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kavtari · 3 months

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Inner Peace

(( What I was listening to while writing this: Eternal Blossom by karasu. ))

"AGAIN!"

The harsh voice rang out across the gardens, bouncing off the near low walls and rippling the lilies upon the brook. It belonged to a war-aged Pandaren man whom stood upon a short stage. He performed the sweeping kick again, nearly identical to the last one, and landed perfectly to watch his students do the same.

Among them, Kav wasn't the worst. Sweat gently beaded on her forehead and collected in her headband. Her shoulders, arms, and legs showed the signs of hours of training in the sunlight. The muscles cried out, begging to stop, but Kav wasn't ready to give up yet.

Since the slow rebuild of Pandaria during the peace, more peoples from all over had taken up residence upon the lands. Kav didn't live there, continuing to roam as she pleased to avoid being tied down to any one place, but at some point she found herself among the students multiple times a week to practice self defense and the many forms of martial arts.

"PUNCH!"

"KICK!"

It became a sort of rhythm. The master barked and order and the students had to follow through at the right time or get called out. Kav's mistakes did not go unnoticed and more than once she felt the thwap of reed on thigh or back or shoulder or arm. It didn't matter anymore. At first she feared it - the sudden sting of punishment for repeat failure - but it was all a part of the experience now.

A year ago she would have abandoned it at the first sign of pain, at the first bloody nose, or at the first sparring session. As she stuck with these stances and practiced balance, however, the memories slowly revealed themselves and her skills began to return. The bard had been decent acrobatics and blades before, but those skills had been repressed. As they surfaced in pieces over the months of classes, Kav found herself spending sleepless nights wrecked by the thoughts of what she had been through and what she had done to survive.

"TURN!"

The students, exhausted from the steady constant of movement, turned in unison to see the distant rain clouds closing in. With an honorable bow they finished their session with slow breathing and a reminder to find peace even through the mental and physical pain.

Kav didn't hurry to gather her things as the others did. Rain could calm down her swelling muscles, her puffy eyes, and hide the tears. Instead she settled upon the creek bridge with her little voice box and sent out a message.

"Today was better than yesterday. I think I am getting better at the technique. It ... it still hurts though. Surfing really never prepared me for this. Not that I've surfed much as of late." She scoffed at herself, rolling her eyes. "I hope you and yours are doing well. I will visit again soon, or you can always visit me. I know you love this place...."

She let that drift off before before she disconnected and shook her head. It was so stupid, her thoughts. Nothing had changed, yet she was still doubting. The elf slid her communicator back into her pack, keeping the channel open just in case, as the first raindrops hit the waters below her.

"Doubt, little one, must be balanced," the master's voice sounded in Kav's mind clearly. She slowed her breathing, closed her eyes, and allowed the rain to cool her warm skin and heated mind. The tears that gently flowed down her cheeks mixed with the waters, then dropped away. The elf calmed herself as she slowly moved her body into one of the many balancing poses. She wasn't a monk and definitely didn't plan on being one, but she could at least understand this teaching. Inner turmoil did her no good, but neither did running away from it.

After a time, balanced in the rain, Kav finally straightened and made her way to the inn she was to stay at that night. The next day she went to Stormwind with a purpose and enjoyed her night drinking and laughing, held steady right where she wanted to be, before she went on yet another long adventure away from her heart's home. Valdrakken sounded good.

(message to @elovir )

#weeks ago #my writing #creative writing #building towards current story #recent RP

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modern-inheritance · 2 months

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Modern Inheritance: First Kiss

(A/N: Pre relationship, set during the undefined length of time between Dras Leona and the final conflict, but before Eragon and Arya become a couple. We're ignoring the elf guards following Eragon and Saphira all the time, when Arya and Glen are around they are let off the leash for some more privacy.

