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harlowsbby · 1 year

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Song association

“What? You literally cheated Jack, you’re a cheater you cheated!!” Being on the road all day had its ups and downs and finding ways to keep everyone entertained before arriving to your next destination was hard until you discovered a certain game.

“What? I didn’t cheat you’re just mad I grabbed the stuffed animal first!” Jack yelled back at you, Neelam sighed and rubbed her forehead she felt bad for the driver.

Ace and You thought it was a brilliant idea to play a game called song association while waiting for the time to fly. The minute you started the game you instantly regretted it.

Song association is a game where someone plays a quick snippet of a song and the two players going against one another have to say the artist singing the song in order to win a point.

Right now, it was Jack and You up against each other, each opponent goes up to ten points and the winner who teaches ten points first goes on to the next round.

“Okay since the both of you are tied one last round and the winner goes against Urban.”

Ace scrolled through Neelam’s playlist before picking on Doja Cat’s song Say So, the minute the melody started playing you already knew the song but of course Jack with his long arms was able to grab the stuffed animal first.

He froze for a second not really remembering who sung this song. “See you don’t even know the song and you grabbed the bear.”

“It is.. is this in the party by flo milli?” He asked you as well as Neelam both started laughing there was no way he was being serious.

“Jack, are you kidding me, right? We totally just lost.” Urban told him, you happily took the bear from Jack before answering. “This song is Say So by Doja Cat, am I correct Urban?” Your eyes shimmered with glee when he told you that you were of course right.

“You only one because I don’t listen to Doja Cat like that but if it did trust I would’ve won baby.”

“You’re just a sore loser and you know it but who do I go against now?”

“That’ll be me baby you know I know anything and everything about music.” Druski came from behind you and Jack and Urban cheered.

“Yeah, everything about rap music and we aren’t doing any rap songs.” You told him. “Besides the girls are ahead and the guy’s well you guys need to catch up.”

“What’s the score again?” Druski asked Neelam.

“The girls have a total of ten and the guys have a total of eight, whoever gets to fifteen points first wins.”

“What the hell? Have you two even been trying?” Druski asked Urban and Jack.

“I mean we’ve tried but it’s hard trying to think of a song and the artist within a matter of seconds.” Jack tried to defend himself and Urban, but Druski wasn’t trying to hear it.

“Alright well we need to catch up and quickly, so Neelam plays the next song.” Neelam did exactly that surprisingly Drusk was beating you he was naming the song and artist like it was nothing to him and before you knew it the two of you were tied fourteen to fourteen.

“Wow looks like someone caught up quickly, are you getting scared Y/N? You scared me and the boys are going to win.” Druski taunted you making you roll your eyes.

“Oh, please I would’ve won a long time ago if it wasn’t for you joining the team, besides I bet money I win the final round.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that but enough chit chat Neelam, I need you to play the last and final song.” Druski told her and she nodded before skimming through her playlist trying to find the perfect song that’ll have you both thinking.

After a few minutes she finally picked the perfect song the introduction for A thousand miles started playing, you looked at Neelam with your eyebrows furrowed.

“What song is this?” You asked her and her mouth immediately flew open. “You know this song Y/N it’s from a classic movie that everyone loves and dresses up for on Halloween.”

“That’s cheating you can’t give out hints!” Urban yelled and Jack agreed with him.

“Fine! But someone needs to answer before the timer runs out.” Druski quickly snatched the stuffed animal that laid on the table before answering the question.

“This song is A Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carlton and the only reason I know this song just like anybody else should know is became it came from the best movie ever, White Chicks.” He states proudly before smiling.

“What? You didn’t even need to name the song you’re just fucking extra.” You pouted. “You know I had to double it.” He stuck his tongue out you poured and went and flopped on the couch.

“I’m sorry you didn’t win baby but I guess you just have to do better next time.”

“The only reason you three won was because Neelam picked the easiest song she should’ve done Adele or something.” You were a sore loser you absolutely hated losing you’ve been like since a child.

“Don’t forget the bet Y/N you have to do whatever Jack and I say for the next 24 hours.” Urban reminded you.

“Like I don’t do that already?” You told him but weren’t about to be sore and cry about it for the next 24 hours you sadly did anything and everything they said and got them anything they wanted.

“Oh baby if you don’t mind can you actually make me some chicken I kinda want some chicken and broccoli for dinner, what do you think Urban?” Jack asked Urban in a taunting tone, you stood behind them an annoyed look displayed on your face.

“Actually some chicken and broccoli sounds wonderful Jack, I’m trying to watch my figure anyways.”

“Oh and maybe a bit of peanut butter on the side you know that’s how I like it baby.” You gave them both a tight smile.

“Of course anything for you two.”

“Thank you baby but before you go can I get a kiss?” He puckered up his lips. “Sure you can have a kiss but close your eyes.” He smiled and closed his eyes waiting for you to kiss up, you quickly picked up your dog Chloe and brought her close to Jack’s lips.

“Are you ready Jack?” “I’m always ready for some kisses by you baby.” You bit your lip as you brought Chloe closer to Jack’s lips before having her kiss his lips.

“Damn baby you have literally so much lip gloss on.” You couldn’t help but to burst into a fit of laughter Jack opened his eyes and that’s when he noticed Chloe in your hands.

“I know you didn’t Y/N.”

“Oh but I did Jackman. That’s what you get for bossing me around I’m done being your little servant Urban and You can both kick rocks.” You stomped up the stairs before slamming the door shut.

“So I guess we aren’t getting any chicken?” Urban asked Jack who was busy cleaning his lips off.

“Urban shut up.”

( something I did for fun 💗 )

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x you

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shes-homeward-bound · 1 year

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Visions of Burning Skies | Chapter 1: The Reaping

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader

Chapters: 1/?

Warnings: violence, depictions of death, swearing

People protect who they love, even if it means dying for them. This is one of the many things Y/n Dovecote thinks about when her little brother gets called up to the stage with her. She's fierce and determined. She'll do anything to protect him, but sometimes, the odds are never in your favor

Read in A03 (I have more chapters updated in ao3)

Chapter 1: The Reaping

The air is hot and stagnant, the only reprieve the crowd gets is when the cool sea breeze wafts into the makeshift stage in front of the justice building. Once Ophelia Gaul in her ridiculous sparkly teal wig opens her mouth to say the opening remarks, you tune her out. This is your last year to be eligible for the games and you certainly weren’t going to miss standing amongst a sea of anxious children. Last year you watched the tributes from your district freeze to death and you knew this terrified all the people who wanted to volunteer. Their deaths had nothing to do with how good of a fighter they were, District 4 tributes were ill-equipped with survival skills and the majority realized that.

Scanning the stage, you notice the victors who were seated on the stage. The victors consist of Mags an elderly lady who was the only female victor and a couple of male victors next to her. Two of them were middle-aged and the other two were younger but it was the youngest who caught your eye. Finnick Odair. You used to go to school with him and would see him working in the docks. You used to be friendly with each other but after he won he completely changed and didn’t keep in contact with his old schoolmates. Naturally, he stopped working in the docks after his win and spent a lot of time in the capitol. He was still as handsome as ever but from what you’ve heard about him, his ego, and endless lovers, it was probably better if you didn’t have a character like him in your life.

You scan the crowd to see where your parents were standing and you could see your father wringing his hands. He hates the games, and he used to think that being a tribute was an honor but when his best friend was killed in the arena, he hates the Capitol for taking him away. Your family wasn’t wealthy enough to send their kids to the academy but he made sure his children worked hard and knew how to fight with spears, knives, and a trident. You look at the boys’ section and almost immediately you catch the eye of your younger brother Alon. Even though he was a strong and sturdy 15-year-old kid, the moment he looks at you with big doe eyes, your older sibling instincts kick in.

“It’s going to be okay,” you mouth at him. “I promise.”

“I hope so,” he mouths back.

You turn your attention to the big screen and catch the ending of the video the capitol shows every year that recites the history of Panem and why the districts were punished for rebelling. Ophelia applauds and the crowd politely claps back.

“Now for the moment we’ve all been waiting for, it is time to pick this year's female tribute!” said Ophelia as she briskly walked to the giant bowl that held our names. With a flair, she plucks a card and walks back to the mic stand. Everyone around you holds their breath as Ophelia painstakingly opens the card.

“Y/N Dovecote!”

You feel like you got punched in the gut, you couldn’t tell if you weren’t breathing or hyperventilating. The girls around you give space as peacekeepers approach your shocked figure, seeing the state you were in, one of the peacekeepers put a firm hand on your arm as they led you toward the stage. You whip your head toward the direction of your parents and you could see your mother with her hands over her mouth and your father standing stoic, you know he was fuming on the inside.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let us give Miss Y/N Dovecote a round of applause!” said Ophelia. Now walking towards the glass bowl that held the male names, your stomach lurches as your reality is finally settling in. You never thought you would get reaped in a million years, you scan the crowd hoping that some proud girl with a giant ego was going to volunteer for you but no one dares to move or raise their voice. Just like you predicted, there weren’t going to be any volunteers this year.

Clearing her throat, Ophelia slowly opens the card. “Alon Dovecote!”

Your jaw drops as you look at Ophelia who also looked between you and the card in shock. You see the peacekeepers moving in to escort your brother to the stage. Before you could think about it, you were already screaming. “No! Someone volunteer for him! Someone volunteer!”

Your pleas for help were ignored as the older boys put their heads down to avoid making eye contact. You start stomping over toward the boy's side of the stage but are quickly stopped by peacekeepers. Realizing your actions may affect you badly in the future, you calm yourself down as you helplessly watch your brother walk up to the stage and stand next to you.

Taken aback by the announcement of someone who shares your last name, Ophelia snaps out of it and enthusiastically introduces Alon to the crowd and cameras. “If I’m not mistaken, you two are siblings!”

You numbly nod.

Taking your hand and Alon’s hand on her other, Ophelia raises her arms triumphantly. “May I present to you the tributes for the 69th Hunger Games, District 4’s Y/N Dovecote and Alon Dovecote!”

You look over at your little brother and he looks at you with glazed eyes, he was in shock. Steeling yourself and fighting back the tears, you gave him a firm nod. You did promise him that everything was going to be okay and you were prepared to make that his reality.

—

The peacekeepers bring you inside the justice building and put you and Alon in separate rooms. After a few minutes of waiting you could hear your older cousins' frantic voices outside the door. It bursts open and you fly into their arms as you start to sob, you couldn’t believe the bad luck your family was experiencing.

“Where’s my mom and dad?” you ask through your tears.

“They’re with Alon right now, the peacekeepers said we could switch in a few minutes.” you nod as Mariana looks at you with pain in her eyes. You knew exactly what she was thinking as you watched her memorize the details on your face. Her twin, Marlo stood next to you shaking his head in disbelief with tears threatening to stream down his face. You, Alon, and your cousins Mariana and Marlo grew up with each other and were basically your older siblings. Even though you were already family, the 4 of you were tight-knit and had a bond that only the best of friends could share.

Grabbing both of their hands, you command their attention. “I’m going to make sure Alon wins. No matter what, I will make sure he comes back home.”

“It’s not fair! You have a chance of winning the games, you’re strong and good with knives, but with Alon getting reaped…” choking up, Marlo couldn’t finish the sentence.

You can only nod. “I know.”

“Make strong allies, learn survival skills, practice new weapons… I don’t know! I just need you guys to make it till the end,” said Mariana as she clenches her fists. “They can’t just put two siblings in the arena, that’s too much!” her voice rose to a yell. “Maybe the mayor could speak to Ophelia or the president!”

You shush her. “You’re going to get in trouble if you talk like that in public! The only way out of this was for someone to volunteer for Alon and that didn’t happen. They’re going through with it, after all, we just made the hunger games much more interesting.”

A peacekeeper knocks on the door and tells you to finish up. They hug you tight knowing it was the last time. Your cousins knew you were going to fight to the death to make sure your younger brother comes back home.

“Just in case something happens, I need you to promise me you’ll take care of my parents,” you requested.

“Of course,” replies Mariana tearfully.

Shortly after they leave, the door opens to reveal your mother's splotchy red face, the moment she makes eye contact with you, sobs wracked her body. Your father was behind her and also looked like a mess. They had just said goodbye to their only son and now they were going to say goodbye to their daughter. As they hold you in their arms, you relish the warmth they provide you.

Now firmly holding your shoulders, your father looks at you sternly. “You’re smart and a good fighter. Use your wisdom and skills and the other tri-”

You cut him off. “Dad, you don’t have to do that, I know what I have to do. I’m going to make sure Alon gets back to you and mom.”

Your dad falters. “We can’t ask you to do that, it’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair but I’m the eldest and I will make sure Alon gets out of that arena alive. I will use everything you taught me and I will do everything I can to make Alon a victor,” you said bluntly.

“It’s so cruel,” whispers your mother as she strokes your face. “My babies don’t deserve this.”

Not knowing what to say you just hug your parents tight. No one said anything as you held each other knowing that this was the last time you would be together. You cried freely with your cousins but with your parents, they were already devastated, you couldn’t let them see you like this. Your father and another peacekeeper have to pry you and your mother apart, as they lead you out of the room to a car that would bring you to the train station.

Seated next to Ophelia was your brother Alon. You lunge to hug Alon and Ophelia shrinks back to give you space, she wasn’t used to her tributes wanting to interact with each other. After arriving at the train station, you are ushered inside, and Ophelia gives you a little tour. District 4 was one of the wealthiest districts and you never went hungry but the level of opulence this train held was something you have never experienced. Ophelia offers you refreshments but you don’t have the appetite, you just need to sit down and process everything that happened.

Sinking into one of the velvet blue chairs, you press your palms over your eyes trying to relieve the tension that was building. After a few moments of silence, you look over at your brother. “How did this happen to us?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Alon curls onto your side just like he used to do when he was younger. “It’s not fair. Mom and dad don’t deserve this, we don’t deserve this!” he starts crying and you have no idea what to say so you just pat his arm.

The train doors open and the sight of Finnick, Mags, and a man in his 40s make you and Alon stand up to greet them. With a flourish, Ophelia presents your mentors.

“These are your mentors Mags Flanagan, Finnick Odair, and Nyle Monti. They are going to help you train and hone your skills for the games. They will be the ones to gather sponsors that will help you in the arena.” says Ophelia. Gesturing towards you and your brother, she looks hopefully to the mentors. “They’re a strong pair this year, I can tell.”

Finnick sticks his hand out towards Alon and introduces himself to your brother. His eyes meet yours and you notice that spark in his eye that he had when you were younger. “Y/n. You’ve changed since I last saw you.”

You arch your eyebrow as you give him a firm handshake. “I can say the same about you, Finnick.”

“You two know each other?” asks Ophelia.

“We used to go to school and work in the docks together,” you answer. Finnick looks into the distance as if he unlocked a memory of his life before the games.

Unexpectedly, Mags gives you and Alon a warm hug that you greatly appreciated. You didn’t realize it was dinner time until avoxes started setting the table and bringing in the dishes. Ophelia waves you over to the table and sits you next to Alon and Mags with Finnick sitting in front of you. Once the food is served, you force yourself to eat knowing that you need to keep your strength because who knows what you would face in the arena. You urge Alon to do the same and you see Finnick and Mags nod in approval.

“If you two are ready I think it’s a great time to start talking about our strategy,” said Finnick.

Alon looks at you and you nod.

“First of all, I would like to say how sorry I am that a brother and sister were reaped together,” says Nyle. You quickly peek toward the Capitol resident but you see Ophelia nodding in sympathy. Even Ophelia the Capitol resident knew that putting a brother and sister at the same time was the worst scenario possible.

“This is the first time siblings were reaped together so you’ve already gained national attention and we’re going to use that to your advantage,” says Finnick. “Being from District 4, people expect you to be strong and deadly and the tributes already see you as a threat. What skills do you have?”

Alon knew that the training we got from our father was technically illegal but the Capitol seems to turn a blind eye when it came to Districts 1,2 and 4. Alon hesitates and you gesture for him to continue. “Y/n and I have been working in our father’s fishing boat since we were old enough to haul things, so I guess we’re strong. I’m good with a spear and Y/n is great with knives and she can beat me up with no problem.”

For the first time since the reaping, you crack a smile. “You’re 3 years younger than me, you’ve got a lot of learning to catch up on.”

Alon laughs. “I’m serious, she’s good and will kick the shit out of you. She can take down our cousin Marlo and he’s a big guy!”

Finnick smiles at Alon’s enthusiasm. “That’s good to hear, we’ll make sure you get trained in hand-to-hand combat. Throwing a spear from a distance is a good offense but knowing how to defend yourself will help you in the arena.”

Alon’s smile falters as he understands what Finnick was implying. “I guess we’re going to have to hurt people in the arena. I mean, I knew we had to do that but I think it just hit me… I don’t know how I’m going to kill someone.”

Nyle wracks his brain trying to come up with the right words to say. “To win the games, it is almost inevitable. Unless you can hide and wait it out, it’s hard not to kill anyone. When the games start, people will change and they will be ruthless. They want to live just as much as you do.”

Alon nods. “I guess so. I mean one of us has to win, our parents can’t lose both of their children.”

Upset by the conversation, Alon excuses himself from the table and starts heading to his room. You contemplate standing up to console him but you decide it was better for him to just sit and process the situation. Once Alon leaves the room, you slump down on your chair and stare at your plate blinking back tears.

Mags places her hand on top of yours. “Maybe you should go and rest, we can talk about our strategy over breakfast.”

You sat up straight as you will yourself to focus on the plan you had set for you and Alon. “I have a plan.”

Finnick raises an eyebrow and looks at the other mentors and Ophelia.

“I will do anything to make sure my brother comes out as the victor and you’re going to help me. I can fight and I’m good with knives but I’ll need to train, I’m not going to be as good as District 1 and 2 so I have to be better. Alon was downplaying himself, he’s great with a spear and if he can hit a moving fish in the water, I know he’ll be good with bigger targets. He’ll have to learn more hand-to-hand combat but he’s a fast learner. Alon has a chance of winning this and I’m going to make sure he comes out of this alive.”

“Y/n,” said Finnick softly. “What will happen when it comes down to you, Alon, and a couple of other tributes? Or worse, just you and Alon.”

You steel yourself and you look Finnick dead in the eye. “Then I’ll throw myself off a cliff if I have to. Alon is going home as the victor. Period.”

Taken aback by the ferocity, your mentors let out a breath. They aren’t used to their tributes being so concise about their plan this early on but they could see your desperation. Your eyes were wild and they couldn’t argue with you. You were an older sister protecting her little brother and from the looks of it, nothing was going to stop you.

“Will you help me? Please?” your voice cracks as you look at Ophelia and the mentors surrounding you. “Promise me?”

They grimly nod. The mentors had never had to deal with a situation like this, putting most of their efforts solely on one tribute seems worse than focusing on two tributes. It would almost feel inhumane. They’ve never had someone so capable of winning accept their demise so fast.

Finnick examines the girl he once saw sitting a few rows from him in school or the girl that helped him unload that day's catch onto the trucks. You were the same age as Finnick and the thought fills him with sorrow. He was 18 years old and a victor, he was safe from the games, and here you were laying down your life for your brother.

“I promise,” says Finnick.

He hates the Hunger Games.

*******

The sound of loud chatter and utensils clinking against glass plates rouse you from your sleep. You rummage through the drawers and find that they are filled with brand-new undergarments and clothes. After taking a shower you slip on linen pants and a simple blue shirt that you stylistically tucked into your pants. You make your way to the dining room and see that everyone else has started eating the extravagant breakfast spread. Full of energy, Ophelia greets you a good morning and pats the space between her and Finnick. Alon, who was in much better spirits, smiles at you.

“Y/n! Nyle and Finnick were telling me that if we try hard enough and learn more survival skills, one of us would have a shot at winning!” says Alon.

Smiling at him, you silently thank them for boosting your brother’s confidence. “We can’t be too cocky though, we still have to make it out of the bloodbath and survive in the wild.”

“She’s right,” says Finnick. “You must learn survival skills, you can’t depend on the cornucopia because it’s different every year. If we play our cards right, we can get both of you sponsors that will buy you food, water, and medicine.”

“How do we get sponsors?” you ask.

“You have to get people to like you and win over the Capitol. You two will have a slight advantage because you’re a sibling pair and people will be sympathetic but that’s not enough. You need to adopt a persona, and that persona depends on our strategy. Yesterday, the entire nation saw you scream for volunteers for your brother. They saw you as bold and commanding, we can work with that but we need you to be charming.” said Nyle.

“Y/n is attractive so that’s already a huge advantage and they know she’s District 4 so they expect her to be a good fighter. ‘Y/n Dovecote, beautiful, bold, and lethal’ I can already hear Caesar saying it. The Capitol will love her,” said Finnick as he strategizes with Nyle.

Ophelia nods as she bit into her breakfast. “I agree, the Capitol will be intrigued by her natural beauty.”

It wasn’t even directed toward you but hearing Finnick say that about you gave you a shock. You fought hard to keep the blush that was crawling up your cheeks by busying yourself with dousing the french toast with syrup.

“What about Alon?”

“I think it would be best to appear like a dynamic duo, it will help you gain popularity. Y/n will be the fearless and captivating older sister while Alon will be the endearing yet deadly little brother,” suggests Nyle.

