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#i’d look like a garden gnome next to him
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This has to be one of my fav 3/4 pics ever! Michael looks like a three year old wearing the bucket hat he made his mom buy him proudly, Cal looks like a teenager who’s ready for soccer practice and Luke looks like their mom waiting to drop them off so he can finally get a manicure 💅🏻
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harrison-abbott · 3 months
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Mickey B and Me
Some kid wanted to beat me up after the final school whistle. I heard it in maths class when I was trying to do sums. One of the girls said,
“Mickey B is out to get you at the bus stop.”
I didn’t know what I had done to offend Mickey B. But I’d also seen what he’d done to other, smaller kids in the playground. He was only fifteen or so but he was also about six foot already. Man-size. If you put it that way. There was no chance I was going to win in a fight against him. And when it came to notions like legality; Mickey B was underage and therefore could violently attack as many people as he wanted, without retribution.
What could I do about this dilemma?
Well … I knew where Mickey B lived. He lived four streets away from me. I’d seen him around the road many many times and even though we were in the same year and same classes he had never once said Hi to me on any level.
I had my coat on the back of the chair and in my bag I had my phone (which wasn’t allowed in school) and my sandwich and some coins for the bus and something to eat on the way home. I retrieved the coins and my phone and put them in my trousers. Would have to leave everything else here. And then I got up from my desk and walked towards the maths teacher.
“Excuse me, Mr Atkinson,” I said, “I’m feeling a bit sick. Is it okay if I go to the toilet?”
“Eh, yeah. Okay.”
I was in the new corridor. Without my coat and with my new mission there seemed a new possibility across my body. I quit the corridor and headed out into the playground. And then I crossed the ground and went up the path to the main road and waited at the bus stop. The bus came pretty quickly and I was on my way home.
After twenty minutes I got off into my neighbourhood. With the dreary houses. It was around three o’clock in the afternoon. I was fairly determined not to get beaten up again; for, it had already happened to me so many times in my life; and it made me feel like I was no man; and just because I was skinny and didn’t speak like my beaters, just because I didn’t enjoy violence: it tended to make me be pathetic, drab, a failure, a lost cause.
I walked past the post office and the newsagent and ventured down the streets, passing my street, until I got to the road that Mickey B lived on and I turned right on to that. And walked all the way up to his house. I opened his gate and then I went straight up to his door and rang the bell.
To see if anybody was in. I waited five minutes after ringing the bell several times and there was no answer. And so after that I went down the side of the house and into his back garden. His side gate was unlocked. And suddenly I was in the garden, with the flowers and gnomes and mini windmills … All of these attributes bespeaking of a nice mother. She hadn’t created a nice child.
I remembered him kicking that boy in the nose repeatedly. The sheer span of gore. And the boy was half the size of him. And all he did, so I was told, was to call him “fat”. Mickey B. Yeah, he was a bit overweight.
I picked up a boulder that I found next to the little pond in the garden that Mickey B’s mother had made and then I lugged the boulder back over to the house and I threw it through the kitchen window. It smashed with this bristly crackly sound. And no alarms went off. Rather than pick my way through the broken shards, I unslipped the lock above the frame, and then lifted the frame up. And crawled into the kitchen.
There were photos of Mickey B and his family. Dotted around the walls in pinpoint portraits, all of them in full happy smiles; Christmas, birthdays. His mother and Dad both looked like him. And he was an only child. Nae siblings. I wondered if they knew about his playground assaults … Yes, very likely.
A cat. There was a photo of a cat, too. I didn’t want the cat to die in the fire.
So what I did was head through to the living room, scouting for a possible pet animal. I’d seen no meat bowl in the kitchen. And when I checked the two bedrooms upstairs there were no signs of fur or anything there either.
It wasn’t my intention to slay a little cat.
When all was clear, I returned to the kitchen.
There were tubs of vegetable oil and sunflower oil by the cooker and I poured out all of those into pots and I put the pots on the hobs and ignited the hobs full blast. And then I lit the cooker with the matches. And there were tea towels and bunches of tissue roll laying around. So I put those into the cooker, and made sure that the fabric caught alight with the flame. And soon there were these noxious scents snarling in the air.
I tied the towels together in a string and I made a loop of them that led into the sitting room. I got the matches and I lit the towels form that end, in the sitting room. My efforts were small and didn’t seem to be working much. So I went down the corridor to the downstairs toilet and looked in the cupboard above the sink. Found an aerosol can. [One of those cans that you see in commercials all the time, promoting sexual masculinity.]
I took the can through to the living room and I got another of the matches and I began spraying the sick chemicals all over the couches and pillows in the room. I tried the flameflower trick with the match. But the flame was a bit weak and the scoosh tended to blow it out. So I lit fire to the liquid that had soaked into the fabric.
All the while, the kitchen was burning.
I looked around my back and the kitchen was pulping these hard grey clouds.
Ha.
It was time for me to vacate.
The kitchen made me cough when I went in there; a full gust of burning plastic went up my throat and made me gasp and hack. I climbed out of the window.
Then took off back down the path by the side of the house and then I was in the street again and it was odd and sublime and perfect to be a criminal.
I quit the street and I returned the three blocks back to where I lived and then I simply went back to my own house, where I lived with my mother and my elder brother. My elder brother, who bullied me whenever he saw fit. And my mother who didn’t like me a toss. Neither of them were home when I unlocked the front door and went inside. I went into my kitchen and plonked some bread into the toaster. Got out a jar or jam. Boiled the kettle.
Maybe they would send me to prison. I put a tea bag in the cup and I spread the jam around the bread.
They weren’t going to send Mickey B to prison for repeatedly kicking that wee boy in the nose, outside of the high school, one random afternoon, over nothing. Nothing happened to Mickey, over that.
I took a bite of the toast. I sat on the floor of the kitchen and thought about what my life would be like in a jail cell. Was I a Baddie? Who cared …
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reaperkiller · 2 years
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Hmmm 29 for Jason and Marcus? 🤔
29. kisses when theyre mad this one made me go insane go crazy 1.5k words. my guys also going insane going crazy. hope this helps <3
Bloody and breathless, hair sticking out in all directions, t-shirt hanging together by a thread - just another Friday night for Jason, slumped over in an alleyway, using a bottle he stole from the bar as an ice pack for the gash on his forehead. He sighs and leans back, resting his head against the wall so he can look up at the stars, in an effort to distract him from the piss-scented trash around him, and the sharp pain in his… Everywhere. Anything pretty to take his mind off it all for a while.
Marcus barrels around the corner, equally as out of breath. He doesn’t notice Jason until the very last second, stopping so suddenly that he almost loses his balance. Jason glances over at him, a small, relieved smile on his face - there he is, the real distraction.
“Christ, there you are…” Marcus says between breaths, sounding like a disgruntled parent who lost their child in the grocery store.
“Could at least sound a little happier to see me, y’know.” Jason averts his gaze, opting to look up at the stars again. Of all the places he could have chosen to stargaze, this was by far the worst. Not even a little bit comfortable, welcoming, or romantic.
“I am-... I am, I just-...” He takes a second to catch his breath, using whatever’s left of his energy reserves to plop himself down next to Jason - landing a little closer than he’d wanted, but it was fine. It was fine. He kept forgetting that was something he could do now, and it wouldn’t be weird. “Thought they’d like, I don’t know - kidnapped you or something.”
“Hey, I swept the floor with those bastards. You really think they could’ve taken me?”
“I mean, a few more shots to the head, and they really could’ve done some damage.” He smiles as he looks over to Jason, still pressing the bottle against his head. “Ah, looks like they already have…”
“Aah, fuck off. It’s fine.” His words come out a bit sharper than he intended. Was he offended at the fact that Marcus thought a bunch of half-drunk freaks could have easily had him on his ass, or the fact that he was right?
Marcus reaches over, carefully removing the bottle from Jason’s head so he can get a closer look. A giant bruise, a whole bunch of small cuts and slashes sprinkled across his face, a particularly nasty gash on his neck. “Wow, they really did a number on you.” He didn’t mean for it to sound like he was mocking Jason, but the awkward laugh at the end didn’t help matters much. 
“Yeah, yeah, tell me somethin’ I don’t know.” He finally looks back at Marcus, whose expression is somewhat hard to read, but seems to be some mix of upset, disappointed, and angry. Was it aimed at him? At the situation in general? What was the problem? He decides he needs to get to the bottom of it. Now. “What’re you makin’ that face for?”
“What face?”
“That… Thing you’re doin’ right now, with the… Y’know.” Jason tries to replicate Marcus’ expression as he talks, but he can’t seem to get it quite right. “You look like a gnome.”
“The hell does that mean?” Should he be offended? Should he take that as a compliment? He shouldn’t look too deep into it, Jason already has a mild concussion, and is probably drunk, too. Whatever comes out of his mouth should be taken with a grain of salt. 
“Put a hat on you, stick you out in a yard and you’d be the cutest little gnome anyone’s ever seen.” He ruffles Marcus’ hair and pats him on the head. “My sweet little garden gnome… A GILF… Gnome I’d like to-.”
He’d finally pushed Marcus’ buttons just enough to make him start talking, snapping back at him with “If you say gnome ONE more time, I’m going to push you into oncoming traffic and make it look like an accident.” He had to make Jason shut up, or he’d laugh, and he’s not allowed to laugh at anything he says - until he stops being angry, that is.
Jason smiles - that devious little smile he does when he knows he’s being a little shit - and grabs Marcus’ hand, lightly kissing the back of it. He doesn’t say anything, but the kiss is very much welcomed, as he tightly grips Jason’s hand in his own. “Great, now that I know I’m gonna get run over soon, are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”
Marcus sighs loudly and leans into Jason, resting his head on his shoulder, just narrowly avoiding the surprisingly sharp spikes on his choker. He probably sharpened them himself, didn’t he? And for what? No one can reach his neck anyway. “It’s… Well. It’s you.” His voice trails off, trying to think of a better way to phrase what he just said. But it’s too late now, Jason has decided to speak up.
“Ooh, breakin’ up with me, is that it?”
“Oh, no. God, no, you’re fine, it’s just… You keep getting into fights. All the time. I know it’s not always you starting them, but… What happens when you finally get into one you can’t finish? What happens then? ‘Cause, back there, I… I don’t know. It looked like they were going to finish you.” He speaks calmly and clearly, not a single crack or shake in his voice - he’d definitely practised this whole speech in his head a good number of times. 
Jason doesn’t say anything for a while, he just takes a deep breath, and places the bottle on the ground next to him. It was sort of helping with the headache - the intense drumming against his skull had subsided, at least. He wraps his arms around Marcus, pulling him in closer, as if he somehow wasn’t close enough already, and kisses the top of his head. They stay like that for a while, in silence. Marcus doesn’t try pushing for an answer, he knows he’ll get one eventually. 
“If they do end up finishin’ me off, they’re gonna have one angry fuckin’ ghost to deal with.”
“Jason. Please.” Marcus says sternly. He’s not asking for much. He just wants a real, honest answer. Then again, he is talking to Jason, a man who is so completely out of touch with his emotions, and can’t tell the difference between his own truths and lies half the time. Tell me the truth. Just this once, tell me the truth. Don’t deflect it this time. 
“Yeah, okay, sorry… I… I dunno… I guess I just forget that I’m still a person sometimes. It’s-. It’s weird, I get caught up in the moment and I feel invincible. And then, I guess there’s part of me that still remembers I am just a person, and I just… Don’t care anymore…” His voice shakes, breath heavy. None of this feels right coming out of his mouth, he shouldn’t be saying any of this, he can’t say anything. Ruthie’s voice echoes in the back of his mind, reminding him that any sort of emotion, any feelings at all, are a weakness. They’re pathetic. People like us, we don’t deal with that. We push it down and we move on.
His arms tighten around Marcus as a tear runs down his cheek, “And, back there, I had this moment where I thought, ‘what the fuck am I even fightin’ for anymore?’ Like, I’m already dead anyway, what’s the fuckin’ point of it all? So I let my guard down. And they got to me. And-. And that keeps happenin’, every single time. More and more. Like I want them to win, or whatever.”
“I guess we need to find something for you to fight for, then. A dog, maybe.” Marcus’s voice is muffled, his face pressed into Jason’s chest, his heartbeat getting louder with every second, with every word that he says. 
“No, no, I don’t… I, uh, kinda figured that out when I was pinned down on the floor. ‘Member, when the guy was about to glass me, and you bit him?”
“Yeah, I surprised myself there, too. I’d make a pretty good vampire, I think.”
“Honestly, you would. You had this… Look on your face. Don’t know what the hell you were thinkin’, but man, I saw you, and I was like. Huh. That’s it.”
“What’s it?”
“You. Obviously. It’s you. Always has been.”
Silence. Not an uncomfortable silence, it was more out of shock than anything else. Did he say that? Did he really just say that? He said that, and now I’m supposed to be normal about it? He SAID that? Hello? He really did just say that, didn’t he?He looks up at Jason and reaches over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear, cupping his cheek in his hand. Jason nestles his head into his hand - if he were a cat, he would be purring so loud. Marcus smiles at him and whispers, “You need to do a better job.”
“Hah, yeah, guess I do.” He whispers back and pulls Marcus in close again, closing the small amount of space between them as he leans in and plants a kiss on his lips, just as soft and warm as the first time, always smiling.
I’m still mad at you, but this is fine, you’ve made up for it - almost.
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deanosaur666 · 11 months
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The Woodchipper
Clyde arrived at his buddies’ place in the early evening. His truck bed was filled to the brim with liquor bottles.
“Hey, Clyde’s brought the booze!” Donnie shouted from the porch.
“Hell yeah.” Clyde pulled a bottle of vodka from a pile in the passenger seat.
Amadeus peeked out through the screen door. “Wow, what a truck!” He approved.
“Sixteen foot bed!” Clyde said. “Bought it off a sheikh.”
Donnie pulled a wheelbarrow through the front door, and they loaded the liquor into it.
Soon, empty bottles of liquor littered the floor. Amadeus hummed along to the old records Donnie was playing, between gulps of rum.
“You know, guys,” Donnie said, tossing a now empty bottle of brandy onto the ever growing pile, “I’ve got something cool to show you.”
Donnie led them into his backyard.
“Wow!” Clyde said. “That’s the biggest woodchipper I’ve ever seen!”
“I know,” Donnie said, “this thing can shred anything. Wanna try it out?”
They quickly began running all sorts of things through the woodchipper, from neighbor’s garden gnomes, to bicycles, to car wheels.
“It really can shred anything!” Amadeus said.
Clyde emerged from the lake next to Donnie’s house, with a fish.
“Wow!” Amadeus said. “It’s a Lake Victoria deepwater catfish!” Clyde tossed it in.
“You know what would be really rad to put in this?” Amadeus said.
“What’s that?” Donnie asked.
“A baby.”
“Dude.” Clyde said. “You’re right. That would be so cool.”
“Let’s go find one.” Donnie said.
Clementine Blake was a child prodigy. At 7 months old, she could not yet walk or speak, but had written three books that permanently changed the fields of science, math, and politics. No one knew her biological parents, but many believed she would be the one to lead the human race to a new golden age.
Betty Blake, her adoptive mother, was taking Clementine on a walk, in a stroller. Clementine was busy writing her next book, glancing up every now and then to look at people who passed. That was when Donnie jumped out of the alley and snatched Clementine out of the stroller. Betty screamed and ran after him, but he quickly jumped into the back of Clyde’s truck, which sped off into the evening.
