‘Well Drake, although you say what you mean too, you’re not cruel. That marshmallow centre of yours always keeps you in check. Whenever you’ve said anything hurtful, you’ve apologised as soon as you realised.’ Lucy assured him. ‘Luckily I find that a very attractive quality.’

‘And you always say exactly what you mean, but say it nicely – unless of course you’re talking to Olivia because harsh words are the only thing she understands, or someone like Neville who is an idiot.’ Drake grimaced ‘Your words are precise and well thought out’

‘Thanks Drake. I guess all that matters is that everything goes smoothly, then the three of us can at least have a little alone time before Anton’s trial.’

They saw that tea was ready on the terrace, so they went to sit in the afternoon sunshine. Gladys and Lily stood by to serve guests and Lucy went to wave them away, but Drake tutted at her.

‘You need to take a back seat Valois. Sometimes having servants is useful, so let them wait on you.’ He smiled at Gladys ‘Thank you, Lucy needs some spoiling, so go right ahead.’

The two of them sat companionably, sipping tea and eating cake for a while before the others started to drift out to join them. Brad was first, and Hana followed after, exclaiming in delight at the spread. By the time a fresh pot of tea was needed, Bianca and Savannah arrived with Bertie and Bertrand, closely followed by Maxwell.

Talk turned to arrangements for the wedding, which by now was due in two days’ time. Bianca was captivated by little Bartie, feeding him cake and ignoring Savannah’s pleas not to spoil him.

‘Nonsense, I’m his grandma, and who knows when Drake will be giving me another grandchild – I expect the first child you have will be an heir to the throne, won’t it, Lucy?’ Everyone stared at her, and Hana choked a little on her cake. Maxwell banged her on the back, which created a diversion, but the damage had been done. Lucy got up and excused herself, walking determinedly to the house. Bianca looked puzzled.

‘What on earth is wrong with the girl?’ she cried. ‘It’s true isn’t it?’ Drake turned on her.

‘Mom, you really should think before you speak.’ he growled and got up to run after Lucy. Hana was blushing by now, having been told all about the reasons for Lucy’s stay in hospital and Brad smiled uncomfortably. Savannah leaned forward to speak in a low voice.

‘I think you hit a nerve, Mom. Lucy was in hospital last week with a suspected miscarriage after taking a fall from her horse.’ Bianca looked stricken.

‘How was I to know? No wonder she was looking pale. Do none of you know how to look after someone after a shock like that?’ Brad cleared his throat.

‘I assure you Mrs Walker, Lucy has received the best medical care Cordonia has to offer.’

‘This little backwater?’ she cried. ‘you might as well have witchdoctors for all the good it’s done her. It’s not medical attention she needs.’ and she got up and all but ran after Drake and Lucy, who had reached the house and gone into the drawing room. Lucy was now flushed and looked angry.

‘Mom, not now.’ hissed Drake, but she was adamant.

‘Do you know how devastating a miscarriage is, Drake Walker?’ she scolded. Lucy’s expression changed to one of sorrow.

‘The doctors said she’d never been pregnant to start with.’ he protested.

‘But it’s enough if she thought she was!’ she cried and turned to Lucy to hold her in a fierce hug. Lucy froze at first, then suddenly softened and burst into tears. Bianca led her to a sofa and sat her down. ‘There there dear, nobody understands what it’s like. You go ahead and cry, you’re grieving for a lost life, whether there was anything there or not.’ Drake hovered by the two women, not sure what to do.

‘Don’t just stand there, Drake, at least get the poor girl a hanky’ she chided, holding her arm around Lucy’s shoulders ‘She’s suffering from grief and shock. Get some sweet tea too’ She sat and soothed the sobbing Lucy as Drake hurried off. She managed to pull herself together after a few minutes.

‘Th – thankyou Mrs Walker. I didn’t think it mattered.’ she hiccupped softly. ‘I only thought I was – and I went for a ride to think about it, then my horse threw me. Drake found me… at the bottom of a slope in the woods, and he stayed with me until the Air ambulance came. He was so brave and comforting. Don’t be hard on him. I love him so much – and Brad too.’

‘Shh darling, call me Bianca, and you settle yourself down. Doctors know nothing you know, you need to talk to someone who’s been through it themselves, they can tell you how to cope.’ Lucy looked at Bianca, realisation slowly dawning.

‘You mean – you…?’

‘Yes darling, me. Drake might have had an older sister or brother. I felt so bad afterwards, and the best tonic was being able to talk about it with someone who knew. The next best cure is a successful pregnancy.’