Mags and Finnick agree.

“Last night we discussed how we’ll work as a team, Nyle will work with Alon because he’s the best at hand-to-hand combat and they’ll work on it at the tribute apartments. Y/n, you’ll be working with me. I’ll show you how to win over the Capitol and Mags is going to bounce between you and Alon.” said Finnick.

“We’ll do whatever you think is best, thank you for your help,” you say sincerely.

After breakfast, the mentors bring you to the couches so you could watch other districts' reapings and scan for potential threats and allies. The people who caught your attention were Districts 1, and 2, and a couple of the kids from the lower districts like 7, 10, and 11. Nyle points out the male district from 10 and said that he’s probably been working with livestock for a couple of years and that would make him strong. Some of the tributes from the other districts didn’t even seem like a threat to you, some of them were only 13 and 14 years old and were skin and bones. District 12 reaped a 12-year-old boy and you hope you wouldn’t have to be the one to kill him. You watch the District 4 reaping and seeing yourself on television was strange, at the moment when Alon’s name was called and you started pleading to the boys’ it was captivating to watch. You were scared you looked weak but you gave the opposite effect of looking angry and determined, it was perfect for the persona they wanted you to convey for the games.

Daylight darkens as the train passes by the mountains that surround the Capitol. Once the train moved away from the shadows of the mountains, you could see the Capitol in the distance. You gasp at the sight of the city filled with skyscrapers and gold and silver adorning the city. You never thought you would see the Capitol in your life. Captivated by the view, you and Alon sit in silence with your jaws dropped, Ophelia smiles at your reactions.

After running around and making Alon change out of his pajamas, the mentors made sure their tributes looked presentable because many people were going to be at the station to catch a glimpse of this year's tributes. They want you to smile, wave and present yourselves as a strong team. Ophelia lines the both of you at the train’s door and as she fusses over Alon’s hair you feel Finnick get close to you.

“Remember the plan Y/n, be radiant and charming and they will love you,” whispers Finnick.

You turn your head surprised that his head was still close to your ear. “Got it,” you whisper back.

His proximity makes you blush and once the train doors slowly open, you roll your eyes at yourself. You couldn’t believe you were blushing over Finnick Odair, it wasn’t the right time or place. The doors fully open and you snap out of your thoughts as you place a protective arm over your brother. You step out and flash the crowd your biggest smile as you wave at the horde of people dressed in the most ridiculous fashion you’ve ever seen. You always thought Ophelia dressed like that for the reapings, but from what you saw, it must be the norm.

As Ophelia leads you out of the station, you notice a group of young men cheering as you get closer. Feeling the need to be captivating, you give them a sweet smile as you wink at them. Thankfully, the message was properly conveyed and you found them screaming your name hoping to get your attention one more time. The car ride is overwhelming as people line the streets and wave when they notice it was a car transporting tributes to the training center.

When you arrive, you get whisked off to different rooms and get bathed and prepped for the tribute parade. The prep team congratulates you for getting reaped and proceeds to harshly scrub you down with a lemon-scented soap and you had never smelled so good in your life. Giving you a robe, the prep team left the room and called in your stylist who was named Daimon. Even though Daimon had green hair, his outfit was relatively simple, wearing a dark gray suit. Looking at you up and down, he simply nods and shakes your hand in greeting.

“I was told by that delicious mentor of yours that you aim to charm the people of Panem. I’ve got the perfect outfit for you and your brother,” says Daimon as he pulls out a garment bag from the clothes rack. After he helps you into the dress, he moves you over to the mirror and you gasp in surprise.

“It's beautiful,” you whisper as you smooth your hand over the scale-like skirt that hugged your figure. “I look like a mermaid.” The bottom half of the dress was this iridescent pattern that mimics fish scales while the top half of your dress was a corset that had shells and jewels sewn on.

As Daimon places a crown made of shells on your head, a thought makes you laugh. “If I’m a mermaid what’s my brother wearing? Don’t tell me he’s shirtless!” you said as you laughed harder.

Daimon smiles, “He’s almost shirtless… his stylist and I wove an intricate net and he is wearing something that resembles a well-clothed merman.” explains your stylist. As Daimon fixes your hair you notice his demeanor change. “I’m sorry about you and your brother. I couldn’t believe it when I watched the reaping, what a horrible coincidence,” whispers Daimon.

“Do you have any siblings?”

He nods. “I’m the youngest and I have three older sisters.”

You smile at the thought of your green-haired stylist being the baby of the family. “You’re the youngest like Alon,” you said softly. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure my brother is victorious.”

“I was afraid you were going to say something like that,” he says somberly. He quickly inspects your makeup and gives you a final tap under your chin. “I’m going to help in any way that I can. You know clothes make a powerful statement in Panem, especially in the Capitol.”

You thank him for his offer to help and thank him again for the beautiful dress. As Daimon did the finishing touches for the tribute parade, you stare at yourself in the mirror. Now that you were in the Capitol, you felt the gravity of the situation as you dressed to impress sponsors. Your impending doom is terrifying but you know you have to do it for Alon, he deserves better than this.

#finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick x y/n #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair fanfic #hunger games fanfiction

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broken-clover · 7 months

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15- Prizes

Trying my hand at writing Bugsnax again. This one has more of a plot but it was still fun to muck about with, having everyone playing games together.

Takes place after the second celebration event with the ghost stories, and after chandlo and snorpy return to Snaxburg. It's mostly Filbo-centric, but it has a little bit of everyone who's currently in town

The trouble had all begun when Filbo dragged out the plywood.

After the last attempt at a party devolved into ghost stories and paranoia, he’d apparently decided he had to make up for it somehow with another little shindig. The others had amused him, partly out of pity and partly out of curiosity. Filbo might have been a lousy mayor, but he was at least creative when he wanted to be. Got the paint out and everything.

Still, nobody was quite prepared for whatever had been brewing in his brain until they were summoned to the nightly campfire.

“Um…”

“What the grump did you do, Fil-Bro?”

Cyan paws awkwardly wound around each other. “I made some games for us to play!” He announced. “Uh, there’s cornhole, there’s horseshoes, and I found enough magnets to make a little fishing game!”

Everyone looked on in grotesque curiosity, like the way one would look at a small, ugly animal. The stalls were visibly handmade and crude, but had enough effort put in to hold together. Filbo had slapped together a tiny carnival, and nobody was quite sure what to do with that fact.

Beffica pointed to a nearby table, stacked high with, to an outsider’s eye, miscellaneous junk of no purpose. “What’s with the table?”

“That? Oh! That’s, uh-” Filbo turned sheepish. “I thought it’d be a little more motivating if I made prizes. A-a lot of it’s just some things I had in storage, but Buddy helped me get some supplies to make stuff!”

“Huh, was wonderin’ what you’d asked me about knitting for…” Gramble said, eyeing a slightly misshapen, knitted approximation of a bunger by the edge of the pile.

Despite his efforts, and enthusiastic grin, nobody seemed particularly enthused themselves. Tiffany, ever the polite one, stepped forward.

“Suppose we can play a coupla rounds, yah?” She glanced at her neighbors. “We’ve all been workin’ real hard lately, a lil’ game might be good fer us!”

“Dibs on the horseshoes!” Chandlo scrambled to the pile. “Tossing metal’s gotta be some great exercise, bro!” He picked up a horseshoe and spun it around on one finger. “C’mon, Snorp-dawg! Let’s work on those arms!”

“Wasting time on frivolities when the Grumpinati are on the move…I’d much rather spend the time with my diagrams, but if you so insist, Chandlo…” Snorpy trailed off after him, far less hesitant than his voice suggested.

“Th- that’s great, you guys!” Filbo perked up. “Beffica, you wanna play a game?”

“Eh.”

“O-oh…” He moved on to the next. “Wiggle, how about you?”

She thought it over for a moment. “Hmm…while not very glamorous, I’ve heard inspiration can come from odd places. As long as it doesn’t get my fur wet, fishing might be fun!”

Filbo handed her a homemade fishing rod. She felt the weight in her paws, and looked over at the prize table. “And besides, I could do with a new accessory. It’s hard to find anything fashionable here, but those hairclips might just give my look a new bit of flair!”

Beffica immediately snapped to attention. “Hey, hold on there, those clips are mine!”

“Oh, pssh! I can hear them caaaalling out to me, darling! It’s only natural.”

“You are on, Wigglebottom!” Beffica looked over to their host. “How do I win those things, squeeb?”

“Well, uh, I was gonna have whoever won pick whatever prize they wanted from the table, nothing really planned out. All the fish have numbers on the bottom, whichever of you catches the bigger number wins!”

“Wait a sec, it’s that easy?” Cromdo butted in.

“Uhh, yeah, why?”

He grinned, showing off his fangs. “Simple economics, Fiddlepie. If I win that little trinket, then I can make those two fight each other for the highest bid! It’s supply and demand! I supply, then demand a big payload for it!”

“I dunno if that’s-”

“Outta the way, ladies! Lemme show you how an expert fishes!” Cromdo rushed by, nearly butting the two head-on to make space for himself.

Despite that, Filbo had cheered up considerably. “They’re actually playing the games! Gramble, what about-

“Oh, blast it!”

Everyone ducked as a horseshoe narrowly sailed over their heads. Snorpy crossed his arms and scowled. “This accursed thing is clearly defective, most likely a grumpinati creation designed solely to deceive me! I cannot get it anywhere near the pegs!”

“Chill, Snorp-dawg, deep breaths. You’re letting go of ‘em too late.” Picking up another shoe, Chandlo stood behind the other grumpus and directed his arm. “You gotta focus on where it’s going. C’mon. Feel the horseshoe, be the horseshoe.”

“Maybe bein’ near those two ain’t a good idea…” Gramble doddered off towards the cornhole board. This looks simple enough, ah guess.” He picked up a homemade beanbag from the top of the pile.

“You get three beanbags! Just toss ‘em at the board, and wherever they land, that’s your score!” Said Filbo.

“Uh-huh. Jus’ toss ‘em,” after a few test swings, he tossed one gently at the board, as though he could injure it. The bag limply slid along the surface, stopping around halfway up. “Five points! Nicely done, if I do say so!”

Tiffany clapped her paws together. “Good job! Mind if I give it a go?”

Filbo winced at the sound of someone growling. Beffica waggled the fishing rod over the little pool of fake fish, but was struggling to catch any.

“Don’t look at me like that, squeeb! Your game’s broken!”

“Sheesh, Beff, c’mon. That’s not how ya hold a fishing rod!” Before he could attempt a reply, Cromdo stepped in, doing a quick flick of the wrist on both hands to toss the fishing line down. “Like that, see? Gotta use your wrists more.”

“...Wrists, huh?” She tried an experimental swing, copying the salesman.

Another beanbag thumped against the board. “Wa-ha! I got four points! But I’ll get better aim next time, Gramble, so don’t you go thinkin’ you’ve got this in the bag, yah?”

She gestured for her husband to join. “C’mon, Wamby, it’ll be fun!”

“No.”

“But look at that lil’ organizer right there! Weren’tcha sayin’ you wanted something like that for yer gardening supplies?”

His expression didn’t change, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. “Fine. If that’s what I gotta do to get it…”

Still, he stood back, unengaged. The two players gave another toss, with Triffany scoring a six, and Gramble’s bag skidding along until it settled right by the open hole by the top, scoring nine.

“Ha! Already gettin’ it right by the hole! I must be some kinda cornhole expert!”

A scoff came from behind them.

“Feh. Y’all ain’t foolin’ anyone, you wanna see a real cornhole expert do his thing?”

Triffany lit up with a pleased grin, tossing Wambus a bag. “Wanna put yer snaks where yer mouth is, eh?”

“With pleasure.” Without any warmup, without any practice swing, Wambus snapped his wrist and sent the bag soaring. It slid up the slick surface of the board, butting into Gramble’s last bag and falling neatly into the hole with a hollow thud.

“W-wha-” Gramble’s mouth dropped open.

“Wamby, I-” Tiffany was equally shocked, eyes wide. “I didn’t know ya had that kinda aim!”

Wambus blew on his knuckles and buffed them against his vest. “Cornhole. Showed up at every county fair I ever went to. Won my first trowel as a young’un beating the town record.”

“Gosh, whenever I think I’ve learned everything there is to know about ya, there’s still surprises!”

Filbo looked on in pride. Next door, Snorpy had finally gotten the hang of horseshoe-throwing thanks to Chandlo’s guidance, and the two were playfully bantering as they tried to outdo one another. Meanwhile, both Wiggle and Beffica were still attempting to copy Cromdo’s skilled line-casting, and Cromdo, who looked far cheerier than Filbo had seen him, probably ever, was soaking up the attention of playing teacher. Outside of friendly teasing, everyone was getting along. After last time, he hadn’t been expecting much success, but this was more a success than he could have imagined.

#frog writes #comfortober #bugsnax #filbo fiddlepie #wambus troubleham #beffica winklesnoot #gramble gigglefunny #wiggle wigglebottom #triffany lottablog #cromdo face #chandlo funkbun #snorpy fizzlebean

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cheri-cheri · 2 years

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[L&N] Truth or Dare 3.0 - Charlie

✧ We have a brand new prologue!

✧ Prologue 1 ll Prologue 2

[ FIRST TIME ]

It’s currently the weekend. I’m at Charlie’s place, appreciating a romance film with him after dinner.

The film has a romantic atmosphere, and the mutually in love couple eventually become husband and wife. My heart continues to palpitate even when the ending melody of the film slowly begins to play.

MC: The leads in the story made their vows in Gold Coast. That’s so romantic~

Charlie: If you want to go there as well, we can make plans right now.

MC: Pfft... you take action way too quickly.

Charlie: Fulfilling my fiancée’s wishes immediately is a given.

MC: Actually, no matter where it is, being able to accompany the person one loves is already a very wonderful thing.

Charlie: That’s what I think too. This present moment is an example. We’ve just finished watching a sweet film, and it’s time for a sweet fiancé-fiancée interaction.

Charlie winks at me mischievously, sticking a fork into a chunk of muskmelon on a plate on the coffee table before bringing it to my mouth.

I open my mouth and give it a bite. The chunk of muskmelon is perfectly ripe, and a light munch causes it to turn into sugary water.

MC: So sweet~

Charlie: Are you complimenting the muskmelon or me?

MC: Erm... I guess both.

Charlie: I-

Seeing that Charlie is about to enter a self-indulgent and narcissistic mode once again, I quickly stick a fork into a chunk of muskmelon and stuff it into his mouth.

MC: I know what you’re going to say~ Right now, I want you to experience some sweetness too.

Charlie: I’ve received my fiancée’s sentiments.

While we joke around and share the fruit, I suddenly spot a familiar deck of cards underneath the coffee table. I tug on Charlie’s hand.

MC: You mentioned wanting a sweet fiancé-fiancée interaction.

Charlie: You’re referring to...

Charlie looks slightly embarrassed. My face instantly heats up when I realise how ambiguous my words were.

MC: I... I’m referring to a game of Truth or Dare!

I hastily retrieve the cards from beneath the coffee table, putting them in front of Charlie.

Charlie: So you were referring to this. Of course it’s okay.

While saying this, Charlie lowers his head and begins tidying up the cards, as though concealing his shyness from earlier.

MC: Well, the rules are the same as before. I’ll try to hit you, and you must think of a way to dodge.

Charlie tugs on my hand gently, placing his palms on mine.

Charlie: No problem. Let’s begin.

[ FOR RETURNING PLAYERS ]

After a few rounds, Charlie and I sit side by side to rest.

The scattered cards are in a pile on the coffee table, as though looking forward to our next battle.

MC: Your reaction timing seems to be much faster than before.

Charlie: You think so too? When we first started playing, it was very easy to fall into your palm. But recently, I’ve won quite a number of times.

MC: Maybe it’s because we’ve gotten used to it after playing so many times.

Charlie: That’s right. After getting used to your expressions, I’m able to tell if you’d strike or do a feint next.

MC: Am I that obvious?

Charlie: Of course not. It’s just that a perfect fiancé like me who is familiar with you is able to figure it out.

A pleased light shines in Charlie’s eyes. However, I feel like someone has seen through me.

MC: That won’t do! Let’s play one more time. I’ll turn the tables based on my understanding of you!

✧ You Win + Truth: 13 l 14 l 15 l 16

✧ You Win + Dare: 13 l 14 l 15 l 16

✧ You Lose + Truth: 13 l 14 l 15 l 16

✧ You Lose + Dare: 13 l 14 l 15 l 16

#light and night #光与夜之恋

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frontproofmedia · 11 months

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LARA VS. WOOD 2 FINAL PRESS CONFERENCE QUOTES

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Published: May 26, 2023

Eddie Hearn, Matchroom Sport Chairman: "Welcome to Manchester ahead of a huge night of World Championship boxing this Saturday at Manchester Arena, live and exclusive in DAZN. The rematch for the WBA Featherweight Championship of the World between the champion Mauricio Lara and now the challenger Leigh Wood. We saw a tremendous fight earlier this year in Nottingham full on drama. Leigh Wood winning that fight, to then get stopped and to see Mauricio Lara become World Champion. We sat in the office and we talked about what was next – we talked about maybe waiting. There was no waiting from Leigh Wood. He believed he can win this fight. He wanted the immediate rematch and he’s got it, this time in Manchester with his fans travelling from Nottingham." Mauricio Lara: "First and foremost I want to say hi to everyone. As you say, last time was a calm performance but I’m really confident in my training camp and what we have done and I want to almost back-up and cement that victory, and I want to do it in quicker fashion. I’ll be looking for that knockout from the very first round. Big things are to come but first I have to, as I have said, cement that victory. Leigh Wood isn’t just any boxer, it will be a difficult fight but it is about continuing and cementing that victory and making history in this sport." Alejandro Brito: "First and foremost, we have to thank you for the opportunity. This is Mauricio’s fourth time in this country. On his third time he managed to win that World Title on a fantastic night. It was a dream that he had for a long time. I said it the first time we had the opportunity, that we would give the opportunity back to Leigh Wood if we managed to win, and it’s great that we can go on to have another great fight here. The last one was a war but we are totally focused and believing in Mauricio’s possibility in creating a legacy in the sport." Leigh Wood: "There was never even a thought in my mind that anything different was going to happen. I know you tried to persuade me otherwise. It was just so frustrating how the fight finished. Like you say, it is a fast turnaround, but it is one that benefits me. If you said to me when I won the World Title, ‘right, in 13 weeks’ time you’re back out, you need to get back in the gym’, I’d have been like, ‘woah Eddie come on, let me celebrate’. That’s why I believe it is one that favours me. I was straight back in training, I had a little time with my kids. I’m ready to get this belt back and look good doing it. No doubts at all, that’s not me saying it’s going to be an easy fight, because it could be far from an easy fight, but I’m prepared for anything that he brings. The first time round was hard because we didn’t have his style against my style to look at, now we’ve got that information and we know what he does when I do certain things. I’ve been preparing for him for nearly a year in September. I know him inside out, I’m just going to go out there and prove that I’m the better fighter. It’s a must-win fight; there’s a lot of pressure. I love it, I thrive on it. Whatever is takes on Saturday night I’m coming away with a win. This is what gets me up for it, I can’t lose. I can’t afford to lose. That could be the end of the road for me. It’s a long road to come back from. That’s why I’m not thinking about losing, I’ve done everything I can do to win. I’m confident in winning. I know what I need to do to win. I know what I can’t afford to do." Ben Davison, trainer of Wood: "It was a scenario and a situation where there was no guarantees to the outcome. I can’t sit here and say that the fight wouldn’t have carried on going and Leigh wouldn’t have been victorious, and I can’t say vice-versa. It was a decision that I made in the moment, but with the understanding that we have this opportunity here. Leigh had this rematch clause. He’s got the opportunity to get his title back and I believe that he will do so. Leigh is forever in the gym, looks after himself, he doesn’t balloon up in between fights, he’s very disciplined in his life and his approach. It’s a career for him and a full-time job for him. He’s so disciplined when it comes to approaching fights and going into game plans that to actually take him away from a certain style match-up, to then bring him back to it would have actually been more difficult than it will be to go into a quick turnaround. I think he (Lara) was actually more respectful of Leigh’s power than we anticipated. He was a lot less reckless in the fight than we had anticipated being honest. I think the fact that he did eventually get the shot that he was looking for, the fight might play out a little bit more like the way we anticipated the first one to. Some adjustments, and I’m sure Mauricio and his team will have some adjustments. Leigh knows what he has to do and we are confident in the execution of that game plan.” Alfie Sharman, Vice President Marketing - DAZN: “I found myself on Sunday morning thinking, ‘how can you better Katie Taylor’s homecoming in Dublin in an amazing fight?’. Congratulations Chantelle. The answer was quick, it is back here in Manchester, an amazing fight city with two absolute warriors ready to put it on the line. We’ve had an incredible few weeks on DAZN with top tier fighters on both sides of the Atlantic fighting on our platform, and it doesn’t stop there. We’ve got plenty of headline fights coming up – Claressa Shields, Jaime Munguia, Vergil Ortiz Jr, Dalton Smith, Regis Prograis and Edgar Berlanga to name a few. It’s a really great time for us. Looking to Saturday, everyone in here saw the first fight. In my opinion predictions go out of the window for this one on Saturday. It’s a completely new fight, a new beast. Both men are in great shape and are ready to go. Leigh is very much looking to get that belt back and Mauricio looks like he’s not willing to let it go. We wish them both the best of luck and make sure you tune in on Saturday live on DAZN.”