This started as a short and ended up being about 2k words, so it's technically within the range of the 'full' fics I've written for MIC in the past. So...I'm having a mental crisis trying to categorize it.)

~~~~

Roran always talked about how his first kiss with Katrina was magical. Life changing. The brightest memory in his darkest times.

Eragon couldn’t wait for the one day he would get his first kiss.

He was pretty damn sure today was not going to be that day.

Arya darted forward again, the feint quite nearly catching him until he saw the familiar yet nearly imperceptible twitch that her right shoulder did right before she changed that swooping maneuver towards his legs into a devastating uppercut. Their sparring match had been going on for hours at that point, from mid morning to nearly evening now. They both were tired, drenched in sweat, scuffed and bruised and both absolutely refusing to yield.

And he saw it, just in the briefest of moments when she danced away from him, spinning Wyrda back to her starting stance. An opening. A real, bonafide, actual opening.

Eragon. Was. Going. To. Win.

It wasn’t going to be graceful. Or sung about by tacticians for years to come. It was sloppy, really. Desperate. But while he knew Arya took risks in battles, used her body as a weapon almost as much as her blade or the menagerie of guns at her disposal, he knew that she knew he wasn’t as eager to do the same. And she would never expect him to try one of her moves.

So he chucked Brisingr to the side with a wild roar and tackled her the second the opening presented itself again.

Arya yowled when she realized what he was doing, beating on the back of his head even before they hit the ground in a tangle of limbs and teeth. His hand came up, blind but certain, and connected with her wrist as Wyrda’s pommel came down, jolted the tendons there so that the blade spun away from her weakened grip. He grabbed her wrists and shoved them under her body, beneath her lower back just as they finally impacted the dusty soil of the training field.

From his perch on her hips the elf was neatly pinned, his knees trapping her hands from escaping and his hands planted to either side of her head. Arya struggled for a few more moments, tried to buck him off, snapped her teeth in frustration.

She settled after the ferocious display, fiery eyes boring into his with equal parts respect and absolute indignation. Eragon just smiled triumphantly, cheeks hurting from the size of his wild grin.

The young Rider leaned forward, practically buzzing with excitement at his victory. “Hey. Arya. Guess what? I win.”

Ever elegant in defeat, a word she oft pretended to not know the definition of, Arya huffed and blew a stray shock of hair from her face. She’d never let him have the last laugh, especially not like this.

“So…” Her voice drawled, nearly deadpan but still with the same arch of question as the raise of her eyebrow. “Is this the part where we kiss, or…?”

He knew exactly what she was doing. And damn it, he was going to throw her off just as badly. “I donno.” His grin turned decidedly cheeky as he leaned in further. He didn’t know where the husky undertone came from, but it sold the bit even further. “Do you finally want to kiss me, Arya?” A flash in her eyes, something he had never seen, mixed in with what could have been guilt, a hint of shame even, there was a flash of want, before the mask came down again. He smiled, and he knew that she knew he saw it by the tightening of her jaw, annoyance glimmering past the mask. “Oh, wow. Is this what it takes to get you–”

He didn’t get a chance to finish his playful teasing. Arya was suddenly up on her elbows, and her lips locked to his. Soft. Warm. Insistent. Desperate. Open mouthed and hungry.

He could taste the salt from her sweat and his mouth opened to her and the whole world was just them. It wasn’t explosive like Roran always said it was, it was warmth and a glow in his chest. Her hand on the back of his neck. He found his hand curling beside her ear, burying his fingers in her wild hair and mess of a braid after their hours of fighting.

Fighting.

Wait.

How was her hand on his neck?

Eragon broke the kiss with a frustrated groan and dropped his head to Arya’s shoulder. “Oh, that’s so not fair.”

Arya just laughed, eyes bright and unaware of the way the sound brought sunlight to Eragon’s mind. The warded knife braced against her hip pressed hard against the young Rider’s belly, pointing straight under his ribs towards his heart.

“It was a good tackle.” She patted the back of his head, and for a brief moment he felt her lean her cheek against his temple. There was something there, he felt it, he knew. And he knew she felt it too, the way that she pulled back. The tiny unsure tilt to the smirk she gave him when he raised his head and smacked his shoulder. “Alright, ger’off me. You’re heavy.”

Eragon obliged her. In the corner of his mind he could hear Saphira laughing. There was a thread of concern there as well, a bit of anger at the elf for doing such a thing when it wasn’t serious nor when she had been so adamant about their friendship remaining just that. He reached out, sent her an assurance that he was okay, that he knew what was going on now. Saphira’s reluctant acceptance of that was still underlain with poorly stifled chuckling at his predicament.

Arya took the Rider’s offered hand and let him pull her to her feet. They brushed each other off and collected their fallen weapons, shoulders bumping as they meandered back to where Glenwing was watching them with Saphira, Brom ambling up just as his son and former student arrived.

“Hey, don’t feel too bad.” Glen’s smile was damn near splitting his face as he clapped Eragon on the shoulder. “That was a good tackle. Even I didn’t see it coming. And you’re not the first to fall for that trick, believe me!”

Eragon snorted, entirely happy to turn the tables. “Oh really? Arya, shame on you. Kissing Glen like that. You’re practically siblings!”

Arya made a distinct gagging noise at the insinuation as the medic let out a bark of laughter. “Stars above, no! She’s killed three men like that in combat!”

Saphira racked her throat at the flare of panic in Eragon’s mind for a split second as her Rider whirled to face Arya. ‘Poor Eragon, his favorite elf has kissed other men.’

“She what?”

Arya threw her hands up. “It was that or die! And it worked!”

Brom’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline, voice overlapping in the hubbub as he slowed to a stop. “What did I just walk up to?”

Glen wasn’t finished with tormenting the duo, completely ignoring Brom’s approach. “Not to mention the one woman.”

“WHAT?”

“GLEN!” Glenwing cackled and nearly lost his balance when Arya shoved him.

“What is going on?” Brom caught the elf by his mechanical forearm and levered him upright. “Did I miss something?”

“Glen, don’t you dare–”

“Arya kissed Eragon to distract him and steal his victory.” Brom’s eyebrows couldn’t go any higher, but that didn’t stop them from trying.

‘And now Glenwing is regaling us of previous times our dignified combat liaison has used the tactic. On both male and female combatants.’

Arya covered her face. “It was a really dangerous situation, okay?” Eragon was still trying to get words out of his flapping mouth, and her next protest didn’t do him any favors. “Look, it was Black Hand, she was really about to stab me, I–”

“WHAT?!”

Glenwing howled with laughter at Eragon and Brom’s reaction, entirely unable to get in a breath big enough to clear up the misunderstanding. He had to sit down, wiping away tears, as Arya looked up in confusion before her eyes flared wide.

“NO! NO, nonononono, not her! Not her! One of the organization, one of– oh for fucksake!”

It was a good hour before the little group dispersed. Brom was only checking in before a planned early dinner with Jeod and Helen, hoping to further smooth things over for the couple with several stories of Longshanks’ bravery and importance over some fine wine pilfered from Nasuada’s stores. Glen was off to the medical tents, having promised the younger Dr. Vilks his help in sterilizing equipment and tending to a few of the more difficult patients.

Eragon and Saphira extended an invitation to Arya for a short flight over the camp before dropping her off at the cluster of tents that surrounded where the dragon and Rider had set up. Tired, far more sore than she would ever admit, and never one to turn down flying when Saphira was offering, the elf gladly took Eragon’s hand up into the saddle.

As they flew, Saphira stretching her wings and doing lazy curves and waves around and over the currents that rose from the numerous fires around the nearby cook tents, Eragon felt Arya’s arm tighten where it was wrapped around his waist.

“Hey. I’m sorry about earlier.” He tilted his head back to better hear her. “That…. It wasn’t fair or right for me to do that. To you. Knowing how you feel.” He could feel her frown in the air between them as it rushed by. She was genuinely upset by this. “I took it too far. And it was wrong.”

The feeling of her lips on his hadn’t faded in the slightest. The look Arya had before she had done it hadn’t retreated from Eragon’s mind either. There was something there. Something that wasn’t being put on for the ruse, something that she hadn’t been able to hide because maybe…maybe she hadn’t been aware it was there. But after. He knew she had noticed it after. And the sudden jolt of uncertainty and fear in her eyes….

Arya was always so much more open in a fight, inhibitions vanishing into the air like gunsmoke. She couldn’t lie to herself when she fought, the elf had told him as much. So maybe….

Eragon pushed it all aside. He wouldn’t shatter their friendship, not when he valued it so much, by pushing what he had seen. What he thought he saw.

“It’s okay.” A sudden broad smile split his face as he fell back into their usual comradery. “I know it’s not the way I probably would have wanted, but at least I can say I got my first kiss from you in the end.”

Saphira’s mind nudged theirs, joy of flight thrilling through them with her sly question. ‘I’m sure Eragon is just dying to know. How was he? Any complaints? Pointers? Compliments?’

“Saphira!”

Arya just laughed, completely unperturbed by Saphira’s teasing. “Was that really your first kiss?”

“My one and only.”

Despite the jovial attitude, he could feel her gaze regarding him, studying the side of his face that she could see. At the barest of his periphery Eragon saw her hand come up, and a trill of unbidden excitement jolted his heart when he saw her touch two fingers to her lips. Eyes unfocused for the barest of moments as the corners of her lips curved up into a smile he could not quite place. “Not bad. Not bad at all.” Her hand dropped to grip Eragon’s shoulder for balance as Saphira tilted to avoid a pair of indignant ravens. “Especially for a first.”

She was back to teasing him now, the rhythm returning easily. They could be themselves again, forget it all.

Well. Forget most of it.

Eragon couldn’t help himself. He turned to face forward again, still grinning like a fool. “My first kiss. Better than Roran’s.” He wiggled his eyebrows despite her not being able to see them. “There was tongue.”

Arya laughed and lightly punched him in the side. “Not a word, Eragon!”

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annaphoenix1994 · 11 months

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Ch.96 - Baler's First Christmas

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

Baler experiences his very first Christmas and is given the most exciting gift of all.

"Stop fumbling with it, Soap." Simon warned from the driver's seat, watching him continue to look at the ring he was finally able to get with Simon's help, almost as if he couldn't believe he got to take it with him after eyeing it in its case when he went to make payments on it. The box opened and closed repeatedly throughout their drive home.

"What? Can't help it."

"You've been practicing how you're going to open the box when you ask her, Johnny," Simon arched his brow. "It's not rocket science. You get down on one knee, open the box, and ask the question."

"Don't listen to him, Johnny. He was shaking like a leaf when he proposed to me." Kiera giggled from the passenger seat, ignoring Simon's glare as she smiled at Soap from over her shoulder.

"No I wasn't."

"Mhm, I saw your hands shaking when you put the ring on my finger."

He huffed at her response, knowing she was right, but he didn't want Soap to know that as he pulled onto the gravel of the ranch's long driveway. "You two banter like a married couple." Price scoffed, he too loving to push Simon's buttons.

"I thought the same thing!" Kiera giggled. "Even my own mom said that after I gave birth to Jacob and Evie!"

"Looks like I'm not the only one..." Soap commented, keeping his gaze on the ring after opening the box yet again to look at it.

"Johnny, we're here. I suggest you hide that ring before you blow your cover."

"She's still out with the herd, L.T.," Soap waved his hand. "I won't blow my cover."

"Well, you need to hide it somewhere while we take that furniture from Kiera's mum's guest room-"

"Why? What? Since when are we moving furniture?"

"Since now. We're making the kid a bedroom of his own for Christmas and her mum said we could have the furniture that's in their guest room instead of buying it." Simon replied, parking the truck in the driveway of the house he and Kiera shared to help carry in the many bags of gifts and groceries.

"Wow, you definitely have heart in that body of yours, L.T." Soap chuckled.

"Wasn't my idea." He grumbled, exiting the truck to walk around to the passenger side to open the door for her.

"It was his idea." Kiera whispered over her shoulder, giggling as she took his hand to help her out of the truck, Soap and Price laughing at the glare Simon gave them through the back window of the truck as he and Kiera began gathering bags to take inside.

"Remind me to traumatize him with that bloody elf like we did last year." Simon commented, following Kiera into the house and setting the bags on the kitchen island while she proceeded to open Kimber's crate.

"Oh, I'm sure you won't forget since you look forward to it every year," She giggled, leaning down to pet Kimber between her ears. "I'm going to start cleaning that room. What're you bringing over first?"

"Probably the bed and frame, love." He replied, always resisting the urge to turn her to face him so that he could kiss her for just a second longer after he had gone a long time without her lips on his.

She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck as she inhaled his cologne, twining her fingers through his hair and embracing the scratch from his stubble against her top lip. "I love you."

"I love you too, Simon." She smiled against his lips.

"Need any help with this stuff?" He nodded his head towards the grocery bags.

"I've got it handled from here, babe. I'm going to wrap his presents in our bedroom after I get done putting the groceries away."

"Okay. We'll hustle to get that furniture over here. I don't expect them to be back for another couple of hours. I'm sure you want it to be a surprise for him."

"You know how I am with keeping surprises."

"Well, it's a good thing Christmas Eve is tomorrow. Just contain your excitement until Christmas Day, yeah?"

"I'll do my best."

He smirked, pressing another kiss to her lips before he made his way back to the truck and driving to her parent's lodge, knowing he'd have to use the truck to tote the furniture back and forth.

After she put the groceries away, she began taking Baler's gifts to their bedroom to wrap, sitting on the floor as she folded the new clothes into the gift box, wrapping it in Christmas-themed paper as well as taking the advantage of wrapping Simon's gifts while he was occupied. She knew he didn't know how to react to gifts, but she hoped he liked what she got him this year.