‘I’m so sorry for you Mrs Walker- I mean Bianca. I – we weren’t even planning it for a while, we were going to wait, and we’d been careful. I was late, but I guess it was the shock of all the things that happened on my wedding day.’ Lucy did not tell Bianca that she wasn’t sure whose child it might have been, but she felt as if a huge weight had been lifted ‘Nobody wanted to talk about it, they were just glad that I was okay.’

‘And now you’ve got the pressure of another wedding. It’s not surprising you’re so run down.’

‘But I can’t call it all off. I want Drake to be part of our marriage.’

‘Well I don’t quite understand how you can have two men at once dear, but if that’s what you want, and it’s legal and above board in this little backwater, why shouldn’t you? Just leave all the arrangements to everyone else and give yourself some time to grieve. Talk to Brad and Drake about it and what it means to you, and then hopefully you’ll be able to enjoy your…’ she took a deep breath. ‘second wedding. Just let it happen.’

Drake reappeared with tissues and tea, and Brad came in with him. Bianca stood and gave the two men a stern look.

‘You need to listen to Lucy and support her. She’s not to have any work to do at all before the wedding, it’s all your responsibility. I’ll be watching and making sure she’s not stressed – do you boys understand?’ The two men nodded, and she walked out of the room to leave them to it.

Lucy patted the sofa beside her, and the two men sat either side of her. She leaned into Brad’s embrace and Drake put his hand on her back and held her hand. She closed her eyes and felt their support. She drew a deep sigh. Her voice was small as she started to speak but grew stronger as she went on.

‘For a few hours, I thought I was pregnant. For those hours, I wasn’t only wondering whose it was – I was thinking about whether it was a boy or a girl – who it would look like and how I’d cope looking after it. I wondered if I’d make a good mother. I knew you would both be fantastic fathers, but I wondered if it would divide you when you knew whose it was. I didn’t even know if Drake was going to say yes to joining us. I thought of little Bartie and pictured myself feeding the ducks with them or reading them bedtime stories. I thought of the sleepless nights and looking after him or her if they were sick. When the horse threw me I realised I hadn’t even been watching the track. It all hit me again only a few hours ago.’ Brad held her tight, and Drake drew little circles on her hand, then lifted it to his lips to kiss it.

‘When I was told it hadn’t even been a possibility, I felt – so stupid, and so guilty for making you both worry so much. It was as if there had been – a little girl, or a little boy, and he or she had – just disappeared. Before that, I’d never really thought about being a mother. At all.’ She stopped, and Brad spoke instead.

‘I thought the same thing.’ he said quietly. ‘But I thought talking about it would only upset you. I’ve always seen myself as a father. It comes with the territory. I have to provide an heir.’

‘How could we be so stupid? ’Drake said bitterly ‘All feeling the same and saying nothing.’

‘Well, we’re talking now’ said Lucy ‘and we have plenty of time to think about starting a family for real after the doctor told me to wait a few months. That’s probably a good thing.’

‘We can call the wedding off for now.’ said Drake. ‘I only want you to be well and happy’ Lucy smiled and squeezed his hand.

‘What would make me happy is for everyone to acknowledge you as my partner.’ she said, reaching out to touch his cheek. ‘Everyone – nobles, and citizens, and the rest of the world. Calling the wedding off is not an option.’ Brad spoke up next.

‘I’m sorry - we’ve failed you, Lucy. I promise the wedding will be stress free. The only thing you have to do is choose your dress, we can take care of everything else.’

‘I was going to wear the one I already had.’

‘Well actually, you need to speak to Hana, she has an idea. I’ll go and get her.’ said Brad. Lucy cuddled up to Drake, who held her tight and stroked her hair.

‘You can tell me anything.’ he murmured. ‘any time, you know that.’

‘Thankyou. Let’s just enjoy being alone and quiet, that’s all I want right now.’ Before long Hana appeared, and Lucy smiled at her friend, untangling herself from Drake’s embrace.

‘Lucy, it was going to be a surprise, but I’ve designed a wedding dress for you.’ Hana said. ‘I was going to give it to you on the morning of the wedding, but if you’d like, I can show you now, and we can make any alterations we need to. It would be rather stressful doing it last minute like I’d planned.’

‘Hana, you are just amazing. I tell you what – I’ll try it on – blindfold – and you can fit it, and it will still be a surprise.’

‘That sounds as if it could work. Let’s get to it right now.’

#drake walker #king liam #the royal romance #choices the royal romance #drake x mc #drake x liam #liam x mc #trr #choices trr

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