Ozias Ozbek was in his garage, disassembling a sewing machine with a screwdriver. He was wearing overalls with no shirt. His bare chest glistened with sweat. But that part’s not relevant to the plot. He had reduced the sewing machine to about 200 pieces so far. He wasn’t going to do anything big with it once it was disassembled. He would just organize the small pieces and put them in bins, like he did with everything else. This was his hobby, disassembling things into small pieces, simply for the sake of doing so. By day, he worked as a mechanic, making sure things were put together properly. In his time off, he only wanted to take things apart. He didn’t appreciate others criticizing his choice of hobby. After all, he wasn’t running around at night killing people, so no one should have reason to complain.
As he was searching his toolbox for a smaller screwdriver, he heard his phone ring.
“Ozzy, it’s me, Betty!” The voice on the other end balled. “Someone took my darling Clementine! I called the police, but they might not find her in time! Is there anything you can do?”
“I’ll find her immediately.” Ozias put down the phone.
“If I had a baby...” Ozias thought, “where would I take it?” Ozias turned a screwdriver in his hand, deep in thought. “That’s it! I’d bring it to a woodchipper! That would be the fastest way to break it down into its constituent parts!” Ozias donned his mask, and grabbed his tools. “Come to think of it, I recently repaired a large woodchipper, owned by Donnie Dixon. Maybe he knows something about this.”
Amadeus held the screaming baby in Donnie’s backyard.
“This is gonna be so cool,” Amadeus said, “turn it on.”
Donnie flipped a switch, and the machine started roaring. The sound from the giant machine was nearly deafening. The three of them stood together, watching the glorious machine.
“It sure roars!” Amadeus shouted.
“All right,” Clyde said, “ready to throw it in?”
“You bet.” Amadeus responded. He pulled his arm back like a pitcher about to throw a fastball.
Then, a blade came loose from the woodchipper. It flew from the machine and sliced Donnie in half.
“Wow!” Clyde said.
The whole machine then collapsed into pieces. Ozias stepped out from behind the mess, holding a screwdriver and grinning.
“It’s the Night Dissembler!” Amadeus yelled. “He disassembled the wood chipper!”
Ozias laughed. “And now, I will disassemble you two.”
Amadeus threw the baby into a bush and bolted. Clyde followed.
The two of them jumped into Donnie’s speedboat, docked by the lake right behind the house. In just a few moments, they were speeding into the lake.
“Donnie was bragging about this boat earlier!” Clyde shouted. “It can do 50 knots!”
“He’ll never catch us now.” Amadeus said. “Unless he can swim like a seahorse.”
After a few minutes, the two of them caught their breath and began to relax.
“Hey Clyde, check and see if he’s got anything to drink in here. I’m thirsty.”
Clyde found a cooler in the back. As he was about to open it, something caught his eye. A loose screw was rolling around to his left. His eyes followed it to another, and another.
“Oh no.”
The boat broke into tiny little pieces, and Amadeus and Clyde were found at the bottom of the lake the next day.
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starkwub · 2 years
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AU where Tony and Peter are lawn decorations (gnomes), so when Peter is bought brand new, he can’t help but be crowded by nearly everyone of the other decor pieces in the yard/garden. 
Peter, who’s bombarded by the new found love and adoration from others, can’t help but notice that there is a dirtied and worn looking decoration across the yard, leaning against the fence and staring right at him. Peter could feel his porcelain burn from the stranger’s gaze. 
Later that day, he might ask one of the nicer gnomes who the other is, and upon learning that “That’s Tony, the oldest decoration out here. poor guy’s all beat up and worn out--surprises the lot of us that he’s still around.” and Peter can’t help but wish he knew more. 
He’d eventually sneak over to the man and from the rustle of the grass, be caught in the act by Tony himself. 
Tony would be rude and cold--even callus towards Peter. But the boy knew better, so he persisted. 
Over time, Tony eventually began to open up--even going as far as to talking about how he got the patching job on his chest that he always tried to cover up when around the others. 
Tony would show him how to get close enough (and pet) the local birds that would eat the feed the house owner put out--or he’d take him out beyond the wall at night to show him other yards--other worlds if Peter had any say in it. Spending time with the older gnome made Peter feel weightless--as if he could accomplish anything with the other at his side.
One night though, on their way back, Peter couldn’t help but spot a particularly pretty flower. He'd run over to pick it, albeit struggling, but eventually got it with one last hard tug. He’d fall to the asphalt, causing Tony from the corner of his eye to lurch forward to (what--make sure he was okay? Peter only ever dreamed that Tony would one day touch him in that manor, or in any any really). 
Peter would walk back over, assure the man that he was fine or left unscathed, and then hand over the flower that was blooming from the moonlight above. 
Tony would stare at the flower for a long pregnant pause before glancing over to Peter, dull eyes watching over his smooth surface--and would eventually take a step forward.
“Let me check you over Peter, you might’ve.. mm.. chipped something..” and even though Peter knew he was fine, he let him-- god he let Tony lean forward and cast those large hands over his smaller frame. Rough against his smoothness. 
When Tony and Peter got back, the younger gnome immediately went and washed away any evidence of his and Tony’s.. less than appropriate touching and kissing in the dark.. 
The town would be curious and no doubt ask about the scuff’s left on his ‘unmarked body’--even going as far as to shun Tony (if they found out it was him) for his “selfishness”, or for his “inability to keep his hands off”.
But Peter needed it. He needed another gnome’s touch just like the others did. Everyone was always too afraid to...mess up his perfect ‘store bought’ complexion. Tony wasn’t though. Or he was for a while--but then said “To hell with it!” and did it anyway.
Peter hoped that the next time they venture out beyond the walls.. that Tony would touch him again. Hold him--caress him, care for him..
Love him.
-- -- --
That was literally the most random thing--but I impulsively wrote this mini ficlet (I had to search up what to name 592 words of fan-fiction lol) and,, I shouldn’t love it as much as I do XD I wanna draw them but like,, I’m tired--so who know’s what the future holds. A longer slow-burn one shot of these two that somehow turns sexual? Even though they’re literal gnomes?? *wink wonk* maybe ha, I’d make it work somehow.
Hope you enjoyed that lil concept :P
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Low Profile (reader x fred and george)
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Summary: You and your best friends find yourself entangled in a secret polyamorous love affair, right under their family’s noses.
Warnings/Notes: Cw language, kissing (but no sex of any kind), family not accepting poly/queer relationship, bruising. This is for the wonderful and talented @lunalovecroft​’s 2.7k trope-inspired writing challenge! It’s also part of my loose series of fics that take place over the summer when y/n stays at the Weasleys’ house. No twincest- v shaped poly relationship. Here’s my masterlist if you want more! Enjoy!
Ever since you and Fred hooked up the first night of the summer, you’ve been joined at the hip even more than usual, and since George is always with Fred and usually with you, he had to be told once it was clear that you and Fred were gonna be more than a one night stand. You were a bit sad, knowing that it’d probably make him feel left out, in a way. You noticed that George looked a bit miffed when the two of you told him you were dating, in the loosest sense of the word. 
“What’s the matter, you jealous Georgie?” you tease, putting your hand on his knee flamboyantly. He blushes and you and Fred exchange a look.
“Oh my god, you actually are, aren’t you?” Fred asks, half-mocking. For once, George seems to be at a loss for words. He looks quite uncertain and a bit sad. You figure that you may as well break the tension and speak honestly; it’s more important to you to be frank and maintain your friendship than anything else. You clear your throat.
“George, honestly, if you’d been there instead of Fred that night, I’d probably have hooked up with you, too. We’ll all still be friends. That’s why we’re telling you, so we’re not keeping secrets,” you say, trying to goad him into speaking. He shakes his discomfort off and begins.
“Oh, I knew this would happen! We used to just be friends before the two of you started making eyes at each other all the time. Now I’ll barely be able to talk to the two of you- my two best friends, mind you- without all this lovey dovey shit. What an absolute nightmare!”
You open your mouth to speak, but George barrels on, looking at Fred this time.
“And you, some brother you are. You know how I feel about Y/N, I thought we had an agreement to keep it platonic all around?”
“It’s not my fault they’re interested in me!”
“George, I said I would have kissed you that night too! Actually, that’s what I’ve been trying to say to both of you. I’ve got feelings for you, both of you.”
They stop bickering and turn to look at you, turning the idea over in their minds.
“What are you saying?” asks Fred, looking a bit hurt.
“I’m saying,” you take a deep breath, “that I’ve never been better friends with one of you than the other. We do everything together. I don’t want that to change. Besides, you two are identical. Did you think your birthmark was that big of a selling point, Freddie? Of course I think you’re both good-looking, look in the mirror for goodness’ sake!”
They blink at you, then turn away to confer with one another in whispers. You tap your foot impatiently, but when they turn around, they’re beaming.
“So what you’re saying is you’d be fine with us sharing you?” George asks.
“More than fine. I’d be absolutely chuffed,” you say, returning their smiles.
“It’s settled, then,” Fred says, and plants a kiss on the top of your head. You look up at George permissively, and he puts his arm around you and gives you a squeeze.
“One thing, though. Mum and Dad can’t know. Mum especially. She’s not the most open-minded when it comes to this stuff. Especially with us. At least, I doubt she is,” Fred says.
“Yeah, funnily enough it never occurred to me to ask what she’d do if my twin brother and I started a poly fling with our best friend who also lives with us and sleeps in our bedroom, but if I had to guess, I don’t think she’d approve,” George adds, smirking.
“That’s ok. We have a pretty good track record when it comes to keeping secrets,” you say, a mischievous glimmer in your eye.
That evening, you’re helping Molly fold linens when she steps away for a moment to take the kettle off. You feel four hands slip around you from behind and soon you’re pulled into a kiss, Fred on your left, kissing you hard on the neck and collarbone, and George kissing your lips, taking your bottom lip gently between his teeth. You kiss them passionately but push them away after a second, regaining your composure.
“Not here!” you hiss, grinning. They exchange a cheeky glance and kiss you on each cheek before scurrying back to their room, giggling. You shake your head and turn back to folding sheets, just as Mrs. Weasley returns.
“My, my dear, that’s quite a bruise you’ve got there, what happened?” Mrs. Weasley clucks, gesturing to your collarbone where you’re surprised to see a dark, newly formed hickey.
“Oh, pickup quidditch match. I’m not very good, I’m afraid,” you say, the rush of the small lie filling you with butterflies.
“Well now, we are wizards after all. We can’t have you running about looking as if you’ve been sleeping under the whomping willow,” she says cheerfully. She extracts her wand and uses a quick healing spell on the spot, which fades quickly. You wonder if she really doesn’t recognize the bruise as a hickey, but you shrug. The twins have certainly gotten away with worse under this roof.
That night, you and the twins are in the kitchen having a midnight snack. The rest of the house is quiet. You’re sitting on the countertop, helping yourself to a biscuit, and George is leaning on the counter beside you. You feed him a little bite and he licks the crumbs from your fingers playfully. Fred is rummaging through the fridge across the room, and George peers into the fridge nosily. Something piques his interest, and he heads over, whispering to his brother indistinctly. You catch them giggling, and can hear snatches of their conversation. They appear to be working on something as they chat eagerly.
“Take the…”
“... and the… yes! Use a…”
“... that’s just bad…”
“...dare you…”
You hear the familiar sound of compressed air decompressing, and Fred whirls around with a pie tin full of whipped cream in his hand, grinning devilishly.
“No!” you whisper-scream, nearly falling off the countertop, but you’re not fast enough. Fred flops the tin into your face with a splat, and George laughs so hard he winds up on the ground kicking. You lick the cream from your lips, hungry for revenge.
You know Fred is secretly quite vain about his hair, and you waste no time sliding off the countertop and wrapping him up in a hug from behind. He suspects your ulterior motives immediately, but it’s too late for him to escape.
“Oh darling, give me a hug my sweet,” you say, making exaggerated kissy noises while burying your pie covered face in his nice clean hair. He flails about, and you tickle his ribs defensively, causing him to buckle. You fall to the ground with him, giggling and shoving at one another. Just as George joins in, trying to drag you off of his brother, kissing you all over as he tugs on your legs, you hear a floorboard creak. 
Ginny, whose room is closest to the kitchen, stands at the foot of the stairs, gaping at you. You’re sure she saw the kissing, and, well, the whole situation does look a bit… familiar. You whack George on the head and nod in Ginny’s direction.
“Oh, hello Ginny,” Fred says, disentangling himself from his situation beneath you.
“Hello, big brother,”
“Hello, Ginny,” George says, surprise straining his voice.
“Hello, other brother,”
“Hello, Ginny,” you say uncertainly, standing up and wiping your face off with a tea towel.
“Hello, Y/N,” she says. “Some of us are trying to sleep, you know,” she says, raising an eyebrow knowingly. Everyone speaks in hushed tones once again, having remembered that it is indeed the middle of the night. She nods curtly and scampers back upstairs, smiling cheekily.
“Did she see?” George whispers.
“Oh, she saw,” you assure him.
“But she wouldn’t say anything, right?” Fred asks.
“Surely not,” his brother replies nervously. 
“But if she does…” 
“We’re toast. No way mum believes us over her.”
“You guys are being too paranoid. Ginny isn’t a snitch like Ron and Percy, she wouldn’t blab on us for a bit of… roughhousing,” you say hopefully. The twins agree, and you help each other get cleaned up, George dabbing your face clean with a wet towel, giving you gentle kisses in between. 
The rest of the week goes by uneventfully. As far as you know, Ginny doesn’t say anything about what she saw, and life in the burrow goes on as usual. In the mornings, you and Hermione read quietly in the living room over tea. She reads the paper, you look at the comics, every once in a while stopping to remark on a thought you’ve had. 
Then George wakes up. He’s quiet in the mornings, a bit slow, although not very grumpy. Then Molly gets up and usually whips up some sort of breakfast, and by the times everyone’s up you all gather round the long table and eat together. Then, if you’re lucky, you run off outside or to a neighbor's house or abscond to the attic with Fred and George, away from prying eyes and away from Molly’s commands. If you’re unlucky, Molly enlists at least one of you in some chores, usually out in the garden. 
The next time the three of you come close to getting caught, you’re doing just this- de-gnoming with Fred, George, and Ron when Ron gets a headache and goes inside, complaining that it’s far too hot. In reality, the day is rather mild, although the sun is bright enough that Fred and George both have pink sunburns radiating across the bridges of their noses. You flick Fred on his sunburnt cheek and he winces.
“Ow! What’s that for?!” he asks, nearly dropping a gnome right back into the grass. 
“I need your attention!”
“For what?”
“A kiss,” you reply devilishly. He obliges you and kisses you dramatically, dipping you low, holding you in his arms. “Like this, mi amore?” he asks in a silly accent.
“Lunchtime!” Molly calls from the doorway, causing Fred to drop you to the ground and George to leap in front of the two of you oddly, trying to obscure his mum’s line of sight. You brush yourself off and head for the house, hoping Mrs. Weasley didn’t see anything.
“Fred Weasley!” Mrs. Weasley says shrilly, and you all cringe. You hold your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Fred, did I just see you toss Y/n to the ground? That’s no way to treat a guest, especially when you’re meant to be doing housework!” You sigh deeply, relieved. “Come in, dearie, I swear, sometimes I don’t know who raised those two!” she says, putting an arm around you to guide you in the house.