A new tactical knife, a few new shirts for him to wear under his uniform, and a large framed collection - more like a shadow box - of the group photos - including the mission of Operation Kingfish - he had been present for after their hardest missions as well as a wonderful display of his awards, a copy of his dog tags, and his favorite hard shell skull balaclava. It was a large display, but it was honorable for her to make and she knew he would love it as the photos that were in it were the group photos of him and the Task Force, also the most recent one being the group photo of the Task Force with Alejandro and Rudy, Kiera being able to see herself present in the photo in the back of the photo coincidentally next to Simon. She wrapped the shadow box with two layers of tissue paper after the first layer of bubble wrap before setting it in the cardboard box and wrapping it in a special themed paper, the couple doing it to ensure that each gift was wrapped with certain paper to avoid confusion.

She smiled after writing the tag:

To: Simon

From: Kiera (I love you!)

She shuddered when she heard the door open, hearing three male voices follow the sound of the open door as they heaved heavy breaths. "For fuck's sake, Soap, lift it!" Simon poked.

"I am! I'm sorry I don't overdose on pre-workout and lift five-hundred pounds in the gym!" He sneered back.

"Fucking hell, I can bench at least four!" He corrected.

"Bloody shite, boys. Can we get this in that bedroom before so I can light a cigar?" Price scoffed at their playful bickering.

Kiera giggled as she leaned against the bedroom doorway, watching them work together to tote in the bed frame for Baler's room. "I guess I forgot to mention that it's a log bed frame..."

"We figured it out," Soap replied. "Pivot, Simon! Pivot!"

He grumbled, moving the bed into the room before easing it down to sit as it should on the floor. Wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, he rested his hands on his hips before exhaling deeply, "I'd rather go back to Mexico than do that again."

"Surprised it wasn't the oil rig." She arched her brow.

"No. I got wet and cold after that."

"Yeah," Soap scoffed. "And after that we got stuck in that small town having to improvise. Remember that, Kiera?" He asked blindly.

"No, I was too busy being interrogated and beaten within an inch of my life," She shook her head. "But I'm sure it was fun."

Soap immediately regretted what he had asked, hoping he didn't offend her in any way. He looked at her with a sorry gleam in his eye, relieved when he saw a playful smile plastered across her face.

"What else do we have to bring over?" Price asked, changing the subject.

"Just the mattress, two side tables, and the dresser. We can fit it all on the bed of the truck."

"Thank God. Hopefully they're lighter than this thing." Soap added.

"I'll start dinner," Kiera said. "You boys look like you could use something to eat."

"Best news I've heard all day."

Christmas Eve, 2023

Kiera was genuinely pleased with the pout on Simon's face when he found out they all had matching pajamas for the holiday, but he felt less embarrassed when Baler had a matching set too.

The couple each toted an infant against their chests, entering the lodge that smelled of a simple, yet big enough dinner to feed them and Simon's Task Force for a traditional Christmas Eve dinner. "You all look so cute!" Eva smiled, "You know I'll have to get a picture!"

"Okay," Kiera smiled. "I have some things I want to make that I saw on Pinterest."

"Christ." Simon mumbled, sounding like he dread anything that had to do with arts and crafts, but if he were being honest, anything that involved Kiera and their children made his heart flutter.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Eva smiled.

"I'll tell you about it at dinner," She giggled. "We have a long night ahead of us."

"That we do! After dinner, I'd like to make cookies with Baler. He already told me what movie he wanted to watch tonight."

"He'd like that."

Later that same evening after dinner and when Price, Alice, Soap, Teeter, Gaz, Alejandro, and Rudy went off to their designated rooms in the guest house after much-needed laughs and a competitive game of friendly poker. It was the first time in a long while Kiera had seen Simon laugh that much.

She lay on the couch with her head in Simon's lap, enjoying the lazy circles he was drawing in her hair as she had her arm around Evie's sleeping form nestled against her while Jacob was snug against Simon's opposite leg, his thumb gently rubbing along the bridge of his little nose, unaware that Jacob thoroughly enjoyed the sensation as it put him to sleep the quickest.

"Falling asleep on me, yeah?" Simon whispered down to her, moving a piece of hair from her face and glancing over to see Baler tossing pieces of popcorn into his mouth while atop a makeshift area on the floor by using multiple toss pillows and a fleece blanket while Eva had fallen asleep herself on the other couch, her mouth barely agape.

"No." She mumbled, looking against her chest to check on Evie, satisfied that she was still sleeping.

"Don't lie, love." He chuckled, moving his hand back to her hair to continue running his fingers through it.

She nodded instead of replying, letting her eyes close while she felt content with her head on his lap. "I don't blame you, this movie is about to put me to sleep too."

"Well, it's a good thing we're staying the night."

"Too bad you couldn't leave the dog at home," He chuckled. "Now I have to worry about that little lass curling up at my feet."

"I don't blame her. You're warm to cuddle up against."

He sighed heavily through his nose, "Well, it's time for bed anyway. Especially if Baler here is expecting a visit from Santa."

Baler glanced over his shoulder and scoffed, "Santa? How old do you think I am? Six?"

"Who else is going to give you presents?" Simon arched a brow. "Because it certainly wasn't me." His face was stern, hoping Baler believed the folk tale as he truly wanted to make Baler's first Christmas special for him, wanting him to experience the excitement every kid deserved to have.

"Kiera?" Baler questioned, hearing her hum in response. "Is he serious?"

"What? You don't believe in Santa Claus?"

"...No?"

"Well, he might forgive you and still bring you a present anyway," She assured him, watching his face light up with excitement. "Let's go to bed. We'll see how it goes in the morning."

On Christmas Day, Kiera awoke to the feeling of a hand grasping her bicep. She couldn't help pull her arm away at the sudden sensation. "Miss Kiera?" Baler whispered. "I-I'm sorry to wake you up."

She rubbed her eyes, slowly sitting up in the bed before Simon awoke next to her, sighing as he was upset he was awakened out of a deep and peaceful sleep for once. "No, no, it's okay honey. What is it?" She waved her hand before laying back down.

"Um... I went downstairs to get something to drink and I saw a bunch of presents at the tree." He answered nervously.

Kiera couldn't help but smile, glancing over at Simon to see him mirroring her expression, hiding his excitement for Baler's first Christmas by bending his elbow over his eyes, shielding him from the morning sun. "Oh... Are you saying that Santa may have come?" She arched her brow.

"I-I think so?"

"Well, who else would it have been?"

"...I don't know."

She breathed a laugh, "Give me a few minutes to rub this sleep out of my eyes and get the babies fed."

"O-Okay. What should I do?"

"Whatever you want, just don't open your gifts without us. I need to get in the habit of taking pictures every holiday when our two get older." She giggled.

Baler breathed a laugh, "Of course you do."

Simon waited until Baler completely exited the room before he turned to his side and spooned Kiera close to him, craning his nose into her neck. "You're excited for today, aren't you?" He whispered.

She nodded, "I'm too excited. I hope we made the right decision."

"I'm sure we did," He assured her, pressing a kiss behind her ear. "I love you."

"I love you too," She smiled, turning around to face him and rewarding him with a kiss. "Merry Christmas, baby."

He hummed against her lips, "Merry Christmas."

After Kiera had fed Jacob and Evie as well as refreshed herself, Simon did the same before helping her with whatever she needed before they met her parents in the living room, taking a seat on the couch as Baler stood nervously close to the tree, eager to see what "Santa" had brought him for Christmas.

Eva entered the living room with a pep in her step, bringing Kiera and Simon a glass of eggnog to sip on while Baler opened his gifts. "What're you waiting for, sweetheart?" Eva giggled. "Those gifts are for you! I have a few under that tree - one more than what Santa brought you." She winked.

"Um... I-I don't know where to start?" Baler shrugged. "I've never had a Christmas before..."

His answer brought an instant tear to both Eva and Kiera's eyes, the mother and daughter sharing a glance at each other with a frown to complement.

"You can pick whichever one you want to open, honey." Kiera assured him with a nod, watching him gulp nervously as he sat with his legs crossed on the floor.

He nodded, reaching toward the first gift in his line of sight, slowly ripping the paper to reveal a cardboard box. He curled his fingers along the top, ripping it open to reveal a remote controlled drone - something he had always wanted as he had always been curious about seeing structures from the air. "I-I don't know what to do with this..." He sighed, seeing that it required an Apple device to operate the remote control in order for video to sync its data.

"It's okay, Simon knows how to use those." Kiera smiled.

He smiled, keeping the box of the drone close to him as he briefly thought the drone was his only gift. "You've got more gifts, sweetheart." Eva encouraged, watching him reach for the next wrapped box. Seeing that it was smaller, he wondered what it could be as he slowly opened the box, seeing that it was an iPhone 12 with the red back, knowing it was one of Baler's favorite colors. "Holy sh- I mean...wow," Baler gasped to himself. "Miss Kiera... I don't deserve this. I was saving my money for one-"

"Guess you'll have to take your complaints to the big man in red." Simon commented, stretching his arm along the back of the couch and touching his fingertips against Kiera's shoulder.

Baler chuckled at Simon's remark, rubbing the pad of his thumb along the box of the iPhone before reaching for another gift, smiling at the tag that was stuck to the gift wrap:

To: Baler

From: Simon and Kiera (mostly Simon) :)

He smiled as he opened the box, seeing a camouflage set of hunting clothes he had also been saving for as he recalled Simon promising to take him hunting at one point, smiling once he saw a small box at the bottom containing a rather nice pocketknife - a pocketknife so nice in fact that Simon bought one for himself. "T-Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, lad."

Kiera smiled when he reached for the gift box she had wrapped for him, the teen smiling at the Merry Christmas handwriting on the tag, knowing it was from Kiera and Simon themselves. He smiled when he revealed the new clothes from inside the box, growing eager to try them on as they were clothes he could wear to either a casual or a formal occasion. "Thank you, really." He said, holding back his tears of gratitude.

"Before you open the rest of your gifts, you have something else at the bottom of the box." She smiled excitedly, Simon knowing she was eager to see his reaction when he pulled her closer to him, rubbing her shoulder with the pad of his thumb.

Baler nodded, looking at the bottom of the box to see what looked like an envelope. He furrowed his brows as he opened the envelope, seeing a customized Christmas card with a photo of Baler, Kiera, Simon, Evie and Jacob all posed in front of the Christmas tree in their matching pajamas - the same photo they had all taken the night before. He paused to look at the photo, We all look like a happy little family. I wish I had that, he frowned to himself before noticing the cursive handwriting below the photo:

𝒲𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒶 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉 𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓂𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝑜 𝒻𝒶𝓇! 𝐼 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝑜 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓉𝑜 𝒮𝒾𝓂𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼. 𝒢𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝓊𝑔𝑔𝓁𝑒𝓈, 𝓌𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓌𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒾𝒹𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓊𝓈. 𝒲𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝑜 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶𝓁𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎. 𝒲𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓅𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶 𝑅𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓎?

He couldn't hold back anymore at the compassionate words. He bowed his head and shed his tears into his hands. Kiera and Eva began shedding tears of their own, Kiera shifting her weight to meet him for an embrace when he got up before her, rushing to Kiera and Simon on the couch and embracing them both at once. He knew Simon wasn't keen on physical touch, but he tolerated it because he knew he was helping make a change in the young man's life. Kiera's arms wrapped around Baler's torso, cupping the crown of his head with her left hand as her right rubbed against his back. "I'm sorry we made you cry, sweetheart-"

"N-No, I needed to," He shook his head, his tears absorbing into her hair. "It means the world to me that someone wants me."

She couldn't hold back a sob, pulling him closer into her, "We've wanted you since day one, sweetheart."

Baler was at a loss for words as he pulled back to look at her, smiling back at her as she reached up to cup his face and wipe the tears from his eyes. "Well, I guess now is the perfect time to give you guys the gift I got for you."

"You didn't have to get us anything." Simon assured him.

"I wanted to." He smiled.

"How did you even sneak gifts over here?" Kiera giggled.

"I've learned a few things from Simon when it comes to sneaking gifts... Except I can keep it a secret longer than he can."

"Don't go giving all of my secrets away." Simon glared.

Baler breathed a laugh, moving to the tree to bring two small boxes to them, reaching the gifts towards them with a rather, interesting, technique of wrapping paper.

Kiera laughed at her gift - a mug with the following phrase:

"I figured... since you don't want to hear me cuss around you... I didn't think it would be so bad if it was where you could read it." He breathed a laugh.

"I love it," She smiled. "Thank you."

Simon couldn't help but chuckle at the gift, knowing gag gifts were always entertaining to receive, which made him wonder what his gift was when he began ripping the paper from the medium-sized box, seeing what looked like a shirt that was poorly folded, knowing that Baler spent a lot of time to make it as presentable as he could. He held the shirt up to view it, breathing a chuckle knowing that Baler was referring to the oblivious mis confusion from when he had asked Simon about his rank when he and Kiera were playfully bickering about his role (Author's Note: refer to Thankful - Part 1 for context!):

"I couldn't find one with a British logo, but I figured you'd know what it meant." Baler admitted.

Simon shook his head, a grin smearing his face, "It'll do."

"So... were you a private?"

"Lieutenant."

"You can call him private, he likes it." Kiera giggled.

"I was going to get him something different, but that guy who calls himself after a bar of body wash told me it would be funny to call him something other than his actual rank." Baler explained, referring to Soap.

"Of course he did."

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pencilwarrior01 · 6 years

