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blankweiss-sb · 10 months

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Gift "Drabble"

For @hiding-in-the-vault

TW: Prison Arc + Post Prison, references to torture and eye removal

Summary: Eventually, Dream found a cave and hunkered down. He didn’t dare making a fire pit, didn’t know whether he could, but it would surely reveal his position. Instead he curled up in the warmest, most wind-safe spot he could find – and slept.

Dream doesn't escape unscathed – mentally or physically.

The red stone pistons fired, the deep grumble distinctive from the ever present hissing of the lava. Dream didn’t dare lift his head or move his cheeks from the grimy, sticky floor of his cell.

Rule number whatever: Either be on your knees head bowed, or you better not have moved from the position Sir left you in.

Was Dream slightly bitter that even thinking Sir immediately called up an image of Quackity and tides of fear and anger? Yes. Would he show that bitterness? No. (Maybe Quackity would think he’d finally broken Dream but he hadn’t. Dream wasn’t quite broken yet, just brittle and fractured. If – when he got out, he’d just pour gold into all those cracks.)

Faintly, Dream heard it – the rustle of small feathers that could be crushed so very easily, the tapping of fingers against the wooden handle of a tool or weapon and a slight hum, the hum of a song Sap had loved. The lava curtains gurgled – please, red stone, fail, a moment of weakness gave itself a voice – before it fizzled out.

Sir bounced into the cell.

“Hullo, Dreamie, how are you? Comfy?”

Dream knew better than to answer. Quackity didn’t care, he just loved the sound of his voice too much. If Dream was lucky, Quackity would gloat, maybe kick Dream a couple of times and leave. That, Dream could endure, he could endure anything, anything but –

Fingertips stroked along the curve of Dream’s face, the one not pressed against crying obsidian and sticky maroon, and it was only the terrors of existence that prevented Dream from flinching. But nothing could have prevented Dream’s throat from releasing a whine when Quackity gently carded through Dream’s hair, almost petting him like a beloved dog.

“Awww, you’re doing good but being greedy, I see.”

Fuck you. Fuck you, Quackity, Dream thought as his head leaned into the comforting touch Sir was offering. It was his body seeking comfort, not Dream. It was his body being pathetic, wanting his torturer to be gentle. It was his body. Not Dream.

“You can be cute. But that’s not why I’m here, not today, puppy!” Don’t call me that. “I’m giving you a gift, look –“

Quackity burst out in little giggles, giggles Sapnap used to gush about. Sapnap had called them more adorable than a baby piglin. Dream had teased him about that, by that time already missing George pressed against his side and joining in on the fun. Teasing his brother had always been one of Dream’s favorite things and George loved to needle Sapnap, too.

A sharp of burst ripped through Dream’s skull as Quackity’s hand grabbed his hair tightly and pulled Dream up until Dream’s scalp was burning. “Listen to me.”

“Yes, Sir.” Two, three seconds more and Quackity let Dream’s head fall, huffing.

“And here I was about to clean you up, wash you, but no. You had to be bad. A bad puppy.” Dream flinched and Quackity’s laugh was more than delighted, echoing between obsidian walls. “Anyway, here you go, you’re going to need this.”

Something cold settled on Dream’s face and – comfort washed over Dream as he realized it was the cold porcelain of a mask, a mask Dream knew quite well. Greedily he sucked in some air and through the stale scent of copper coils and bracken water and burnt out embers, he caught a whiff of earthy flowers.

(“Earthy flowers? Are you serious?” Dream had laughed, pressing his shoulders against Sapnap’s. George had already been snoring, his legs hanging over Sapnap’s lap and his head nuzzling Dream’s stomach.

“Man, you asked me how you were smelling. Earthy flowers. Deal with it, it’s sort of disgusting.” But the tips of Sapnap’s ears had been a brilliant red.

“Someone’s lying~ But that’s ok. I like your hearth embers and George’s bark and petrichor, too.”

“Pe – tri – chor,” Sapnap had mocked. Yet he had relaxed into Dream and – they had slept, together and bonds untorn.)