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keijislove · 3 years
Text
Idiot: Ron Weasley x Reader
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A/N: sup, im having my exams so im infrequent lmfao. Also, Weasley is MY king
'Alright darling, stay safe!' your mother pecked your forehead. 'And have fun!'
You had gotten an owl earlier that morning, from your friend and crush, Ronald Weasley, inviting you to spend the summer at the Burrow.
Since the War was finally over, you, Hermione, Ron, Harry, Neville, Luna and all the others had decided to repeat seventh year due to the earlier, unfavorable circumstances.
Stepping into the fireplace, you grabbed a fistful of Floo powder before speaking, 
'The Burrow!'
Green flames flashed around you as you suddenly found yourself in the Weasleys' fireplace.
Coughing, you staggered out, only to be met with a familiar red head repairing her torn textbook with Spellotape.
'Y/N!' Ginny said, shooting up from her spot to dust you off properly.
She then proceeded to squeeze you into a hug. 'You came!'
'Course I did.' you coughed again.
'MUM!' Ginny called. 'Y/N's HERE!'
In a few minutes, an elder woman with a kind face appeared in front of you.
'Y/N, darling!' Mrs Weasley hugged you. 'You must be tired, come on, up to your room. You can share with Ginny and Hermione. Go on!'
You nodded, already familiar with the layout of the house, having been there Merlin knows how many times.
As you proceeded to climb the stairs, you heard a crack as two identical boys appeared in front of you (A/N: yes, two. No Freds be dying in my fanfics).
'Can you please stop that?' you asked. 'You nearly gave me a heart attack!'
'Aww, we gave Y/N/N a heart attack!' George feigned shock.
You rolled your eyes.
'So, Y/N.' George continued.
'We've been thinking.' said Fred.
'About you.' said George.
'And your little problem.' said Fred.
'So we've decided.' said George.
'To help you with it.' finished Fred.
'Wait, wait, what?' you asked. 'What problem?'
'Oh, you know who.' George rolled his eyes.
'Voldemort?' you questioned. 'Isn't he dead?'
'Not him, you silly girl!' Fred spoke.
'Then who?' you asked.
'Won-Won.' they chorused.
You couldn't help but burst into laughter when they used the nickname Ron's ex-girlfriend had coined.
'And why, pray, is Won-Won a problem?' you giggled.
'Don't act like you aren't smitten with him.' George smirked.
'Yeah, we aren't idiots, mate.' said Fred. 'We listen, we watch, and we put it together.'
'Well I suggest you keep your theories to yourself.' you coolly said, stomping upstairs.
No sooner had you opened the door than Hermione had tackled you.
'Y/N!' she yelled. 'Merlin's sake, you're here! Did you meet Ron yet?'
'Hi Mione.' you smiled. 'No, um, I was looking for him... where is he?'
'Downstairs, in the garden.' she replied. 'He was wondering when you'd get here.'
Your cheeks flushed a little. 'Yeah, yeah, whatever.'
You ran downstairs and out the garden at top speed, accidentally bumping into a long-haired Weasley.
'Whoops, sorry Bill!' you apologised.
Bill laughed, 'It's fine, Y/N.'
You were suddenly attacked from both sides in a hug.
'Ouch, Harry, Ron, geroff me!' you squealed.
'I thought you weren't going to come!' Ron breathed.
'Yeah, he's been pacing all day.' Harry smirked causing Ron's ears to turn pink.
'Nose down, Harry.' he rolled his eyes, ears still red.
'Anyways.' you changed the subject. 'Now that there's no war and we have all the time in the world.'
'One month and a half.' George corrected.
'Yeah.' you waved off. 'Let's do something.'
'You're not hanging out with the girls?' Percy asked. 'Weren't they planning a sleepover or something?'
'Blegh.' you gagged. 'No thanks, I'd rather hang with you guys.'
Percy looked highly affronted at this blatant declaration, but didn't push it further.
'So we're playing Quidditch?' asked Charlie.
'There aren't enough people.' you pouted.
'That's okay, we can do like one beater and one chaser per team.' Harry shrugged.
'Okay.' you narrowly looked at him.
'Quidditch?' Ginny had strolled over to you. 'Can I play too?'
'No-' Ron began.
'Yes.' you firmly said.
'Well I suppose I'll be watching, then.' Hermione scowled.
'Bloody hell, how did you get here?' asked Ron, reminding you of your third year when both you and Hermione had used the time-turner to get to all your classes.
'I Apparated, Ronald.' Hermione was still sulking. 'Get on with it.'
'Alright.' said Bill. 'Fred, Y/N, Ron and Harry in one team. Fred as Beater, Y/N as Chaser, Harry as Seeker and Ron as Keeper.'
George smirked and began humming 'Weasley is our king' under his breath as Ron hurled a gnome at him.
'As for the rest of us.' Bill continued. 'Charlie, Seeker. George, Beater. I'll be  Keeper and Ginny can be Chaser.'
'If you must know.' Percy delicately said. 'I never liked Quidditch anyway.'
'We know Perce.' you grinned. 'That's why we're quiet.'
Percy scowled.
-----
The game was going well so far, your side was winning.
Well... you, Harry and Fred were anyway.
Ron made zigzags, swirls and loops but yet couldn't protect the goals.
'Wow, Ron.' Ginny remarked, throwing her next Quaffle in. 'I didn't think you would still stink at this.'
'It'd be better if he were paying attention to the game.' Harry grumbled.
'OI!' Fred yelled when Ginny aimed again. 'RON, STOP STARING AT Y/N AND PROTECT THE GOAL!'
'YEAH, WE ALL KNOW YOU FANCY HER, NOW STOP IT!' George added.
'Okay, stop it.' you snarled. 'You think this is funny, do you, joking about someone's feelings like that? Shame on you lot, honestly.'
'Hey, Y/N, they were joking.' Bill soothed.
'Save it.' you angrily threw your broom and left.
-----
You had been staring at the wall for quite sometime now.
A knock sounded on the door.
'Go away.' you called. 'Not in the mood.'
'Y/N?' asked Fred. 'Can I come in?'
'No.' you groaned, hearing the door click open.
'Mate, we were just joking.' George followed him.
'But still.' pressed Fred.
'We think.' continued George.
'That we should just ask you.' finished Fred.
'Can you stop doing that?' you asked. 'It's weird.'
'Do you or do you not fancy our brother.' they spoke together.
'Ugh.' you groaned. 'This again. FINE! Maybe I do, now what?'
'I KNEW IT!' Fred shouted. 'This is adorable.'
'And disgusting.' George made a face.
'If you tell anyone.' you warned. 'I'm cutting off your balls and feeding them to you.'
'Not a word, miss.' George grinned.
'Good.'
----
It was the last weekend before school, and all of you were partying at the Burrow.
Firewhiskey, Butterbeer, you name it, it was there.
After a particularly tipsy Fleur asked you to call her Patrick, you decided to leave and find the guys.
You bumped into a frantic redhead.
'Oh my god, Y/N I'm so sorry!' Fred guiltily said. 'I didn't mean, I swear!'
'What?' you asked.
'Well Freddie here might've told Ron your secret.' George nervously said.
'IT WAS THE FIREWHISKEY!' Fred moaned.
'WHAT?!' you screamed. 'No, no, NO!'
'And he might be looking for you right now, in the garden.' George guiltily added.
'No.' you moaned. 'I'm departing to death. Farewell, Weasleys.'
----
'So... hi.' you said when you reached the place where your crush stood.
'Y/N! Um, h-hey!' Ron awkwardly said. 'Um, someone might or might not have told me... you take a fancy to me?'
You fought the urge to scream and run. 'Erm... Well...'
'Is it true?' Ron cut off.
'Well, yes.' you admitted and looked down.
Ron didn't speak and your heart broke.
'Go on.' you shakily said, not daring to look up. 'Laugh. I dare you.'
When you looked up, Ron wasn't laughing.
Instead, he had a big grin plastered on his face.
'The bloody hell you smiling about?' you demanded.
'Y/N...' Ron began. 'You have absolutely no idea how long I've waited to hear that.'
'W-what?'
'Maybe I fancy you too?' Ron suggested.
Awkward silence.
'Wow, um.' you began. 'I s'pose we...'
'What do we do now?' asked Ron.'I guess... this is the part where we hug?'
'Yeah.' you nodded.
'Ow, Harry!' came Ginny's voice. 'Let me go, he needs to know!'
A second later, her head popped up from behind the shed.
'RON YOU IDIOT!' Ginny called.
'I THOUGHT YOU WERE SMARTER THAN THIS!' George yelled.
'RON, MATE, MUCH AS I LOVE YOU, YOU'RE BEING THICK!' called Harry.
'I'm sorry!' Hermione yelled. 'I told these idiots not to watch!'
'But zis iz so sweet!' Fleur cooed.
'Get it, mate!' Bill yelled.
'Proud of you, Ron!' called Charlie.
'No, he's being stupid.' Percy interjected.
'Yeah mate, for once, I agree with Percy.' said Fred. 'Kiss her you idiot!'
'You.' Ron muttered. 'All of you, what the bloody hell-'
'Oh shut up.' you muttered, grabbing his face before smashing your lips onto his.
When you parted, you both had stupid grins on your faces.
‘By the way, Fred.’ you called. ‘I’m still feeding your balls to you.’
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kaunis-sielu · 3 years
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A Knight’s Lady: 11
The next morning you wake feeling a little sore but happy, far happier than you thought you’d be. Steve’s still in bed, his body pressed to your back, one of his hands hand found your breast and he’s holding onto it.
“Good morning.” He rumbles pressing a kiss to your shoulder, you love the gentle scratch of his beard against your skin. “How are you feeling?”
“Happy.”
“No pain?”
“A little.”
“I’m sorry,” he says softly kissing your shoulder again.
“I’m not.” You tell him truthfully and he chuckles softly.
“I should get up. I’ve got training to get to.” You whine softly and hold the arm around you tightly to you.
“Two more minutes?” Steve chuckles again,
“Two more minutes. Do you have any plans for this morning?”
“I have some dress fittings.”
“Oh good, no corsets.” He hums and it’s your turn to laugh.
“Only for some. If we have others visiting I need proper clothing.”
“Who do you expect to come?”
“Daisy. I’m sure you met other Duke’s when you were fighting.”
“They won’t come this late in the year, it gets too cold for those southern Dukes. Speaking of which, when you’re getting your dresses made get some more fur lined cloaks, wolf is best.”
“I hate the thought of killing animals just for their fur.” You admit.
“Oh, we don’t. People use the meat and stuff too and if we don’t kill a few each year they’ll over run the land and cause issues.”
“Oh, I feel less guilty then.”
“How is the garden coming along?”
“Okay, there have been a few snags but Victor and Wanda are working them out. I think they’d make a rather lovely couple.”
“Playing matchmaker love?” He teases but you nod.
“Everyone should be so happy.” You mutter before turning to him and pressing your lips to his. He pushes up and covers your body with his as he deepens the kiss but a knock on your door interrupts. Steve growls lowly and you can’t help but laugh.
“What?” He yells not moving from where he’s hovering over you.
“Your Grace please forgive the intrusion but a message has come from the king.”
“Go,” you tell him and he kisses you again, “Steve!” You laugh shoving one shoulder. He gets up with a small grunt and naked, walks to the door and opens it.
“What’s the message.” To his credit Philip doesn’t even blink at Steve’s nakedness.
“Your presence is required at the knighting ceremony. Peter is to be knighted.”
“When?”
“You’ll need to leave tomorrow. He requests only the knights come.”
“So the Duchess stays.”
“Yes, your Grace.”
“How long?”
“A week.” Steve’s head drops back and he groans loudly. “Would you like me to tell the men or would you?”
“I will, I want to leave some behind to protect my wife and the castle.” Your heart warms at this, you’re disappointed you can’t go with, having grown used to his presence over the last month it’s going to be lonely without him. He closes the door and comes back to you, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” You assure him, as he kneels in front of you on the floor.
“Who would you like me to leave?
“Anthony and Clinton, their wives are here and I’d hate for them to have to leave so soon.”
“You’ve got such a good heart, I’m going to leave Bucky too and Strange.”
“No, take Strange with you. You’re going to be out there with werewolves and ice gnomes and ogres and stuff.”
“Ogres don’t come this far north.” He counters, “how about this, I’ll see what his range is and if he can teleport he can come to me at night and be here if you need him during the day.”
“He can teleport?”
“Yes, is that an okay compromise?” You nod then kiss him softly dragging your fingers through his hair. “I need to get to training.”
“I know.” You tell him with a small smile and he chuckles.
“What you do to me wife.” He teases then stands and makes his way to his wardrobe. You get your robe on and call for Wanda to help you prepare for when the seamstress arrives. She arrives with breakfast for you and Steve and while you eat you get ready for the day.
“Remember, dresses without the corset.” Steve says as he watches Wanda lace up the one you need for the dress today.
“I agreed to some Steven.” You chide and Wanda bites back a laugh.
“Did I just get scolded?” He asks with a smirk,
“Yes.”
“Come with me to tell the knights about the trip. I want to spend as much time with you as I can today.”
“Wanda will you come get me when the seamstress is here?”
“Of course your Grace.” She says and you take Steve’s hand and head down to the training fields.
“Late start this morning your Grace?” Bucky teases and Steve laughs,
“I can still waste you late start or not.” Steve calls back causing the other men to laugh. “Men gather round.” They pause in their training and come over, “we have been summoned to the palace by the King for a knighting ceremony. Just knights and Peter who has well deserved the honor of being knighted.” There’s a cheer and Peter’s cheeks pink at the attention. “I’ve decided to leave three of you behind to guard the castle, and the Duchess, Buck, Anthony and Clinton. Should anything happen Bucky you’re in charge.” The three men nod, none of them looking particularly upset about having to stay behind which is a relief. “We leave at first light tomorrow. Dismissed.”
The men disperse except for Bucky, “A word your Grace.” Bucky says and Steve nods before pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
“I’ll see you for lunch Rosa.” He says and you head back inside.
“Your Grace, the seamstress is here.”
“Perfect timing,” you tell her and follow her back to your room where the seamstress has set up.
Tag list:
@andahugaroundtheneck @connie326 @also-fangirlinsweden @lumar014 @loving-life-my-way @pagina16ps @emdying @dumblani @valsworldofcreativity @dancer3205
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comfortwriting · 3 years
Text
Prompt 14 - G.W
MasterList, prompt list, request rules
George Weasley x Fem Reader
Prompt 14: “Please don’t tell him her! It’s so embarrassing”
About: The reader and her best friend are both best friends with George, her best friend finds something the reader gave George from a few years ago which is slightly embarrassing for George.
Warnings: Fluff, swearing.
Spending your summer holidays at The Burrow had to be the best part of your year. You got to see your best friend everyday and spend time with his warm and loving family who loved having you around.
This year, both your and George’s other best friend, Rosie, would be joining you this summer - hoping to land her on a date with Fred; you being her wing woman and George her wing man. 
Funnily enough, you were hoping to land a date with George but you were afraid that such a move would ruin your friendship.
“You look incredible, Rosie!” you beamed at her, the beautiful floral dress making her look like a princess.
Rosie smiled and shook her head, chuckling at you. “You think he’ll notice?” 