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Honestly, I don't know why most of you, including me, didn't realize Rankin/Bass' Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer is a treasure trove of meme potential.

#Christmas #rudolph the red nosed reindeer #I've been laughing at elf practice for hours now #best meme of 2017

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beels-burger-babe · 3 years

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All is Fair in Dice and War

***Soooo, @bagelsinatoaster I love this request. However, you didn't specify which board game and as I am a huge nerd I decided to take some creative liberties and combine this with another idea I've been meaning to write which is: MC introducing the demon bros to Dungeons and Dragons. I certainly had fun with this and I hope you like it!*** Summary: Leviathan's world is flipped upside down when MC tells him there is a game that basically allows him to be the Lord of Shadows in real life!! He demands that his brothers join him as MC introduces them all to the chaotic shit show that is Dungeons & Dragons. For once, it was a peaceful day in the House of Lamentation. Lucifer was lounging in the living room with a cursed record playing softly in the background. For once, Satan had willingly joined him and was sitting by the fireplace, thumbing through a book on the human world. Belphie had been passed out on the couch when he arrived and was still laying there with an impressive puddle of drool collecting near his mouth. Even Asmodeus and Beel had joined in, with Asmodeus gently humming to himself as he painted his nails and Beelzebub happily munching on a snack as he enjoyed the sight of his family getting along. Yes. It was perfectly quiet and peaceful, and Lucifer didn't even have any traces of his regular migraine. But of course, nothing good lasts forever. Everyone jumped as the door slammed open and a wide-eyed Leviathan dragged you into the room. The two you very closely followed by Mammon loudly complaining. "Oi! You're gonna hurt them! Cut it out, Levi!" Lucifer sighed and closed his eyes, momentarily mourning the peace that he had just barely begun to enjoy, and closed his book. "Leviathan, let MC go. What are you freaking out about this time?" Lucifer regretted asking the moment the words left his mouth. Levi looked at it with the expression he only ever got when his limited edition Ruri-Chan merch arrived; his eyes were wide and glittering with excitement while his face bore a grin so large that Lucifer was surprised it didn't rip his skin. The third-born was practically vibrating as he let go of your wrist and pushed you forward. "Tell them! Tell them about the game!"

You laughed at Levi's excitement and casually rubbed your wrist. "I was just telling Leviathan about a game that we play in the human world called Dungeons and Dragons-" "You get to make a fantasy world that everyone plays in, and everyone makes characters. You can be a wizard and cast spells against a huge monster! Or a war hero fighter that has been betrayed by his brother! Or a noble knight who is looking for his lost kingdom! And the best part is that it's real!" Levi interrupted, nearly jumping in place as stars danced in his eyes. You put your hands out towards him to try and calm him a bit. "Well, not entirely real. It is played in person, but it's a role play tabletop game, meaning it mostly relies on the players' imagination. That is unless you have thousands of dollars to spend on 3D maps and figurines of your characters." Levi's eyes grew even wider, if possible, as he started shaking his hands up and down. "I CAN HAVE A FIGURINE OF A CHARACTER THAT I MADE?! GAAAAAAAAAHH!" A pillow flew across the room and hit Levi square in the face as a now awake Belphegor glared at him. "Will. You. Shut. Up?" the Avatar of Sloth hissed as a dark dangerous aura grew around him. Beel gently patted his twin's head in hopes of calming him. Leviathan pouted as he noticed no one else seemed to be getting excited about it. "C-Come on guys! This isn't even a video game! It's a thing that we can all do together and personalize it to be something that everyone will like. It'll be fun! Right MC?" You nodded as you gently tossed Belphie's pillow back over to him. "Yeah. I love D&D. I played it all the time in the human world. There's action, suspense, and even romance if you really wanted it," a couple of the brothers perked up at that. "I could put together a one-shot for you guys to try it out if you'd like? I'll help you make your characters, and we can all get together for an evening and play it sometime in a couple weeks." The room went quiet as everyone thought it over. Most of them had no interest in the game itself, but if it was organized by you... "I'm in," Beel decided with a nod. "I think it will be fun. All of us trying something new; it could be neat." Satan casually flipped a page in his book, "The creative aspect of it is definitely appealing. We'd be the masters of our own fate, and that most certainly piques my interest." Asmodeus smirked as he put the cap on his nail polish. "And you said it could be whatever we want? My, one might say that this game could help our wildest fantasies come true~" he made sure to wink at you as he giggled. Belphie, who had only just got back his pillow, scrunched up his face in disgust and launched it at Asmo. "Don't make this weird Asmo," he looked over at you and shrugged, "So long as you do all the work in putting together the character thing, sure. Why not?" Mammon looked over at you from the corner of his eye. "Ya mean to tell me, that you can make it so I'm some awesome, rich, and powerful prince?" Asmo scoffed as he pushed the pillow off his lap. "Please Mammon, even the world of make-believe has its limitations." Mammon blushed as he growled at his brother. You just chuckled and teasingly elbowed his side. "Don't listen to him, Mammon. There is a set amount of how much money you start out with depending on your class and background, but I'm sure we can find something that will make you happy." The second-born blushed even more as he grumbled quietly under his breath. Lucifer tilted his head in thought. "I suppose that if everyone else is playing, naturally I must as well," he stood and began to make his way to his office. "I look forward to seeing what you come up with MC." The next two weeks were spent planning and carefully figuring out the details of the one-shot and the characters that everyone was going to play. Levi was, of course, the first one who came to you to build his character. The two of you spent hours going through the Player's Handbook and sourcebooks to find the perfect build to recreate the Lord of Shadows. In the end, you put

together a human fighter that you gave a couple magic items to make Levi's vision really come to life. It seemed basic, but for the Lord of Shadows, it was perfect. The moment the two of you finished, Levi dove to his computer and ordered a custom-made mini that looked exactly like his character. Satan was genuinely interested in the game, especially after he learned about all the lore and rules behind the different classes and races. You had just been chilling in your room one day when the door burst open. Satan stood there with wide eyes holding a copy of Volo's Guide to Monsters. "MC, why didn't you tell me there are cat people?!" You chuckled, knowing exactly where this was going. "They're called tabaxi, but yeah, they're basically cat people. Would you like to play as one?" He scoffed and snapped the book shut. "Is that even a question? Of course, I'm playing as one." After some discussion and bouncing back and forth between classes a couple of times, Satan settled on a tabaxi druid; that way he not only looked like a cat, but he could speak to them as well. After a few days of you spending time with his brothers focusing on getting their characters ready, Mammon came to you wanting the coolest, most epic character ever. At first, it was clear that he wasn't fully invested in the process, but as he saw the customizable options and all the cool stuff that his character could have, you got his attention. You ended up designing a golden teifling rogue (you tried to tell Mammon that teifling usually wasn't yellow, but he gave you such a sad look that you couldn't say no) that was decked out with piercings and gems all over its horns and tail. He tried to act like he wasn't that excited about it, but one day during class you caught him doodling what looked like a stick figure version of the character on his sheet with a big smile on his face. Asmodeus came in shortly after Mammon finished,

insisting on having the most charming and beautiful character there was. You tapped your chin at the request. "I mean, stereotypically bards are extremely charming and...well seductive...almost too seductive. But that's only thei-" Asmo had hearts in his eyes before you could even finish. "That's what I want to be!" You sighed and made a mental note not to include any dragons in the session as you marked Asmo down to be an elven bard and helped him create his character sheet. You hadn't heard anything from Lucifer for nearly that entire first week, until one day as you were lounging in the living room, he walked in holding a stack of resource books. "Ah, MC. I've been looking for you. I wanted to inform you that I will be playing a half-elf multiclassing as a paladin and hex-blade warlock." You blinked at him as he put all the books down in front of you. "O-Oh. Would you like help putting together your character sheet?" He just grinned and began to make his way out of the room once more. "I've already done it. I must admit that this was quite a bit more interesting than I thought it would be," and with that he was gone, leaving you to try and figure out what had just happened. With only a few days left until the one-shot, you had to go find the twins and get them to make their characters. Beel apologized like crazy for you having to track him in down in order to get his character made. The poor guy was in the middle of peak Fangol season and had completely forgotten. Once the two of you sat down in the kitchen with an empty character sheet in one hand and snacks in the other, Beel gave you his full attention. He put a lot of thought in his character and wanted to make it really good since he appreciated that you were doing something that they could all do as a family. He bashfully decided to play a halfling. Not only did the little creatures share his love for food, but he thought it would be neat to try being small for once. His class was also a surprise. After carefully flipping through all of the class options, he had eventually settled on a cleric. "They're the healers, right? This way I can help the others if someone gets hurt." You gave him a huge hug then and there. Belphegore, on the other hand, was not so easy to work with. "Belphie, come on. Just flip through the book and choose something!" He groaned into his pillow and rolled onto his side to glare at you. "I told you I would play if you did all the work for me. Me flipping through a book is work. It's not happening." After an entire hour of trying to get him to cooperate, you gave up. In retaliation you made his character a goblin barbarian, just to drive in the fact of how much of a brat he was acting like.

Finally, the day came for you all to play the one-shot, and much like you expected, it was complete and utter chaos. You had tried to maintain some structure and keep everyone on track, but it was hopeless. Levi and Satan were taking the game seriously and, Diavolo bless them, were the only reason their party was making any progress. Mammon was trying to pick-pocket every non-player character that they met while Asmo distracted them by flirting. This worked great for them until Mammon got caught and would've died from the resulting injuries if it wasn't for Beel. Speaking of Beel, the poor fella was trying his best to do well in the game but kept getting confused by all the rules and different stats and modifiers. Belphegor spent most of his time, trying to explain it to his twin, but in the end, Beel accidentally ate his dice and Belphie passed out on his shoulder. And then there was Lucifer. He had been mostly quiet the entire game. Surprisingly, he let Levi and Satan take the charge in any investigations and puzzle-based interactions, but he did so with a smirk. You had a funny feeling in your stomach that he was up to something, and you were right. It was the final boss. Satan and Levi were on the edge of their seats, having worked so hard to get the party to this point. You smiled, knowing that one of the best parts of D&D was finally taking down the big bad. In this case, you had prepared a beholder for them to fight. It would be no easy task. The fight should have required them to work together in an epic battle of wits, magic and melee attacks. Only, when everyone rolled initiative, Lucifer went first. The eldest smiled as his eyes sparked menacingly. "For my bonus action, I'd like to use my hex blade's curse on it, which allows me to add my plus four proficiency bonus to all damage, and makes any rolls of nineteen or twenty critical hits. I will then use my long sword with divine smite at third level to attack him and attack him again using my extra attack," barely giving you time to process what he said, Lucifer rolled his dice twice. "And that would be a nineteen and a natural twenty, meaning they're both criticals due to the curse. That should hit, yes?" "Wha-" You could only watch as Lucifer, now with twice the amount of damage due to his critical rolls pulled out a disgusting number of dice and rolled them all. And of course, with his luck, they all rolled high. "So that's 90 points of damage plus the extra damage from the curse and the bonus from my duelist ability per attack, brings this 102 points," he smugly perched his chin on top of his hands as the table gaped at him. You gulped and looked down at the beholder's character sheet, "Y-You just took o-over half of his hit points in one round..." His grin widened at the information, "What, like it's hard?" You never got the chance to finish the game, as Satan burst into his demon form and pounced on Lucifer, the eldest laughing like a mad man, while Levi tore up his character sheet in a fit of jealous rage. Levi never asked to play with everyone again after that. ***This was just so self-indulgent and I just- I loved it. It combined two of my favourite things and I have never been happier. This was more crack than fluff, but either way, it was fun and I hope you nerds out there enjoyed it 🥰 Thanks again for the request @bagelsinatoaster!*** Taglist: @mimik248 @roseytoesy @ester-is-here

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shadowsinger11 · 4 years

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Inspiration

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Requested by anon: Could you do a Fred Weasley imagine where he falls in love with Harry’s younger sister. (Maybe a after the war where he lives)

Word Count: 3.3k (my hand slipped oops)

Genre: Fluff, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining etc.

Warnings: Slight innuendo, Fred being cute and hot simultaneously

Tags: @self-ship-love @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii @jenniweasley @elf-punk @heart-of-tempered-steel @itseatyourdamnapples

Message me if you'd like to be added!

Masterlist

Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, England, July 16, 2000

It was a chilly Sunday evening. The summer air buzzed with excitement and the tender aroma of magnolia as tiny white and pink petals were gracefully falling from the huge cherry trees, carried by the light breeze. Twilight painted the horizon in liquid gold and fiery red, soon followed by mellow shades of dark blue that brought countless sparkling stars.

It was getting the slightest bit colder, but it did not matter; nothing else mattered but the loud cheers and cheerful music, celebrating the official bond between a Potter and a Weasley under the wide night sky.