(Featured Photo: Mark Robinson/Matchroom Boxing)

#HF #Mauricio Lara #Leigh Wood #Matchroom Boxing #DAZN

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lucasfights · 1 year

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Alex Perreira vs Israel Adesanya 2 (Preview and Betting Guide)

This Saturday is UFC 287 and although there are a couple locks on this card, I wanted to ignore the other fights and properly prepare you for this screamer of a Main Event. What props are locks? Which ones give you the best bang for your buck? And what sneaky picks have we found, that the oddsmakers and the general public are overlooking?

To understand the fight, and why we're picking what we're picking, we have to dive in. Israel Adesanya and Alex Perreira have fought 3 times already, twice in Glory (a little known chinese kickboxing promotion), and once in the UFC, Perreira has won all 3. So, why are we doing a fourth? one man clearly owns the other, and we've seen all we need to see! No! out of the 9 full rounds these two have fought Adesanya has won 7, getting robbed on a decision in their first bout, and getting stopped in the next two, stoppages that were preceeded by the New Zealander's dominance. Perreira's power has been the great equalizer, or the great lopsider in this case, but we can't ignore the fact that Izzy looked the much better fighter for most of their fights; After Perreira knocked out Adesanya, Israel made the jump to MMA, while Alex became a Glory double champion, and continued his reign over kickboxing.

It's now 2018 and Israel Adesanya is making his UFC debut, he's an exciting prospect, and he's an ocean away from his Brazilian demons. He fights four times this year, and gets wins against guys like Marvin Vettori, and Derek Brunson. The following year Adesanya knocks off a couple more contenders and gets a title shot against Australian champion Robert Whittaker, Bobby Knuckles is no match for this young agile kickboxer and Adesanya dispatches him in the 2nd round. Now the UFC champion Israel grows dominant and rules over the division until 2022, until a familiar foe comes back to haunt him. Perreira came to the UFC beat a couple of decent guys, and got the title shot against this older, wiser version of Adesanya. Pundits, and fans alike were expecting Adesanya to redeem himself, as Israel opened a 3-1 favorite, ready to defend what had been his for the better part of 4 years.

Israel outclasses Alex, and is cruising into the fifth round, up 3-1 needing to just manage distance to win this fight, and he gets knocked out, again. Another fight, against the same opponent, in which he's winning, and suddenly, he loses. How heartbreaking, the feeling that you've done everything right, and you've prepared, and kept your focus, and won 3 rounds to put the decision out of reach, and you get caught, again. So now what?

Israel had defended his title 5 times, and is one of the faces of the UFC, so he gets an immediate rematch, but does it go differently?

Yes, Israel Adesanya knocks out Alex Perreira at the end of the 2nd round.

With that being said, here are some bets that I think are worth a look. If you want to stay on the fence and respect Alex's power, a good bet for good odds is the Under 2.5 Rounds at +170. In all their fights they have gone to the final round, Izzy has been knocked out twice in the last round of fights he was dominating. Something in my stomach tells me he's not letting it go that far, and with aggression comes counter-punching, and with Poatan's counter-punches come KO's. Under 3.5 rounds is at +110, meaning oddsmakers are prepping for a fight that ends towards the latter half of the third. Get better odds, bet less money, and take the Under 2.5 at +170.

Another bet that caught my eye was Izzy in R1, R2, or R3 for +375. Mind you Izzy was a self proclaimed "3 seconds" away from stopping Perreira in R1 (Perreira getting saved by the bell), so for +375 I think it's worth a 20$. Like I stated in the previous paragraph, Adesanya will come out aggressive, find his shots, make Poatan reactive, and look to finish him as soon as possible. With this bet you're getting three rounds of potential stoppages, and by the off-chance that Izzy takes him down, and does some work on the ground, and submits him, you still win. My expert opinion, worth it.

Lastly, I have Izzy TKO/KO/DQ or Sub +265. Any round, he stops Perreira, you win! A guy that's coming off 5 title defenses, and a sudden 5th round KO loss, to a guy that, he feel's is better than. No way in hell Izzy comes into this fight passively. Expect to see the Izzy we saw versus Gastelum, a fighter that can go into deep waters in the championship rounds, after taking punishment, and hurt his opponent. Perreira has power, but much less to prove; also the only time Perreira has lost in MMA was a to a rear-naked choke in his first fight at Jungle Fight 82 (a Brazilian MMA promotion). So don't be surprised to see an outclassed Izzy take this fight to the ground, and find a submission.

In conclusion, due to my bold claim, and my preffered wagers, I think it's pretty clear to see what I think is going to go down in the Main Event of this massive Miami card, but if I had to make a bet on the guy that I didn't think was going to pull it out, and make a case for The Champ, I think he wins a majority decision.

How? I think Perreira understands he can take Adesanya to the ground, I think he felt Adesanya's power, and he knows a tired Adesanya, is a slow Adesanya. Perreira will use Glover, and sharpen his wrestling, he's going to leverage his size, and his strength, and he's going to do his best Khabib impression. Take him down, and maul him. He's going to make him work to get up, and take him down again. He'll use the fence, his clinch, and his leg kicks, and he's going to make this a long arduous 25 minutes for Israel. Alex Perreira by decision is at +475, but if you want to take an extra little leep for the double the money, Perreira by majority decision is +1000. So please, bet with caution, don't wager anything you aren't willing to lose, and give me all the weak arguments your little brains can fathom in the comments section, see you Saturday.

-FreeHoneyy

#ufc #poatan #stylebender #ufc287 #sports betting

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jobean12-blog · 3 years

Text

Tag! You’re It!

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1,220

Summary: You convince Tony to let the team play Laser Tag and you get paired with Bucky on team Cap.

Author’s Note: This is for the @redhead-wine-and-literature-club Love in Bloom Challenge and day 28: Cornflower which means good-luck charm. I didn’t use the actual flower this time but the meaning is here. Also, laser tag is so fun, I’d love to be on Bucky’s team! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤❤❤ Divider by the lovely @imerdwarf

Warnings: lots of flirting, fun and fluffs! :)

NO SPOILERS HERE!!!

Thank you so much to @jamesbrns for this awesome gif :) Just imagine it’s a laser tag gun instead of a real one haha :D

Love in Bloom Masterlist

“Why do you get to pick who’s on our team punk? Don’t Sam and I get a say in this? Bucky grumbles.

Steve sets his hands at his hips and purses his lips. “I didn’t say you couldn’t help Buck and if there is someone you want on our team so badly just say it! You’ve been a pain this whole time.”

Bucky now smiles, shooting Sam a sideways glance before blurting out your name.

“I KNEW IT!” Sam shouts triumphantly. “Alright Steve, they are definitely paired up. You’re stuck with me.”

Bucky doesn’t bother to hide his happiness at being your teammate, walking off with extra pep in his step as Sam and Steve’s laughter follow him.

The next day everyone is seated in the common room and you’re bouncing in your seat with excitement. Tony stands in the center and pulls up his holographic screen.

“Alright Avengers. We’ve got my team here on the right and Steve’s team on your left,” Tony states. “You have the rest of the morning to figure out your game plan and we’ll meet at the facility at 2. I rented the entire building so we can do what we want.” He throws everyone a grin before hailing his team and walking off.

“Ok gang,” Steve starts. “I think it’s best if we pair off, this way no one is left alone or unguarded.”

Everyone nods their heads in agreement. You’re seated across from Bucky and you catch him staring. You throw him a wide smile before giving your attention back to Steve.

Steve rattles off the pairs and when he says that you’re with Bucky you jump out of your seat and plop yourself next to him.

“I was hoping you’d be my partner,” you whisper.

Bucky can’t stop his surprised look but it quickly turns in to a smile when you continue.

“I know you’re the best shot so you’re going to be really good at this.”

He leans in close to your ear. “That’s not the only thing I’m good at doll face.”

You turn your head at his remark, your face now only inches from his.

“Is that so?” you ask with a smirk.

Before you can ask him to elaborate, Steve let’s out a dramatic sigh. “If you two are going to flirt the whole time then maybe you shouldn’t be partners. I don’t want anyone getting killed because they couldn’t keep their head in the game.”

Both you and Bucky scoff, dismissing him with a wave.

“Whatever punk. We got this,” Bucky assures him, sending you a wink.

“And it’s laser tag Steve. No one is getting killed,” you add with a roll of your eyes.

Steve’s hands are on his hips once again and he glares at you. “No one ‘dies’ on my watch and I want to win this thing.”

With that he storms off, yelling, “I’ll see you all at 2. Don’t be late!”

When you get to the building everyone starts putting on their gear. You’re struggling with the buckles on your vest when Bucky saunters over.

“Need some help doll?” he asks.

You look him up and down, enjoying how his dark jeans and black tee shirt fit tightly across his body.

“That would be great Bucky, thanks,” you reply.

He moves closer and his chest brushes yours as he reaches behind you to secure the vest. You inhale his scent and try to keep your hands at your sides, the need to touch him hard to resist.

When he pulls away and sees the heat in your gaze he licks his lips.

“Ready to play baby doll?” His tone is laced with promise and it takes you a moment to pull your head out of your lewd thoughts.

“So ready,” you purr.

The game gets underway and you and Bucky sneak off to find a hideout.

“If we hide ourselves well enough I can pick people off while you keep watch,” he explains as you walk through the field.

You trip and curse, following it with more curses for the noise you made. Bucky turns around and grabs your hand, holding it tightly as you creep along a darkened wall.

He silently motions for you to hide behind a large wooden box. You get into position and almost let out a loud gasp when he covers your body with his and presses against you.

“Just stay low and keep a look out,” he whispers, his breath fanning over your neck.

You hold back a shiver, needing to stay focused on the task at hand. As the minutes pass it becomes increasingly difficult to do so as Bucky continuously swivels and his body rubs along yours. He’s so close you can feel his muscles flex with every movement.

Bucky tags Tony and then Bruce and you give him a high five. A few minutes later you catch some movement out of the corner of your eye and discover Peter slowly inching closer. You elbow Bucky and he turns just as you tag Peter on his vest.

Bucky continues to tag people from your secret spot and you start to get distracted by his closeness. He unexpectedly bends down and presses you into the wall.

“Don’t move,” he warns.

You hear the scuffle of boots approaching and you stop breathing. Even under the low lighting you can see Bucky’s eyes drift to your lips. The sound of footsteps gets closer before they eventually start to recede and you realize whoever it was is gone.

“You must be my good luck charm,” he says sweetly before inching up and checking the area. “It’s safe,” he says, pulling you up by the hand.

In the next hour, the game really gets going and only you, Bucky, and Nat are left.

“We’re going to have to team if we want to tag her,” Bucky whispers. “Nat is an expert.”

You acknowledge the truth in his words with a silent nod. You both lay low, waiting in the stillness for any clue to her whereabouts. Bucky’s hand settles at your waist and he nudges you forward. You start to move as quietly as possible and the only sound you hear is Bucky’s steady breathing.

A flash of red moves across the field and you instinctively give chase, watching Nat skillfully evade your tags. Thankfully, Bucky goes in the opposite direction and heads her off, tagging her point blank when she rounds the corner.

You give a loud hoot and start jumping up and down. Bucky rushes over, laughing at the string of curses that leave Nat’s mouth. He picks you up and twirls you around.

“We won!!!” he shouts.

As you slide down his body you feel adrenaline rush through you and you plant your hands on his chest, grabbing his laser tag vest.

“I guess I really am your good luck charm,” you simper.

With one swift motion you haul his mouth down to yours and kiss him hard. He immediately drops his gun and circles his arms around you, sliding his hand to the back of your neck. You’re not sure how long your lip locked but when you finally come up for air you’ve gained an audience.

“Now I see why he wanted her on his team so badly,” Steve chimes with a smile.

@addikted-2-dopamine @book-dragon-13 @drabblewithfrannybarnes @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @la-cey @lookiamtrying @loricameback @lorilane33 @loveitorleaveit20 @lizette50 @ironmansuucks @mardema @meetmeatyourworst @moonlitskinandcrimsonribbons @marvelgirl7 @moonlacebeam @nano--raptor @pinkdiamond1016 @randomfandompenguin @starlightcrystalline @white-wolf1940

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x you #bucky #bucky fluff #rwlc love in bloom challenge #laser tag

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

Note

do you have any,,,post prison mute dream stuff??? or like, severely quiet, silent and obedient dream shtuff?? and the consequences thereof??? bc im reading your drabbles and i am in literal awe

aww, thank you so much !! yeah selectively mute dream post prison is absolutely a hc i love and write smtimes - it’s already been suggested in canon, and it’s super fun to play w/ in post-canon works. here’s some fluffy syndicate!dream bc gosh knows we need it after the angst that we’ve been getting

tw: implied torture, panic attacks, trauma - all v short mentions. this one’s definitely on the lighter side! :D

“I didn’t know you knew sign.”

Dream startles, arms flying to cover his face, and the crow he had been signing at squawks angrily when it turns towards Phil. He ignores its chatter, smoothing his own flinch behind a smile, lowering his wings, bringing his hands, palms up, in front of him at his waist - this song and dance has become all too familiar in the weeks that Dream’s resided with the Syndicate, and Phil is nothing if not patient.

Slowly, the boy uncurls from where he’d huddled into himself, arms clasped firmly around his ribs like someone will try and take them from him if he doesn’t hold on tight enough (and maybe, Phil thinks, imagining the messy lattice of scars underneath Dream’s loose-fitting hoodie that he has only seen a few times since they brought him over, someone has - but those are thoughts that are better left untouched for as long as he can manage it.) Dream’s eyes raise, flick over his face, his breathing quieting down from the discordant rattle it had been, and tentatively, ever slowly, he raises his good hand in a loose fist, letting it bob up and down. Yes.

Phil settles into the armchair across from him, raising his own hands. His fingers feel clumsy, but the memories come back with more ease than he would’ve expected - I know a little. Dream’s eyes don’t quite brighten, but his shoulders fall down from where they’d been hunched up to his ears, the hand he keeps tucked to his chest trembling slightly less, and it’s as much as a win as he’s ever going to get.

The silence stretches, familiar in its awkwardness, and Phil stifles a grimace as he forces long-forgotten memories to the surface. Dream’s hands, from what little he had seen from the doorway, had practically flown as he spoke to the crow still sitting by his right side - obviously practiced even with the still-healing injuries tracing over both arms. How did you learn?

We- He hesitates, left hand trembling violently, before pushing on, we all learned with- he signs a C, then lifts his hands to his head in a sign that Phil vaguely remembers as being the one for deer. Dream must see the questions written in his expression, because his cheeks flush as he backtracks. C-A-L-L-A-H-A-N, he finger spells, and Phil nods. That makes sense.

Some of the crows in the house must have noticed Phil’s arrival, because they storm into the room from the doorway, awkwardly hopping across the door with their wings waving by their sides as they eagerly voice their displeasure at the lack of attention. He’s not in the mood to pick out the words between their angry caws, so he simply watches as they scatter all over the room. Something almost like a smile tugs at Dream’s face as he watches them enter - the kid has grown inexplicably fond of both his flock and all of the assorted animals that Techno drags back into the house whenever he goes out, and Phil has long since resigned himself to being outnumbered one hundred to one by a literal army of mobs wherever he goes. Some of the crows had been pretty wary of Dream at the beginning, but after a few weeks more or less the entire flock has become viciously protective of the kid, sufficiently won over by gifts of head scratches and berries and various shiny things. Sure enough, the birds form a dark, squawking circle at Dream’s feet, a few flying up to tug impatiently at his clothes, and despite the (very obvious) favoritism, Phil smiles; the flock is good for Dream, as annoying as they can be.

DADZA, one calls, its lone cry soon echoed by the entire group of fluttering feathers gathered on the floor, DADZA AND DREAM DADZA DADZA. Phil laughs, a familiar warmth and exasperation filling his lungs, and he turns his attention back to Dream.

You up to some more? He tries; it’s a chance, for sure, and he brushes away the creeping anxiety crawling up his neck; he doesn’t want to make Dream panic, hopes that he’s doing the right thing. I could always use the practice.

Quiet, once again, only broken by the murmurs of his birds eagerly awaiting Dream’s answer as the boy rocks side to side in deliberation, and Phil is halfway through working out a frantic you don’t have to if you don’t want to when Dream raises his own hands.

Sure, he signs, a forced smile on his face but eyes still clear and bright, why not?

Somehow, they end up in a bastardized version of twenty questions, surrounded by birds that do not hesitate at any chance to voice their own opinions. They work through favorite colors (green), favorite flowers (roses for Dream, peonies for Phil), favorite mob (Phil answers this with a pointed definitely-not-crows, staring at the flock who have been shouting over themselves naming different colors for about five minutes, which immediately makes them devolve into screaming caws and divebombs at the edges of Phil’s cape that leave him thoroughly occupied for the next ten minutes), and at some point Phil falls further into the cushions of his chair and Dream’s legs lay against the sofa instead of being drawn up to his chest and it’s almost normal.

By the time Techno finds them, they’ve forgone structure all together, Dream watching intently as Phil signs out an embellished tale of one of the Antarctic Empire’s exploits with a crow held gently in his hands. Techno’s voice behind him startles him bad enough to send his wings snapping outwards, feathers standing on end, but Dream doesn’t react much beyond a twitch of his lips - he must’ve seen the piglin hybrid and tag-teamed to prank him, Phil realizes with a half-hearted grumble. Techno’s eyes sparkle mischievously, definitely planned, then.

“Hi Phil, Dream,” Techno shrugs off his cloak and drapes it over the back of Phil’s chair, “Looks like you’ve been busy. Can’t say I’m not feelin’ a bit left out, though; Phil, you never told me you knew sign language.”

“You never asked, mate,” he quips, even as Dream signs animatedly from the corner of his eye. T-E-C-H-N-O-L-O-S-T.

Techno narrows his eyes. “I get the feelin’ that you’re messin’ with me, nerd.” Dream blinks faux innocently, smiling wider, and Phil picks up on the bit. Oh, this is fun.

He can’t understand us, he assures Dream, feeling a wicked smirk of his own growing on his face. So what do you think for dinner?

“Phil- the betrayal!” Techno splutters, voice going high and pitchy, and that reaction alone would’ve made the prank more than worth it - but Dream’s shoulders shake, eyes glittering as his fingers fly almost too fast for Phil to catch, and oh, that’s laughter, tiny, breathless giggles falling from his lips, and Techno must catch it even as he begins to berate the voices in his head, “This is not a bruh moment, Chat, don’t you start-”

Stew? Dream signs, still snickering, and he looks happy, more than Phil has ever seen him, the sight of him smiling and bright-eyed with amusement almost enough to cover for the gaunt quality of his face, the pale scars left all over his skin.

Of course, mate, Phil signs back, throwing in a do you think T-E-C-H-N-O ended up lost in those same woods again for good measure, rewarded when it sends Dream into another round of giggles. Techno grumbles without any real heat behind it, plopping himself down in the remaining chair.

“Ok, nah, no more of this exclusive club; you guys are teachin’ me this tonight before Chat loses it - yes that was an insult, don’t you start it with the E’s,” and Phil laughs, hard, the flock cawing and beginning to spam E on their own, for some reason, and Dream signing through the alphabet with the biggest grin on his face, and-

“Oh, Prime, this is going to so scuffed,” Phil says, breathless, his warning unheeded as Techno finishes his rant at Chat to focus on Dream.

And it is scuffed - it is so fucking scuffed, between Phil’s lackluster memory and Techno’s frequent interrupting to quiet down an extremely rowdy Chat and the incessant calls of the flock further egging them on, but it’s warm and Dream doesn’t stop smiling and Techno looks more relaxed than he has in weeks and the helpless, singing urge of protect protect protect that has lived in Phil’s head ever since Techno had carried Dream, beaten and bloodied and broken, through their front door finally, finally, begins to quiet down.

He tunes back into the impromptu lesson - they’ve finished the alphabet, seemingly having moved onto common words and objects, and Dream- hesitates, raises his hand, all five fingers drawn together, to the corner of his mouth and then pulls it back. Home, he signs, moving to fingerspelling, H-O-M-E. Home.

For a moment, they’re all quiet, Dream’s hand still raised by his face, even the crows falling silent as they all stare at each other. Phil watches, breath caught in his throat, as the planes of Techno’s face soften, the teasing edge of his voice, for once, leaving. “Yeah, nerd. You’re home.”

Home, Dream signs again, then again, looking up, eyes bright, hopeful. Phil thinks, proudly, that it looks like a new beginning. I’m home.

#tw torture #tw trauma #tw panic attack #syndicate!dream #my beloved #queue <3 #q stream aftermath #long post #my writing :D #my asks !!

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forzalando · 3 years

Text

Flustered | Fred Weasley

Pairing: Fred Weasley x F!Reader Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: mentions of underage drinking and alcohol, tickling, making out Summary: Your flirty friendship with Fred Weasley comes to a resolution after an argument surrounding the Yule Ball that took place all those years ago.