“Of course he’ll bloody notice” George answered, walking out into the garden “you stick out like a sore thumb.”
You burst into laughter and Rosie rolled her eyes.
“Oh shut it you.” You gave George a sour look “I better get a move on, wish me luck!” Rosie gave you both a thumbs up and walked away to find George, hunting the garden gnomes.
“I’d like to see you in a dress like that.” George winked at you.
You scoffed and smirked “oh please”
George placed his arm around you “you’d pull it off so much better”
Before you could answer, Mrs Weasley came outside chasing and scolding Ron “Get out there and help your father!”
She stopped in her tracks and noticed you and George “George! you too!”
George rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath.
“See you in a bit.” He smiled, walking away and following his younger brother.
“Fancy lending a hand in the kitchen, my dear?” Mrs Weasley smiled at you, brushing her apron. “Where’s Rosie?”
“Of course.” You nodded and smiled back, walking over to her. “Rosie’s gone to find Fred.”
Mrs Weasley shook her head and laughed “Her dress will be ruined once she’s finished with those gnomes!”
Fred and Rosie holding hands walked back to the burrow with George, all of them covered in soil, grass stains and dirt with the sun setting behind them. 
“I’m bloody knackered.” Fred yawned “ruddy gnomes.” 
The three of them inched closer to the burrow, Ron, Ginny and Mr Weasley following close behind.
“So, you think you’re going to make a move?” Rosie asked George, walking through the door.
Before George could answer, Molly swarmed in on Rosie. “Your poor dress!”
“Oh it’s fine” Rosie smiled “nothing magic can’t fix.”
“Well, when you’re back at Hogwarts!” Mrs Weasley reminded her.
“Mum, where’s Y/N?” George asked, peering round the kitchen, following the mouth watering smell of roast dinner. 
Molly slapped his shoulder “she’s gone for a bath, brilliant cook and a hard worker she is, that girl!”
Fred, Rosie and George walked up the many stairs up to their room, Mrs Weasley yelling up telling them to not be long.
“So, when are you going to make a move then?” Rosie asked again, walking around the twins bedroom and sitting down on Fred’s squeaky bed.
“I don’t even know if she’s into me-”
“Come on now” Fred interrupted “don’t be a plonker, of course she’s bloody into you.”
“You can tell just by how she looks at you, George.” Rosie’s eyes fixated on a piece of parchment, peeking out from underneath George’s mattress.
 Whilst George had his back turned, Rosie nudged Fred and pointed towards her little discovery. 
Fred leapt to his feet, startling his brother and snatching the piece of parchment from its hiding place.
“Oi! Give it back!” George cried out, trying to grab the parchment from Fred’s grip.
Fred hurried to his side of the room and jumped on his bed, lifting the parchment above his head out of his brothers reach, Rosie blocking George from being able to retrieve it.
“Thanks for that one, love!” Fred beamed down at his girlfriend and unfolding the parchment.
“Fred! please, don’t!”
Fred’s eyes scanned the parchment from top to bottom and his jaw dropped, followed by the corner of his lips curling up into a grin, he burst out into laughter.
“It’s a love letter!”
“I knew she was into you!” Rosie cackled “read it out, go on!” 
“Freddie don’t, it’s tight.” George pleaded.
Fred paused for a moment, looking between his brother and girlfriend. 
“I’m sorry I can’t not, it’s too bloody good.”
Getting out of the bath, you dried yourself with a towel and wrapped it around you. Walking up the stairs you entered Ginny’s room trying to find your clothes.
“Ginny have you seen my pyjamas?” you asked, looking around.
“I think Rosie borrowed them” she answered “her dress is a bloody mess.”
“how did it go with her and Fred?” you asked, walking over to the door.
Ginny smiled “they’re happy”
You smiled back and held the door handle “I’m glad.”
Walking up to the twins bedroom you could hear the commotion going on inside, George’s complaining muffled, followed by the laughs of Fred and Rosie.
“Please don’t tell her! it’s so embarrassing.” George begged.
You twisted the door knob and opened the door, standing in the door way, Fred panicked and hit whatever he had in his hand behind his back.
The laughter came to a halt and George looked panicked upon your arrival. 
“Don’t tell who what?” you asked, walking into the bedroom, your other hand holding your towel in place.
“Uh-nothing!” Rosie replied quickly, getting up off the bed. “I was just about to go down, I think dinner will be ready any moment.” 
Fred jumped off his bed, carefully walking past you, making sure you couldn’t see what he was hiding behind his back. 
You ignored the odd and awkward tension in the air “George, please can I borrow some pyjamas? Rosie nicked mine.”
George nodded and went over to his wardrobe, pulling out one of his sweaters and pyjama bottoms. 
“what was all that about?” you asked quietly, taking the clothes he handed to you.
George went bright red and bit his lip, he turned around whilst you removed your towel and got dressed. 
“nothing.” he lied, cursing himself for not finding a quick excuse.
“was it about me?” you pulled the warm and cosy sweater over your head. 
“no” George replied, trying his hardest not to turn around and sneak a glance.
you stepped into his pyjama bottoms and pulled them up, tapping George on the shoulder so he could finally turn around.
“please tell me” you sat on his bed, hearing Mrs Weasley call everyone down for dinner.
George sat on the bed next to you, twiddling his fingers in his hands.
“Fred found the love letter you wrote me back in fourth year.” George revealed quietly “I told him to give it me back but he didn’t, Rosie got him to read it out loud.”
You were mortified, you couldn’t believe your best friend would do such a thing.
“Oh” was all you could say, you could feel your face heat up so much you wouldn’t be surprised if steam came out of your ears. 
George looked at your soft and sad face, he shifted closer to you and put his arm around you “I’m sorry-”
“it’s okay-”
“no it’s not, love.” George sighed and pulled his arm back, taking your hand in his. “I should’ve made a bloody move on you earlier, was waiting for the perfect moment.”
You felt a sudden bout of relief, the embarrassment diminishing whilst you processed George’s true feelings towards you.
“well..” you trailed off, looking into his beautiful, kind eyes “perhaps this is the perfect time.” you smiled.
George smiled, looking more than chuffed with himself, the two of you leaning in for your first kiss.
His soft lips grazed yours, the feeling of a spark igniting between your lips.
“George! get a move on!” Mrs Weasley shouted up “Your dinner will go cold” 
George pulled away from the kiss and shook his head, you burst out laughing.
“Y/N, my dear” Mrs Weasley called up again “you’ve done a wonderful job!”
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shelby-love · 3 years
Text
A VERY AMATEUR PROMPT LIST
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When requesting use the character’s name and the prompt number along with the category, e.g. “Jay Halstead, fluff 7″ or something like that. If you want a specific plot line too, other rules apply. You can find them here!
A/N: I always wanted to make one of these. I don’t take credit for every prompt on this list. Surprise but I’m not actually that creative with these (I’m not funny either lmaoo), maybe it’s because English isn’t my native tounge, so I don’t have the fluency, but a fair amount of these are my own. Credit to those who find their marvelous one liners here! You guys are seriously great I could never.  
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"What are you doing? Come back to bed."
"(She/he/they) did it." "No, (She/he/they) did!"
"I already gave you my heart. What else do you want?"
"I think I love you."
"You make me want to be a better person."
"How can you resist this?" "Trust me, I'm trying really hard."
"Are you blushing?"
"I can't with you. Come here."
"I love seeing you smile."
"I miss you..." "I'm in the kitchen Y/N."
"My (girlfriend/boyfriend)'s just scared."
"Not so fast, love."
"You're the only good thing left in my life."
"You're stuck with me forever. How come you're not annoyed?" "Oh, I am. I just love you too much to show it."
"Keep doing that. I like it."
"Where did my scary (girlfriend/boyfriend) go?"  "You said you liked me better as a softie."
"Don't be sorry… It was kind of cute actually."
"Since when are you my (fiancée/fiancé)?"
"Your hair so soft." "It smells nice too."
"What are you doing here?!" "I'm your (girlfriend/boyfriend). I live here."
"I’m so lucky to have you by my side.”
"I can't get you out of my head."
"What did I do to deserve you?"
"Can you hold me?"
"I told you to take care of yourself."
"Wow… You look beautiful."
"Hi, I'm nervous, you're cute." "I should be nervous, you're cuter."
"I'm going to marry you one day."
"I'm not leaving. Not now, not ever."
"You're safe now. I promise you."
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"I hate you." "No, you hate that you love me."
"Can't you see what you're doing to me?!"
"It's my fault, right? It's always my fault."
"You're mine. Everything you do is my business!"
"I don't belong to you. I'm my own person!"
"I need to get out of here…away from you!"
"My feelings are not something you can play with!"
"I love you!" "It doesn't look like you do."
"I should've left you when I had the chance."  "Then go. Leave!"
"You changed." "We both did."
"Leave me the hell alone."
"Do you know what you just did?"
"Let me go."
"I'm dying."
"I wish I'd never met you."
"(He/She)'s dead because of you!"
"You make me sick."
"How could I be so blind?"
"You lied to me!" "You act as if you didn't."
"You only think about yourself. What about me? Huh? What about me?!"
"If you walk away, don't even think about coming back."
"I would've died for you."
"I shouldn't have expected for you to care about anyone but yourself."
"You made me a pawn in your sick game!"
"Go with him. He deserves you more than I do."
"I can forget, but I can't forgive you."
"You kept this from me for years! How dare you?!"
"(He/She) is my (son/daughter) just as much as (he/she) is yours. Take (him/her) away from me, I dare you."
"Love isn't supposed to hurt so badly."
"Go on, kill (her/him). Give me a reason for vengeance."
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"You make me look like a garden gnome."
"Thanks to my amazingly high self-esteem, I feel like a slightly bruised potato next to you."
"So, I was thinking…" "Oh, no. That’s never good."
"Think of this as tryouts for hell where (Y/N/character) is the devil."
"I thought I left you in that coffin a century ago?" "Well, I got out. Surprise!"
"Oh, wow what a pleasant surprise."
"Oh no, please, by all means… Continue."
"Who doesn’t like a little murder to start their evening?"
"Are you always so stupid or is today a special occasion?"
"Just because I don’t care doesn’t mean I don’t understand."
"Well at least your mom thinks you’re (pretty/handsome)."
"Stop using your intelligence against me."
"With all due respect, I think you're wrong."
"(He/She) kicked me out! Out! How dare (he/she)?!"
"I don't know, and I don't care."
"In my defense, it looked very fluffy."
"Why do we do something illegal every time we hang out?"
"Did you kill (him/her)? You know you can tell me, right?"
"Just…don't say anything."
"Best get this over with. C'mon, grab his legs."
"Since when can you drive?"
"Just get in the damn car."
"I feel like I was hit by a car. Wait I was? And it was your car?"
"Holy hell… What did you do?!"
"Nu-huh. I fell in love with you first!"
"You know what they say – ignorance is bliss."
"I already died once. Wasn't pleasant. Don't want to do it again."
"Where is (character) when you need (him/her)?!"
"Dare I ask whose death you're plotting in your head?"
"I'd agree with you, but then we'd both be wrong."
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"Now if you don't mind… My (girlfriend/boyfriend) and I will get going."
"Are you jealous?"
"I'm really starting to question your intelligence."
"What are you doing (here)?" "What are you doing (here)?"
"I'm his wife."
"Your (son/daughter) is waiting for you. I think world domination can wait until you tuck (him/her) in."
"I didn't know where else to go."
"You remember when I said you owed me? It's time."
"I don't like forests." "You don't like anything."
"What were you doing with (him/her)?"
"Hey, don't underestimate me."
"(He/She)'s a child!"
"I'm looking for an errand (sister/brother). Show me to (her/him) before I smash your head."
"You taste better than I thought you would."
"You can't even spare me a compliment."  "I don’t know what to compliment!"
"You really need to sort out your priorities."
"No, it’s fine. I can wait until you’re done talking to (him/her/them)."
"Your nicotine addiction will be your downfall. Mark my words."
"You never cease to amaze me."
"I'm kinda annoying…hope you don't mind."
"Duck, you idiot!"
"Get that love potion away from me!"
"You can't leave me! I don't want to be their (supernatural) babysitter!"
"Okay, kids huddle up!"
"Rot in hell."
"I’ve got a wand, and I’m not afraid to use it!"
"Do you have any booze?" "No, thanks to you." "Even your secret stash?" "How do you know about my secret stash?"
"Daggering someone the moment they disagree with your barbaric ways isn't the answer."
"Jesus Christ… You don't even know how to hold a gun."
"Just run." "What do you mean run?"  "RUN!"
♔ MY NAVIGATION ♔
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“Legs that run for miles”
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imkylotrash · 3 years
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Stubborn Love
Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader
Request: I’m wondering if you good do one where Y/N is the twin sister of Pansy Parkinson, and Y/N and Draco have been in a secret relationship and Pansy finds out because she likes Draco and it causes some tension between the sisters. 
A/N I wrote in the update for this week that this was a crossover with Winx but it’s just HP, I read the request wrong 😅
Tagging: @bitchwhytho​ @music-of-melody​ @shadowhuntyi​ 
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You don’t mean for it to happen. You know your sister likes him and you have every intention of staying far away from the blonde boy for that exact reason. But the universe has other plans. Every class is with him, you run into him during all free periods. At one point, you hide in the girl’s bathroom just to stay away from him. You don’t want to admit it but his smile makes you feel things you shouldn’t. The only time you find peace is evenings in the Hufflepuff common room. 
“I heard a rumour,” Cedric says dropping down next to you. He slams his potions book on the table along with his half-written paper on top of it. You keep quiet waiting for him to elaborate.
“I heard Draco Malfoy likes you,” he then says just as you’re reaching for your water bottle. You knock it to the ground from pure shock spilling the content all over the floor.
“Shit,” you mumble getting down on the floor to clean up when Cedric stops you. He waves his wand in front of you before magically drying off the carpet. 
“Are you okay?” he asks you and you’re not sure how to tell him that you have a thing for the one boy your sister asked you to stay away from but somehow, you manage to anyway. He doesn’t get it. Cedric hates Draco but he respects your feelings.
“You can’t make yourself unhappy because you don’t want to hurt your sister. I’m sure she’ll understand.” You make sound that sounds like something between laughing and choking. 
“Have you met my twin sister? There’s a reason she’s in Slytherin and I’m in Hufflepuff,” you say thinking of all the hexes she’ll use on you when she finds out you have a thing for Draco. 
“I’m sure she’d be happy for you as long as you’re honest with her.” And you know he’s right, it’s just you’re not ready to tell her. You don’t want to tell her in case nothing happens between you and Draco. But two months pass and suddenly, you’re in too deep. It’s gone from discretely looking in his direction to kissing him in empty classrooms and by the quidditch field when no one is around. You want to tell Pansy because she keeps flirting with him only to be rejected and you feel horrible for knowing exactly why he’ll never return her emotions. 
“We have to tell her,” you say one day as you and Draco are walking the grounds. You’re far enough away from the school to be brave enough to hold hands but you still worry someone might see you. 
“I don’t want to hide anymore. I want to be with you and I want my sister to be happy for us.” You know it’s much to hope for but you can’t keep hiding your feelings. You deserve better than that and so does Draco. 
“I’ll do whatever you want. I don’t really care as long as I get to be with you.” He’s cute - far too cute for how you’ve always been told Slytherins are. You’d worried about Pansy when the sorting hat said she belonged in Slytherin but you had to admit that they weren’t all bad. 