You couldn't have been happier for your older brother, Harry, who was currently dancing with Ginny, his now wife - now and for the rest of his, hopefully, but not really likely, peaceful life. For the longest time you've been wondering how he'd always manage to get into trouble even as a small First year with no experience in the wizarding world whatsoever. Or, perhaps, that was the exact reason as to why evil-battling and rule-breaking were such common practices when hanging out with him.

However, there was no fighting that day. There was no room for worry and fear when the entire Weasley family and their loved ones were gathered on the clearing in front of the Burrow, chatting, laughing, dancing, singing, drinking, celebrating and living for what seemed to be the first time since Lord Voldemort's fall. Danger was practically nonexistent in that blissful moment which was frozen in time, once having looked agonizingly distant and impossible to hope for. But that dream was no longer just a foolish fantasy to heal wounded hearts. It was there, and it was happening in the most beautiful way imaginable.

And suddenly, all those clichés of a married life weren't even clichés. They were simply humble wishes of people who had witnessed far too many horrors in such a short period of time, and only craved stability among the massive chaos. So when you glanced at Ginny, a twirling blur of flaming red hair and a gorgeous wedding dress, you didn't feel the need to comment on how banal the color white was. You genuinely smiled, admiring the pure, exuberant joy, visible in her eyes and scarlet cheeks. Harry looked just as, if not even happier than his wife, dancing in the ridiculous but wholehearted way that only he could, and old memories of him winning the golden egg, training Dumbledore's Army and kissing Ginny in the common room for the very first time flooded into your mind.

It had truly been a long time since you had seen Harry careless and free like that.

You yourself had spent an ungodly amount of hours preparing the yard for the ceremony all day; rearranging chairs, decorating, making sure everything was going by schedule, only to then dance your tired feet off, and though you wanted to continue having fun with Hermione, Luna and the rest of the girls waiting for you, you really needed a break. And a drink.

Excusing yourself to leave the particularly interesting conversation you were having with distant Weasley relatives, you slipped off your black flats that, despite looking absolutely stunning, hurt your feet terribly after an entire day of fussing over the color of napkins and flower bouquets. Barefoot on the grass, you walked over to a chair next to a table which seemed to have been occupied, but judging by the mostly empty glasses and plates, the guests weren't coming back anytime soon.

You tossed your shoes aside with a sigh and rushed to rub your aching toes, hissing from how sore they were.

How has Ginny been dancing like that for hours?

"Enjoying the party, I see?" a familiar deep, slightly husky voice commented, causing you to look up.

It was none other than Fred Weasley, dear friend from childhood, staring down at you, his ever-present charming smirk resting on features and hands shoved into the pockets of his dragonskin suit. But it was his flaming red hair that made your eyes widen - it was carefully smoothed back, shining under the moonlight like liquid iron.

Fred's eyes still contained their famous, loveable mischief, except now slightly tamer and calmer. His firm biceps had visibly grown in size, stretching out the fabric of his coat just a bit to give you a prominent silhouette that caught you off guard.

It had been two years; he had changed so much.

And you were afraid to admit you had too.

You blinked in surprise, processing his uncharacteristically sophisticated appearance before realizing what he had asked you.

"Would've enjoyed it far more if my legs weren't killing me," you groaned half-heartedly and leaned back on your chair. "What's with your hair?"

"What's with your feet?"

"I asked you first," you cut him off. "I bet Ginny is responsible for this."

"Actually…" Fred trailed off, and, whether on purpose or not, ran a hand through the ginger locks to keep them in place, unaware of how you suddenly wished the hand doing the graceful motion wasn't his. "Mum insisted that I looked my best. What can I say, it's not like George and I usually listen to her, but we thought we'd make an exception this time; our sister doesn't get married every day. But honestly, Ginny couldn't care less about how we looked as long we showed up."

"So like usual, you mean?" you giggled. "Showing up is an achievement for you even if you're underdressed?"

Fred beamed, pearly white smile complementing his formal outfit. You wondered if he used that exact smile to effortlessly allure costumers and business partners at work.

He rested an elbow on the table as he leaned forward.

"Come on now, darling. I know you find my messy hair irresistible either way."

His cockiness only caused you to laugh, though Fred was quick to spot the flash of nervousness in your eyes; it brought him immense pride to know he was the one to turn you from confident to adorably bashful and flustered in the matter of seconds.

He was looking at you intensely, expectantly waiting for you to deny his flirty accusation despite your shyness.

"Nah, Weasley. It only reminds me that even at twenty-two you still do not know how to use a comb."

Fred's eyebrows shot straight up to his hairline, mouth agape. For the first time, he actually needed a second to form a reply.

"Didn't see that coming, I give you that. Courageous one, you are."

Your heart fluttered with joy and you openly grinned, shrugging in half-hearted humbleness.

"Perhaps I am."

Speaking to him felt unusually energizing, as though you had jumped headfirst into a chilly lake. It was unfamiliar and it set your nerves on fire, causing your stomach to twist and turn with sensations that left you dizzy, but unbelievably thrilled. And you wanted more of it, you wanted more of him.

"Fancy a drink?" Fred offered, already pouring champagne into a glass before handing it to you, and you keenly took it.

"Thanks, I've been thirsty with all the preparations I was doing."

"Is that why your legs are killing you?"

"Exactly, I've been running around all day, making sure everything was in order… you know, a lot of organizing and the like."

"It must hurt quite a bit then," Fred commented with a pained grimace. "But I absolutely get you, Georgie and I are just like that when it comes to the shop. It's a lot of accounting if I'm being honest, though I admit he's way better at it. We need to be completely precise; we can't allow any mistakes."

"Woah," you laughed. "Control freak much?"

He wettened his lips, never breaking eye contact.

"Perhaps I am."

You tilted your head to the side, gaze piercing into his in hopes of finding out what those gorgeous brown eyes were hiding. The tiny playful flames in them were eloquent.

Shifting slightly in your seat, you smoothed out your bridesmaid dress and raised your glass, the ghost of a smirk playing on your lips.

"Cheers to us control freaks then."

Fred mirrored your smug expression and your glasses met with a clink. The bubbly liquid tingled your throat, undoubtedly refreshing you and cooling you off. You glanced at the people dancing in the centre of the clearing and giggled - Ginny had apparently thrown away her white shoes long ago, bare feet stepping elegantly on the grass.

"You see, I'd like to chat a bit more with you, but I'm afraid it's a bit too loud here. What about we go to the pond across the field?" Fred suggested, pointing at the woods behind his back. You had visited them countless times when staying with Harry at the Burrow during holidays years ago; the tall trees and the glistening waters had never ceased to bring you comfort.

The noise started to become bothersome, and you felt it even more necessary to continue your conversation somewhere private, the unknown causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Fred's presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, or the sensation of anticipating a tidal wave to crash into you in less than a second. It was wild and the tiniest bit terrifying, but oh so tempting as it pulled you in.

"I'd love that, but… you know," you grinned and playfully swang your sore feet. "Can't really walk."

But this didn't at all seem like a problem to Fred Weasley who only shrugged and stood up, "You don't have to. I'll carry you."

"Merlin, no! Please, it's not necessary."

Fred frowned, but his confused expression was soon replaced by an amused one.

"You said it yourself that your feet hurt like hell. And even if carrying you around isn't necessary, it doesn't mean I don't want to."

You attempted to tame the butterflies.

"No, no! You seriously don't have to, I promise," you frantically protested as you held up your hands in front of you to reassure him, but he only gave you a weird look. "I can walk on my own. I'll be too heavy for you."

"There's only one way to find out."

Fred walked over to you and leaned down, one hand sneaking around your waist and the other slipping under your knees. You shrieked in terror, arms flying to clutch at his shoulders, and heat rose to your cheeks from the abrupt contact. Your chests were pressed together, and you were afraid he'd be able to feel your racing heart. His skin was warmer than you had thought, and it successfully fought off the night summer chill.

"Are we going?" Fred whispered down at you, lips so close to yours that you recognized the nuance of champagne in his breath, mixing unbelievably well with the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood of his cologne.

Not only is he sinfully attractive, but he smells heavenly too?

"Yes," you breathed and let Fred effortlessly walk across the meadow with you in his arms. They brought this new, odd, yet familiar sense of security, and you allowed your head to rest against his chest, nervous gaze wandering off into the distance in hopes of not meeting his. Nevertheless, curiosity eventually took the best of you, and your eyes would occasionally flicker to his, which were now completely black under the night sky. They could swallow you whole, you swore.

Minutes later, you found yourselves in the company of old, enormous willows which surrounded the pond you so vividly remembered from your teenage years. You thanked Fred as he carefully let you down, and took a few steps forward to look around and drench in the misty moonlight that enveloped the area. The waters were crystal clear and completely still, reflecting the moon and its majestic silver glow. The bushes had grown significantly over the time you were away, and you fondly looked back at the moments when you would pick up colorful wildflowers in the summer before your fourth year.

"Shall we sit?" Fred asked quietly from right behind your shoulder, and you followed him with a nod. You found a comfortable spot on the fresh grass to sit, a few feet away from where the water met the soil and moved back and forth ever so slightly.

"It's more beautiful than I remember," you noted, lips curled up in a barely visible smile. Fred hummed in agreement.

"That's why I always make sure to come here every chance I get when I return. But, unfortunately, that's very rare in my case."

For a moment, there was only the chirping of crickets and the soft bubbling of water.

Fred turned to you.

"Remember when mum used to call for us to de-gnome the garden and we'd hide here? We could stay in the bushes for hours before we eventually came back," he recalled, seeming deep in thought. It was an extraordinary sight; for once the playful spark in his eyes was more mellow, there was no cockiness seeping into the way he was holding himself. He was just Fred, the man who was currently thinking with so much adoration and love about his childhood, the most significant memories of it being marked by you.

You wondered, given you ever had the chance to spend with Fred as much time as your older brother did, if the charismatic prankster would have fallen for you like you had done. You wondered, given the chance you had let Fred get to know you better all those summers ago, if his heart would have belonged to you by now just like yours did to him.

Had you possibly missed your chance?

"Oh, I do," you sighed, the tension in your chest vanishing as warm nostalgia crept in like an old friend. "I also remember when I got this really bad nightmare that night. I was so terrified that you took me on a ride with your broom in the middle of the night to cheer me up."

"That's true! My parents don't know about it to this day," he replied smugly. "I can still hear you screaming like a lunatic."

You jokingly smacked his arm, "I was twelve!"

Fred's grin grew wider.

"Excuses…"

This only caused you to stare at him in disbelief and cross your arms, managing your most serious expression, but Fred was aware you were on the verge of failing to keep your stern facade. He squinted his eyes as a teasing attempt to provoke you, smile threatening to split his face in two.

"Alright then, that's enough about me," you announced, and Fred nodded in mock agreement as he studied your playful pretence. "If you're so much better than me, Mr Darcy, what else do you do aside from stealing ladies away?"

"Stealing their hearts," he said confidently, flashing you a seductive smirk, reserved only for special girls back in your Hogwarts days. You giggled, finding his antic utterly ridiculous, but you hated to admit that it still turned your blood into liquid fire. Fred apparently saw right through you, because when your eyes landed on his, they appeared completely dark once again, but, you suspected, for a reason other than the lack of light.

Your throat went dry, and you found it hard to swallow down the lump that cut your breath short.

He ran a hand through his ginger hair as he began to explain, "I'm kidding, you know. But to answer your question, George and I have been working on this potion that should be able to change the color of the eyes and hair. Fun for those who enjoy experimenting with their appearance, but it can also be useful to the Ministry. They're actually going to send a team of a couple of aurors to visit us next month so we can update them on our progress and negotiate the details."

"Wow! That's certainly exciting!"

"Is it? I mean, it probably is, but I've been having second thoughts lately if I'm being honest." He scratched the back of his neck, and you realised you had only witnessed him being anxious when it came to his greatest passion. "I'm afraid we might not be done on time, there's still plenty left to improve."

You put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, and said, "I'm sure you'll figure it all out eventually. Keep working as you normally do, try not to stress too much over the deadline, and even if things go wrong at some point, don't go too hard on yourself. It wouldn't take away any progress you've made so far."

Fred's body relaxed just a bit and he looked down at you. He couldn't deny the sense of serenity that he felt only when he was with you. Even as a careless young boy, he was able to pinpoint the way his midriff would clench every time you'd laugh at his jokes or ask him to play with you, without knowing what it all meant.

But now, as a grown man, he had a word to describe the bittersweet fire within.

"You know what?" He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "I could really benefit from having someone like you around to give me motivation."

"Motivation, huh?" you raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. Fred sneaked a hand around your waist and pulled you closer.

"Yes, motivation."

"Motivation for what?"

"Marketing strategies, work projects…" he shrugged nonchalantly, "...among other things."