It was Dream’s mask, not a replica, but his own.

Despite this meaning nothing good, Dream sank into old comfort. The safe feeling was soured by Quackity once again running his hands through Dream’s hair. “Things are going to get exciting,” he crowed, no, that’d be an insult to the death goddess and her harbringers, Quackity quacked. “Better to keep a few things mysterious, right? I’ll be generous and let you rest up.”

Dream didn’t know what Quackity meant until the next day when the pistons fired up and someone swaggered over the bridge. The bars slammed down, Techno grunted as he sprung the trap and it clicked in Dream’s mind.

Time passed.

Sir didn’t enter the prison.

How Techno didn’t realize one tiny but largely important fact was beyond Dream but he couldn’t help being grateful.

How Dream managed to escape with Technoblade was also beyond him.

(Sir had managed to shatter Dream – after Technoblade vanished. Sir had not only dug into all the cracks he’d made but also ensured that not even respawning would ever give back Dream’s sight. There had been a slight, incredibly miniscule chance that Dream could have regained his eye sight but… hard to do that without the vital part of eye sight.

Sir had left Dream cold and raw and – there had been moments.

Dream had even hallucinated at one point, must have imagined trembling hands cleaning him up, a lullaby he hadn’t heard since he was ten being sobbed against his ears and a determined vow being seared against his temple. The voice had sounded like Bad, but Bad hated him, guarded him even, offered suggestions like Dream’s loathing of being alone in the dark to Sir. )

“I refuse. You have done more than enough, he can look after himself now.” The coldness in Philza’s screech was more than biting, was cutting when Technoblade didn’t refute his statement.

Once again Dream’s weakness took over and he wasted a minute on hope, begged Technoblade without the right words or gestures but surely, surely Technoblade picked up on it – “See ya later, nerd, stay safe.”

I’m not seeing anything, settled heavy on Dream’s tongue but – Philza was there, feathers scraping against wooden planks. He must be flaring his wings before refolding them. Rinse and repeat.

It wasn’t pride stopping Dream from saying those words. It was Caution. Philza already was irritated with Dream – Dream, objectively, had harmed the man’s family greatly and in various ways. And in an altercation, there was no world in which Technoblade wouldn’t side with Philza.

So Dream bowed, once, the proper Admin way, and darted off into the forest, barely hearing a sudden intake of breath behind him, probably Philza’s. Technoblade wasn’t an Admin, he wouldn’t have known what Dream’s bow had meant.

They didn’t chase after him, anyways.

That first night Dream almost died five times.

The server refused to reconnect to him – a weak Admin was something no World wanted, vulnerability was undesired – and so Dream had to trust his ears and nose, rather than an innate sense of the World.

Twice the rattling of Skeleton bones was barely enough to get ready for the screeching of arrows flying through the air and aiming directly at Dream’s heart. Muscle memory was, thankfully, enough for Dream to land crits against the Skeletons, even though his own frame didn’t differ much from the Skeletons.

Once a zombie almost ripped into Dream’s leg and would have infected him. Dream was already on the ground, having tripped over a root and landing on a patch of ice that sent him careening through the snow. He’d been contemplating just curling up and sleeping when the zombie fell over him. A kick and crit had taken care of the zombie.

Twice, the environment itself, the World – hadn’t that smarted – had turned against him, giving him no warnings as ravines opened up in front of him. Only hearing the echo of stones crumbling and falling, falling, falling before the unbreakable hit the bottom and shattered into a thousand pieces not even gold could glue back together had warned him.

Eventually, Dream found a cave and hunkered down. He didn’t dare making a fire pit, didn’t know whether he could, but it would surely reveal his position. Instead he curled up in the warmest, most wind-safe spot he could find – and slept.

That first night ended and his first day in freedom dawned – judging from the birdsong sneaking through the tree leaves and into Dream’s cave.

Dream didn’t have the energy to stand up.