“So, you’d be fine lying your entire life if it meant we could stay together?” you say jokingly but he just shrugs his shoulders not seeing the joke. 
“If that’s what it took. I don’t think of it as lying if all we’re doing is keeping it private.” You don’t know anyone like him who’s able to spin the truth however he wants it. You, on the other hand, feel horrible as soon as you think about lying. You once told a teacher that you couldn’t hand in your homework because a gnome from the garden had stolen it and you went to the bathroom and cried for half an hour. You hated lying and it made it so much worse that you had to lie to your sister, no matter how Draco spun it. 
“I want to tell her. Before someone else does.” And so, you agree to meet that night and tell her together but you wish you would’ve done it alone. 
“You’re dating Draco?” Her voice goes an octave higher for each syllable which would be pretty impressive in any other setting. Now, it just freaks you out. 
“We didn’t mean for this to happen, I promise. I tried to stay away but I couldn’t just ignore how I felt,” you say trying to reason with her but it’s no use. 
“I’m sure you tried real hard, you bitch.” You very rarely fight with your twin sister. You can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve ever raised your voice at each other and it’s always been because you did everything you could to make her happy. She turned into the most horrible person when she was upset, you hardly recognised her. 
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Draco says. It’s the first thing he’s said since you sat down. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze to comfort you - an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by Pansy. 
“I’ll talk to my sister exactly how I want to talk to her,” she scuffs before returning her attention to you. 
“I’ll never forgive you if you don’t break up with him right now. He’s meant to be with me.” 
“Doesn’t he get a say in this?” you ask weakly. You don’t want to break up with Draco, but you also know she’s deadly serious when she says she’ll never forgive you. You’ve seen her hold onto grudges for years at a time. 
“Well, you ruined any chance for me when you decided to claim him, didn’t you?” You know Draco is getting angrier by the second and it’s only a matter of time before he cracks and takes it all out on Pansy. 
“I didn’t claim him, Pans. He made a choice, and I’m really sorry but I thought you’d be happy for me.” You stand up painfully slow hoping she’ll stop you but she doesn’t. In fact, she doesn’t talk to you for the rest of the year. When Christmas comes around, you invite Draco to spend the holidays with you and your family. You don’t tell him but you have a tiny hope that maybe if Pansy sees you and Draco together, she’ll realise just how much he means to you. You had no choice in loving Draco. Stubbornly and violently, it had filled your heart and mind until you had no choice but to act on it.
“You invited him?” Pansy asks noticing his suitcase. It’s the first words she’s spoken to you since you told her about you and Draco and they drip with venom. 
“I thought it’d be nice to spend some time together all of us.” It’s the worst Christmas ever. Constantly, your mother has to stop Pansy from ripping into you and once you catch her trying to hex you but she misses you with mere inches. Your hands shake from anger but it’s not in you to yell back or try to retaliate. It must be possible to solve this without yelling. 
“I really thought it might change her mind to see you and me together,” you admit on the final night before you have to return to Hogwarts. Your parents are downstairs and Pansy has already locked herself in her room. Merry Christmas...
“She’ll come around,” Draco says wrapping his arms around you. When you go to sleep that night, you toss and turn feeling the toll of the fight hitting you. It’s just getting too much. You don’t fall asleep until 2 am and when you wake, Draco is gone. You walk towards the bathroom to brush your teeth when you spot the most peculiar thing. The window in the hallway offers you a perfect view of Draco and Pansy sitting in the grass talking. When they return, Pansy hugs you tightly. 
“I’ve been so horrible to you. Can you forgive me?” You’re speechless to say the least. Last night, she looked as if she were ready to bury the knife in your back and now she’s hugging you and asking if you can forgive her. 
“Of course I forgive you.” You hug her again locking eyes with Draco who’s watching with a tiny smile. When you finally get him alone, you press to find out what he said to Pansy but he doesn’t budge. 
“That’s a conversation between me and her,” he laughs as you pout. Half an hour of begging and still he refuses to talk. 
“It’s not fair, I’d tell you. I tell you everything,” you argue. 
“That’s because you’re horrible at keeping secrets,” Draco chuckles leaning in to kiss you but you refuse - at least until he tells you what he said to Pansy. 
“You can’t reject me like that. Kiss me,” he huffs with furrowed eyebrows and you just can’t help yourself.
“Watch me.” 
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mixelation · 3 years
Text
Ginny SI
hmm this is the opening scene to a SI-into-Ginny Weasley fic i wrote a while ago. warning for.....blood? murder? The first line is basically all that happens LOL
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My brother’s rat upset me, so I decided to kill it.
Percy said he found the rat in the garden and then begged and begged Mum to keep it. I saw the missing toe, and thought: No. No, this wouldn’t do.
Percy was my brother, after all. I didn’t want him being taken advantage of by a weird old man pretending to be a rat. The thought made my skin crawl, but I had to wait a few weeks for an opportunity to make a move. People weren’t apt to leave a little five year old girl alone for too long, after all.
Scabbers went with me willingly to the garden.
He let me play with him, lifting up his little left feet and making him dance. He let me bring him up to the hedges and let me pretend he was talking to the gnomes with my child’s voice. He laid perfectly still when I put him down next to me and didn’t even budge when I picked up the rusty pruning shears.
He didn’t start to struggle until the blades were already on either side of his neck.
As far as I could remember, the method of euthanization recommended by the International Animal Care and Use Committee for rats and mice was asphyxiation by carbon dioxide. In a lab they’d use a chamber that slowly filled with carbon dioxide and kept the rodent calm. I’d thought about sealing Scabbers in a box and suffocating him that way, but I’d never actually had to sacrifice any of the mice myself. I didn’t know how long that method would take and was afraid he’d turn back into a man.
I wasn’t old enough for shatter-proof spells yet, after all.
I did know they confirmed death of the mice by decapitation. All I had to do was line the pruning shears up right behind the head, snip the neck, and the head would pop right off. It was supposed to be easy.
It was supposed to be easy, but I hadn’t worked in a lab in five years. I’d forgotten to account for certain variables.
Scabber started to move, but I was faster. I squeezed the blades of the shears together as hard as I could with my five year old hands, one on each handle. A rat’s cervical muscles are thicker than a mouse’s and harder to cut through. Scabber’s head stayed on.
He flailed. The blades were already firmly in place, even as blood slipped out and made them slick, and he couldn’t escape. His little body beat itself against the grass and horrible squeaking screams came from his gaping mouth. I squeezed the handles harder.
I’d put him in a sunny patch because I knew he liked them. Blood on the blades of grass glistened in the sun.
I was starting to panic. I’d picked decapitation because I thought it would be quick and humane. Surely he’d bleed out soon.
He didn’t, so I decided I should do something to put him out of his misery. My grip loosened on the pruning shears, and somehow he slipped free and flopped across the garden.
“Shit!” I cried softly and raced after him. He wasn’t moving very fast, so I caught up quickly.
I stomped on his head. There was a wet sort of crunch under my shoe, and then Scabbers went still.
I was glad he had not turned back into a man. I couldn’t kill a man, but I could kill a rat. Looking down at the rat’s splattered head and still form, I felt only mildly upset.
I’d not sealed him in a box because I’d been afraid he could escape easily by shapeshifting. Now that I’d tried and failed to cut off his head, I wasn’t sure why he hadn’t changed back then. Was it harder when one was in a state of emotional distress? Could one not change while severely injured? Had he just lived as a rat so long it hadn’t occurred to him in his panic?
I didn’t like thinking of Scabbers as Peter Pettigrew. Instead, I turned my thoughts to how I was going to clean this all up. There was a sizable pool of blood splashed all over the grass, and then a trail of splots for six or seven feet, and then the rat with the smashed head.
There was a water pump in one corner of the yard. I used it to rinse my hands off first and then filled a bucket.
Before I splashed water everywhere, I decided to throw Scabber’s body to the gnomes. They killed field mice and chipmunks all the time; it wouldn’t be strange for them to go after an old, lazy rat too.
I gingerly picked Scabbers up by the base of his tail, which was exactly the moment someone decided to barge out of the back door.
“GINNY!” Charlie shrieked before the door had even swung back enough to slam shut.
I froze, a headless Scabbers dangling incriminatingly from my hand. Blood dripped onto the toe of my shoe.
“Um,” I said.
“I accidentally suffocated him as part of a game” would have really been a lot easier to explain. I had no explanation for this.
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This is the fan-created personal home of Arthur Kirkland I made, realistically, like anywhere between a year to two years ago. This is well before the Cottage pack that just recently came out (And I am upset because that could’ve added so much more but I can’t be bothered to alter it now after all this time). Remember: This is fan/headcanon created. I build for fun and am not a professional. I do not build with the intention of having it livable/non-clashing. If something clashes it will be up to you to fix it because I build for the pure aesthetic and not functionality. I own a lot of packs so if you don’t own all the ones used in this there might be issues. After the cut here I will provide a visual walk-through via screen captures. You’re more than welcome to download it and look at it for yourself. My username on Sims4 is Shinoshallbugyou.
First up, the outside overview. Keep in mind that Sims 4 limits the lot to a harsh degree. I actually really miss Sims 3 in how you could alter and change the environment otherwise I’d have Arthur’s home buried in a garden/trees. I have placed his home in the University area because it felt the best suited. There wasn’t any particular designs I was going for... I just kind of made it and went with it. His home, unlike Spain’s that I am working on, is much smaller in comparison. I particularly wanted to bury this home in foliage and green with ivy climbing up the wall and etc. Something to where you could have enchanted little areas to sit in, fairies, and etc. Something to where he can be more introverted and away from others.
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3rd Floor- Attic/storage.
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2nd Floor - Full bath, office, and his bedroom.
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1st Floor - Entry room, 1/2 Bathroom, Living room, dining room, kitchen. Outside there is a small backyard area as well as a greenhouse.
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I specifically always want to try to do a ‘triangle’ entry or a sloped half triangle entry. It ALWAYS clashes and hates being put in there but the aesthetic of it appeals to me and I’m always trying things even if they’re difficult. I know some of these objects may seem more German than British but... I don’t care lmao. I don’t do this to do a 100% British Speedrun. Just fun.
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The greenhouse in particular was something I wanted and is difficult to implement. Those are not full walls and as such do not drop down like normal walls for those of you who download this. Also, previously, I had custom content on the windows and doors of this greenhouse that were removed with several updates and I can’t be bothered to re-download it so I chose something from a pack. That would do. I love the idea of a greenhouse and wanted to try it and I particularly liked making this house in specific ‘cramped’.
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I really liked adding this ‘side door’ that goes into the living room with its little step-up.
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I really tried, to the edge of it, building the lush garden and foliage covers.
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A small, quiet area for tea and fairies. There are lots of gnomes and stuff hidden throughout this house! Just a fun little surprise. My fiancee tried to play this build of mine and since I have seasons fall is triggered but it just adds to the look, in my opinion.
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The backdoor into the kitchen with another cute step-down.
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My hands were killing me by the end after adding all this foliage but it’s worth it. We also joked in a larp once that when America visited he accidentally broke a gnome and hid it in the bushes. Arthur immediately noticed that Reginald was missing. Where did Reginald go? Reginald???
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The front entry room or, I suppose, a ‘mud’ room. I never do these and I really liked it.
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A lot of Arthur’s house will be cluttered and lived-in. I love those looks. Also, my apologies in advance, I didn’t realize there would be an outline where my mouse was hovering. I’m a builder, not a photographer.
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I wanted a nook of a kitchen. The walls aren’t even that high but the Sims 4 is great about making things ridiculously tall. I think I joked about putting a step-stool in there for him lmao. The door leads down below into a 1/2 bathroom. I also in particular liked that oven because it was a ‘London’ oven.
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Greys and browns were something I thought that Arthur would like. More Earthy tones. I wanted a ‘round table’ for obvious purposes. I had a custom content here too and had to improvise when they removed it. I like to think that Arthur also collects those cute dishes that some people do.
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The living room as well as stairs going up. I wanted it old-fashioned a bit with an old record player and the TV isn’t the main focus but is there because he has reluctantly upgraded over the years. And while you can’t see it... I miss in Sims 2&3 I believe it was that they would put on ‘chimneys’ for the fireplaces. I love how realistic that is rather than it just... Being in the wall???? So I make 1x2 spaces behind the fireplaces by default now that they’re missing from the game. I miss those. The clipping from the half triangle roof is here along with foliage. Usually my brain just blocks out that stuff or I try to hide it. In this case... I blocked it out and ignored it.
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Going upstairs, peering down into the living room.
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I really, REALLY wanted this weird bay-window with a ledge here. A lot of stuff I want is a pain to do but I always want to. I temporarily removed a clipping roof object here (It is the ‘rounded roof’ here). I enjoy how it looks outside but not inside. For the pictures sake, I removed it. The window doesn’t allow it to disappear and for some reason it clips into the bathroom as well even though that makes no sense. Roofing is one of the hardest aspects in this game.
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The full bathroom first. The top view gives the most details as to how it looks. Since it isn’t big I have to remove the walls to see further into it.
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Arthur’s personal office. I wanted to involve a bit more of the spiritual or supernatural things he’s into since I wasn’t interested in making a basement for this project.
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Arthur’s bedroom. I really enjoyed this one because of the quilted bed and things like that. I added the rocking chair and knitting sidekick there as an afterthought while looking at this room since, at the time, the knitting pack hadn’t come out when I made this. I thought the contrasting red and green would actually look good and not just Christmas-y. He has his own little walk-on balcony.
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Here is the half triangle structure I was talking about as well as the circular roof down below. Roofing is incredibly difficult and I’m OCD and want it to look a particular way. I about had a fit on Spain’s home recently in regards to roofing.
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The 3rd floor... The attic that has been transformed into a storage area. I actually really enjoy making storage areas in particular that help reveal some aspects about these characters I create for. In England’s case I like to imagine that America used to live up in here with him and he’s converted it from Alfred’s bedroom into storage. The babyshoes are supposed to be Alfred’s that he still keeps around. Just little bits and pieces over the years that he’s tossed in here and yet it’s still not really that chaotic... All things considered.
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Anyways... That’s it! I hope you all like it! I’ve been working on Spain’s and, unlike England, I like to picture him having a HUGE home. Because of how big it is... It has taken much longer. I have the majority of it done though and am mostly left with his 2nd floor and outside foliage to complete before it’s done! I’ll probably upload the ship and island I’ve made for them on the next post.
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kookie-doughs · 3 years
Text
Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS
Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.