You quickly caught on, suddenly becoming way too self-aware of the way you were practically cuddled into Fred's side, hand resting on his shoulder while his were wrapped around your waist. But his shining confidence seemed to rub off on you, because you asked.

"What's with you offering me a job all of a sudden?"

His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth as he took his sweet time devouring you with his darkened gaze. You didn't know whether you wanted to hide from it, or expose yourself even further to the way it burned its way straight to your core.

"Well…" Fred dragged out in his low, hoarse voice, and caressed your cheek with his thumb before slipping it under your chin to guide it towards his face. You could nearly taste the remaining flavour of champagne on his lips. "I've certainly been feeling…"

Fred went quiet as he got lost in the way you fit so perfectly in his arms; you had always meant to be there, he realised. His mouth crashed into yours, hands tightly gripping your waist, and you let out a gasp. Fred's lips were soft, although slightly chapped, and they moved gently but firmly against yours, turning you into their slave. Your palms naturally slid up his chest and he closed any remaining distance between your bodies by placing you to straddle his lap. The kiss was a dance of pushing forward and pulling back, two lovers having finally found their rhythm after years of living in fearful desire. You were positively drunk on his taste, on him, and you wished to never become sober.

When your need for air overcame the one for physical contact, you pulled away. Your chests were heaving with rapid, shallow breaths, hearts beating in synch like they had always done. You let a finger tenderly trace his cheekbone down to his jawline, then it came back up to draw different affectionate patterns on his face.

"What were you saying?" you asked, clearly out of breath. "How were you feeling?"

He fondly took your hand that was caressing his skin, and lifted it up to press feather-light kisses on your knuckles. His lips retraced their path until they reached the tips of your fingers, and he kissed those with the gentlest of touch.

You heart ached pleasurably from the way he was handling you with such care, much more than you ever believed he was capable of.

After minutes of worshipping you by the moonlit lake, Fred looked back at you as though you were his entire world. And replied with a smile.

"Inspired."

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Masterlist

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader fluff #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley oneshot #weasley twins x reader #weasley twins #fred and george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagines #james phelps #oliver phelps

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madphantom · 5 years

Text

The Sound of Life - Chapter 7

Winslow woke up because somebody splashed ice cold water in his face. He gasped and opened his eye. It was Emmy.

She grinned. "G'morning, bro. Time to get up."

He groaned and wanted to conter with something witty but he wasn't wearing the voice box. So he just glared at Emmy, rolled over and put it on.

She sat down on the bed. "I'm curious. How does that thing work?"

"I'm not completely sure myself," Winslow confessed. "Swan constructed it. I think I should start learning sign language in case the thing ever breaks or some shit."

"Probably."

"What time is it?", Winslow asked and sat up next to Emmy.

"Six thirty," she said. "Everyone else is still sleeping. I just wanted to have a talk with you alone." She suddenly leaned over and hugged him with all her might. "You have no idea how much I missed you." When she sat straight again Winslow saw tears in her eyes. Emmy laughed shakily. "Of course, everyone else did too, but I think I missed you the most. I just..." A tear rolled down her cheek. It surprised Winslow to see his big sister so vulnerable. She'd never showed any weaknesses, ever. He slid closer and put his arm around her.

"It's okay now," he whispered. "I'm okay."

She nodded and bit her lip. "Sorry for the random outburst. I just...I just missed you real bad."

"I missed you too, Ems," Winslow whispered.

She smiled and wiped the tears away. "Oh Jeez. Pulling the crybaby number here. Get up bro! You have a wedding to attend!"

Phoenix didn't turn up to the breakfast. The twins didn't either. "They're turning her into some elf queen apparently," was all Emmy let slip.

Instead of Phoenix Oskar joined the table. He still seemed a little nervous around Winslow, but a few jokes later he relaxed. Maite on the other hand was on Winslow's lap within minutes and started asking him about the voice box and his teeth. Winslow laughed while answering her countless questions.

"You'd be an amazing dad bro," Emmy finally commented before pulling him up by the collar. "C'mon we need to turn you into Phoenix' Prince Charming."

An hour later Emmy was painting Winslow's nails golden. She had insisted on doing so.

"What's up with everyone wanting to paint my nails?!", Winslow asked. "That's new!"

Emmy grinned. "It completes the look. Fits your hair." She added a finishing touch. "Speaking of that, are we gonna ponytail your mane?"

"Jesus, there's a massive chunk missing, no."

"I think it would look cute." Emmy tilted her head. "Yep. It definitely would. I've got some of that glossy stuff. Let's do this."

Five minutes later Winslow looked into the mirror and barely recognized himself.

"Wow," he said.

Emmy grinned. "I hope you appreciate it."

"I do, it's..." Winslow was lacking words. "It's incredible."

"Good." Emmy put away the nail polish. "I'll be attending in jeans and my favourite hoodie because fuck beauty standards. Hope you don't mind."

Winslow shook his head. "Nope."

"I knew I could count on you, nerd."

The wedding took place in the small church of Dunphy. The few attendants seemed to be as excited as Winslow. He was waiting by the altar when the door opened and his bride entered.

"Phoenix," Winslow whispered.

She was walking down the aisle in a beautiful silken wedding dress. Her hair was flowing over her shoulders like a dark waterfall. Her smaragdine eyes sparkled. She was so beautiful it hurt. Then she smiled and Winslow felt as if an angel was walking towards him.

The priest was a little old man who had known Winslow since the husband-to-be had been a little boy. He started talking. Winslow didn't even listen until the end "...til death do you part?"

He could feel how he was shaking when he nodded. "I do."

The priest turned to Phoenix and repeated everything he had just said. "...til death-" - Phoenix flinched a little. Undoubtedly she thought of her wedding with Swan - "-do you part?"

She nodded and smiled with relief in her eyes. "I do."

"You may kiss the bride."

They leaned forward and their lips crashed together. A giggle and a muffled "Ow" were audible. The church erupted in applause.

"Hiya, Mr Leach." Emmy popped up next to Winslow. She was wearing jeans and a faded blue Elvis hoodie, just like she'd promised. "That was nice."

Winslow smiled. "It definitely was."

"The kiss was hilarious."

Winslow laughed.

"Okay, but seriously bro, you may need some practice," Emmy pointed out. "If you need advice..."

"God no."

"I've seen the sixties, my friend, I can tell you more about free love than all of the Beatles and Yoko Ono combined."

"Emmy!" He was furiously blushing.

"Okay, okay, relax, bro. T'was just an idea." She laughed. "Jeez. I can't believe it. Lil' Mister Awkward is a married man."

Phoenix turned up next to them. "Well, hellooo." She smiled. "Hey Winslow, I like the hairdo. Looks nice."

"Thanks. It was Emmy's idea."

"Your husband heavily resisted."

Phoenix laughed. "Oh dear."

Archie appeared by their side. "Eyoo! Let's party!" He was drunk as fuck. Phoenix laughed and pulled Winslow along.

Late in the evening Winslow and Phoenix stumbled into Winslow's room. Both were drunk and happy. The lights from the garden reflected on Phoenix' jewelry and in her eyes when she turned to Winslow and smiled. She was gorgeous.

"So, what are we gonna do now?", she whispered seductively and leaned against the wall.

Winslow laughed. "Whatever you want, Mrs Leach."

"Alright." Phoenix' smile widened and she started taking off her jewelry.

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modern-inheritance · 1 year

Note

*rattling my cage* since you asked for prompts, the Izzy sparring match you have in your masterlist as a story concept……………………………..

I could let you out, if you want. I'm desperate for interaction but not that desperate. I try to treat my readers nicely......

I actually have that already! I just forgot to transfer it over from my main blog. It was more of a story idea ramble, and I wordvomitted what I had in my brain about it out and onto the site.

I'll paste what I have here, and if you want me to actually write a story loosely based around it/the original idea (it has continued to live rent free in my head all these years, but I still haven't been able to properly write it) then I can try!

Pasted stuff is below the cut. I've not reread it, and there will likely be changes if you want me to write a proper story. Thank you for the interest!

Arya’s relationship with her mother in my Modern style isn’t fully fleshed out yet. To be honest, I still can’t understand Islanzadi’s character in canon, besides her being more showy and politically nuanced (and manipulative) and generally more flashy than practical. Arya, on the other hand, is much more practically minded and straightforward, something picked up from living ~7/10ths of her life with humans and dwarves instead of elves.

Anyway, back on to the thing at hand.

It’s mentioned by Roran in Inheritance that he sees Islanzadi fighting on the battlefield and that he’s impressed by her. He’s seen Arya fight, and while Arya’s a dervish in a fight and a hell of a warrior, he admits that Islanzadi is even more impressive to him than her daughter, implying that Islanzadi is a better fighter than Arya, who’s lived and breathed the battlefield for seventy years.

So while puttering around with some of my Modern Inheritance fics dealing with the two reconciling while Eragon trained, I started wondering if Arya knew/appreciated that her mother could actually fight. This lead to me toying with the idea of Islanzadi, rather out of touch with how to relate to Arya, laughs about never having a sparring match with her own daughter after all these years of watching her train with Glenwing, Faolin, Brom and Oromis, and pretty much challenges her. Arya’s a bit on the fence about it (seventy years of fighting vs her mother sitting around on a throne for like…over a hundred years doing nothing gives a big experience gap) but her own pride wins out because hey, this is something she’s totally sure she could beat her mother at and prove herself.

(this started as a humor short and then devolved into family drama/angry confessions and then later drunk confessions and angst. Oops.)

Brom catches wind of this and shows up at the private gym at Tildari hall with a large bag of popcorn and a huge goofy grin. Arya asks him about it, and when his only response is ‘I heard you’re going to fight your mum!’ she assures him that she’s going to pull her punches and go easy on her mother. This leads to Brom getting an even bigger smile and shoving popcorn in his face preemptively.

So Islanzadi and Arya face off and Arya closes in to make the first move…and is suddenly flat on her back wheezing swear words because what the actual fuck just happened? while Brom cackles.

Islanzadi is mildly amused.

Arya gets a bit ticked off, and they square up again, and to her credit the younger elf manages to last a few more seconds this time before she gets flipped literally head over heels and hits the mat again. More laughter from Brom, more confusion and sputtering from Arya, and a raised eyebrow from Islanzadi.

This goes on for hours. Arya keeps getting back up and refuses to admit that her mother can actually fight, while Brom secretly records her getting her ass handed to her in a small montage. Islanzadi comments after a while that she had expected Arya to have learned by now to stay down when she’s been beaten, which just leads to a few very violently aggressive bouts. Each time they fight Arya lasts a bit longer, until finally both Islanzadi and her get into a stalemate that Arya manages to win…using an underhanded trick she had learned from her years in the field.

When Islanzadi gets angry about her use of deception and dishonor, Arya unleashes an angry tirade at her mother for staying in Du Weldonvardon while others fought and died to keep Galbatorix occupied and his attention away from the elves, especially since it’s now clear to her that yes, her mother can fight. Arya ends it by telling Islanzadi that she sure as hell won’t stay down because first off, it’s the only way she survived with her sanity and self worth intact in Gil’ead(Arya’s still very much grappling with the trauma and Islanzadi, while concerned and really loving her daughter, doesn’t know how to deal with it and just glosses over and past Arya’s captivity and the struggles that she still has out of fear that she can’t help her daughter), and second, she gets up every time and uses any trick available to her because she’s fighting for her life in the field instead of for sport and distraction from court and the day to day life in cushy seclusion.

Islanzadi lets her finish, then full on slaps her across the face hard enough to put her on the floor again. Tells Brom she’ll give him the same if he interferes and cooly tells Arya that she’ll be waiting in her office for her to be ready to talk to her like an adult and not an angry child and leaves. Brom helps Arya up, makes sure she’s not about to go full PTSD on him after being pinned and knocked around, and offers to help her back to her room. Arya just swears and tells him that she knows about his stash of elvish alcohol and that she really, really needs a drink.

Arya shows up her mother’s office later that night. Not as an angry child but as a drunk-as-fuck adult and her cheek still split open from where her mother had slapped her. Able to speak more freely about the last seven decades with some strong alcohol, Arya rambles to her mother the things she’s seen on the warfront. The lives lost, betrayals and alliances forged and broken, flickers of hope snuffed out and the crimes even she has committed for the possibility of freedom and equality in the distant future. She admits to being angry more because of her own, most recent failings: being unable to save Glenwing’s arm, watching Faolin fall, and the many times she was too weak to get back up in Gil’ead. She tells her mother that Faolin was her mate of several decades, a secret they kept from all but their closest friends, and that some tiny, defeated part of her whispers that if the queen had only refused Faolin’s request to be Arya’s guard then maybe he would be alive.

She tells her mother that when Islanzadi mentioned her needing to learn to stay down, she remembered Durza mocking her with the exact same words, and was fighting him in her mind’s eye until a particularly solid right hook brought her back to her senses.

Islanzadi, for once, realizes that instead of injecting herself into it and trying to defend herself and her reasons, she should just listen to what her daughter has to say.

They end up in the cushioned alcove of Islanzadi’s office, Arya with her head in her mother’s lap and mumbling exhausted, drunken nonsense as Islanzadi strokes her hair. In a brief moment of clarity the younger elf asks when her mother stopped seeing Evander, Arya’s father and Islanzadi’s mate, disappear around every corner after he was killed in the Rider’s Fall. She’s been seeing Faolin and wants to know if the pain ever goes away.

Islanzadi tells her it takes some time, but it will eventually stop hurting. When she sees that Arya has fallen asleep, she hopes her daughter was already out before she heard her lie.