More hallucinations haunted his sleep – if it was sleep. His body felt too heavy, his thoughts too hazy for him to be sleeping but – at one point, the hallucination of Bad took root in his mind. Dream heard Bad coo, felt Bad heave him into a bed that Dream certainly hadn’t made, cried while Bad tucked him and drew covers tight around him.

“Sleep tight, good dreams will arrive, cupcake,” the hallucination’s voice quivered as rough, scarred fingers slipped underneath Dream’s mask and tugged it off. The hallucination wanted to card through Dream’s hair and it did, detangling the knots, casting Dream’s drifty mind back to the days of happiness and – “Shh, Clay. I’ll protect you, don’t worry.”

Dream wailed, his throat giving out on him. All the while, the hallucination kept touching him, gently, like Bad loved him, like Bad was here, like Bad cared.

(Love and care were two different shoes. Surely, Sapnap and George still loved Dream but they had shown that they didn’t care for him.)

(Dream was forgetting something. Or someone. Heat was lancing through his brain, pain a deliberating force on everything that was him. How his mind still had enough force to call upon a hallucination with the ability to mimic the sensation of touch he didn’t know. But there was someone else, an agenda, Dream was forgetting.)

(Clay hated getting sick, not only because he couldn’t play with Pandas but because he couldn’t help demanding attention. To be fair, Bad would always give it to him.

“I’m dying,” Clay sobbed, writhing against the covers Bad had forced him under. “It’s too hot, it hurts, I am dying!”

“Shh, you silly, silly cupcake.” Bad chuckled, gently stroking over Clay’s head. Those fingers were so good, they spanned half his head and… Bad was starting to mindlessly but gently tug at all of Clay’s knots, tutting whenever another appeared in the long locks of Clay’s hair. “You’ll be ok, I’m here.”

Whenever Bad acted like this, Clay could pretend that Bad wasn’t only Pandas’ Dad but also his own, and fierce, fierce love wrecked Clay’s body together with the many illnesses he suffered.

One day, one day Clay would create a server for them, for Bad and Pandas and himself and anyone else he loved. He knew he was strong enough, as were his convictions and dreams.)

Energy trickled back into Dream, day by day. The hallucination stayed, far longer than Dream expected it to, offering comfort and safety and the weakness was too strong. Dream, shamefully, gave in.

Until one day the rustle of wings, the wind whistling through feathers just outside his and his hallucination’s cave broke the spell.

“Mate?”

Not Sir, not Sir at all but –

“Get out.” His hallucination growled and the air pulsed with heat and old power – and there was no way that Dream’s stitched together mind could have replicate Bad’s aura when he was pissed and protecting someone. (Someone, not something, an important distinction.)

“Bad Boy Halo, I –“

“Leave before I make you leave. You offered no help, worse, you rejected sanctuary.”

“I didn’t know.”

Bad snorted and responded. Philza said words as well but – Dream had already lost the thread, his mind fuzzy with realizations and too full, too broken to comprehend anything. Until –

“Had I known he was blind and a baby Admin, he wouldn’t have left my house!” Feathers hit the stone walls. Or did feathers scrape along obsidian, crying in sync with the dripping walls? Sir was back, wasn’t he –

Scarred hands cradled Dream’s cheeks and a pair of leathery wings sneaked around and under Dream’s frame. The hands didn’t move. They just held his face and provided an anchor for his mind.

“Bad…” How to say the things he had to say, how to ask questions, how –

Dream’s head is pressed to a dark throat and his breath hitched. Too often Dream had been in this position whenever the world got too big, or he got too big for the world and it bared its fangs at him. Being settled against the thrum of Bad’s heart hadn’t rightened all the wrongs in the world but it had always – always – made them manageable.

“I’m here, Dream. Don’t you worry.”

Dream believed him and let himself fall into trust.

One more time.

#c!dream #c!badboyhalo #c!quackity #c!philza #c!techno #gift #angst #hurt/minimal comfort?#warning author likes c!Dream and cc!Dream so please don't come in with neg #also warning: author's been tipsy or drunk while writing this in one go #divider was made by riftdancing

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lifeofkaze · 1 year

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Molly

A/N: This story was written for the March prompt of the @hp-12monthsofmagic challenge.