A/N: hi friends! this is a Fred Weasley fic based on a tik tok i saw last night (all credit for the bolded line goes to the creator of the tik tok). also thank you to @gcdric for discussing this with me very late last night, i hope it turned out well omg i’m NERVOUS. anyway! off we go. please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist! i’m updating it since i was on hiatus for awhile! love you guys!

As you sat on the couch of the Burrow, your eyes fixated on the many pictures in the Weasley’s living room, your mind began to drift off with thoughts of the freckled, red-headed boy sat in front of you giggling with his siblings.

There was something extraordinarily special about your friendship with Fred Weasley. After ten plus years of him being the most important person in your life, ever since your first day at Hogwarts when he tripped over your robes as you and your fellow first years hurried into the Sorting Ceremony, you couldn’t imagine life without him.

You had been through so much together; every Hogwarts experience there was to be had, first kisses, first heartbreaks, the Second Great Wizarding War, he was by your side through everything.

“What’s on your mind, Y/N? You look to be thinking entirely too hard for my liking,” Fred sassed, breaking you out of your trance.

“Too hard for your liking?” you retaliated. “What do you care what I’m thinking about?”

“It’s supposed to be a relaxing weekend! You’re much too deep in thought to be relaxing, so of course I care.”

“Well, if you must know, I was thinking about you, Freddie.”

“Carry on then, love. I’ve always wished for your thoughts to be consumed by me.”

With a cheeky wink, Fred went back to a game of exploding snap and you didn’t need to watch to know that Ginny was absolutely kicking his arse. However, you didn’t miss the sly smile that George gave you when Fred’s attention was diverted from you.

It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to flirt with one another. In fact, you would dare to say it was the most predominant form of communication between the two of you. There was the occasional time or two where you thought that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same, but he’d always look away quickly or press a kiss to your cheeks instead of your lips, laughing it off as the two of you caught up in a moment that would cross a line that could never be crossed, though you so desperately wanted to.

After another round of exploding snap, Ginny said her goodbyes and apparated back to her flat, but not before promising that she wouldn’t miss anymore family dinners for quidditch practice, which you knew would happen inevitably but smiled nonetheless at her enthusiasm. You’d been a regular appearance at the weekly get-together for as long as you could remember, you were practically part of the family so you could say with appropriate accuracy that Ginny definitely missed dinner more than all of her siblings combined due to her busy schedule.

“Well, I suppose it’s time for us to head back as well,” George mused, eyeing the leftover pies in the kitchen. “Are you staying at ours tonight, Y/N?”

“I’d love nothing more. Besides, I didn’t get to play Fred in exploding snap and I want to knock his ego down just a little bit more.”

George linked arms with you and Fred, laughing about his brother’s awful skills as you apparated to their flat above the shop.

You’d spent many a nights at the twins’ flat over the past couple of years. After the war, you had moved in for a while until you found a job and managed to rent your own place. But, they never got rid of your bed that took up a large corner of their living room, which came in handy after weekly Weasley dinners when you just wanted to spend a bit more time with your favorite boys.

“I’m absolutely knackered,” George said once the three of you had settled on the couch. “I think I might go to bed now, if I’m honest. Besides, I want to be up early to work on those new design sketches for the storefront.”

“George Weasley, you have never gotten up before 10 o’clock on a Sunday in your entire life,” you scoffed.

“There’s a first for everything, Y/N. Goodnight to you and Freddie!”

As George turned away from you both, he faked a yawn and when he was sure Fred wasn’t looking, winked back at you to further confirm your suspicion that he wanted you to be alone with Fred.

He had just about had enough of the tension between you both and took every chance he got to get the two of you alone, by any means necessary.

When you heard George’s bedroom door close, you noticed Fred scoot closer to you on the couch until your legs were touching. He slung his arm over your shoulders and you swung your legs up to lay across his lap.

“What were you thinking about earlier? While Gin and I were playing by the fireplace?” Fred wondered aloud.

“Oh, I was looking at all the pictures on the walls at your Mum and Dad’s. I saw one from you and George’s first day at Hogwarts and I was thinking about how we first met.”

“Hmm, so you were thinking about one of the most embarrassing moments in my life?”

“Please, you’ve done much, much worse. Remember that time in our sixth year when you tried to outdrink George after we won the Slytherin match and you – ”

“Ah, ah, ah, I thought we agreed to never speak of that incident again,” Fred said as he visibly shuddered.

“I was just pointing out that I can think of quite a few moments that were far more embarrassing than tripping on my robes.”

“You’re one to talk! Don’t you remember our fifth year when you and George were running from Filch and you knocked Wood to the ground? Bloody broke his arm, you were so lucky Madame Pomfrey had him fixed up before our next match or he would’ve had a heart attack.”

A loud laugh escaped your lips as you covered your face in embarrassment; that was the year you had followed Oliver around like a lost puppy, although your schoolgirl crush paled in comparison to how you’d felt for Fred back then and now as well but neither twin would ever let you live it down.

“Do you remember the Yule Ball? When Flitwick caught you trying to spike the punch and you slipped and fell in the middle of the dance floor?” You chuckled at the memory, even if the Yule Ball was an event you had tried to forget.

“You were so mad at me that night and the whole week before, I was terribly distracted. If we had been on good terms I would’ve gotten away with it and the slipping never would have happened.”

“Well, it’s your own fault we were fighting! I still can’t believe you didn’t ask me to go with you.”

“Oi, it’s not my fault when you never said you wanted me to ask you.”

“I thought I had made it painfully obvious when I asked you every morning at breakfast if you’d found a date yet and told you that I didn’t have one either.”

Fred threw his head back and laughed, the thought of your shocked face when he had asked Angelina was too priceless a memory to ever forget.

“You were so jealous,” Fred mumbled.

“Jealous?!” you screeched. “I wasn’t jealous, I was annoyed that I had to spend all night with some Durmstrang tosser stepping on my toes. We’ve had this argument literally a million times.”

“No, you were definitely jealous. You shot poor Angie daggers the whole night and she’s such a lovely girl.”

“I shot her daggers because she hogged you and I didn’t get to dance with my best friend a single time at the only Ball we ever had at school.”

“I would’ve asked you to dance if you weren’t mad at me, and you know she was only dancing with me to make George jealous, even if he was oblivious.”

You smiled at that; you knew Angelina only had eyes for George and that going with Fred was some elaborate ruse. Shockingly, it ended up working, and he and Angelina have been together ever since.

“Still think you were jealous,” Fred challenged, poking you in the exact spot on your abdomen that he knew you were ticklish.

“Fred Weasley, for the last time, I was not jealous,” you emphasized as you poked him back.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, love,” he said lowly, a daring glint in his eye.

Never one to heed warnings or follow directions, you poked him again and within seconds he had you pinned underneath him on the couch, his fingers trailing up and down your sides as you couldn’t help but laugh boisterously beneath him.

“Fred – ” you gasped. “Freddie, please, I actually think I might pee on your couch.”

“Not until you admit you were jealous that I asked Angelina!”

You shook your head, the combination of laughter and trying to catch your breath kept you from firing back a witty remark.

After a few moments, you simply couldn’t take anymore and shouted out, “FINE. Fine, you win.”

“What was that, lovey? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“I said, fine, I admit it. I was jealous that you asked Angelina when I wanted you to ask me,” you grumbled, struggling to catch your breath in between words.

“See, now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You glared up at him and moved to push him off of you when you realized just how close his face was to yours. If you concentrated hard enough, you could count each individual freckle splattered across his nose and cheeks. Almost instinctually, your eyes flickered down to his lips, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of staring, so you quickly looked away.

Fred noticed that you couldn’t take your eyes off of him and, in true Fred Weasley fashion, couldn’t resist a flirty joke.

“You really want to kiss me right now, don’t you?” Fred chuckled.

“Yeah,” you sighed, “yeah, I do.”

Surging forward, you pressed your lips to his and immediately wove your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. You were so tired; tired of the constant flirting and feeling as if you would forever have to love him from afar while he lived his life blissfully unaware of how much it hurt you to hide how you felt.

His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him; the raw emotion in the way he desperately kissed you left little doubt in your mind that he had wanted this for as long as you had. His hands slipped under your shirt and his fingers blazed a trail of fire up your spine; a breathy moan escaped your lips but Fred swallowed the sound with his mouth, deepening the kiss and pulling you even closer.

A scream from behind the couch caused you to jump apart, chests heaving and hair sticking up every possible way. You sat up to look over the back of the couch to see George Weasley, looking visibly shaken and guilty, with his hands covering his eyes.

“Oh my god, I leave you alone for thirty minutes and you’re about to shag on my bloody couch. Jesus, ok, let me just, uh, well, I’ve probably ruined the mood, haven’t I?”

“George,” you hissed. “What are you doing sneaking around, I thought you were going to bed?!”

“Yeah, I said I was,” he said sheepishly as he uncovered his eyes, “but I might have been eavesdropping on your conversation. When I heard it go all quiet, I thought I’d come out and see if you two fools had fallen asleep, but clearly, that was not the case.”

“Eavesdropping? I swear to Merlin, George, you’re a ten year old boy. I can’t believe you! Of all the immature and invasive things to do, my God.”

“Well, pardon me, I just wanted to see if my idiot brother would finally grow some balls and tell you he’s in love with you!”

“I’m not sure what you’re on about but that doesn’t mean you can just sneak up on people,” you chided. “Fred, would you please back me up here, what is wrong with you – ”

You turned around to pull Fred into the argument only to find him sitting on top of the coffee table with a dazed look in his eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Fred, are you alright?” you asked worriedly.

He slowly lifted his head and looked into your eyes; you could see just how flushed his face was now that he wasn’t staring at the floor and good Godric, he was as red as the hair on his head.

“I…I…You,” he stammered. “You kissed me?”

“Yes, I suppose that is what happened,” you muttered sheepishly.

“Y/N Y/L/N…you…you kissed me?”

“Freddie, what the hell is the matter with you?”

George burst into laughter and you whirled back around to glare at him, however, this time, he didn’t hush up like he usually did.

“Like I said before, he’s in love with you, and now he can’t even form a coherent sentence because you kissed him, this is golden. Ol’ cock sure Freddie, a pile of mush because of a little makeout sesh, I’ve got to send an owl to Lee…” George trailed off as he turned and rushed back towards his bedroom.

You took another look at Freddie and smiled at the lovestruck look on his face. He was shaking his head in his hands and you saw the redness on his neck as well, which only happened when he was well and truly flustered.

“This is so humiliating,” he groaned as you sat down next to him.

“I think it’s rather cute, if that makes you feel any better,” you said as you chuckled and placed a hand on his thigh.

He removed his head from his hands and looked at you adoringly, the giddy smile on his face ignited butterflies in your stomach and your heart beat wildly in your chest.

“All the times I imagined how this would pan out…it definitely wasn’t supposed to happen this way. I mean, not that I’m mad about it, it was incredibly sexy how you just grabbed me and kissed me, but I wasn’t supposed to be a bumbling fool afterwards.”

A moment of silence washed over the both of you as Fred intertwined your hands and steadily held your gaze.

“George was right, you know. I am in love with you. Have been for quite a long time, if I’m being honest.”

“Well, in the spirit of honesty, I guess I should say that I’m in love with you too.”

“Bloody brilliant,” he sighed as he leaned in to kiss you again, but you stopped him just before your lips touched.

“You’re not going to pass out or anything if we kiss again, are you?”

“No promises, love, but I’ll try my best.”

taglist: @theweasleysredhair @hufflepuffbaby9 @theboywhocriedlupin @swellwriting @fortisfiliae @thoseofgreatambition @wildfire-whizbangs @woakiees

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley fic #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley oneshot #lumosbarnes #tw: alcohol

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aggressive-positivity-network · 3 years

Note

do any of the mercs play board games?

Mercopoly (Board Game

Headcanons)

Scout:

You think he has enough of an attention span to play something that doesn’t involve sweating out his energy drinks?

Hell no!

He gets very bored very quickly, especially with something complex like chess.

He’ll play cards sometimes, but only Crazy Eights and Go Fish - that’s all he knows how to play.

However, there is one true board game he plays occasionally: Candy Land.

It’s one of the few board games that you don’t really have to read the rules for, and there isn’t any writing on the cards.

However, he only asks to play it when he’s not feeling very well.

Medic even has a page in his medical journal for the mercs that says, and I quote:

“The Scout has an extremely short attention span, and if an activity isn’t active or immersive, he will not stay long. If at any point he chooses a sedentary activity, a check-up is in order.”

As sad as it is, a request to play Candyland is a good way to know if Scout needs a little extra reassurance or support.

By the end of the game, Scout usually feels more himself, whether he wins or not.

Engie is especially good with Scout when he’s this way, being the one of the most emotionally sensitive of the group. But he also knows Scout would never admit straight-away how he was feeling, so he usually has a more fun way of getting answers.

“You feelin’ more like a King Candy or a Lord Licorice?”

“...Fudge Monster.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah...”

Spy:

If you ask him, he will most likely go off on a tangent about chess, and how it’s a game of strategy, deception, and crushing your enemy with your wit.

He scoffs at any other game, and constantly makes fun of several of his more intelligent peers for finding interest in them.

“You are mercenaries. Blood-thirsty killers of men. And you are playing ‘Hungry, Hungry Hippos’ like a hoarde of kindergartners?”

But one thing he cannot resist is Sorry.

He considers it above normal board games because it has strategy - or at least that what he says.

He actually just likes it because it’s a game of revenge, which is like a drug to him.

He’s gotten so good at it that if he asks you to play Sorry with him, it’s almost guaranteed that he’s mad at you and just wants to let off some steam by giving you a horrendous loss. However, occasionally, he’s the one who loses.

Spy isn’t a poor sport, exactly - he’s too cultured for that - but sometimes his pride outweighs his manners and he convinces himself that the other player cheated through made up signs of deception.

He simply “allows” them to win because he “doesn’t want to make a fuss.”

But god help the unfortunate soul who decides to rub their win in his face.

Sniper had won five games in a row, and it was clear Spy was getting hot under the collar.

Sniper ended their games with a mischievous, “You’ll get ‘em next time, tiger.” and a small pat on his shoulder.

Spy immediately saw red, grabbed Sniper’s hand, and before the aussie knew it, he was against a concrete wall with a butterfly knife to his throat.

“I could kill you right now. Your final cry for Medic will be drowned in blood, and I would leave you here to die a painful, dramatic death. You’ll be replaced with a rusted trash can of a bot until they could grow another clone of you. Every memory will be gone. The team will be shrouded in grief, not because of losing you, but losing what the clone can never have. And I shall bide my time, ask the clone to play the same game, and kill them when they win. Another clone, another kill. And again. And again. And again. You think the Manns give a damn as long as their work is getting done? You will never be able to form a single thought before I spill your blood - caught in an eternal prisoner’s dilemma where you always lose.”

After gathering his bearings, Sniper finally spoke.

“Is this about your takeout?”

Spy scoffed.

“Do you really think - !”

“Tonight, my treat if you don’t kill me.”

Spy squinted.

“Egg rolls?”

“And an extra order of crab rangoon.”

“Your treat?”

“Yep.”

“How do I know you won’t poison me?”

“Chemical test before and after the food arrives.”

“How do I know Medic isn’t in on it?”

“Miss Pauling as a witness and Scout as an overseer. Pauling’s main objective is to keep us alive, and Scout can’t do bloody anything subtle, even if he wanted to. You can also play back the cameras in the lab, if the mood really struck ya.”

Spy held Sniper against the wall for a minute or two while he thought it all over, then let Sniper fall to the ground.

“I don’t need your sympathy, bushman. But you had better keep your end of the deal. I am the only backstabber around here.”

Demo:

Can’t even stay awake long enough to play most board games.

On the rare chance that he’s sober, he, Engie, and Medic like to play Monopoly.

Here’s the thing: you should never ask a drunkard, an engineer, and a sadist genius to play Monopoly together. It will not end well.

They have been playing the same game for years, with new rules in place and physical extensions to the board in order to try and end the game. Every other Friday, they take the weekend to try and finish it.

However, it all ends up fruitless.

Demo is usually the one keeping the peace, since he is the least competitive out of the three. That isn’t to say he isn’t clawing for the win as much as the other two, but he is definitely the least invested. He’s mostly staying out of principle.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, ‘s ta ne’er give up, e’en when the goin’s gettin’ tough. Roll the dice, doc.”

Despite his confidence, he’s not even sure what he would do if he or anyone else won. It would seem more like a relief than a celebration.

Medic:

He’s the one who started the Eternal Monopoly game, which has led to some theories that the game itself came straight from hell, and is one of the many punishments used on sinners. The box does smell a bit of brimstone…

He seems to enjoy the chaos that each round brings and the challenge of coming up with new rules to the game. To any outsider, his commentary and directions are complete nonsense.

“According to zhe ‘Calvinball Rule,’ as stated by Engineer, and the ‘Double Kill,’ as stated by myself, since the current time ends vis a three and ve all received at least two kills zhis veek, ve need to double every other roll and whomever loses zhe resulting game of ‘Bim Bum’ vill have to go to zhe Purple Jail.”

The rules and mechanics are like an unholy amalgamation of Monpoly, Sorry, chess, D&D, Bluff, and poker.

However, when Medic isn’t stapling pages of rules together, he likes to play a nice, relaxing game of checkers with Heavy.

Both of them are excellent checker players, but neither of them care who wins.

In fact, they usually talk over the game, taking the other player’s pieces as one of them shares a story from that day’s battle.

They’ve even played while Heavy was in surgery - leading to many unfortunate times when Medic had to fish a piece out of Heavy’s intestines.

One would think that a genius doctor would also have a passion for chess, but he expresses his disdain for it almost every time the checker board is brought out.

“Ach, people think chess is such an intelligent sport. Let me tell you, liebling, it is terribly overrated. If zhe devil can play chess, anyvun can. He might as vell just give souls avay, vis those shaky claws of his.”

Engineer:

Being the engineer, he is usually the one to add to the Eternal Monopoly.

Pieces, board extensions, cards, trivia - it gives him a nice break from all the weaponry.

He’s usually the one who remembers all the mechanics and rules, and serves as the judge if rules contradict each other.

“Alright, now let’s see here…we’ve got the Infinity Loop over here, but now you’ve got the Time Travel card…how many years? Infinite? Ho boy…looks like I’m gonna have to add a Hilbert’s Hotel square somewhere. Hold on…”

Despite his affinity for Eternal Monopoly, Engineer will play almost any board game. He learns new rules and figures quickly, and enjoys the challenges that brings.

However, if he’s particularly burnt out, he likes to take a break by playing Jenga. He and Spy have a friendly rivalry, since Engie can tell which blocks are supporting and Spy has quick fingers.

Spy, oddly, is a lot more amiable losing in Jenga - he knows Engie won’t think less of him - but Engineer hates when the bricks fall over. Not because it means he lost, but because, to him, it’s a failure on his part…even if it was someone else that knocked it over.

He’s made several blueprints for the perfect Jenga game, but has concluded that no human hand could put it into practice.

During one particularly bad day, Engie bumped the table, causing the whole column to come crashing down. Spy had already recovered from the noise, but Engie was still standing there, stone-faced.

His eyes were covered by his goggles, but it was clear he was crying.

Several of his machines had broken on the job, and to him, this was just another egregious mistake.

Spy carefully put the blocks back in the container, and Engie came to his senses.

“I’m real sorry, Spy. Maybe another time…?”

Spy only nodded. He was thinking.

The next time they played, Spy brought out a different container.

Instead of wood, the bricks seemed to be made of a sturdy foam.

“They fall a bit more…quietly,” Spy explained. He dropped one, and it only made a small bouncing sound. “Pyro uses these, but they allowed me to borrow it.”

Engie was a bit skeptical at first, since it was a new material, but he got the hang of it rather quickly. He was almost ecstatic the first time it fell - the blocks barely made any sound at all!

After a few games, Spy had to leave for an assignment. Engie put a hand on their arm.

“Thank ya, Spy. Maybe you ain’t the cold-blooded backstabber I thought you were.”

Spy chuckled, but said little else. He didn’t want to admit that noise sensitivity plagued him as well.

Pyro:

Pyro loves board games, and has quite the collection in their room.

Each plastic piece is at least a little melted, and all the boxes have two or three scorch marks.

Hungry Hungry Hippos, Candyland, and Uno are among her favorites.

He is an absolute beast at Uno, though.

They take each game very seriously, especially when they can convince the whole team to play.

As you can imagine, it’s pure chaos - it even led to a rule in the Merc Guidebook: “When playing Uno with three or more players with the inclusion of a Pyro, at least one Mann Co. representative and/or a mediating Medic must be present.”

Pyro has been known the hide cards, bribe players, or even try to set flame to competition. Playing Uno is almost like a mission, with weapon preparation and Spy posing as other players.

The mercs even have a betting stand that Sniper runs. All parties have lost a lot of money that way.

It’s pretty much the only time outside of battle that the team remembers how cruel and malicious Pyro can be.