~~~~~

Christ I just read a few lines and I'm cringing. Again, if you want me to try it proper like, just lemme know.

#mic asks #Modern Inheritance #inheritance cycle #eragon #the cyclists #Ket's Modern Inheritance Cycle #modern inheritance stories #the inheritance cycle

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shadowsinger11 · 3 years

Text

John Wayne

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Christmas lights and stunning dresses are enough to spark a desire for a winter romance. But could you have possibly gotten the wrong idea?

Word Count: 2.5k

Genre: fluff, angst

A/N: I might've listened too much to Cigarettes After Sex while writing and this is totally not a song inspired fic, born purely as a result of my procrastination with other projects

Tag list: @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii @jenniweasley @theweasleysredhair @harrysweasleys @loony-loopy-lupinn @whiz-bangs78 @slytherinsunrise @starlightweasley @ickle-ronniekins @gcdric @vivianweasley @aprilsrant @idont-knowrn @thisismynerdyself @wonderful-writer @feetoffthetablee @minty-malfoy @vogueweasley @elf-punk @oh-for-merlins-sake @heart-of-tempered-steel @spilled-prose @itseatyourdamnapples @aaannabbanana @l0ttadreamz @potter-redheads @pastanest | message me to be added/removed! (if you're in bold, I couldn't tag you)

You were staring at the crowded dance floor.

Beautiful ladies were being spun around by their partners, gorgeous gowns twirling and swooshing with their every elegant move. Everything was perfect about them; from their smile which lit up the Great hall more than the sparkling white Christmas trees, to the way their wrist gracefully twisted around their lover's neck, eyes piercing into theirs. The music was playing, slow and melancholic, exactly as it had been playing for the last few hours, luring lovers and encouraging them to bare their souls in front of each other.

And so they danced, connected by fearful desire, united by hope and bonded by love.

It was a kind of magic no one could truly understand, mysterious and private as though you weren't meant to witness it that night. So when among the sea of couples lips met in a silent oath, your heart began to ache, pleading you to leave.