CHAPTER 11: Prepare For Trouble And Make It Double
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In a way, it's nice to know there are Greek gods out there, because you have somebody to blame when things go wrong. For instance, when you're walking away from a bus that's just been attacked by monster hags and blown up by lightning, and it's raining on top of everything else, most people might think that's just really bad luck; when you're a half-blood, you understand that some divine force really is trying to mess up your day. Which was actually what's happening. So there we were, Annabeth, Percy, Grover and I, walking through the woods along the New Jersey riverbank, the glow of New York City making the night sky yellow behind us, and the smell of the Hudson reeking in our noses. Percy and I walked side by side with our hand still connected. Grover was shivering and braying, his big goat eyes turned slit-pupiled and full of terror. "Three Kindly Ones. All three at once. I was pretty much in shock myself. The explosion of bus windows still rang in my ears. But Annabeth kept pulling us along, saying: "Come on! The farther away we get, the better. "All our money was back there," Percy reminded her. "Our food and clothes. Everything." "Well, maybe if you hadn't decided to jump into the fight—" "What did you want me to do? Let you guys get killed? I was not going to leave Y/N." "You didn't need to protect me, Percy. I would've been fine." "Sliced like sandwich bread," Grover put in, "but fine." "Shut up, goat boy," I said. Grover brayed mournfully. "Tin cans... a perfectly good bag of tin cans." We sloshed across mushy ground, through nasty twisted trees that smelled like sour laundry. After a few minutes, Annabeth fell into line next to Percy. "Look, I..." Her voice faltered. "I appreciate your coming back for us, okay? That was really brave." "We're a team, right?" She was silent for a few more steps. "It's just that if you died... aside from the fact that it would really suck for you, it would mean the quest was over. This may be my only chance to see the real world." The thunderstorm had finally let up. The city glow faded behind us, leaving us in almost total darkness. Do you want to see?
Yeah that would be nice.
It was as if it was morning, I could see everything clearly. I wandered my head to make sure I could see everything. This is cool. "You okay?" Percy asked. "Yeah," Not really a fan of the current silence I turned to Annabeth. "You haven't left Camp Half-Blood since you were seven?" I asked her. "No... only short field trips. My dad—" "The history professor." "Yeah. It didn't work out for me living at home. I mean, Camp Half-Blood is my home." She was rushing her words out now, as if she were afraid somebody might try to stop her. "At camp you train and train. And that's all cool and everything, but the real world is where the monsters are. That's where you learn whether you're any good or not." If I didn't know better, I could've sworn I heard doubt in her voice. "You're pretty good with that knife," I said. "You think so?" "Yeah maybe you can teach me some tricks. "Anybody who can piggyback-ride a Fury is okay by me." Percy smiled. I couldn't really see, but I thought she might've smiled. "You know," she said, "maybe I should tell you... Something funny back on the but..." Whatever she wanted to say was interrupted by a shrill toot-toot-toot, like the sound of an owl being tortured. "Hey, my reed pipes still work!" Grover cried. "If I could just remember a 'find path' song, we could get out of these woods!" He puffed out a few notes, but the tune still sounded suspiciously like Hilary Duff. Seeing a tree coming up I tried to pull Percy to avoid it but Percy immediately slammed into a tree and got a nice-size knot on his head. I suppressed my laugh by covering my mouth which made Percy glare at me. After tripping and cursing and generally feeling miserable for another mile or so, I started to see light up ahead: the colors of a neon sign. I could smell food. Fried, greasy, excellent food. I realized I hadn't eaten anything unhealthy since I'd arrived at Half-Blood Hill, where we lived on grapes, bread, cheese, and extra-lean-cut nymph-prepared barbecue. This kid needed a double cheeseburger. >We kept walking until I saw a deserted two-lane road through the trees. On the other side was a closed-down gas station, a tattered billboard for a 1990s movie, and one open business, which was the source of the neon light and the good smell. It wasn't a fast-food restaurant like I'd hoped. It was one of those weird roadside curio shops that sell lawn flamingos and wooden Indians and cement grizzly bears and stuff like that. The main building was a long, low warehouse, surrounded by acres of statuary. The neon sign above the gate was impossible for me to read, because if there's anything worse for my dyslexia than regular English, it's red cursive neon English. To me, it looked like: ATNYU MES GDERAN GOMEN MEPROUIM. "What the heck does that say?" I asked. "I don't know," Annabeth said. She loved reading so much, I'd forgotten she was dyslexic, too. Grover translated: "Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium." Flanking the entrance, as advertised, were two cement garden gnomes, ugly bearded little runts, smiling and waving, as if they were about to get their picture taken. I crossed the street, following the smell of the hamburgers. "Hey..." Grover warned. "The lights are on inside," Annabeth said. "Maybe it's open." "Snack bar," I said wistfully. "Snack bar," Percy agreed. "Snack bar," Annabeth joined. "Are you three crazy?" Grover said. "This place is weird." We ignored him. The front lot was a forest of statues: cement animals, cement children, even a cement satyr playing the pipes, which gave Grover the creeps. "Bla-ha-ha!" he bleated. "Looks like my Uncle Ferdinand!" We stopped at the warehouse door. "Don't knock," Grover pleaded. "I smell monsters." I turned to look at my knife. It had a light glow emitting from it. Probably because it was sheathed. "I think there's monsters." I was now reluctant and sided with Grover. "Grover's nose is clogged up from the Furies," Annabeth told him. "All I smell is burgers. Aren't you hungry?" "Meat!" he said scornfully. "I'm a vegetarian." "You eat cheese enchiladas and aluminum cans," Percy reminded him.. "Those are vegetables. Come on. Let's leave. These statues are... looking at me."
"Percy, I don't think---"
"It'll be fine." Percy took my hand and went in. Be careful and don't look. Then the door creaked open, and standing in front of us was a tall Middle Eastern woman—at least, I assumed she was Middle Eastern, because she wore a long black gown that covered everything but her hands, and her head was completely veiled. Her eyes glinted behind a curtain of black gauze, but that was about all I could make out. Her coffee-colored hands looked old, but well-manicured and elegant, so I imagined she was a grandmother who had once been a beautiful lady. >Her accent sounded vaguely Middle Eastern, too. She said, "Children, it is too late to be out all alone. Where are your parents?" "They're... um..." Annabeth started to say. "We're orphans," I said. "Orphans?" the woman said. The word sounded alien in her mouth. "But, my dears! Surely not!" "We got separated from our caravan," Percy said. "Our circus caravan. The ringmaster told us to meet him at the gas station if we got lost, but he may have forgotten, or maybe he meant a different gas station. Anyway, we're lost. Is that food I smell?" "Oh, my dears," the woman said. "You must come in, poor children. I am Aunty Em. Go straight through to the back of the warehouse, please. There is a dining area. We thanked her and went inside. Annabeth muttered to Percy, "Circus caravan?" "Always have a strategy, right?" "Your head is full of kelp." The warehouse was filled with more statues—people in all different poses, wearing all different outfits and with different expressions on their faces. I was thinking you'd have to have a pretty huge garden to fit even one of these statues, because they were all life-size. I was anxious so I tighten my grip on Percy.  It's stupid for walking into a strange lady's shop like that just because we were hungry. For a child of Athena, Annabeth sure isn't making wise decisions. I mean yeah I agree, you've never smelled Aunty Em's burgers. The aroma was like laughing gas in the dentist's chair—it made everything else go away.  But Grover's nervous whimpers, and the way the statues' eyes seemed to follow me, to add the fact that Aunty Em had locked the door behind us. Made me more cautious. Sure enough, there it was at the back of the warehouse, a fast-food counter with a grill, a soda fountain, a pretzel heater, and a nacho cheese dispenser. Everything you could want, plus a few steel picnic tables out front. "Please, sit down," Aunty Em said "Awesome," Percy said. "Um," Grover said reluctantly, "we don't have any money, ma'am." Aunty Em said, "No, no, children. No money. This is a special case, yes? It is my treat, for such nice orphans." "Thank you, ma'am," Annabeth said. Aunty Em stiffened, as if Annabeth had done something wrong, but then the old woman relaxed just as quickly, I had to turn to Annabeth to check if there was something wrong with her.. Quite all right, Annabeth," she said. "You have such beautiful gray eyes, child."  I wonder how she knew Annabeth's name, even though we had never introduced ourselves. "Percy, I want to leave..." I whispered. "Just a few bites Y/N. Don't worry." He gave me a reassuring pat. Our hostess disappeared behind the snack counter and started cooking. Before we knew it, she'd brought us plastic trays heaped with double cheeseburgers, vanilla shakes, and XXL servings of French fries. I wasn't gulfing down my food like Percy was.  Grover picked at the fries, and eyed the tray's waxed paper liner as if he might go for that, but he still looked too nervous to eat. Annabeth slurped her shake. "What's that hissing noise?" he asked. I listened, but didn't hear anything. Annabeth shook her head. "Hissing?" Aunty Em asked. "Perhaps you hear the deep-fryer oil. You have keen ears, Grover." "I take vitamins. For my ears." "That's admirable," she said. "But please, relax." I don't like it here. I'm scared. Be wary of all things. Aunty Em ate nothing. She hadn't taken off her headdress, even to cook, and now she sat forward and interlaced her fingers and watched us eat. It was a little unsettling, having someone stare at me when I couldn't see her face, and I figured the least I could do was try to make small talk with our hostess. "So, you sell gnomes," I said, trying to sound interested. "Oh, yes," Aunty Em said. "And animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders. Statuary is very popular, you know." "A lot of business on this road?" "Not so much, no. Since the highway was built... most cars, they do not go this way now. I must cherish every customer I get. My neck tingled, as if somebody else was looking at me. I turned, but it was just a statue of a young girl holding an Easter basket. The detail was incredible, much better than you see in most garden statues. But something was wrong with her face. It looked as if she were startled, or even terrified."Ah," Aunty Em said sadly. "You notice some of my creations do not turn out well. They are marred. They do not sell. The face is the hardest to get right. Always the face." "You make these statues yourself?" Percy asked. "Oh, yes. Once upon a time, I had two sisters to help me in the business, but they have passed on, and Aunty Em is alone. I have only my statues. This is why I make them, you see. They are my company." The sadness in her voice sounded so deep and so real that I couldn't help feeling sorry for her. Annabeth had stopped eating. She sat forward and said, "Two sisters?" "It's a terrible story," Aunty Em said. "Not one for children, really. You see, Annabeth, a bad woman was jealous of me, long ago, when I was young. I had a... a boyfriend, you know, and this bad woman was determined to break us apart. She caused a terrible accident. My sisters stayed by me. They shared my bad fortune as long as they could, but eventually they passed on. They faded away. I alone have survived, but at a price. Such a price." Annabeth gave me a look of worry. I knew she realized something. "Percy?" I shook him to get his attention. "Maybe we should go. I mean, the ringmaster will be waiting." Grover was eating the waxed paper off the tray now, but if Aunty Em found that strange, she didn't say anything. "Such beautiful gray eyes," Aunty Em told Annabeth again. "My, yes, it has been a long time since I've seen gray eyes like those." She reached out as if to stroke Annabeth's cheek, but Annabeth stood up abruptly. "We really should go." "Yes!" Grover swallowed his waxed paper and stood up. "The ringmaster is waiting! Right!" "Please, dears," Aunty Em pleaded. "I so rarely get to be with children. Before you go, won't you at least sit for a pose?" "A pose?" Annabeth asked warily. "A photograph. I will use it to model a new statue set. Children are so popular, you see. Everyone loves children." Annabeth shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I don't think we can, ma'am. Come on, Percy—" "Sure we can," Percy said. "It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?" "Percy, I don't want to..."  "It's just a photo guys." "Indeed it is just a photo Y/N," the woman purred. "No harm." I could tell Annabeth didn't like it as well, but she allowed Aunty Em to lead us back out the front door, into the garden of statues. Aunty Em directed us to a park bench next to the stone satyr. "Now," she said, "I'll just position you correctly. The young girls in the middle, I think, and the two young gentlemen on either side." "Not much light for a photo," I remarked. But joke's on her I could see quite clearly. Don't look. "Oh, enough," Aunty Em said. "Enough for us to see each other, yes?" "Where's your camera?" Grover asked. Aunty Em stepped back, as if to admire the shot. "Now, the face is the most difficult. Can you smile for me please, everyone? A large smile?" Grover glanced at the cement satyr next to him, and mumbled, "That sure does look like Uncle Ferdinand." "Grover," Aunty Em chastised, "look this way, dear." She still had no camera in her hands. "Percy—" Annabeth said. "I will just be a moment," Aunty Em said. "You know, I can't see you very well in this cursed veil...." "Percy, something's wrong," I insisted. "Wrong?" Aunty Em said, reaching up to undo the wrap around her head. "Not at all, dear. I have such noble company tonight. What could be wrong?" "That is Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover gasped. DON'T LOOK. Annabeth turned to my direction, "Look away from her!" she then shouted. She whipped her Yankees cap onto her head and vanished. Her invisible hands pushed Grover and and I pulled Percy with me. We were on the ground, looking at Aunt Em's sandaled feet. I could hear Grover scrambling off in one direction, Annabeth in another. "Percy, we have to move!" I shook him. But he was too dazed to move. Then I heard a strange, rasping sound above me. My eyes rose to Aunty Em's hands, which had turned gnarled and warty, with sharp bronze talons for fingernails. Percy was about to look higher then her hands and I instinctively covered his eyes. "Don't look!" More rasping—the sound of tiny snakes, right above me, from... from about where Aunty Em's head would be. "Run!" Grover bleated. I heard him racing across the gravel, yelling, "Maia!" to kick-start his flying sneakers. "Percy we have to move please!" "Such a pity to destroy a handsome young face," she said soothingly. "Stay with me, Percy. All you have to do is look up." "Percy please!" Percy pushed my hand away and looked to one side. I turned to look as well and saw one of those glass spheres people put in gardens— a gazing ball. I could see Aunty Em's dark reflection in the orange glass; her headdress was gone, revealing her face as a shimmering pale circle. Her hair was moving, writhing like serpents. Aunty Em. Aunty "M." How did Medusa die in the myth? But I couldn't think. Something told me that in the myth Medusa had been asleep when she was attacked by my namesake, Perseus. She wasn't anywhere near asleep now. If she wanted, she could take those talons right now and rake open my face. "The Gray-Eyed One did this to me," Medusa said, and she didn't sound anything like a monster. Her voice invited me to look up, to sympathize with a poor old grandmother. "Annabeth's mother, the cursed Athena, turned me from a beautiful woman into this." "Don't listen to her!" Annabeth's voice shouted, somewhere in the statuary. "Y/N carry Percy!" "Silence!" Medusa snarled. Then her voice modulated back to a comforting purr. "You see why I must destroy the girl, Percy. She is my enemy's daughter. I shall crush her statue to dust. But you, dear Percy, you need not suffer. We won't even hurt, Y/N." I swung Percy's arm around my shoulder. But he was too heavy.  "No," he muttered trying to make his legs move... "Do you really want to help the gods?" Medusa asked. "Do you understand what awaits you on this foolish quest? What will happen if you reach the Underworld? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue. Less pain. Less pain." "Y/N!" Behind me, I heard a buzzing sound, like a two-hundred-pound hummingbird in a nosedive. Grover yelled, "Duck!" I turned, and there he was in the night sky, flying in from twelve o'clock with his winged shoes fluttering, Grover, holding a tree branch the size of a baseball bat. His eyes were shut tight, his head twitched from side to side. He was navigating by ears and nose alone. "Duck!" he yelled again. "I'll get her!" I tackled Percy to the other side. Thwack! Then Medusa roared with rage. "You miserable satyr," she snarled. "I'll add you to my collection!" "That was for Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover yelled back. Pulling along an out of a dazed Percy we scrambled away and hid in the statuary while Grover swooped down for another pass. Ker-whack! "Arrgh!" Medusa yelled, her snake-hair hissing and spitting. Right next to me, Annabeth's voice said, "Y/N! Percy!" Percy jumped so high his feet nearly cleared a garden gnome. "Jeez! Don't do that!" Annabeth took off her Yankees cap and became visible. 