Sniper:

Conventional board games aren’t exactly his forté, but he does enjoy a bit of cards every once in a while - Solitaire being his favorite.

He even has a pack of cards in his Sniper Square for that exact purpose. It allows him the pass the time without having to look away from his targets too often.

On occasion, he could be pressed to play poker, but only if the stakes weren’t monetary (i.e candy pieces, crackers, duties, etc.).

His favorite part of every match is shuffling the cards. Pretty much every merc could shuffle cards, but Sniper could make them almost float with how quick his fingers and wrists moved. He always began the game with a new trick he learned, which delighted his fellow players (usually Spy, Engineer, Medic, and Demo).

You could always tell if he had a busy day because he would avoid tricks with too much movement, which would be murder on his sore fingers and hands.

Pyro is currently learning card tricks from Sniper, and show off what they learn at the beginning of every Uno game.

Heavy:

He isn’t a huge fan of the bright, plastic-y board games that Pyro has, although he will play them if asked.

It’s mostly because of how complicated the rules are and the fact there are almost never a Russian translation for the directions.

He always prefers checkers, cards, or mancala, which he almost exclusively plays with Medic because he’s the only one who speaks fluent Russian.

Heavy can play a mean game of mancala, though, and it’s the only game he can beat Medic at.

Soldier:

The only games he will play are Battleship and Uno - but only after Miss Pauling convinced him it was “American enough” because the game had red, white, and blue cards.

He prefers the electronic Battleship because of the sound effects and voices. However, if it’s out of batteries, he’ll make his own sound effects.

Miss Pauling is the best at pretending to be a commander, so she’s usually the one playing with him - but, sometimes, Demo gets in on the action, too.

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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

Text

His Good Sweater: Chapter 4

Masterlist

Thank you as always to my best friend and Beta reader @acollectionofficsandshit for putting up with me and my ramblings ♥

Word Count: 3.8k

Recommended song: "ily (I love you baby)" by Surf Mesa and Emilee

You'd never been more thankful that you kept a change of clothes in your car than you were after the race at Silverstone. You'd showered again, changing back into the sweaty tee and leggings. The clean emergency hoodie and jeans were a blessing, and casual enough for a night on the town.

Most of the crew had left, only a few poor souls pouring over race data or packing up essentials. James let you into the trailer yard this time without hesitation. "We really should just get you a key," He teases, "Sure would make my life easier."

Rolling your eyes, you give the tower of muscle a pitiful shove. He doesn't move an inch. "Thanks James. I'll ask Pierre to look into it."

A sudden wave of tiredness washes over you when you make it back to the trailer. You flip through the channels on the tiny television, settling on an analysis of the day’s race.

“And a brilliant drive from young Pierre Gasly, wasn’t it John?”

“I completely agree Martin. Gasly took advantage of every slip up by Mercedes and Red Bull and he has to be commended for that. Max made some rare mistakes and…”

You smile to yourself, their praise washing over you. Yawning, you curl up on Pierre's bed, the familiar smell of cedar lulling you into a light sleep in minutes.

**********

A gentle touch to your cheek wakes you some hours later. You crack your eyes open, greeted by a smile brighter than the stars in the night sky. You taste eternal sunshine on his lips when you kiss him, your soul sparking in response to his light.

"Good morning," He murmurs, thumb rubbing along your jaw. "Sleep well?"

You snuggle closer to him, eyes closing once more as you soak up the warmth. "Is it time to go out already?"

"It is. But we can stay here if you want to." He brushes a stray hair off your face. The gesture is so tender, if you didn’t know any better you’d never guess he could turn into the seasoned, take-no-shit racer you’d seen hours before.

You shake your head. You couldn't let him miss out on celebrating his victory with his closest friends. Besides, you hadn't seen any of them for a span of time longer than a few minutes in months, and truth be told, you missed them all.

Those boys had a knack for turning the simplest of outings into unforgettable adventures. You had been sworn to secrecy on numerous occasions after Pierre recounted drunken escapades that usually ended with Max sleeping somewhere preposterous, like a claw-footed bathtub in a fancy suite.

“Where are we going?” You ask sleepily. “Somewhere nearby?”

Pierre tugs you up until you’re sitting. He pulls you back against his chest, arms wrapping around you as he sets his chin on your shoulder. “Yeah. Maybe ten minutes away.”

You lean your full weight against him, admiring how perfectly your bodies slot together. “Can I leave my car here?”

“As long as you’re okay with it staying here until tomorrow, that’s fine.” He coaxes you to stand and presses a kiss to your temple as a reward. Your limbs are still heavy and uncooperative. Pierre winds an arm around your waist, supporting you and assuming the position of your rock as he always did.

"You don't sleep here," You state simply, looking at him for confirmation. He shakes his head.

"Wouldn't be enough room for two anyway." He gestures to the tiny twin sized bed and shrugs.

Your brow furrows. “Am I staying with you tonight?” You honestly had not considered it. The jet usually left early and you had assumed he would want to get as much rest as possible. But now that you had experienced waking up next to him, you realize how much you want his face to be the first thing you see when you open your eyes each morning.

“Of course you’re staying with me. I’m taking every second of your time that I can get.”

You bite your lip and lay your head on his shoulder. The idea of falling asleep in his arms was enough to shake any lingering sleepiness. “Okay.” Confident that you could hold yourself up, you step out of his grasp. “Ready.”

The few mechanics roaming about the grounds are enough to keep you cautious. You walk through the paddock a hair's breadth apart, although every nerve screams for you to touch him. Every time your arm grazes his, electricity ripples across your skin. All you want to do is hold his hand, but there’s enough prying eyes that you restrain the impulse.

You can tell he feels it too by the way his fingers curl and uncurl at his sides. And he's biting his cheek, you notice. A nervous habit of his and a clear indicator that he'd retreated inside his own head, likely contemplating if he'd truly deserved to win today or not.

Every few months his doubts crept in, the devil on his shoulder reminding him that Horner hadn't deemed him good enough to keep his seat at Red Bull after only a handful of races.

You'll never be as talented as them, is what you'd imagined it whispered. They're only here because they pity you. What makes you think you deserve a seat?

It couldn't be farther from the truth. Deep down, Pierre knew that. Driving in Formula 1 meant being under constant scrutiny from the public and sportscasters. Making an error meant debates about whether you were good enough and rumors about seat security.

There were no such errors today. You'd heard the commentary after the race; everyone was raving about his performance. Not one person had dared say he didn't deserve it.

Not wanting him to suffer alone, you subtly wrap your pinky finger around his. "You're okay," You say softly, his head whipping to you. "You deserved that trophy today. It was some of the best driving I've ever seen, everyone agrees. You deserve a trophy every time you get in that car. You'll always be my champion, even if the world tells you otherwise."

It takes a moment for it to sink in, but he nods and releases your pinkie. "You're my grounding rod," He says, lips curling in a knowing smile, and you can't hold back your laugh.

"Leave it to you to turn a romantic moment into a cheesy one." Instead of saying you're my rock like any normal person, he had to bring up the time you'd embarrassed yourself at the bar a year or so ago. He'd let you prattle on to poor Dan about building grounding rods of all things, and how you'd thought your professor's way of designing such a system was flawed. Pierre would never let you live that down, it seemed.

Max spots the two of you first, waving from where the boys had gathered outside Red Bull. “About time you showed up! We’ve been waiting for ten minutes!”

“She fell asleep,” Pierre says simply, his confidence back. “Takes her awhile to wake up.”

“Whatever, I’m just glad you’re here,” Daniel says, throwing an arm around your shoulders and tucking you tight to his side. You couldn’t help the broad smile creeping onto your face, twin to the aussie’s as you hug him back.

“We missed you,” Charles says, falling into step beside you. “I never hear from you anymore!”

You grimace. It was true, while the three boys had texted you quite frequently the past few months, you had barely responded to them. You felt guilty about it, knowing they were taking time out of their packed schedules to catch up. But uni had been kicking your ass and the only one you’d found time for was Pierre. Looking back, you were glad he had been the exception.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” You say. “Lots of projects.”

“And that new internship,” Max points out. Your eyebrows flick up, gaze flicking to Pierre. You had been awarded an internship a month or so ago at a local engineering firm in London. It was only part time work, a few hours a week, but it was enough. The only one you had told was Pierre.

Pierre grins, the gesture a silent apology. “I may have spilled the beans.”

You cut him a glare, the others laughing at your attempt at being intimidating. But you couldn’t turn away from him, not when he was looking at you with the same pride you had felt when he’d won earlier that day.

“Uber’s here,” Charles announces, checking his phone.

“Where?” Daniel asks, and Charles indicates a black SUV parked at the curb. Daniel and Max exchange a look, shouting “Shotgun!” at the same time. Both boys break into a full sprint, feet pounding on the pavement. Daniel wins - barely, leaving Max and Charles to squeeze into the back seat.

Pierre follows you into the third row of seats, his hand immediately engulfing yours. Your stomach flips, glancing up to find a reassuring smile on his face. You could barely focus on what was said for the first half of the ride, hyperaware of the callouses rubbing your skin. The world around you erupts into color at the touch, completing the part of you that you’d never realized was missing.

The remainder of the drive is filled with laughter, jokes, and plenty of selfies with the driver. It wasn’t every day one could brag about having four world class drivers in your car; you couldn’t blame the man for being excited.

By the time you arrive at the bar, your sides are already splitting with laughter. “First round is on you, Ricciardo,” Charles says, wagging a finger at him. “Punishment for bringing up the Abu Dhabi incident again!”

“Jokes on you, I was already planning on it!” He glances at you and winks. “Gotta congratulate the winner somehow, right?” Little did the Australian know, you had already congratulated Pierre a few hours ago, and you doubted that a few shots would outshine that performance. You hope the pink tinge that rises to your cheeks with the memory isn't obvious and you duck your head just in case.

A blast of air conditioning hits you as you all stumble into the bar. All eyes fell to you and the ragtag group of drivers when you entered, silence blanketing the patrons. The bartender slams a fist on the wooden bartop, rattling glasses and making you flinch.

“Been wonderin’ when you lot were gonna show your ugly mugs!”

Daniel, Max and Charles erupt into friendly laughter, shaking the man’s hand and making small talk. You look to Pierre for an explanation.

“Tradition,” He murmurs. The noise returned to a normal level around you, though you could feel the glances thrown your way. “We come here every year, but only if one of us wins at Silverstone. Been awhile since that happened.”

"Ah," You say, nodding dramatically. "Yes, very long time." Pierre grins, shaking his head.

"Who won this year?" The man - William, Pierre informs you- asks. He towered over you when you sat on the sticky bar stool, tall and lanky but well muscled and certainly not someone you would expect patrons to try disrespecting. He was already pouring five shots of a fine Irish Whiskey, waving Daniel off when he tried to start a tab. “My treat.”

Max claps a hand on Pierre's shoulder. "This one claimed the crown, for once!"

"Wey hey!" William says, passing out the shots. "Everyone else crash out or what?"

"You should watch the replay," You say, knocking Pierre's shoulder with your own. "It was amazing. The move he used to get past Max-" you bring your pinched fingers to your lips in a chef's kiss. "Gorgeous."

"Much to Max's despair," Charles adds, raising his shot. "To the underdog!"

You all echo the sentiment, the boys knocking back the strong alcohol with practiced ease. It didn't go down as smooth for you, burning your throat and making you wince.

Daniel laughs. "Not used to drinking with us anymore, huh?"

"Must have lost my edge," You say, the woody taste lingering in your mouth. "I'm sure it'll hit me hard in a half hour or so, too."

**********

Well, you weren't wrong about the alcohol hitting you like a punch to the gut. Two shots later and you were swaying like a sailor on his first excursion out to sea, Pierre's shoulder the only thing keeping you from toppling off the bar stool.

Pierre's eyes were bright as the others poked fun at him, William joining in with a witty remark now and then. His laugh wrapped around you like a warm blanket, keeping you content and grounded.

"Hey Pierre," Daniel says at one point, "Don't look now but that table of girls has been obsessed with you all night."

Pierre, blitzed as he was, pays no attention to Dan's warning and turns around. A loopy grin was plastered on his face, turning back and shaking his head.

You may not have been able to think straight, but your stomach lurches. Instantly sobering slightly, you follow Dan's gaze to the indicated table to your left. Three beautiful women sat there, whispering behind their hands and clearly speaking about Pierre. One bit her lip and caught your eye, giggling. Her looks were universally attractive enough that she would be anyone’s type, Pierre included. The possessiveness in the gaze she raked over his body set your blood boiling.

This… was not a scenario you wanted to play out. You didn't know if Pierre was ready to tell his friends about your relationship yet. You knew he wouldn't let any of those girls have the light of day, but he might let them fawn over him a little, just to protect your secret. And it would kill you, but you would have no choice but to let it happen.

"I'm good," Pierre says, sipping the beer he had been nursing all night.

"Come on mate," Max pushes, a wicked grin on his flushed face, "That blonde is so your type."

No she isn't.

You’re already staring up at Pierre when he turns to you. You have always worn your emotions on your sleeve for anyone to see, and it only got worse when mixed with alcohol. Pierre smiles softly, taking mercy on you. Slowly, he takes your hand and threads your fingers together before turning back to the boys.

"One of you can tell them I’m not interested. I already have my girl."

Heart beating wildly, you scan your friends faces. They were all wide eyed and slack jawed, staring at your joined hands. Pierre gives your hand a gentle squeeze, reminding you to breathe. He read you like an open book, offering reassurance when you needed it most.

"It's about fucking time!" Daniel roars, breaking the tense silence. Your shoulders relax, grinning along with the others. Pierre beams at you, knocking your shoulder to say I told you so.

"Does this mean I get a break from listening to you obsess over her every weekend?" Max asks, giving you a meaningful look.

"Likely not," Pierre answers. "I'm still just as obsessed as before. Maybe more." Max pretends to gag, earning him a playful punch from Charles. God, it was so freeing for your relationship to be more open, even if it was just between your closest friends.

"I'd just like to point out that I told you two this would happen years ago," Charles says matter of factly, pointing at Max and Dan. "Should've taken you up on that bet."

Your mouth hung open. "You were going to bet on us being a couple?"

"Oh come on," Max says, rolling his eyes. "We all knew it was coming eventually. We just didn't know when!"

Pink stains your cheeks, but Pierre laughs and leans in to kiss you. Remembering the girls behind you, you press a little closer to him. Under the guise of placing a kiss to his cheek, you meet the blonde's eyes and smile sweetly.

The woman preens, mouth twisting. Good. Pierre was yours, and now that he'd admitted it, you could let those girls know it. His hand slips to your thigh, squeezing hard. A clear warning that you were venturing into dangerous territory. You didn't care.

The alcohol in your veins makes you bold, and you want to drive your point home. They could look all they wanted, but he was coming home with you. You push the boundary farther and bite the soft skin of his neck just hard enough to leave a mark. Pierre's hiss finally makes you pull back and look up at him innocently.

"Get a room," Daniel teases with a wink. You smile at him, mumbling an insincere apology. Your point had been made. The arrogant smirk had been wiped from the woman’s face, replaced with a grimace.

"I think it is time for us to get going," Pierre says, annoyance flashing across his face. Oh, you had stoked the fire and now you would have to face the consequences.

"We're just getting started," Charles complains. Pierre slaps a few bills on the counter and gets up without responding.

"Bye guys!" You call over your shoulder as Pierre drags you towards the door. They all wave back, Max's lower lip jutting out in a pout. Your eyes slid one more time to the blonde, who had her arms crossed over her chest. You give her a wicked, taunting grin and return her earlier wink.

Pierre halts so quickly that you run into him. “Why are we leaving?”

“You know why,” He growls, flagging down a cab. “You didn't like how she was looking at me, so you did something about it. You might not have noticed, but every man in that bar had their eyes on you. So I’m following your example and doing something about it.”

Your brow furrows. Pierre won’t meet your gaze, and your eyes fall to the purple mark on his neck. You didn’t like his tone; it bordered dangerously on anger. “Are you… Are you mad that I did that?”

Tears threaten to spill when he finally looks at you. God, you were a blubbering drunk. When your lip wobbles, his anger fades and he sighs. “I’m not mad. I just… I didn’t think you’d want me flaunting our relationship yet. When you did this-” He gestures to his neck- “I could barely keep my hands off you. Not when I saw the guy walking up to you.”

You sniff, trying to conjure the image of the bar. “I didn’t notice anyone.”

“Yeah, cause I dragged you out here before he could say anything.” Pierre pulls his hood up and sighs. “Trying to catch a cab here is harder than overtaking Hamilton.”

You laugh harder than you should at the off-hand remark, following after him as he trudges down the sidewalk. “Why are you not drunk? I feel like you should be drunk. You won a race. They were feeding you shots one after another.”

“One of us had to be responsible and make sure we got home okay.” He smiles over his shoulder at you. “And I knew as soon as you had that first shot it would have to be me. Didn’t you notice me handing the shots to the other guys?”

“No,” You say, rubbing your eyes. “What about the boys? How are they gonna get home?” Pierre stops, forcing you to do the same. He tugs your hood up, makes sure his is secure enough to hide his face, and grabs your hand.

“I already told Seb to come round them up in an hour or so. They’ll be fine.”

You don’t respond, too busy trying to put one foot in front of the other and not fall on your face. It doesn’t help that your vision is a tad blurry. Finally you give up and whine, “How much further?”

“It’s right there,” He says, pointing at a towering glass building just across the street. “In five minutes, you can be tucked into a cozy, fluffy suite and you can rest all you want, my love.”

You hum at the words, warmth flooding your veins from more than the liquor. “I like that.”

“What, the building?” He asks, amused. He helps you cross the empty street, making sure you’re paying attention to where you’re going.

“Noooo, what you said,” You clarify, leaning on him as you try to navigate the handful of steps leading to the hotel.

He’s quiet until you reach the elevator. “My love,” He murmurs, and you grin up at him.

“Mon… mon coeur,” You manage to say, somehow pulling the French phrase out of the dregs of your memory. The words are slurred and you know that you absolutely botch the pronunciation, but the intent is clear. You may have lived in France since you were 18, but learning the language wasn’t a requirement when almost everyone knew english as well. But the two of you had spent many hours watching Pierre’s favorite french films over the years; some of it must have unintentionally rubbed off on you.

A disbelieving smile tugs at his lips. “How do you even know what that means?”

You shrug. “Just do.” The elevator doors open and you step out, Pierre following. You halt, not knowing which hall to take. You glance up at your companion for help, only to find him staring back at you. “What?”

He shakes his head and leads you down the corridor to his room. It's a spacious corner suite, with huge windows facing Silverstone that give him a perfect view of the track. You make for the window but Pierre’s hand on your wrist stops you.

“I don’t think so, it’s time for you to sleep.”

“But I just wanna see,” You protest weakly.

“Nice try. I know you. You’ll sit in front of that window for hours if I let you.”

You give in only because he was right. Cityscapes of any kind drew your attention like a moth to a flame. You pouted anyway, but let him take you to the bedroom. Gentle pressure on your shoulders had you sinking into the plush mattress, groaning at the luxurious softness. Pierre laughs as he helps you out of your shoes and jeans, leaving the hoodie.

Eyelids drooping, you climb under the covers Pierre had pulled back for you. He tucks you in and kisses your temple. You grab for him, tugging on his shirt until he stoops down and gives you a proper kiss. When he steps out of your grasp, you panic.

“Stay,” You mumble, fear bubbling in your chest. He had to stay, he couldn’t leave, not when you only had this one night left-

“I’m just taking off my shoes,” He assures you, his weight sliding in behind you to settle against your back. You sigh, moulding yourself to him as best you could. Being in his arms was somehow familiar, even if he’d never held you like this. It felt like home.

“Pierre?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Pillowy soft lips press to the nape of your neck. “I love you too, mon coeur.”

Tagging: @flashcal

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129 notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

for the jules stay with coops, would you be able to do something where jules kinda just messes around on the ice with a stick n puck n the team just kinda watch in adoration? 🤧

This is the final installment of Adventures in Babysitting! Thank you to everyone who stayed interested in this idea, which is the longest series I’ve ever written for SW fanfic (about 15k words total! Wow!). This is my favorite part so far, I think. Hope you enjoy!

Intro 1 2 3 4

Credit for Sweater Weather/ Jules goes to @lumosinlove!

“Can I watch again today?” Jules begged, tugging on the strap of Remus’ duffel bag as they walked to the car. “Please? Please please please please—”

“Yes, you can watch,” Remus groaned, hefting their gear into the trunk. It seemed extra heavy today. “Though keep asking like that and I’m going to say no.”

“The plane doesn’t leave until six thirty, so we’ll be able to hang out with the guys after practice, right?”

“Well, yeah, but we should be at the airport by five just in case,” Remus said. “And it’s an open practice, so the media will want to ask some questions afterward. You can probably hang out with them between interviews, though.”

Jules bit his lip. “Oh. Okay.”

“We’ll figure something out, don’t worry.” He watched Jules buckle in through the rearview mirror while Sirius turned the car on. Most of the snow had melted the previous day, leaving a clear and crisp morning that Remus could feel through the windows as they drove to the rink; he felt a little bad for everyone who wouldn’t be moving around to keep warm for the next few hours.