It should have been you. It should have been you the receiver of those loving glances, of those kisses which made your head dizzy and caused your knees to buckle, but it would've been no problem as you would've had the arms of your lover to keep you secure. Then, as you'd dare to look up through your lashes, gorgeous eyes would be already on you, their obscure flame consoling you and pulling you in. And you'd simply fall, letting the warm, velvety darkness envelope you.

You flinched from the slight chill, rethinking your choice of a sleeveless dress. The enthusiasm with which you had picked it months ago now seemed utterly ridiculous and foolish as you were sitting a good distance away from where you believed you'd have been dancing your heart out. But, as you took one last look at your surroundings, only to spot your lovestruck friends indulging in the presence of their partners, the comfort of your pajamas seemed far more tempting than the unreasonably expensive piece of fabric which didn't even matter to you anymore.

It was pitifully funny how things could change in the blink of an eye, in a single breath; how fast you had gone from blooming with excitement to wondering how you were foolish enough to contribute to your own heartbreak.

"How come I'm just finding out about this?" Fred exclaimed, chasing after you down the stairs of the Astronomy tower. "I bet I wouldn't have known if it wasn't for those Ravenclaws chatting back in class."

"You were gonna know eventually, what's the deal?"

"My point is, why didn't you tell me and I had to hear from someone else?"

A group Hufflepuffs gave you questioning looks as you practically ran past them, nearly tripping over your own feet in the process, "You're making a fuss about nothing, stop acting entitled to every piece of information in my life!"

"McLaggen? That git?" Fred yelled in frustration and disbelief; he didn't at all acknowledge the small crowd which had gathered to observe the scene, nor did he care in the first place. He stopped in his tracks, gripping the wooden railing tight, knuckles turning white and jaw tense. "You cannot be serious."

Shocked faces now turned to you, and you desperately wished you could use reducio on yourself. Instead, opposite to what your consciousness was screaming at you, you dug your feet into the floor and shot Fred a stern look over your shoulder, "We're not discussing this right now. Besides, what's in it for you anyway? You're going with Angelina."

Had you kept walking, you would have missed the way Fred's chest was heaving with shallow, rapid breaths, and his face was more maroon than you had ever seen. And you? You couldn't quite breathe yourself.

A week ago your untamed happiness brightened every room and hallway; classes seemed to fly by, exams were over and the Yule ball was right around the corner. Your heart was ringing with joy as you were so looking forward to forgetting your troubles for just one night.

In the midst of shining Christmas decorations and beautiful dresses a dreamy, yet pretty bold idea had begun to form in your head, an idea which Ginny and Hermione encouraged with their support and affirmations. Deep down you had started to believe Fred Weasley took an interest in you, harboured feelings for you even, and your ever-present goofy banter which contained far more flirting than what would be acceptable between two best friends, only fed your imagination and raised your hopes up.

You were aware you were the only one on the receiving end of Fred's teasing jokes, cheesy pickup lines and lingering stares which had you staying up an extra hour in your bed at night. Even his siblings shared the same opinion - there was no way on Godric's sword that a person who clearly wanted to be around you as often as possible and got his hands on you every chance he could, wouldn't be at least a little bit interested in you.

That's why you nearly broke down when exactly a week ago in the hallway Ron casually mentioned his older brother had just asked out Angelina.

The ground was pulled beneath your feet, vanishing along with your oblivious hopes. The news stung sharply, leaving a sour taste in your mouth; never had you believed you’d spend the few days before the ball stitching up your heart, and you were willing to do just about anything to forget about your humiliation. So when McLaggen invited you with an obnoxiously flirty note in Charms class, you didn’t hesitate much.

You could feel a wave of tears burning your eyes as you looked up to where Fred was standing. His face and ears were still as red as they could get, and his chest was vibrating with every shaky breath he took. Fury had disappeared from his eyes long ago, replaced with concern, regret and hurt which you couldn't quite place.

He climbed down the few remaining stairs.

"He's obnoxious! And beyond what's good for you!" Fred stated, though his voice now lacked power and slightly trembled, loud enough just for you to hear. "You're setting yourself up for a pretty bad night."

You swallowed down the dry lump in your throat and finally turned around to fully face him, looking him up and down.

"Seems like I have a terrible taste in men then."

A second glass of firewhiskey did nothing to burn down the growing turmoil in your stomach. You tapped the edge of the empty glass with your fingers and smiled at your friends who were visibly exhausted from dancing to upbeat songs for quite awhile now, but enjoying their time far too much to take a break. You admired their spirit - just because you weren't feeling your best, it didn't mean your friends didn't have the right to have fun.

However, the inevitable sense of regret lingered in your bones, and you found it hard to not focus on how the ball had gone wrong for you, in more ways than you had originally thought.

Even without Fred as your date, there was still a chance you'd have a good time. McLaggen could undoubtedly make it awkward to be around, and with the fact that your heart had recently been sliced open, you weren't sure how much of his ridiculous antics you could take. But at least he was trying; if you put aside his overbearing ego, you could see genuine effort into creating something romantic for both of you. It was going to be okay. Not necessarily what you desired, but somehow okay.

And that last bit of hope vanished the second you caught your former date snogging your crush's date in an empty classroom merely an hour ago.

You didn't know whether to cry or laugh at the universe's bitter joke, but the tears on your face as you ran down the hallway in your beautiful dress were eloquent.

A bitter, bitter joke.

You couldn't take it anymore. The charming smiles, sultry glances and stolen kisses you had been observing for the past hour were too much. And when another slow song made an appearance, you rose to your feet and headed towards the tall doors of the exit. Perhaps sleep would be a decent ending to your horrendous night.

You had barely made it out of the Great hall when loud footsteps echoed on your right.

"Bloody hell, I've been looking for you!" Fred said through heavy breaths, having run all the way to you as it seemed. His ginger hair had escaped its slicked look long ago, now too messy to fix despite his numerous attempts to smooth it back. His suit was no better, slightly wrinkled and shirt open to the third button.

"Why have you?" you asked and folded your arms, feeling a bit chilly in the hallway.

"McLaggen. About him," Fred sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry for having to say it, but I just saw him-"

"I know."

Fred frowned in confusion.

"You do?"

It was your turn to let out an exasperated sigh as you looked down at your feet, "Yes. A while ago."

Fred's features softened.

"I'm sorry."

You barely found it in you to respond with a weak smile, "It's alright. I guess I was right. I do have a terrible taste in men." Then you gave Fred a sympathetic look, "I'm sorry for Angelina too, it's horrible she did this to you."

Your friend allowed the ghost of a smirk to appear on his lips and he shoved hands into his pockets, "I'm not really affected by it in all honesty," he shrugged. "I'm rather angry about the fact that the prat thought he could pull off something like this and get away with it."

Fred's heart ached at the sight of your slumped figure and glossy eyes; he hated himself for having contributed to the failure of the event you were expecting with so much hope. He tilted his head to the side, attempting to meet your gaze.

"I'd gladly prank the crap outta the git until he doesn't even dare to show up to classes… But for now is there a way for me to make your night any less terrible, love?"

You couldn't help but giggle at the thought of McLaggen skipping classes out of sheer fear of Fred. But then your thoughts wandered to the way Angelina was practically straddling his lap, and you wondered if Fred had been doing the same all this time unbeknownst to you; if right after a flirty joke sent your way he'd go to an empty classroom and kiss Angelina with the passion you had just witnessed.

The image of Angelina's lips on Fred's caused you to become nauseous and you attempted to swallow down that lump again.

"No," you replied. "But please, tell me one thing. What was that entire tantrum for?"

Fred didn't really seem taken aback by your question, realizing you'd eventually bring it up. He furrowed a brow, carefully thinking of an answer, and wettened his lips.

“Perhaps it would be inappropriate of me to say it- selfish even, but the mere thought of you being in the embrace of someone, especially with that someone being a foul git, caused me to get unreasonably angry.” Guilt was seeping into his every word and he bitterly chuckled to himself. “Ironic, isn’t it? Attempting to spare you heartbreak by being the reason for it.”

He gently took your hand and looked into your eyes, remorse swimming in his own, "I had no right to treat you the way I did. I'm terribly sorry for being controlling and you absolutely do not have to forgive me. Just know that I truly regret my actions; I never intended to hurt you."

His words were a feather-light caress to your wounded heart and you shuddered. You couldn't stay mad at him. Reciprocated feelings or not, he was still your best friend and you wouldn't let that go.

"Apology accepted," you gave his hand a light squeeze and Fred beamed, the entire hallway lighting up with him. Dread released your chest of its merciless grasp and you could finally breathe. However, one question never ceased to haunt you. "But I just need to know…” you began, absentmindedly playing with his fingers, “...why were you so upset to begin with?"

Fred's shoulders immediately stiffened and he averted his gaze from you in an attempt to come up with a reasonable reply. His jaw was clenched, and his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "I didn't want you to go with him." He stated simply. "Not when you could've easily gone with me instead."

You froze.

"What do you mean?” you asked timidly, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “What about Angelina?"

Fred only shook his head, fighting back a grin.

"Darling, Angelina was never the catch."

The air was knocked out of your lungs.

You could only stare at Fred wide-eyed, and though his expression was unreadable, maroon had begun to crawl its way up to his ears and cheeks again.

"I'm sorry for putting you through all this," Fred spoke softly as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, a kiss that awakened the butterflies within you. "I was really too much of a wuss to confess to you and settled for this instead."

"I guess that makes us two," you smiled sincerely, perhaps for the first time that night. Fred returned your smile with a grin, and asked.

"How can I make up to you for this oh-so-awful mess?"

"Dance with me," you said without skipping a beat. "That's what you owe me at least. Let's finally do what we both wanted."

Fred's expression became serious as he intertwined his fingers with yours, and led you into the direction of the Great hall, from which music could still faintly be heard.

"With the greatest of pleasure, my love."

Most people had already gone to bed, leaving just a few couples and you to drench in enchanted serenity. Fred's arms around you felt like home as you both swayed to the soft rhythm of the song, one of the many to follow, but his racing heartbeat under your palm caused your own pulse to speed up as well.

You looked up at your lover through your lashes, gorgeous eyes already on you, their obscure flame consoling you and pulling you in. There was an odd, enigmatic allure that Fred possessed, and even after years of knowing this man, it only caused you to fall further into the velvety hell you didn't wish to escape from.

And when his lips collided with yours, they tasted sweeter than the forbidden fruit.

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