'You have to cut her head off." "What? Are you crazy? Let's get out of here." "Medusa is a menace. She's evil. I'd kill her myself, but..." Annabeth swallowed, as if she were about to make a difficult admission. "But you've got the better weapon. Besides, I'd never get close to her. She'd slice me to bits because of my mother. You—you've got a chance." "What? I can't—" "Look, do you want her turning more innocent people into statues?" She pointed to a pair of statue lovers, a man and a woman with their arms around each other, turned to stone by the monster. Annabeth grabbed a green gazing ball from a nearby pedestal. "A polished shield would be better." She studied the sphere critically. "The convexity will cause some distortion. The reflection's size should be off by a factor of—" "Would you speak English?" "I am!" She tossed him the glass ball. "Just look at her in the glass. Never look at her directly." "Hey, guys!" Grover yelled somewhere above us. "I think she's unconscious!" "Roooaaarrr!" "Maybe not," Grover corrected. He went in for another pass with the tree branch. "Hurry," Annabeth told him. "Grover's got a great nose, but he'll eventually crash." Percy took out his pen and uncapped it. The bronze blade of Riptide showed. He turned to me and gave the glass then offered a hand. "Percy you can't be seriously bring her along!?" "I'll go with him." Taking his hand, we followed the hissing and spitting sounds of Medusa's hair. I raised the glass so I could guide us. I kept my eyes locked on the gazing ball so I would only glimpse Medusa's reflection, not the real thing. Then, in the green tinted glass, I saw her. Grover was coming in for another turn at bat, but this time he flew a little too low. Medusa grabbed the stick and pulled him off course. He tumbled through the air and crashed into the arms of a stone grizzly bear with a painful "Ummphh!" Medusa was about to lunge at him when I yelled, "Hey!" We advanced on her. I had let go of Percy's hand to bring out my knife. So if she charged, I could help Percy. But she let us approach—twenty feet, ten feet. I could see the reflection of her face now. Surely it wasn't really that ugly. The green swirls of the gazing ball must be distorting it, making it look worse. "You wouldn't harm an old woman, Percy," she crooned. "I know you wouldn't." I could tell he hesitated. From the cement grizzly, Grover moaned, "Percy, don't listen to her!" Medusa cackled. "Too late." She lunged at him with her talons. I ran and raised my knife to block her talons, Percy then swung his sword, then we heard a sickening shlock!, then a hiss like wind rushing out of a cavern—the sound of a monster disintegrating. Something fell to the ground next to my foot. It took all my willpower not to look. I could feel warm ooze soaking into my sock, little dying snake heads tugging at my shoelaces. "Oh, yuck," Percy said. His eyes were still tightly closed, but I guess he could hear the thing gurgling and steaming. "Mega-yuck." Annabeth came up next to us, her eyes fixed on the sky. She was holding Medusa's black veil. She said, "Don't move." >Very, very carefully, without looking down, she knelt and draped the monster's head in black cloth, then picked it up. It was still dripping green juice. "Are you okay?" Percy asked me, his voice trembling. "Yeah," I decided. "Why didn't... why didn't the head evaporate?" "Once you sever it, it becomes a spoil of war," she said. "Same as your minotaur horn. But don't unwrap the head. It can still petrify you." Grover moaned as he climbed down from the grizzly statue. He had a big welt on his forehead. His green rasta cap hung from one of his little goat horns, and his fake feet had been knocked off his hooves. The magic sneakers were flying aimlessly around his head. "The Red Baron," Percy said. "Good job, man." He managed a bashful grin. "That really was not fun, though. Well, the hitting-her-with-a-stick part, that was fun. But crashing into a concrete bear? Not fun." He snatched his shoes out of the air. "I didn't know Grover got Luke's shoes."  Percy recapped his sword. "I can't fly." He shrugged.  Together, the four of us stumbled back to the warehouse We found some old plastic grocery bags behind the snack counter and double-wrapped Medusa's head. We plopped it on the table where we'd eaten dinner and sat around it, too exhausted to speak. Finally Percy said, "So we have Athena to thank for this monster?" Annabeth flashed me an irritated look. "Your dad, actually. Don't you remember? Medusa was Poseidon's girlfriend. They decided to meet in my mother's temple. That's why Athena turned her into a monster. Medusa and her two sisters who had helped her get into the temple, they became the three gorgons. That's why Medusa wanted to slice me up, but she wanted to preserve you as a nice statue. She's still sweet on your dad. You probably reminded her of him." "Oh, so now it's my fault we met Medusa." Annabeth straightened. In a bad imitation of my voice, she said: "'It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?'" "Forget it," I said. "You're impossible." "You're insufferable." "You're—" "You're both loud and stupid." I growled. "Yeah!" Grover interrupted. "You two are giving me a migraine, and satyrs don't even get migraines. What are we going to do with the head?" I stared at the thing. One little snake was hanging out of a hole in the plastic. The words printed on the side of the bag said: WE APPRECIATE YOUR BUSINESS! I was angry, not just with Annabeth or her mom, but with all the gods for this whole quest, for getting us blown off the road and in two major fights the very first day out from camp. At this rate, we'd never make it to L.A. alive, much less before the summer solstice. What had Medusa said? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue. Percy and I shared a look. We got up. "I'll be back." "Percy, Y/N," Annabeth called after me. "What are you—" We searched the back of the warehouse until I found Medusa's office. Her account book showed her six most recent sales, all shipments to the Underworld to decorate Hades and Persephone's garden. According to one freight bill, the Underworld's billing address was DOA Recording Studios, West Hollywood, California. I folded up the bill and stuffed it in my pocket. In the cash register I found twenty dollars, a few golden drachmas, and some packing slips for Hermes Overnight Express, each with a little leather bag attached for coins.  "Found one." Percy called. We went back to the picnic table, packed up Medusa's head, and filled out a delivery slip: The Gods >Mount Olympus 600th Floor, >Empire State Building New York, NY With best wishes, PERCY JACKSON <3 Y/N L/N "They're not going to like that," Grover warned. "They'll think you're impertinent." I poured some golden drachmas in the pouch. As soon as I closed it, there was a sound like a cash register. The package floated off the table and disappeared with a pop! "I am impertinent," Percy said. I looked at Annabeth, daring her to criticize. She didn't. She seemed resigned to the fact that we had a major talent for ticking off the gods. "Great, well Fred and George," she muttered. "We need a new plan."
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UwU bb I'm just licherali rippin off now srry -kookie-doughs
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harrysweasleys · 4 years
Text
Saint-Like
Summary: Can you make one where the reader and Fred have been together since their 6th year (goblet of fire era) and now it's time to bring Harry to the Burrow and she goes with them although his protests, and she gets hit and loses something too like also an ear or so and she feels insecure especially at the wedding and when everything is safe she finally explains she is insecure and he comforts her?
Warnings: Blood, death, violence, anxiety, language
Word Count: 5k
A/N: This took me six hours, oh my goodness, So, incase you guys didn’t see my last post, I have a new account called @malfoyswheezes! Also, this isn’t my gif! I got it off of google. :)
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ONE WEEK AGO 
“You know we’re gonna have to go see Harry, right?” Y/N asked Fred as the two of them helped Molly out in the garden, picking out the gnomes and plants that were unwanted, “We have to bring him here.”
Now that Voldemort was out for revenge, everyone knew Harry wasn’t exactly safe anywhere he decided to go. Arthur and Remus Lupin had decided that bringing Harry to the Weasley home was the safest bet, and so after Harry persuaded his aunt, uncle and cousin to move to safety, the Order would swoop in and safely bring him over.
“I know,” Fred nodded, wiping soot off of his forehead, “You can stay here and prepare for Harry’s arrival with mum and Ginny. Help out for the wedding and whatnot. It won’t be long.”
Y/N shook her head, “Like hell. I’m coming with you.”
She knew Fred was a strong enough wizard to handle any situation thrown his way, she didn’t doubt him in the slightest, but Harry was her friend too and she was dead set on guiding him to safety.
“No, you’re not,” Fred crossed his arms, looking down at her, “I get why you want to, but no.”
“You’re not my parent, Fred Weasley,” Y/N scoffed, “If I want to go, I’ll go. You’re not going to lock me in my room and tell me to sit still while you’re all out there risking your lives for someone I also happen to care a great deal about.”
Fred dropped his head, knowing that Y/N’s stubbornness was going to get the best of her. He had always wanted to make sure she was safe and out of harm’s way, but she constantly persuaded him to let her go straight into the line of fire. It had gotten worse since Voldemort’s return. Y/N only wanted to look after her friends, and the people she had grown to call her family.
“C’mon, Freddie,” she pouted her lip, knowing she’d crack him, “Let me come help.”
“Fine,” Fred sighed, “But at least stick by my side, yeah?”
“Promise.”
---
PRESENT
The Order stood around what used to be the Dursley’s living room, each about to drink some of the Polyjuice Potion that would turn them into Harry while Harry himself stood watching them all, nervous as hell about his friends turning into him. He was the one the Dark Lord wanted, after all.
“I can smell it from here,” Y/N gagged, tying her hair back in preparation for her transformation. After Fred and George took their sips, they passed it to her. She hesitated before taking a sip of the foul potion, already feeling her insides churning and twisting. She grimaced, clenching her fists as she felt herself transforming into an unfamiliar body, her hair shortening and her face becoming wider. 
She suddenly felt as if her tank top was too tight, and as she opened her eyes, noticed that she had indeed turned into the one and only Harry Potter.
“Wow! We’re identical!” Fred and George looked at each other, both looking like Harry as well.
“Not yet, you’re not,” Moody pointed to their clothing before tossing over a large garbage bag full of multiple items of clothing, all the same. They all walked over, picking up a shirt, sweater, and pair of pants. 
“Oh, Y/N, I’ve never been more attracted to you,” Fred — as Harry — smirked in her direction. She shook her head, a smile on her lips.
“Guess you better date Harry then,” she retaliated, crossing her arms over her now-flat chest. 
“By the looks of it, I already am,” Fred said, wiggling his eyebrows and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She laughed, shrugging it off, not used to the image of Harry being so close to her. She knew it was Fred, but it was still weird. 
“Haven’t got anything more sporting, do you?” George eyed the brown pair of pants.
“Yeah, I don’t really fancy this colour,” Fred picked out a shirt and shook it off before putting it on.
Moody glared at the two, looking away as everyone started to change. Y/N took off her clothing, feeling awfully uncomfortable at the fact that she was no longer in her own body. It was her first, and hopefully last time, drinking Polyjuice. She changed into the shirt, sweater and pants before looking around and realizing she had no idea who was who. Everyone was just Harry. 
“Right then, we’re pairing off, each Potter will have their own protector,” Moody turned around once more to face the group, looking around and prepared to pair everyone off. 
Y/N, unsure of who she was next to at this point, grabbed a hand of one of the Harrys and decided he was going to be the one she’d take off with.
“My own brother,” Fred’s voice came from the other side of the room, eyes on Y/N’s hand intertwined with the Harry next to her.
“Whose hand am I holding?” she asked, looking at the person next to her.
“George, of course,” he grinned, “The better looking twin, if you ask me.”
“Well, right now you look like Harry so I wouldn’t be so sure,” she joked, taking her hand away from him.
“Thanks,” the real Harry’s voice came from somewhere amongst the group. You smiled at him, apologizing, and then turned to Fred, also apologizing for picking the wrong person.  
“Right. George and Y/N, Mundungus, you stick to me,” Moody glared around the room, “As for Harry—”
“Yes?” the entire room asked, each stopping their movements to look at Moody.
“The real Harry,” he rolled his eyes, but the real Harry came forward, “You’ll ride with Hagrid.”
As the chaos of getting dressed died down, Y/N walked over to Fred, “Sorry, Freddie. I know I promised I’d stick by your side, but we’ll be alright, right?”
Fred sighed, placing his hand on her shoulder, “Yeah, we’ll be alright. I’ve got dad, he knows what he’s doing. Wouldn’t be so sure about Georgie.”
“Hey,” George piped up, offence in his voice. 
She wanted to kiss him, but as he was Harry, she didn’t feel like she could, so she pulled him into a hug — ignoring Moody’s comment about ‘stupid sentiment’ — and told him she’d see him when they arrived at the Burrow.
The group made their way outside, careful not to be spotted by the neighbours as a large group of people who all looked identical — on broomsticks, at that — might raise suspicion. 
“This way, your highness,” George grabbed Y/N’s forearm and dragged her over to their brooms, trying to keep her from running off to Fred like she wanted to. She was worried that something might go wrong and she wouldn’t be with him when it did. She hated being apart from him. 
“Thanks, your majesty,” she laughed, mounting her broom next to George. He rolled his eyes at her and got on his. Y/N looked over to Fred once more, giving him a nod and a smile, which he retaliated, before looking forwards again and ready to take off.
Moody counted down from three, and the group took off. Despite the intensity in the air, Y/N smiled at the wind blowing into her face, not used to the fact that her long hair wasn’t whisking into her vision as she took off into the night sky. 
The beginning of the journey was uneventful, they had passed over London — Y/N pointed out all the buildings and landmarks to George — and the burrow was only getting closer and closer. 
“Blimey, what is that?” George’s voice caught her attention and she looked forwards, noticing that through the clouds, flashes of lightning seemed to be moving closer and closer to them. Rumbles of thunder shook her broom, causing her heart to catch in her throat. She took her want out of her waistband, gripping onto it tightly and preparing for the fight that was bound to happen.
As Y/N and George made their way into the clearing, wizards and witches on brooms were flying around all over the place, green and red blasts coming out of wands left and right. 
Death Eaters. 
Y/N tried looking around to see if any other Harrys were in the area, but the constant ‘whoosh’ of a passing broom made her lose her focus. Bodies were flying and falling everywhere, it was nearly impossible to make out anyone’s faces. She stuck by George, the two of them trying to figure out what the hell they were going to do.
“Avada Kedavra!” she turned to her left, spotting a grubby looking wizard pointing their wand to Moody, who caught the full blast, falling off of his broom, lifeless.
“NO!” Y/N wanted to go catch him, but she knew he was gone. His coat flailed as he continued falling, disappearing into the thick cloud below him. 
“Come on, Y/N,” George waved his hand, signalling her to follow him. She did as she was told, ducking down as spells passed over her head. George swerved around the Death Eaters, Y/N in tow and trying her best to keep an eye out for the others. 
“Stupefy!”
A flash of light came barrelling into her vision, and within a second, she found herself falling. She was no longer on her broom, the lights of the city below seemingly getting closer and closer. She was falling at a much quicker pace then it seemed. She could feel the wet clouds surrounding her as she continued on to her eventual death. 
This wasn’t how she wanted to go. 
She closed her eyes, the brisk wind numbing her fingers and nose.
“Y/N!” George swooped down below her, catching her hand and pulling her aboard his broom. She wasn’t even thinking, it had all happened so quickly. She wasn’t dying anymore, she was safe. George had saved her. 
She wrapped her arms around his waist, but kept her wand ready to use. 
“Thanks, Georgie,” Y/N shouted to him, keeping her eyes focused on her surroundings, grateful beyond words that George caught her before she could plummet to her death. 
"Stupefy!” she pointed her wand at a passing Death Eater, knocking him off his broom and instead, sending him plummeting down to the solid ground below. 