Moody wasn’t by the door when they arrived, nor was he in the PT room. Remus checked the clock quickly and frowned—they didn’t have a lot of time to spare before they needed to get ready to go. “Coach!” Sirius called, waving down the hallway.

Arthur looked up at them and smiled. “There you are! Got your skates, Lupin?”

Remus blinked. “Uh, yeah?”

“Not you. Little Loops, did you bring your skates?”

Jules and Remus turned to Sirius at the same time and he hid a smile behind his hand. “Got ‘em right here, Coach,” he said without looking at them, holding his bag up.

“What?” Jules whispered and turned to Remus, who shrugged. “What’s he talking about?”

“You’re number…24?” Arthur squinted at his clipboard and walked closer to them. Jules nodded silently. “Alright, I think we can figure something out. You play center, right?”

Jules squeaked out a ‘yes’; Remus could feel him trembling with excitement. “I get to play?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow and bent slightly to his level. “Your brother never stops talking about how you’re the best center Wisconsin has ever seen. I wanna know if it’s true.”

“Sirius, what did you do?” Remus murmured as Jules struggled to take a deep breath.

“I may have possibly told Coach it was his last day here. Perhaps,” Sirius whispered back.

Remus shook his head. “You are the most incredible person on the planet and I’m going to kiss the daylights out of you as soon as humanly possible.”

“Love you, too.”

“Re.” Jules yanked on his arm as he jumped up and down, ramping up with every passing second. “Re, I get to skate with the team! I get to skate! With the team!”

“Looks like it,” Remus laughed. “Come on, practice starts in twenty.”

Not only had Sirius packed Jules’ skates, but somehow he had snuck all his gear into their duffels without either of them noticing; all the guys brightened when they walked into the locker room and Kasey waved to him from his stall. “Hey, Little L—”

“I get to skate!” Jules blurted as he gripped Remus’ hand hard enough to hurt.

James shared a look with Sirius—so you were in on it, too, Remus thought as he led Jules to his stall. “That’s pretty exciting,” he said with a low whistle. “How’d you swing that?”

“Coach Weasley wants to see me play.” If Jules made it through the next three hours without fainting from happiness, Remus would be shocked.

“You must be pretty good, then.” Leo grinned as he buckled into his pads. “Think you can score a goal on me?”

Jules hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll give it a shot.”

“That’s the spirit,” Finn laughed, ruffling Jules’ hair. “You got a jersey yet?”

“Nope.”

“Hmm. What’s your number?”

“24.”

“Yo, Ringer, you got an extra?” Evander Bell dug around for a moment before tossing him a clean jersey. Finn grabbed some stick tape out of his bag and tore two pieces off; when he shook it back out, a decent ‘24’ had replaced the previous ‘21’. “There you go. You might have to tuck it in a bit.”

Jules threw his arms around Finn’s waist and squeezed him tight, mumbling ‘thank you’ over and over again. Finn rubbed his back and looked up at Remus with pleading eyes—can I keep him? he mouthed, pouting when Remus shook his head. Logan and Leo ‘aww’ed in the background.

“Okay, bud, let’s get your pads on so you can enjoy your last day here.” He put a slight emphasis on the final three words and the rest of the team perked up, trading glances between their stalls as Jules hurried to change into his gear.

Thankfully, he already knew what to do, and within ten minutes all three of them were on the ice. Several fans pointed to Jules and waved; he seemed surprised by the attention and shyly smiled back. Coach’s whistle snapped them all to attention and Remus laid a hand on Jules’ helmet to keep him close, just in case. “Cap, you know our drills for today. We start our scrimmage at 12:30 and you get twenty minutes for a lunch break.”

“Yes, Coach,” they chorused. Jules’ answer was a little delayed and Remus caught several half-hidden smiles beneath visors.

“Over here, 24,” Logan said, guiding Jules to the starting line with his stick on his back. “You wanna be on my team?”

“I want dibs!” Talker called as he skated past. “Jules, who’s your favorite? Me, or Shortie Pants over there?”

“Uhhhh…” Jules looked quickly to Remus. “I don’t have a favorite.”

“Sucks to be you guys, but he’s on my team.” Sirius held his hand out for a fist bump that Jules happily obliged. “Right, buddy?”

“Totally.”

“Hell yeah.”

The drills were far easier than usual, even for an open practice, which gave everyone a chance to show off. They went through the motions, adding little flourishes here and there that the slowly-gathering crowd ate up; even Jules started having fun with it, tapping pucks back and forth with Pots between rounds and shooting goal after goal toward Kasey and Leo. He shone with joy.

When the lunch whistle blew, Remus tapped the back of his helmet lightly. “Remember that trick I did to knock Harzy over?” he asked under his breath. Jules grinned. “Want me to show you how to do it?”

“Duh.”

“Alright, c’mere.” Remus skated over to the far end of the rink, keeping an eye out until Finn was safely out of sight. “Plant your leg like this, yeah?”

Jules frowned, but did as he was told. “I thought you went right.”

“I did. You have to fake him out with the left. He falls for it every time.”

“Really?”

“Dollars to donuts. Give it a shot.” Jules wobbled a little. “Keep your balance steady…there you go!”

“Cool!” he whispered, looking up with a bright smile. Remus leaned down so they could knock their helmets together. “Cool.”

“Okay, time for lunch. You can try it out in the scrimmage.”

Jules practiced the motions all the way back to the bench, muttering instructions under his breath as Remus kept him from knocking anyone over on accident. He scarfed down a sandwich and downed a few gulps of Gatorade, which Sirius confiscated in case he drank it too fast and made himself sick.

“We’ve got a game to win, buddy,” he said. “Take it slow.”

“Scrimmage list is up!” Coach called from the doorway, tacking a sheet of paper to the wall. Everyone immediately crowded it; Remus shouldered his way through Kasey and Logan to get a good look.

He laughed out loud when he saw it. “Jules, you better square up!” he shouted over his shoulder.

“Am I playing against you?”

“Yep. You’re up against Sirius for the face-off.”

Jules’ eyes got huge in his head. “No.”

“See for yourself, buddy.”

“Does that mean we’re on the same team for once?” Sirius murmured as he leaned against the side of Remus’ stall.

“Looks like it.” He tilted his chin up for a quick kiss and Sirius tugged the edge of his shoulder pad lightly.

“Love seeing you in these.” He tapped the wooden shelf above them and grinned before straightening. “Alright, boys, let’s go!”

It almost felt like family skate again, except for the overarching vibe of genuine competitive spirit that spread through the team. Jules and Sirius skated to the center and braced for the drop; Jules dug his blades in, and not for the first time Remus was struck by how much they looked alike.

Sirius tapped the front of his skate, but Jules didn’t flinch from his laser-focus on Dumo. “He’s got his head in the game, Cap,” Dumo said with a grin. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

The puck dropped. In a flash of movement, both lunged for it; Sirius won, but Jules was hot on his heels as he skated toward the opposite goal, his face lined with pure determination. “Twelve!” Remus called, tapping his stick against the ice.

Sirius passed it, but Jules didn’t falter from his tail, moving to shadow his every moment. Remus passed James easily, but Talker stole the puck and turned it around for a quick move toward Leo, who dropped into a lunge and blocked his shot. The pace picked up after that and Remus heard the telltale click of press cameras going off along with the whoops of fans who had come to watch.

And then Jules started tailing him, the little shit. Remus did a lazy loop around the outside, then darted in to shake him—Jules reappeared moments later, a bit out of breath but otherwise fine. Remus took the puck out from underneath Logan and raced for the goal as a beautiful line opened up for him, but he heard the familiar shush-hush of Jules’ skates and braked hard.

He should have known it wouldn’t work. Jules dodged sideways at the last second, just barely missing the puck with his stick, then spun back around and chased Remus in a sharp curve through the defense. He heard several people start laughing as he lowered his center of gravity and took a hard turn; the chill of the ice burned his cheeks, but Jules didn’t leave him alone.

“Come on, Little Loops,” he taunted, grinning over his shoulder. “Come and get it!”

Jules grumbled something under his breath and pushed off harder, skating right at Remus with single-minded intensity. He saw his left foot lift and internally shook his head.

With a couple quick taps, he was behind him again. “You can’t use my own tricks against me!”

“I can try!” Jules shouted back as they flew up the ice once more. Kasey caught his shot. “Nice one, Loops.”

“Better luck next time, eh?” Remus knocked on his helmet as he skated past, still panting. Arthur was laughing so hard he had to lean against the glass while Moody patted him on the back and winked at Remus.

“Eight more years,” Moody called with a grin. “Then we’ll have two Lupins out here.”

“Wouldn’t that be something,” Remus laughed.

They stayed on the ice for a while after the scrimmage ended, losing 2-1 to Sirius’ team. Jules shadowed anyone he came within five feet of and was harder to shake off than a piece of duct tape—Remus had never been prouder.

“Harzy! Harzy, I gotta show you something!” Jules waved to Finn, who looked over in amusement from Leo’s goal. “Skate toward me like we’re in a game.”

“Sure thing, bud.”

Jules kept his eyes on Finn’s feet as they grew closer, mouthing something under his breath. No, Remus thought. Is he going to…?

He did. In one perfect motion, he picked up his left skate and pushed hard in the other direction, zipping beneath Finn’s arm and sending him in the other direction. “No!” Finn shouted immediately as Jules burst into maniacal giggles. “Absolutely not! Remus Lupin, get your ass over here!”

“That was perfect!” Remus held his hands out for a double high-five and Jules jumped to reach his palms. “Excellent form.”

Shaved ice coated them both as Finn snowed them, still scowling. “I can’t believe you!”

“Have you tried saying ‘no’ to the puppy eyes?” Remus asked, turning Jules by the shoulders and sticking his own lower lip out.

Finn scoffed, but he could hardly hide his smile. “You’re both ridiculous.”

“Indeed.” He squeezed Jules’ arms briefly. “It’s about time to head out, J. Do you want to say goodbye to everyone while I check in with Marlene?”

The unbridled excitement on Jules’ face dimmed a bit. “Do I have to go?”

“You’ve got school in a couple days.”

“I could stay until it starts again.”

“Mom and Dad miss you a lot.”

“Remus!” Marlene flagged him down from the boards and he skated over with Jules in tow, pulling his helmet off and swiping sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“What’s up?”

Before she could speak, a skinny man with large glasses pushed to the front of the group; Remus disliked him instantly. “Mr. Lupin, can you tell us—”

“Excuse you, I think she was trying to talk,” he interrupted, giving the man a stony look. “Hey, Marley, how’re you doing?”

“I’m doing fine. This is Craig Stearns, from the Hockey Daily…magazine.” Her smile was slightly forced. Tabloid. “He has a couple questions for you.”

“Hi, Craig.”

“When were you going to tell the media about your secret child?”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “My what?”

Craig’s eyes flickered down to Jules, whose grip tightened on the hem of Remus’ jersey. “Your son.”

“You mean my little brother?”

“You’ve been seen with him an awful lot this week—”

“Because he’s my little brother.”

“—and he appears to be living in your house—”

“Because he’s my little brother.”

“—and several photos show you walking hand-in-hand—”

“Do you have siblings?” Remus cut in. “I’m going to assume you don’t. My parents visited for the holidays, during which time there was a death in the family and Jules stayed with Sirius and I for the week. He was living in our house because I’m not about to put my ten-year-old brother in a hotel, and I was holding his hand so that he didn’t run into the street. Are we done here?”

Craig paused. “Can we get a picture—”

“No.”

Jules tapped his elbow and Remus bent down. “Can we go home?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, buddy, we can go home.” Remus gave him a gentle nudge toward the boards. “Go find Sirius, okay?”

“Okay.”

Remus watched him skate across the ice until Leo caught him and swung him into the air before turning back to Craig with the coldest glare he could muster. “You can say whatever the hell you want about me, but keep my little brother out of your fucking gossip column. He’s ten. I better not see his face on some tabloid, got it?”

“Crystal clear,” Craig said with a harsh gulp.

“Good.” Remus looked over to Marlene and smiled, giving her a fist bump. “See you tomorrow, Marley. Say hi to D for me.”

“Will do.”

--------------------------------------

After endless hugs and a standing offer to play from Coach, they finally made it to the car just before four pm. They practically had to crowbar Jules and Moody apart—Remus was half-expecting the grouchy old man to run out after their car waving adoption papers, and letting Kuny figure out Jules was ticklish may have been the worst mistake of Remus’ life.

It was cute, though, seeing the puppylike love on his teammates’ faces whenever Jules entered the room. Jules clearly had a good time; he passed out cold in the backseat within two minutes of leaving the parking lot, still damp from his shower.

“Is it bad that I don’t want to give him back yet?” Remus asked.

“I was just about to say that,” Sirius laughed, glancing into the rearview mirror. “We could tell your parents the flight was cancelled.”

“They miss him.”

Sirius sighed. “I’m sure they do.”

“I still don’t want to put him on a plane alone.”

“He’ll be safe.”

“One of us could fly with him…?” Remus shook his head. “Never mind, he’d think we were treating him like a kid. Ugh. I already miss him.”

“We’ve still got an hour or so to pack.” They turned into the driveway and Sirius parked, but neither of them moved to get out. “This was really, really fun. I’m glad we did it.”

“Me, too.” Remus sighed and twisted around to shake Jules’ knee. “Jules, we’re home. You can sleep on the plane, okay?”

Jules took a deep breath and blinked awake, scrunching his nose up. “I don’t wanna pack.”

“I’m not doing it for you, so you better get a wiggle on unless you want to go home in just your underwear.” Jules was out of the car in a flash and both of them dissolved into laughter. “Oh, fuck, I didn’t think that would work.”

“Come on, he’s about to break the door down.” Sirius snorted and got their bags out of the trunk, then tossed Jules his keys. “It’s the one in the middle, buddy.”

“The blue one?”

“No.”

“The yellow one?”

“Are either of those in the middle?”

“…is it the silver one?”

“There you go.”

Jules got it open after a moment of maneuvering and they tumbled inside in a heap of hockey gear, locking the door against the cold wind that was starting to blow. Packing wasn’t difficult—Remus had put Jules’ laundry into the dryer the previous night and threw it into his backpack as Jules collected his books and leftover socks.

They were in the car by five; Remus was a little nervous about getting to the airport on time, but traffic was light and they arrived with more than an hour to spare. Check-in was easy, they made it through security without any issues, and before he knew it, they were standing in front of the gate.

“You have everything, right?” he asked for the thousandth time as Jules rocked on the balls of his feet. “Books, clothes, everything you brought?”

“I’m fine, Re,” he said.

“You’re not hungry?”

“I had a sandwich before we left, remember?”

“It’s a four-hour flight.”

“I’ll be okay.” Jules looked up at him and smiled. “I’m ten, remember?”

I know, that’s why I’m worried. “Boarding for first-class passengers and unaccompanied minors,” a smooth voice called over the intercom. Remus’ heart leapt and he saw Sirius stiffen slightly.

“That’s you, bud,” he said around the lump in his throat, crouching to give him a proper hug. He buried his face in the side of Jules’ neck and gave him a tight squeeze. “Love you.”

“Love you more,” Jules mumbled. Remus let go after a moment and Jules moved to Sirius. “I’ll miss you.”

“Oh, buddy.” Sirius kissed the top of his head. “I’ll miss you, too.”

“Say hi to mom and dad for me, yeah?” Remus added as Jules walked over to a stewardess in a blue dress.

“I love you!” he called again. Just before they reached the gate, he stopped in his tracks. “Wait!”

“What?” Remus’ stomach dropped to his feet as Jules shrugged his backpack off and ran back to them, flinging himself into Sirius’ arms.

“I didn’t think of a nickname for you!”

“That’s okay,” Sirius assured him. “I don’t need one.”

“Nicknames are for people we care about, and I care about you,” Jules insisted. He narrowed his eyes in thought before breaking into a wide grin. “Siri.”

“Like the phone app?”

“Exactly. Might need some workshopping, though.”

“Go catch your plane,” Sirius laughed, setting him down after a final hug. Jules ran back to the stewardess, who gave them a quick smile while she helped him get his backpack on again. They stayed in their spot, hand-in-hand, until the plane was nothing but a speck among the clouds and their feet started to ache.

“They’ll come visit soon, right?” Remus leaned his head against Sirius’ shoulder as they headed for the exit.

“They will.”

“How much do you want to bet Jules left at least three things behind?”

“He probably left half his clothes under the bed, but there are so many other things we’re going to be doing tonight that don’t include tracking down a kid’s lost sock.”

“Oh, really?” Remus raised an eyebrow at him and kissed his knuckles. “I like the way you think.”

“We already earned our Oreos, mon loup. I think we deserve a reward for surviving three weeks of constant family time.”

199 notes · View notes

spine-buster · 3 years

Text

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Epilogue 2: A Queen’s Crown

A/N: I know this one is a bit short. One more epilogue to go, and if you missed my update, it will be posted THIS WEDNESDAY at 7:30pm. We’re ending the disaster that was 2020 with Aberdeen and Willy!

January 2023

Aberdeen Bloom was freaking the fuck out.

Anna Wintour just walked into the room.

“Miss Bloom! Hello,” she greeted, her signature accent filling the room as her dress swayed back and forth. Every stylish, her boots clacked against the floor as she approached the photographer and set where Aberdeen was about to pose on a beautifully crafted, eccentrically pink upholstered couch in front of styled bookcases holding hundred-year-old editions of books.

“Hello Ms. Wintour,” Aberdeen said as confidently as she could, shaking Anna’s hand. Her own dress – a black, high-neck midi-length dress with sheer long sleeves and hand applied golden crystals she was styled in that morning – sparkled in the light of the room. “It’s an honour to meet you. Thank you for the profile.”

“It’s not every day a woman sets a record in the writing world,” Anna said. “I would be a fool not to profile the youngest person to ever receive a Booker Prize for fiction.”

Aberdeen smiled. Every time she heard that – the youngest person to ever receive a Booker Prize for fiction – she had to pinch herself. She truly believed her life wasn’t real over these past few years. Most authors dreamt of being nominated for awards. Her first book was longlisted for the two biggest literary awards in Canada. Her second book, published by Coach House again but then picked up by Knopf and published internationally, had won the two biggest literary awards in Canada and had just won the Booker Prize for Fiction, the most prestigious literary award in the world. She was living in a dream world.

“And you must be the new fiancé,” Anna said, motioning over to where William was standing just out of shot, watching the photoshoot about to begin. “Pleasure to meet you. You must be in town to face the Rangers.”

“You as well,” William approached her to shake her hand. “You made my fiancée’s dream come true with this profile.”

“Well considering how fashionable she’d been on the book tour,” Anna shrugged her shoulders, as if to say it was so obvious to have her in the pages of Vogue. “I know some of the editors here kept tabs on it. Did you employ a stylist?”

“No ma’am,” Aberdeen giggled slightly. If Anna Wintour was about to compliment her on her style, she was going to drop dead.

“Impressive,” Anna nodded. “Now let’s see the ring.”

Aberdeen held out her left hand. Anna inspected the ring like a gemologist. When William proposed with it, Aberdeen was blown away. He’d designed it himself. A 4 carat round diamond in a twisted halo design and pavé band. It quite literally looked like a flower in bloom. And for Aberdeen’s eyes only, an inscription on the inside of the band in the most delicate handwriting. “Stunning,” she said, turning to the photographer. “Make sure you get it.”

“Of course, Ms. Wintour.”

Anna side-stepped to inspect the set. She took one last look at Aberdeen in her dress and high heels and perfectly waved hair and perfectly applied makeup. Anna gave her an up-down and suddenly Aberdeen became nervous. Anna looked towards the stylist. “We need a crown. Crowns.”

“Crown? Crowns? Multiple?”

“Her novel is titled A Queen’s Crown. She’s the youngest woman – person – to win the Booker Prize for fiction. Surely she should wear a crown in her photoshoot.”

“I—I’ll go into the closet,” the stylist nodded, hurrying out of the room.

Anna turned once more to Aberdeen. “Enjoy.”

***

March 2023

“I’m not about to be murdered by Orla Bloom for not having our wedding in a Catholic Church,” William said as he stuffed pasta into his mouth at the dinner table.

“But you’re not Catholic,” Aberdeen tried to explain to him, again. “You don’t understand what we’ll have to go through to get married in a Catholic Church. There are classes – like legit marriage classes we have to take. And we have to get, like, permission from the diocese to enter into the marriage and follow a Catholic wedding forma—”

“Listen to me,” William said, interrupting her. He grabbed her hand from across the table to calm her down. He knew how stressed she was getting about getting married, if only because there was Toronto and Sweden and Northern Ireland and Scotland to deal with. That didn’t even factor in hockey, making them only really able to have the wedding within a twelve-week span of the year. That also didn’t factor in her job, which, between book tours and interviews and appearances and writing her next, also created limited time and availability for their wedding date. But when she felt his hand wrap around hers, he saw her visibly relax. “I love you. We could go down to the courthouse right now to get married. But this means a lot to Orla. And I know you won’t say it, but I know how much this means to you, to be married in the same church you went to as a kid in Etobicoke,” he said softly. “So we’re doing it there. No ifs, and, or buts. I’ll take any class I have to in order to marry you. I’ll donate. Give my blood. Whatever. We’re getting married there.”