“Expelliarmus!” she pointed her wand once more, missing completely as she was then blocked by a large cloud which cut off her view from the Death Eater she had her eye on. 
It felt as if they were out of harm’s way. No one was around them, and the clouds were too thick to be spotted. She wanted to go back and personally attack each and every single one of Voldemort’s goons, but she knew that their mission was to get Harry safely to the burrow. She didn’t even know where Harry and Hagrid were. 
As the cloud cleared and a few more Death Eaters came into view, that’s when she knew it was too late. A blinding flash of light hit her and George from the left, whizzing right past both of their heads, and pain flooded throughout her entire body. 
“Ah, shit,” she groaned, noticing that George had been hit with the same curse. He was bleeding profusely from the left side of his head, his eyes screwed shut as he gripped the broom with white knuckles.
“Get to the burrow,” Y/N winced, placing her left hand over the bleeding ear, the pain becoming worse by the passing second. The grey sweater was starting to become stained red, and she could feel it matting her hair down to her skin. 
George nodded, and Y/N tried her best to remove her sweater and place it against his head, helping him out as he was too busy flying to stop the blood flow. He couldn’t lose too much blood or he’d be in danger. 
She managed to do so, and she ripped it in half using one hand and her teeth, holding one half to George’s head and the others to hers, leaning it against her shoulder and tilting her head to the side, putting as much pressure as she could.
She could see her vision becoming fuzzier, so much that she didn’t even notice the Polyjuice potion wearing off. Her hair became longer, she could feel it getting caught in the blood, and she could see her fingers become thinner, still covered in blood. 
As George lowered the broom, the burrow came into sight. The two of them were too focused on the pain to notice if anyone else had arrived. 
Fred was going to freak out when he found out both his twin and girlfriend had been attacked. 
George landed the broom and the two of them stumbled off, Molly noticing them immediately and rushing over.
Y/N could swear she saw Harry and Hagrid, but her vision felt too blurry for her to be sure. Molly and Ginny grabbed Y/N and George, ushering them inside to tend to their matched wounds. 
“How are you feeling? How many fingers am I holding?” Molly asked as she placed Y/N down on the dingy couch next to George, the two of them in the same state. 
“Like my brain is oozing out my ear,” Y/N’s grin turning into a wince as Molly placed a wet towel to the side of her head, “Where’s Fred?”
“He’s not back yet,” Ginny said from over on your right where she was tending to George’s ear. 
A loud bang sounded from outside, and within seconds, Lupin came rushing in the front door to check on who was already here. He noticed Y/N and George on the couch, bloodied, but turned his attention to Harry real quick. 
Harry got the wind knocked out of him as Lupin pushed him up against the fireplace, asking him personal questions to see if it was the real him. Y/N couldn’t hear the questions really well, her mind too focused on the pain and whether Fred was alright. 
“You good, Georgie?” she mumbled turning to face him, trying her best to smile.
“Yeah, you?” his eyes looked heavy, but he seemed in a good mood despite the pain he was also in. 
Y/N was about to answer but Lupin’s words caught her off guard, “We’ve been betrayed. Voldemort knew we were being moved tonight. I had to make sure you weren’t an imposter.”
Y/N shared a look with Molly, everyone in the house looking more worried than before, guessing who the imposter might have been. Another whooshing sound was heard from outside, and Lupin rushed out to check whoever had arrived. 
As Lupin rushed out, Y/N tried to squint and see through the window, noticing that Shacklebolt and Lupin were now pointing wands at one another, quizzing the other to make sure they were both legit. But there was still no Fred in sight. 
More whooshing sounds signalled that more and more groups were arriving.
Please be okay, Fred, please be okay.
Y/N felt George tap her on the wrist, “It’s Fred, he’s fine. You think he’d go off and die when he’s still got you? Nah.”
Y/N giggled slightly, letting her head fall back on the couch, “Sorry ‘bout the couch, Mrs Weasley.” The tattered orange couch was getting stained with both their bloods, and that was hard to wash out. 
“Oh, don’t worry about it dear,” she smiled at you before walking over to check on George. 
“Where are George and Y/N?” Y/N’s eyes widened as she heard Arthur’s faint voice outside, but there was no response to his question. Footsteps got louder outside the door, and within a moment, Fred appeared in the entrance. 
His heart stopped at the sight of the two of them injured on the couch. Y/N had to strongly resist the urge to jump into his arms and never let go, but her body felt weaker than it had ever felt before. 
His face paled and he rushed over to the two of them, placing a hand on both of their knees. 
“Y/N — Georgie, how are you two feeling? What happened?” he asked, his voice shaky. 
“Reckon it was Sectumsempra,” Y/N spoke up, lifting her head off the couch and smiling down at him, “I feel like a milllion Galleons.”
Fred smiled at her, relief on his face, “What about you, Georgie?”
“Saint-like,” George muttered. 
Fred furrowed hie eyebrows, “Come again?”
“Saint-like. Get it? I’m holy, Fred,” George pointed to his missing ear, “So is she. We now have a combined two ears.”
Y/N laughed, leaning her head back on the couch. Whatever Molly had pressed up against her ear had helped with the pain, and made her incredibly drowsy. 
“A whole wide world of ear related humour and you go for ‘I’m holy’ — that’s pathetic,” Fred chuckled, leaning his head against Y/N’s knee. She lifted her hand and ran it through Fred’s hair, letting him know she was okay. 
“Reckon I’m still better looking than you,” George joked, letting his eyes close. 
Y/N giggled once more, turning her attention to Bill, who walked into the room with a gloomy expression.
“Mad-Eye’s dead,” he said slowly, looking at Lupin. Y/N thought back to watching Moody fall off of his broom and her heart sunk even further.
The room fell silent. Harry clenched his jaw, and Lupin sat down, his head in his hands, tugging at his hair in frustration. Y/N knew him and Moody had grown to become good friends, she couldn’t imagine how he must be feeling. 
Bill continued on, talking about how Mundungus had taken off after seeing Voldemort, and Y/N’s heart sank even further. The situation had somehow felt so much more real than it did an hour ago. She could see the guilt on Harry’s face. Of course he was blaming himself, he always did. 
“Well,” Arthur spoke up, startling Y/N, “we should all get cleaned up and go to bed. Best not to dwell.”
The group murmured in agreement, everyone going their separate ways without talking to each other. Fred picked his head up and looked at the two of them on the couch. 
“Do you guys need anything?” he asked, eyes darting over to the kitchen, “Water? Tea? Food?”
“I’d like my ear back,” Y/N smirked, making Fred shake his head. 
“I second that,” George responded, laughter in his voice. 
“You guys really are something,” Fred muttered, sitting up and walking over to get them both some water. 
Y/N turned to face him, “Learned from you, my love.”
Fred felt his cheeks flush at the name, walking back over to them with two full glasses of cold water. George downed his instantly, but Y/N didn’t touch hers. She could feel the pain creeping up her neck, she didn’t feel like drinking and making it worse. She noticed Fred’s eyes scanning the gash on her head, and insecurity suddenly flowed over her body. 
She hadn’t thought about the long term effects. She’d probably have damage to her hearing, and the left side of her head would never really look normal again. She lifted the face cloth and held it against the side of her head, preventing Fred from looking at it. The last thing she wanted was for him to think of her as weak, that she couldn’t handle a small battle wound. 
Molly finished wrapping up George’s head with a bandage, making sure it was on tight so he would be able to sleep without worrying about bleeding everywhere. He bid the two goodnight and took off to his room, a stumble in his step.
Molly started working on bandaging up Y/N, being careful not to cause too much pain. Fred held her hand, letting her squeeze it when the pain became too much. Nearly ten minutes later, Y/N’s head was securely wrapped and the pain had slowly start to become a dull throb. 
“Thank you, Mrs Weasley,” Y/N gave a tired smile, and Molly placed a hand gently on her shoulder, saying goodnight and taking off to bed. 
Fred finally got up off the floor and sat on her right, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close to him, placing kisses all over the non-bloody side of her face. 
“You scared the bloody hell out of me,” he said between kisses, causing her to giggle at the ticklish feeling. 
Y/N leaned into his touch, “Sorry, Freddie. George did save my life though.”
“And that’s why I was worried about you coming on this mission,” he stopped kissing her face and looked at her seriously. It was rare he showed his serious side around her, the two were usually joking around, so she knew he wasn’t in the joking mood right now. 
“I can handle myself,” she said, suddenly feeling defensive. She didn’t want to be belittled, especially not by Fred. 
“I know you can, love, but I can’t always look after you when we’re doing things like this and I hate it,” he said softly, running his fingers through her hair. 
She wanted to pull away and continue to argue, but she couldn’t find the energy, “Fred, I went through the same schooling as you. We’re the same age. I’m a good witch, I can’t just sit back quietly and never use my abilities.”
“I’m not saying you should, I just get so worried when you willingly go out there and risk your life,” he tried reasoning with her, but she took it personally. She knew he worried, so did she, but worry wasn’t a reason to sit back and live life in hiding.
“What? And I don’t get worried when you do the same?” she pressed on, ignoring how heavy her eyelids were feeling. 
“Love, just go to sleep,” he pressed another gentle kiss on her jaw, resting his head against the back of the couch. Sudden exhaustion wiped over her and she felt herself dozing off.
She didn’t remember if she had continued to speak — all she knew was that she dreamt of green flashes and distant screams. 
---
The next few days before the wedding, Y/N’s insecurities about her ear got bigger and bigger. While George made jokes and stuck things in the new hole on the side of his head, Y/N covered it with bandages and her hair every chance she could get. She was growing sick of people asking her how she was feeling, and was starting to get fed up of Fred doing everything for her. She appreciated his help — she really lacked energy — but she didn’t want to feel useless. She didn’t want people to see her as weaker because she had been hit with a curse. 
She had spent the last few days helping Molly with gardening, preparing flowers and food for Bill and Fleur’s wedding that was happening tomorrow. Cooking had helped take Y/N’s mind off her injury as Molly was too stressed about making everything perfect to pester her about how she was feeling every second of the day. 
The boys were outside, constructing the gigantic white tent that would be covering nearly a hundred people at this time tomorrow. Ginny and Hermione were out finding dresses — Y/N passed up on going to avoid people staring at her — but they promised they’d pick up one for her as well. 
As dark clouds swarmed in and rain drops began falling, the men came indoors to warm up and take a break, crashing on the couch and armchairs in the living room.
Y/N pulled the pies out of the oven and placed them next to the open window to cool down, jumping out of her skin when Fred’s arms wrapped around her waist. 
“Fred! I was carrying hot stuff,” Y/N whacked his arm, squealing once he picked her up off the ground.
“Now I’m carrying hot stuff,” he smirked, placing her back down and kissing her forehead. Y/N was lucky that the dark clouds took away some of the light in the room as her cheeks flushed red at his compliment.
“How’s the ear?” he asked, looking over the bandage quickly.
“Still gone,” she muttered, turning away from him. He seemed to sense she didn’t want to talk about it so he dropped the subject, complimenting how wonderful it smelled in the house. 
He had been worried about her lately, he knew that it bothered her more than she let on. 
On the other hand, Y/N was thankful for the change in topic as everyone barrelled into the kitchen to see what was smelling so nice. She had to keep swatting at Ron’s hand so he wouldn’t eat everything. 
“I’m starving, making a massive tent is hard work,” he’d repeat to her each time she scolded him. 
The wedding preparations seemed to all be right on schedule, and Bill and Fleur were ecstatic. 
---
The day of the wedding rolled around and the dim sunlight had been just the weather Fleur wanted. There was a warm summer breeze that flowed through the air as the guys were back outside, lifting the tent and doing last minute preparations. 
Y/N fell in love with the yellow dress Hermione and Ginny had picked out. It was flowy and light, perfect for the warmth outside. She had gotten dressed rather quickly, but her main struggle was her hair. She wanted to have it up and out of the way incase she did some dancing, but as soon as it was tied, her bandaged ear was on full display. 
She stared at herself in the mirror, her face showing no signs of excitement. She let her hair fall loose, the messy curls having no sort of rhythm. The yellow dress, despite being gorgeous, felt far too cheerful for how she was really feeling.
A knock at the door made her jump out of her skin, “Come in!”
She adjusted her hair, covering up her ear and turning to face the person who walked in. Fred, donned in a waistcoat that matched her dress, wore a gentle smile on his face as he walked over to her.
“Hi, love,” he wrapped his arms around her waist, “You look amazing. Like a Filibuster Firework.”
“Is that the best compliment you got?” she giggled, poking him in the side. 
“You know I love Filibuster Fireworks,” he said, a small smirk on his lips, “But I thought you were tying your hair up, no?”
She reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her right ear, “Oh — yeah, I changed my mind.”
“Why?” he asked, twirling a strand around his finger, “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”
She shrugged, feeling awkward, “Dunno, just through it suited the dress better, I guess.”
Fred could tell she wasn’t being entirely truthful, so he dropped his hand from her hair and placed it on the left side of her face, “Are you hiding your ear?”
Y/N’s head snapped up to look at him, her mouth hanging open slightly. Yes, she had been hoping to hide it, but she thought she was being a little more sly about it.
“You’re a terrible liar, love,” Fred’s other hand rubbed up and down her arm, goosebumps rising under his touch. 
She knew he’d catch on. She had always told him about her insecurities and he always made her feel better. Something felt different this time, it felt more permanent, so she figured telling him wouldn’t really have helped her. But as he stood there, gazing into her eyes with concern and love, she felt like an idiot for not telling him. 
“Yeah,” she whispered, looking back down to her feet. 
Fred placed his hand under her chin and lifted her head to look at him. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were glossy. 
“There’s no reason to be insecure about it,” he told her, “First of all, no one is judging you. Secondly, it’s cool as hell that you have a battle scar. I didn’t get any, I’m the lame one.” Y/N giggled, letting a tear streak down her cheek before she wiped it away quickly. 
“I’m serious,” his voice was soft, “Don’t hide it. I think it’s awesome. Sure, I’d have preferred it didn’t happen, but it’s still cool. Besides, you can always make up some epic story about how you got it.”
“I think the real story is epic enough,” Y/N chuckled, leaning her head against Fred’s chest. 
He nodded, “Yeah, that’s true. Look, please don’t spend the rest of the evening trying to hide it. I get to show off that my girlfriend’s a badass.”
He pressed another gentle kiss to her temple and pulled away, placing his hands on her shoulders and looking her up and down, “Now, shall we get downstairs, my lady?”
“Let’s,” Y/N grinned, locking her arm with his. The two made their way downstairs, Y/N feeling much better about her appearance thanks to Fred. She got to the bottom, smiling kindly at Arthur and George who were talking in the kitchen.
“Hey, my other half,” George winked at her, causing her to chuckle and toss her hair over her shoulder, pointing to her ear and nodding.
“Hey, she’s my other half,” Fred pouted, gripping her shoulder and pulling her closer to him. George laughed, noticing that everyone was starting to sit down outside. 
“We should get out there,” he nodded towards the door and the four of them made their way outside. Y/N linked her hand in Fred’s and the pair took their seats next to the rest of his family. 
Every now and then, Fred would lean over and whisper in her ear, telling her how gorgeous she was. She’d blush every time, hiding her face in her hair and nudging him. 
Although it would take some time getting used to, she knew that with Fred by her side, she’d be able to get through it. After all, he knew how to cheer her up no matter what the situation. And she was the luckiest woman alive. 
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