Aberdeen couldn’t take it. She got up from her seat and moved to sit in William’s lap. She didn’t care that they were at the dinner table, and she didn’t care that William had to push back his chair really quickly to accommodate her. All she wanted to do was melt into him completely. “Thank you so much,” she whispered against his lips as she kissed him. “I love you. You know that, right?”

William smiled. “I do. And I love you too. That’s why I gave you that ring.”

***

TALK OF THE TOWN: Booker Prize-winning and Toronto-based author Aberdeen Bloom and William Nylander (you know, of the Toronto Maple Leafs) just bought “the last lot on the Kingsway” – an old 1970s style bungalow empty for some time now. Sources say the couple plan to tear it down (of course) and build their dream home, a Scandinavian-inspired house where Bloom will no doubt produce her next great novels. Bloom and Nylander will be two blocks away from her former and his current boss, Brendan Shanahan, President of the Toronto Maple Leafs. Bloom has always said in interviews that she will never leave Toronto, so it’s fitting that the girl who was born and raised in Etobicoke would buy on one of the city’s most exclusive and coveted streets.

***

May 2023

“Vogue is coming to the wedding? Vogue?! Like…Vogue magazine?!” Aleida asked as she fed a now two-year-old Helena sitting in a high chair. Aberdeen smiled wryly before nodding her head. Aleida was still dumbfounded. “Like…Anna Wintour Vogue magazine. That Vogue magazine.”

“That Vogue magazine,” Aberdeen nodded. “They’re profiling it for an issue, along with my dress fitting. And then when the house is done, they’re going to do a feature on that too.”

Aleida looked towards Bee, who was just as shocked as Aleida was. “We need to go shopping for new dresses.”

“We definitely need to go shopping for new dresses,” Bee agreed. “I better let Aryne know too.”

“Guys, it’s still like, two years away. We set the date for August 23rd, 2025,” Aberdeen smiled as she reminded them. “You will have plenty of time. Plenty.”

“I don’t know about that. Weddings creep up on you quick,” Bee joked. Aberdeen completely understood where she was coming from. Bee and Morgan were getting married in July. William and Aberdeen were invited, of course, and would be going. Bee spoke a lot about the planning the past few months and always gave updates whenever the girls were all together. “I mean, I thought a year would be plenty of time for the wedding. And it is, don’t get me wrong…but it definitely came sooner than I thought!”

“You need to get the venue sorted now before anything else,” Aleida offered. “You’re two years out so you should honestly have your choice in place. But I don’t think there’s any venue in this city that would turn you down.”

“We’ve already booked,” Aberdeen smiled wryly. She was just full of surprises for the girls today. They looked at her, waiting for a response. “The Aria ballroom at the Four Seasons,” she revealed.

“Ooooooooooh,” both women cooed simultaneously at the revelation. Even Helena join in on the sound. “That will look stunning,” Aleida commented. “I can see it now – those floor-to-ceiling windows with flowers hanging and—”

“—don’t forget the drapery over the dancefloor—” Bee offered.

“—the drapery over the dancefloor—”

“—and the centrepieces…big, tall arrangements that stretch up—”

“Ladies, ladies, ladies,” Aberdeen held her hands up gently, causing Bee and Aleida to stop momentarily. Aberdeen paused for dramatic effect. “We’ve gotta write all this stuff down.”

The girls smiled and wiggled in their seats excitedly. “I’m giving you Rachel’s number,” Bee said, immediately mentioning her florist. “Your last name’s Bloom. There’s gotta be a shit ton of flowers at this wedding.”

***

July 2023

Aberdeen had tears in her eyes as she watched Morgan and Bee say “I do”. William had been holding her hand throughout the entire ceremony, rubbing the back of it gently with his own thumb. When they finally had their first kiss, it was the only point he let go so he could whistle loudly and clap and cheer. Bee looked extraordinary in her lace dress. Aberdeen could only imagine what would be in store for her when she went wedding dress shopping.

When the reception began, Aberdeen couldn’t help but get even more emotional. Knowing what Bee had gone through in her life, and seeing her dance with Morgan for their first dance made some tears fall down her cheeks. William noticed almost immediately, even though he was behind her; he wrapped his arms around her waist tightly and nestled his head onto her shoulder. “That’ll be us soon,” he whispered.

Aberdeen nodded her head. “I know. I’m so excited.”

“I love you so much. I can’t wait for you to be my wife.”

“And I can’t wait for you to be my husband.”

“And baby daddy. Don’t forget baby daddy,” he joked.

Aberdeen giggled. She knew he said that to make her laugh, because even though these were tears of joy, he didn’t like to see her cry. “Baby daddy too,” she nodded. “I can’t wait to have a thousand more little Nylanders running around Etobicoke.”

“We’re going to take over the world.”

***

August 23rd, 2025

Aberdeen looked at her dad as he held his arm out for her to grab. He looked so spiffy in his suit, and every time she saw him today, he had a giant smile on his face. It hadn’t left since their early morning wake up call to get hair and makeup done. He’d cried when he saw her in her dress for the first time. Now, if it was even possible, his smile was even wider. “Ready, sweetheart?” he asked.

Aberdeen nodded, linking her arm with her father’s. “I love you so much, dad.”

“I love you too, Aberdeen. Every day I thank my lucky stars for you and Siena and Camden. You’ve brought so much light to my life.”

Aberdeen’s bridesmaids had already walked out – Jacquie, Stephanie, Daniella, Kasha, and Siena as her maid of honour. She knew Alex would be standing beside William at the front of the aisle, with Camden (now a smart-as-a-whip-16 year old) and some of his cousins there too. The music began playing. She took a deep breath. The doors opened.

As she walked down the aisle with her father, she saw a lot of familiar faces. Morgan and Bee, of course, cradling a six-month-old Andy. Fred and Aleida, with a four-year-old Helena in the cutest little tutu-style dress. Auston, John and Aryne, Zach and Alannah, Joe with his wife and kids, Pierre, Rasmus, Mitch and Steph, Jake, Courtney, and Luna, Justin and Audrey – so many of the Leafs. Beth Zadakis. Her editor from Coach House Books. Her editor from Knopf. Jason, Jennifer, and their four girls. Brendan and his wife. Her grandparents, who came in all the way from Northern Ireland. Michael and Camilla. Her mom.

And of course, William. William, who was wiping tears away from his eyes. William, who looked so dapper in his tux. William.

Her William.

166 notes · View notes

kozumekenza · 3 years

Text

on my mind :: eight

:: suna rintarou x f!reader :: playlist :: masterlist ::

:: taglist: open :: wc: 1.6k ::

After a drunken one-night stand with your ex, you thought you could get him out of your life for good. Unfortunately, the two of you can’t seem to keep away from each other. Why can’t you leave each other alone? And more importantly, why is he still on your mind?

tw: profanity, mentions of sex

author’s note: this is it, the final chapter. i have bonus scenes that i’m planning to write in the future, but this is it for the main story! thank you so much to everyone who has read this and supported it, i appreciate you all so much <3

Team Japan was performing the best they ever had. With Hinata and Kageyama’s freak quick attack, Sakusa’s angled spikes, MSBY’s teamwork, Aran’s powerful serves, and Suna’s intimidating blocks, Japan easily made it past the first few rounds and into the gold match game.

You and the team were lucky; there were no substantial injuries, and even after countless games against some of the best in the world, everyone was still upbeat and energetic. Morale was high, and everyone was excited for the next game: the final gold medal match against Argentina.

You had met Iwaizumi’s fiance, Oikawa Tooru, and immediately understood what Iwaizumi meant. There was, in fact, an “Iwa-chan, I can’t believe you! Rival against your own fiance!” All in all, you thought Oikawa was a good match for Iwaizumi’s impassive nature, and you were happy for both of them. You just hoped Iwaizumi would survive the final game.

Jerseys were put on, water bottles were filled, medical bags were prepared, and soon enough, you were standing next to the bench and watching the National Team practice for their most important match. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of Suna, who was donning the jersey you had stolen months ago. You had already expressed your love for Suna in a National Team uniform, jumping him almost immediately after they won their first game.

Practice finished, and both teams were given a short break before the match would start. The arena had a few family members; you could see Osamu and Kita, along with Bokuto’s husband and Hinata’s sister and mom. Once again, you were thrilled that you were able to stand next to the court during the game and not in the bleachers.

Suna approached you where you were next to the bench, and you stood up to give him a good luck kiss.

“I know you’ll do great, Rintarou. I’m so proud of you. Good luck, and make sure to beat Argentina and give Oikawa hell!”

Iwaizumi laughed next to you, earning a glare from Oikawa who was talking to him. You gave Suna a final hug and kiss, then turned away to redo a wrap on Aran’s knee.

You missed Suna handing a tiny black box to Iwaizumi, and Iwaizumi subsequently hiding the box in one of his bags.

---

Japan took the first set, a service ace from Kageyama ending it. Argentina took the next, thanks to a surprising setter dump from Oikawa. Sakusa’s final spike gave the third set to Japan, and Oikawa’s service ace gave the fourth to Argentina. With the tie, everyone was nervous approaching the final set. You redid a few wraps, gave encouraging words, and wordlessly threw an ice pack at Hinata, who was acting like he didn’t receive a ball with his face in the fourth set. Oikawa was happily taunting Iwaizumi, who was threatening Oikawa with a pair of tape scissors in hand.

The whistle blew, and the players made their way back onto the court. You watched with bated breath as the set flew by, long rallies and quick movements making your head spin. You were exhausted just watching; the game had been long and hard, but this set was full of back and forth points with neither team getting a clear lead.

Finally, Japan had a break and was in the lead at match point. You could barely breathe, and everything felt like it was in slow motion. You watched as Oikawa served, Komori received, Sakusa spiked, and Argentina’s libero sent the ball towards Oikawa, who set it towards a spiker. The spiker jumped, Suna jumping right in front of him. The ball was hit, and it felt like an eternity as you watched Suna send it back down to the other side, guaranteeing Japan’s victory as the ball hit the floor. A whistle blew, signaling the end of the match and solidifying the final score.

You were shouting, Iwaizumi was shouting, the coach was shouting, everyone was rushing towards the court and Suna. You ran as fast as you could into his arms, laughing as you took his face between your hands and showered him with kisses as he spun you around. Both of you were crying, his teammates circling around you, hugging him (and by proxy, you) and patting him on the back. He finally set you down, grabbing something from Iwaizumi before he was pulled away by a jealous Oikawa.

You watched in awe as Suna Rintarou got down on one knee right after scoring the winning point for Japan’s Olympic gold medal.

“Y/n, I know we’ve been back together for only a few weeks, but in my heart, it’s been over eight years. I’ve loved you since then, and I’ll love you until the day I die. You’re the only one I can picture beside me in the future, and you’re the only one I want to spend the rest of my life with. I could go on and on for hours, but I also have a medal to get for you. Will you marry me?”

The tears streaming down your face prevented you from properly speaking, but your enthusiastic nod said it all. You threw your arms around Suna, letting him pick you up and spin you around again as everyone in the arena cheered and the cameras picked up the proposal on live television.

“Of course, I’ll marry you, Rintarou.” Your voice was breaking, and you could see tears on Suna’s face as well. “I love you so much and I’m so proud of you. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

---

When Suna crept into your room that night, you welcomed him with open arms, grinning as he placed the gold medal over your naked chest, the cold of the metal seeping into your skin as the bed broke beneath you, again.

---

Los Angeles, August 2028

“We’re gonna be fucking late, Rintarou.”

“No we won’t, calm down.” He tossed you your team jacket, watching as you zipped it fully to cover the bruises blooming on your neck.

You glanced down at your phone. “Fuck, Rin, it’s almost time. Get out.” You pushed him out of the empty training room, grimacing at the clock on the wall. “I’ll see you out there.”

You snatched your bag off of the floor just as your phone began to ring.

“Hey, Osamu, I’m kinda busy right now.”

“Busy banging Sunarin?”

“Shut the fuck up. Are you guys here?”

“Yeah, right behind the bench. She’s asking for you.”

“Be there in a sec.”

You hung up with a click, pushing open the door and walking down the hall to the court. The rest of the team was already there, and you glared at Atsumu as he shot you a smirk. Just like Osamu said, he was seated in the bleachers behind the bench. You dropped your bag down, walking over to him and Suna.

“Hi, baby. Are you being good for uncle ‘Samu?” You cooed at your daughter, who was currently latched onto Suna’s neck.

“Yes, momma.”

“Good girl.” You grabbed her from Suna, bouncing her on your hip as the whistle blew for practice to begin. “Tell your daddy good luck.”

“Good luck!” she giggled, hands reaching out for Suna as he leaned down to hug and kiss you both.

“Make sure you watch me close, baby girl. Not uncle ‘Tsumu.”

Your daughter grinned at her dad, nodding her head and promising him all her attention (which was pretty minimal, for a three year old).

You handed her back up to Osamu, who bounced her on his knee as she waved at you and Suna.

Practice came and went, and another gold medal match for Japan started. Japan had won again at Paris in 2024, and everyone was hoping for another one. You waved to Iwaizumi, who was arguing with Oikawa on the Argentinian side. The two of you stayed in contact after he moved, with him frequently telling you about the most recent stupid things Oikawa had done and you keeping him updated on your life with Suna and EJP.

The game began, and it was close, just as the last two between Japan and Argentina had been. Before the fifth and final set, they were yet again tied, with the previous sets being close as well. The whistle blew, and the final set began.

It was back and forth, as was usual for Japan and Argentina, but a break at the end put Japan at match point, just like the game in Tokyo. With bated breath, you watched Atsumu serve, Argentina receive and spike, and Komori receive. Atsumu set, and time slowed down as the ball flew in an arc, right into Suna’s waiting palm. The ball was slammed down, the echo carrying throughout the silent arena. The final whistle blew, and the gym went up in cheers.

You ran towards Suna, just as you had done at the Tokyo Games, leaping into his arms and showering him with kisses. Osamu approached, handing your daughter off to Suna, as the three of you celebrated in your own little world. A third Olympic gold, an amazing daughter, an incredible husband; everything was perfect.

The next day, you received what was quite possibly the best picture you had ever seen. You, Suna, and your daughter, tears on all of your faces, huddled close together in a tight hug, smiles bright and wide, taken by Osamu.

You had everything you could ever ask for in your family, your friends, and even your job. Still, Suna Rintarou was always on your mind.

taglist: @sunasexual @call-me-lulu @ntimacy @circleglasses @porcolie @keikotaro @rintarovibes @kenmaslov3r

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

Text

An Art of Balance #34

Orion Amari x MC

A/N: The penultimate chapter everyone, can you believe it? How far we’ve come together. Just as a little heads up, I will be uploading the last chapter of this story (🥺) in one go with the epilogue. So if you happen to see the epilogue first, know there is a ‘little’ (totally not little) chapter still waiting for you.

Thank you to everyone who let me borrow their OCs, I did a little round up of everyone in this chapter. Lizzie’s wonderful friends are belonging to:

Katriona ,KC’ Cassiopeia: @kc-needs-coffee

Judith Harris: @judediangelo75

Ira Janda, Julian Bennett: @slytherindisaster

Azariah Steele: @cursebreakerfarrier

Henry McClarnon: @thatravenpuffwitch

Also massive thanks to my favourite girl @the-al-chemist for helping with the structure and reading over. You know I love you 💛

Word Count: ~ 5.600

_______________________________________

Chapter 34: Victory

“Hufflepuff is this year’s reigning Quidditch champion!”

Murphy hadn’t even finished shouting into his megaphone when Skye, Lizzie and everyone around them erupted into screams of joy. Skye flung her arms around Lizzie’s neck, hugging her mid-air, half sobbing, half shouting “We did it! We did it!” into her ear over and over again. Lizzie didn’t even have any words to articulate the rush of emotions running through her all at once. She felt euphoric, happy, exhausted and unbelievably relieved that her plan hadn’t backfired on them. Syke was right, they had really done it.

They had won the House Cup.

Still hugging and jumping up and down on their brooms, Lizzie and Skye were slowly drifting downwards, landing roughly on the soft grass. The impact almost knocked them over but they couldn’t care less. They were basking in the cheers coming from the hollering stands, their grins so wide their cheeks were hurting.

Lizzie could see Skye’s father and Professor Sprout giving them standing ovations and even Professor McGonagall was clapping, albeit not as enthusiastically as the rest. Murphy was beaming from ear to ear, remaining silent for once and letting the team have the full attention of the crowd.

One after the other their teammates were landing next to them. Lizzie found herself hugging Judith and even Everett in her enthusiasm; all of their animosities were forgotten over the raw joy of achieving their incredible last minute win. In this moment what had happened wasn’t important anymore; the only thing that counted was that they had reached their common goal and the Cup was theirs.

And then, all of a sudden, Orion was there, his eyes shining with pride and a beaming smile on his face. He swept her into an embrace and spun her around, neither one of them caring the slightest bit what anyone else might be thinking. Lizzie was laughing as she held onto him, feeling nothing but elation; she couldn’t imagine a more perfect moment.

Orion sat her down and Lizzie was swaying for a moment, feeling slightly dizzy from being spun around, too much sunlight and the feeling of Orion’s arms around her. Still smiling, he raised his hand to her face and cupped her cheek, his thumb running over her flushed skin. The expression in his eyes was so soft as they found hers, the butterflies exploding in Lizzie’s stomach seemed to fill her up completely; the fluttery feeling combined with the adrenaline rushing through her body made her feel as if she was still flying.

He opened his mouth to say something when a sudden movement to their side made both of them turn their heads; Judith and Skye had sneaked up on them and were on the verge of upending a giant barrel of butterbeer over their heads. Lizzie tried to move out of its way immediately, but Orion quickly got hold of her wrist and pulled her back.

“You’re staying right where you are,” he laughed before the ice cold liquid was hitting them. Lizzie shrieked and closed her eyes as the butterbeer washed over her face and found its way down the back of her jersey. She buried her face against Orion’s now soaked Quidditch robes and could feel the vibration in his chest as he laughed. She couldn’t help her smile widening as he held her even closer.

“I knew you could do it, Chaser,” he whispered against her hair.

Lizzie pulled away and smiled up at him; a light giggle escaped her as she was taking in their drenched state. “We did it all together.”

Orion gently brushed a strand of wet hair out of her face. “As a team.”

She covered his hand resting on her cheek with hers, her eyes finding his again. His long, dark hair was just as soaked as hers was, but he obviously couldn’t care less. Lizzie’s eyes flickered down to his lips for a moment; the soft smirk forming on them made her hold her breath. Her wish to kiss him right here and now was close to overwhelming.

But before she could give in to it, her gaze flicked over Orion’s shoulder to where she could see the members of the defeated Gryffindor team lying in the grass. The misery they were radiating was a stark contrast to their own overjoyed celebration.

She could see Julian comforting a broken looking Henry; Azariah was lying on his back, staring into the sky with a blank expression and the two Chasers were silently talking between themselves, shaking their heads in disbelief.

Charlie was sitting apart from them; his head was hanging low, his windswept red hair obscuring most of his face. The rest was hidden his hand covering his eyes, while the other was still clutching the Golden Snitch, that was gleaming in the sunlight.

The sight of her friend's devastation felt like a jab to Lizzie’s heart. Her face twisting with sympathy, she placed a hand on Orion’s chest and gently pushed him away. He followed her gaze with a slight frown, before he nodded in comprehension.

He inclined his head in Charlie’s direction. “Go to him; he is in need of a friend right now.”

Lizzie knew she should go and it wasn’t like she didn’t want to; she just didn’t want to let go of Orion again so soon. Sensing her hesitation, he gently nudged her forward.

“Go,” he repeated. “We’ll have our moment later.”

Finally breaking free of him, Lizzie walked past her teammates and towards the Gryffindors. She stopped by every one of them for a moment, either trying to cheer them up or offer some words of comfort. When she reached the lone figure of her best friend, she stopped and knelt down beside him.

“Hey.”

At the sound of her voice, Charlie raised his bleak eyes to look at her for a moment. “Congratulations, I guess,” he managed to croak out before hanging his head again.

“Thank you,” Lizzie answered sincerely. She put a hand on his forearm, squeezing it gently. “You put up an incredible fight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this before.”

Charlie shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe it. “Didn’t help much, did it? You won, we lost; there’s no way of talking around it.”

“It could have gone down either way; it was a matter of seconds.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I can’t believe I caught the Snitch only one bloody moment too late.” He choked out a bitter laugh and held the golden ball up for her to see.

“Looks like it’s me who gets the consolation prize in the end.”

He looked past her to her laughing teammates. “What are you doing over here anyway, champ? Don’t tell me you’re ditching your team for us moping lot?”

Lizzie sat down next to him onto the grass and nudged him with her shoulder. “I’m ditching my team for a friend who could use a bit of comfort right now,” she responded with a smile.

Charlie’s eyes trailed from her towards the Hufflepuffs again, who were busy hoisting a laughing Orion up on their shoulders.

“Even him?”

She had followed his gaze and nodded. “Even him.”

Charlie huffed but gave her a small grin, nonetheless. “That means a lot, Liz, thank you. But you deserved to win this time; you more than anyone.”

Lost in thought, Lizzie had been watching Orion celebrating with their friends. It was only now that she saw Charlie had been watching her in turn. Not sure if he was still talking about the match, Lizzie blushed a deep scarlet that almost matched Charlie’s robes; her flustered state made him grin mischievously.

“You’d better watch out though, pineapple,” he teased her, “there’s always next season. I’ll be damned if I let you defend that title; we’ll make sure the Cup gets back to where it belongs.”

Happy to see Charlie’s fighting spirit return, Lizzie dipped her head back and laughed. “Not if I can help it, Weasley!”

She scrambled to her feet and offered Charlie her hand. “Do I see you at the party later?”

It was a tradition to celebrate the closing of the Quidditch season with a big outdoor event down by the Black Lake. Generally considered one of the highlights of the years, it wasn’t only for the members of the winning House but for everyone in the school. As it was the last chance to have a bit of fun before the stress of their exams would take up all of their focus, most of the students had been looking forward to it for weeks.

Charlie, however, didn’t seem too thrilled at the prospect. He looked Lizzie up and down with a sigh.

“Would you accept a ‘no’ for an answer?”

“No,” Lizzie chuckled.

“Then I don’t think I have a choice, really,” Charlie smirked before wrapping his arm around her shoulder to march her back to her team. “I’ve got to celebrate my favourite badger girl, after all.”

Lizzie was probably one of the last ones left in the castle when she was finally able to make her way down to the lake. The sunlight had turned from bright to golden and was painting the landscape around her in an alternating pattern of light and shadow.

After the potion Ira had given her had worn off, the bone crushing hug from a sobbing Penny had made the pain of her injury flare up again with full force. When her knees had buckled from the sharp sting, Orion and Ira had been adamant she’d go to the Hospital Wing at once; her ribs had hurt too badly for Lizzie to even consider objecting.

Madam Pomfrey had been miffed when she had checked her up, muttering something about “This bloody Quidditch business” under her breath. To Lizzie’s relief, Ira’s initial assessment had been right and her ribs weren’t broken after all.

“I’d much rather you’d have come straight to me, Miss Jameson,” Madam Pomfrey had declared sternly. “Teenagers,” she had sighed,” always think they know better.”

She had been watching Lizzie reproachfully while preparing the ingredients for another painkiller potion, which was supposed to get her through the night.

Before she had left, Lizzie had made sure to check up on Brian; as it turned out, he wasn’t allowed to leave the Hospital Wing due to a mild concussion. He was miserable about not being able to celebrate with the rest of them, but otherwise he seemed to be alright.

“Kiss the Cup for me, will you?” he had asked her with a laugh as she had been about to leave.

Lizzie’s answer had been cut short by the scolding look of Madam Pomfrey, who had appeared by Brian’s bedside. “I thought there was an event you were desperate to attend, Miss Jameson,” she had chided her, albeit with the hint of a smile. “If you don’t want to spend the night here alongside your friend, you had better leave now before I change my mind.”

As she was walking along the path that would lead her to the Black Lake, Lizzie was enjoying having a little time on her own. It was a welcome change to the busy moments after the match, when her housemates had flooded the pitch and congratulations had been passed all around. It gave her the opportunity to let everything sink in.

They had won; they had really, actually done it.

Her team had come out on top; even after all the mess that had been going down this year, they had managed to get a grip and pull each other through. Lizzie felt overwhelmingly happy; never before had she been so proud of her team, of Skye, of Orion, even of herself.

She remembered the feeling of weightlessness when Orion had picked her up and spun her around; neither of them had cared about anyone else in that moment and it had felt so right; today, everything was feeling right.

Lizzie smiled to herself as she reached the shoreline, an unmistakable bounce in her steps. Whatever the evening might be bringing, she was looking forward to it; she had earned the right to just enjoy herself for a change.

When Lizzie heard two voices calling her name, she slowed her steps and turned around. It was Andre and Charlie, undoubtedly headed into the same direction as her. Tapping her foot in mock impatience, she waited for them to catch up.

Andre smiled brightly when they reached her. “Look who it is, Charlie.”

“The reigning Quidditch champion,” Charlie continued, now in a decidedly better mood after he’d had time to stomach the match. “May we escort you to your victory party?”

Both boys went up to either side of Lizzie and linked arms with her as they marched her along. She had to giggle at their overly solemn expressions.

“You may,” she laughed. “But why are you so late?”

Charlie rolled his eyes and jerked his head in Andre’s direction. “Someone needed to get dressed properly.”

It was only now that Lizzie noticed the giant badger on Andre’s blue shirt he was wearing under his jacket. She raised her eyebrows in astonishment and chuckled.

“That’s a really nice gesture, Andre, but that’s not quite the right colour.”

Andre merely shrugged, however. “I’ve got to uphold some housepride at least or else Erika might kill me.” He glanced down at his newest design. “That one’s risky enough as it is.”

As expected, the party was already in full swing when they arrived. Several stalls had been set up at the shore of the Black Lake and the houselves had given it their all to provide them with delicious food and drinks. They were all centred around a giant bonfire that was blazing brightly in the slowly descending darkness of the evening.

The stalls were decorated in yellow and black banners, as were the comfortable looking seats that had been grouped together all over the place. The image of the Hufflepuff badger was a common sight wherever Lizzie was looking. To add to the atmosphere, numerous strings of fairy lights had been put up in between the branches and down the stems of the trees.

The place was packed with laughing and chatting students; Charlie and Andre went to get something to drink and Lizzie found herself wandering around the site, looking for any sign of her friends.

She spotted the familiar strawberry blond head of KC over to the side of the bonfire. She was sitting in one of the cushioned garden chairs with a bottle of butterbeer in her hand. Her head was dipped back in laughter at something Rath had just said; knowing the tall blonde girl, it had undoubtedly been some wry remark about the course of the game.

Where KC was Murphy was never far and sure enough, he was lounging in the chair next to her. He was gesturing wildly towards the two girls with sparkling eyes, confirming Lizzie’s suspicion that they were indeed still talking about the match.

Sitting next to Murphy, Orion was attentively listening to the ongoing discussion. He was looking as deeply relaxed as Lizzie had ever seen him. As if sensing someone’s attention being on him, he turned his head. As their eyes met, a smile tugged at his lips and he motioned for her to join them with the smallest movement of his head. The shift of Orion’s focus didn’t escape KC; she nudged him with her foot before bending over to him and whispering something into his ear, making Orion laugh and shake his head.

Lizzie felt a smile forming on her face. There was nothing she would have liked more than heading over to her friends right now. For the first time since she had arrived at Hogwarts last September, she felt completely certain of what she wanted; it was as if reaching their shared goal today had cleared her mind of all the doubts that she had been carrying with her.

But there was one thing she had to do first. Although it was incredibly hard to do, she turned her back on her friends and scanned the crowd for a different face.

After a moment, Lizzie spotted who she had been looking for; through a gap in between several groups of people, Lizzie could make out the familiar figure of Rowan. She was on her own and - just like Lizzie herself - she seemed to be searching the crowd as well. When their eyes met, they started walking towards each other.

“I’ve been looking for you!” both girls exclaimed simultaneously when they had reached each other, before they burst into laughter; it felt easy and carefree, almost like it used to be.

“Congratulations on winning the House Cup; you were amazing!” To Lizzie’s surprise, Rowan hugged her tightly. “Penny, Tonks and I were almost dying watching you play; what a match!”

A touch of worry flickered over her face as her eyes dropped to Lizzie’s ribcage, where the Bludger had hit her. “How are your ribs? Ira told us they’re bruised pretty badly.”

“She’s right, but nothing’s broken or anything,” Lizzie shrugged. “Madam Pomfrey gave me another painkiller potion for tonight, but it will probably hurt like hell tomorrow.”

Lizzie didn’t want to talk about her injury right now. She thought about how the whole school must have seen Orion embrace her after the match; Rowan must have done so, too. Lizzie was sick and tired of this ridiculous fight with her; she wanted to sort things out with her friend once and for all.

She took a deep breath. “Listen, Ro, we need to talk.”

Much to her surprise, Rowan responded immediately. “Yes, I know. That’s why I’ve been looking for you; I wanted to apologise.”

Lizzie had already opened her mouth to reply when her brain registered Rowan’s unexpected words. Not knowing what to say, she blinked in confusion.

“You want what now?”

Rowan’s gaze dropped to the ground and she rubbed her arm uncomfortably. “When that Bludger hit you and you were hanging from that banner, I was so scared for you,” she muttered quietly, her eyes still trained on the tips of her shoes. “I mean, we all were, of course; Penny even nearly cried. But Orion was there to help you immediately and even from the Hufflepuff stands you could see how afraid he was for you.”

Rowan raised her eyes to meet Lizzie’s. The different emotions shining in them were hard to pinpoint; it was a mixture of sadness, resignation and, strangely enough, something resembling relief.

“And seeing the two of you after the game was over…” Rowan’s voice trailed off and she swallowed the lump in her throat. “It’s just so obvious how much he cares for you.”

Lizzie slowly breathed out, not quite daring to believe what she was hearing. “So you’re not mad?” she asked tentatively. “I promised you to stay away from him after all.”

Rowan sighed. “Yes, and you did. I’ll be honest with you, I really thought if we could just pretend like none of this had happened, it would make me feel better; and maybe even make the two of us better again, too. I was so hurt and angry at you; you are such an admirable person, Lizzie, so many girls want to be just like you,” Rowan sniffed and her voice broke slightly, “I just didn’t want you to have him on top of it.”

Lizzie felt her own voice becoming breathy. “You don’t have to be like anyone else, Ro; you’re perfect just the way you are.”

But Rowan shook her head and pressed her lips together. “No, I’m not. I deliberately hurt you to feel better about myself. But it didn’t work, I only felt bad for asking something horrible like this from you and making all of us unhappy in the process.”

Her shoulders slumped as she hung her head. “I acted like the worst friend imaginable, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Lizzie asked incredulously. “If anyone should apologise, it’s me. I never should have risked our friendship like I did, I should have been honest with you from the beginning.” She laid her hand on Rowan’s arm and smiled when she lifted her head again. “Believe me, Rowan, no matter what you think, you’re always important to me.”

She hesitated to go on and gathered her courage before she continued. “But Orion is, too,” she said timidly. “It’s not for show or about wanting to be with someone I’m not supposed to be with. I really care about him.”

“I know,” Rowan sighed and pushed her glasses up her nose, “I guess I was more intrigued by the idea I had of him than by him himself.”

An encouraging smile formed on Rowan’s face. “But you, Lizzie, you know him, the real him. Not the Quidditch captain or the guy who loves broom balancing and nebulous answers, just him. And believe me, you matter to Orion as well, anyone can see that; you two belong together.”

Not knowing what to say, Lizzie took a step forward and threw her arms around her best friend’s neck. “Thank you.”

She was more than relieved when Rowan returned the hug. “What for,” she laughed before letting go again. She placed her hands on Lizzie’s shoulders, turned her around and pushed her forward.

“Now go and find him before I change my mind.” Rowan’s eyes swept over the crowd and a concerned frown appeared over the top of her glasses. “I need to check on Tulip and Tonks, they were talking about tinkering with some firecrackers earlier.”

She adjusted the Prefect badge on her jumper, gave Lizzie another smile and quickly vanished in the crowd. Lizzie watched after her for a second before she turned around as well.

Just as she started walking towards where Orion was still sitting with their friends, Penny jumped on her out of nowhere grabbing her arm.

“There you are!” she squealed. “Where in Godric’s name have you been?”

Lizzie wanted to reply but didn’t get a chance before Penny forcefully dragged her towards a big group of people standing close to the central bonfire. She was constantly babbling with excitement. “He is here, Lizzie, can you believe it! Ethan Parkin is here. At our victory party! This is incredible, he is incredible, all of this is incredible!”

She tugged at Lizzie’s arm impatiently. “Come on now, he has been asking about you several times already!”

As they were approaching the huge crowd that had gathered near the blazing fire, Lizzie could make out Ethan and Skye standing at its centre. The House Cup was sitting next to them on the grass, its silver handles decorated with black and yellow ribbons. The giant trophy was coming up higher than Skye’s knees; when Madam Hooch and Professor Dumbledore had handed it over to Orion at the ceremony on the pitch, Lizzie had been able to see how he had momentarily struggled to lift it over his head; Lizzie and Skye had only managed to do the same when they had tried it together.

Now, Skye was glancing down at the Cup every now and again, still unable to believe she had finally achieved what she had dreamed of ever since. Her father, on the other hand, paid the glinting trophy no mind; his hand was resting on Skye’s shoulder, his face beaming with pride. He was talking animatedly to his awed onlookers; Lizzie could see Skye was blushing and trying not to roll her eyes. She sighed inwardly; Ethan Parkin was probably talking about his favourite subject: himself and his illustrious adventures with the Wigtown Wanderers.

But when Penny pushed them through the crowd towards the front, Lizzie was surprised to hear that Ethan Parkin wasn’t gushing about his family’s club after all; instead, he was recounting the course of their match in such painstaking details it could have put Murphy to shame. He took a special joy in painting all of Skye’s free throws, goals and special manoeuvres in the brightest colours to the adoring masses; her last move in particular had him bursting with pride.

“If you ask me, that Keeper stood no chance from the moment she got her hands on the Quaffle,” he was declaring just now. “It’s a special technique my Skye has, Parkin family secret, of course; just knew she wouldn’t fail her shot.”

He interrupted his monologue and his eyes lit up as they discovered Lizzie. He nudged Skye with his elbow.

“Look who’s here, Skye; seems like we finally found your missing mate. Wondered where you might be at, lassie.”

Lizzie motioned to her ribcage. “I had to go and get my ribs checked.”

“Aye, that one looked like it hurt. I know what a Bludger to the rips feels like, but let me tell you, a good player always pulls through, no matter what.”

He clapped a heavy hand on Lizzie’s shoulder. “Well done, lass, you did a fine job out there. You lot can learn from this one,” he proclaimed to his fans, still squeezing Lizzie’s shoulder. “Takes some strength of character to recognise when your teammate’s abilities are greater than your own; right decision of Lizzie to pass the Quaffle to Skye, it was the key to their victory.”

Like Skye before, Lizzie was trying not to roll her eyes. “If you say so, Mr. Parkin.”

“How often do I need to tell you, call me Ethan.”

Lizzie smiled noncommittally. “At least one more time, Mr. Parkin.”

He laughed jovially and turned to his fans again, recounting some other detail of their match; Lizzie wasn’t even listening anymore. Using her father’s distraction, Skye took her chance and pulled Lizzie away from the crowd for a moment.

Looking back over her shoulder, she rubbed her neck in embarrassment. “Sorry dad’s so enthusiastic. Don’t listen to him boasting about me, you were smashing today.”

“As were you,” Lizzie smiled.

A smug grin stole onto Skye’s face. “Yeah, we did quite a good job, didn’t we?” Seemingly out of nowhere her expression turned serious again. “But don’t you think I don’t know what you were doing.”

Out of nowhere Skye nudged Lizzie’s shoulder, maybe a bit more forceful than she had meant to.

“Ouch! What was that for!

Skye ignored Lizzie’s complaints. “You were at your favourite distance for that last goal; you always make that shot.” She set her index finger onto Lizzie’s chest to accentuate her words. “Don’t you ever dare to risk a win like that again, you hear me, Jameson?”

Before Lizzie could say anything in her defence, Skye had hugged her tightly. “But thank you anyway.”

Lizzie grinned when Skye abruptly let go of her only seconds later. “What’s that now, Parkin? Are you going soft on me or what?”

Skye huffed and laughed out loud. “You wish, Jameson!”

With a last genuine smile at her friend, Skye returned to her father’s side. Lizzie couldn’t help but smile to herself taking in the scene. Despite all the pressure he had put his daughter through, knowingly or not, Ethan was now looking down at Skye with overwhelming pride; Lizzie wasn’t sure if she had ever seen Skye being happier than in this exact moment.

She stayed with the Parkins for a little while longer until Lizzie felt it wouldn’t be impolite to leave anymore. She was tired of Ethan’s constant droning, even if it was about Quidditch.

Lizzie was impatient to finally get her chance to talk to Orion now, but when she turned to the place her friends had been occupying earlier, she found it deserted; none of them was anywhere to be seen.

Not really knowing what to do, Lizzie started aimlessly strolling around the party, hopping from group to group, chatting with all sorts of people here and there.

So many happy faces were smiling at her as she moved through the crowd, congratulating her and clapping her on the back. Even her Gryffindor friends were seemingly enjoying themselves in this cheerful environment.

Lizzie could see Azariah laughing with Charlie and Andre, his arm draped around Ira’s shoulder; the curly haired Hufflepuff had her head resting against him and smiled from time to time. A bit further on, Julian and Henry were joking with each other, both raising their butterbeers in her direction when they saw her walking by. Sitting a little more secluded from the rest of the crowd, Lizzie could even spot Judith and her boyfriend Talbott; she was surprised to see the evasive Ravenclaw boy make an appearance at such a busy place, but then again, judging by the adoring looks he gave his girlfriend, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for Judith.

Upon seeing all of her friends so relaxed and happy, a warm and fuzzy feeling was spreading inside Lizzie’s chest. As she leaned against a tree and took a sip of her butterbeer, however, she couldn’t help but feel a bit lost without having one of her own close friends to talk to.

Completely lost in her thoughts, the sudden sound of a familiar voice close to her ear almost made her jump out of her skin.

“Looking for someone, Chaser?”

Turning around, Lizzie found Orion standing behind her with a smirk on his face. Trying to ignore her wildly beating heart, Lizzie broke into a smirk of her own.

“What makes you think I’m looking for someone?”

“Aren’t we always looking for something or the other?” he responded casually, but the smile on his lips was mirrored in his eyes..

“I guess you’re right,” Lizzie mused, “but the someone I’ve been looking for is rather hard to catch tonight.”

Orion laughed quietly, the warm sound making Lizzie’s heart skip a beat. “I take it you’re drawing from your own rich pool of experience. You’ve been as elusive as a beam of sunlight this whole year; always visible, but impossible to get hold of.”

“Well, here I am.” She sighed in mock exasperation and rested her elbow on Orion’s shoulder. “But alas, the one I was looking for isn’t.”

Orion chuckled, clearly unimpressed by her teasing. Lizzie fought to not lose her composure as she felt his hand on her back, his touch giving her goosebumps all over.

“Is that so?” he whispered into her ear before drawing back again. “I fear you’ll have to make do with me.”

Lizzie tilted her head and grinned. “I think I can live with that.”

The atmosphere between them felt different; even when they had been nothing but friends, they had never spoken to each other in such a light, teasing manner before. However, this new dynamic felt completely natural. All the tension and strain that had hung between them for the better part of the year had vanished into thin air; Lizzie was loving every second of it.

Her breath hitched as she felt Orion adjust his hand on her back, his fingers grazing lightly over her spine.

“In fact,” he conceded, “Rowan mentioned you were looking for me.”

Surprised, Lizzie raised her eyebrows. “She did?”

Although Rowan had said she was alright with it, Lizzie was still glad to see that she had actually meant it. The thought of not having to lie to anyone anymore felt wonderful and strange at the same time.

“I’m as surprised as you are. I take it, the two of you were finally able to make peace?”

Lizzie sighed with relief. “Yes, neither one of us was what you’d call a perfect friend lately.”

Orion’s smile grew softer. “Perfection is a matter of perspective, isn’t it?”

Unable to think of a witty response, Lizzie’s cheeks blushed a deep scarlet and her eyes dropped to the ground. The atmosphere had shifted yet again, and she could feel the butterflies dancing in her stomach; she wasn’t entirely sure whether they were stemming more from nerves or excitement.

She was spared an answer, however, when a high, whistling sound suddenly cut through the air, directly followed by a mix of shrieks and laughter. The unmistakable cackling of Tonks and Tulip was clearly discernible above it; Lizzie recalled Rowan’s concern about seeing them meddling with some firecrackers.

Unimpressed by the commotion, Orion shot her a sideways glance. “What do you say, let’s leave the crowd to themselves and their fireworks for a bit?”

Lizzie tore her gaze away from the colourful sparks erupting over where the two troublemakers were undoubtedly working their magic and smiled at him.

“Sounds like a good plan, Captain.”

They left their spot under the tree and moved through the crowd that was flocking towards the commotion. Orion was walking in front of Lizzie, quickly gaining ground on her as the stream of people was thickening.

Breathing in deeply, Lizzie gathered her courage and lightly placed a hand on his arm before he was out of reach.

“Wait for me, will you?”

Orion looked back over his shoulder and waited for her to catch up with him. When she was closer, Lizzie let her hand travel down from where she had touched him to his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. Her heart was beating frantically as she felt the slight pressure of his fingers against the back of her hand.

Neither of them saw the surprised looks they were attracting as they broke free from the crowd, nor the badly contained smiles of their friends as they passed them. And even if Lizzie had noticed, at this very moment, she couldn’t have cared less.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #quidditch #orion amari #rowan khanna #skye parkin #charlie weasley #lizzie jameson #aob #art of balance #the quidditch squad #penultimate chapter #can you believe it #I still can't believe it #get ready for the final one #I cried writing this chapter #surreal

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