It had been a long, hard day at the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry of Magic. Arthur Weasley had been busy with bewitched cutlery attacking Muggles at a furniture shop in Brighton from very early in the morning, followed by falsely distributed magical magazines telling the customers of a London bookshop their opinion about their hairstyles, and had finally finished his day with a short encore of the slime squirting postboxes he’d had to deal with in Manchester the previous week.

So, when he Apparated into the front yard of his family home near the village of Otter St. Catchpole, Arthur was exhausted, tired, and still covered in the odd spot of goo. Wiping some of the reeking fluid off his robes, he approached the lit windows of the Burrow, stopping briefly to breathe in the scent of wildflowers and honeysuckle and listen to the sound of spring awakening around the orchard and the rolling hills beyond.

“Fred and George Weasley, get off the cabinet and release the cat this instant!”

Arthur flinched at the sharp sound of his wife cutting through the nightly peace. There was a dangerous edge to her voice, which most likely meant that it wasn’t the first time she had said those words. Judging by the laughter reaching his ear, it probably wouldn’t be the last time either.

Bracing himself, Arthur took a deep breath, and pushed open the kitchen door.

“Hello, everyone! I’m -”

The rest of his words got stuck in his throat. The kitchen before him - or what had been the kitchen when he had left for work this morning - had turned into a battlefield. There were plates, bowls, and glasses everywhere - some of them used, some of them in various stages of being magically cleaned. The sink was about to overflow with dishwater foam, while the brush and rag were performing what looked to be a passionate tango above it, splashing soapy water onto the floor, the counter, and the nearby walls.

This wasn’t even all that unfortunate. Due to some mishap Arthur wasn’t too keen on learning the details of, parts of the walls were covered in what seemed to be splotches of green sauce, already partly dried and giving off a distinctive minty scent. Ron, his youngest son, stood in front of it, casually dipping his tiny finger into a bowl with chopped and mashed up beetroot and adding his own colourful contribution to the mural.

Careful not to step on the wooden figurines, books, balls and other toys strewn across the slippery kitchen floor, Arthur made his way into the living room, where he found his wife and the rest of his children, who weren’t currently at school. Molly Weasley stood with his back to him, angrily gesturing at two identical-looking boys perching on the top of the cabinet. They were sniggering among themselves, too busy stuffing the family’s cat into one of their sister’s dresses to mind the increasingly shrill tone of their mother.

Ginny herself - wearing a suspiciously small amount of clothes - sat on the rug by the fireplace, gnawing on something that looked to be her mother’s wand. With a few quick steps, Arthur was by her side, winding the wand from the heavily protesting toddler. There, at least, was the explanation for the dancing houseware in the kitchen.

Once the twins on top of the cabinet became aware of their father’s presence, they instantly let go of the cat, shouting his name at the top of their lungs. Ron and Ginny joined the fray, and for a horribly long second, the entire ground floor of the Burrow was filled with the sound of screeching children vying for their father’s attention. Then, they all rushed forward and flung their little arms around his waist as high as they could reach.

Hugging them back, Arthur caught the gaze of his wife, who looked flustered and a little out of breath as she asked him how his day had been. Before he got to reply, however, she had already begun apologising for the state the house was in, and how she didn’t have the time to clean, and how he please shouldn’t look at the kitchen too closely, and that she really should get started on sorting everything before dinner, shouldn’t she?

And with that, Molly was gone, leaving behind her children and confusedly staring husband. Arthur slowly followed her into the kitchen, where she was furiously cutting onions, sniffing and wiping at her eyes all the while. With a wave of her wand, which now bore the marks of Ginny’s teeth, she made the brush and rag stop dancing and clean up the spots on the wall instead while the plates and cutlery began sorting themselves into neat stacks.

Once the Weasley children had gone to bed, Molly only talked briefly to Arthur, immediately swishing past him again to take care of everything she hadn’t managed to do yet and that made their family life run… well, as smoothly as life in the Burrow could possibly run. Arthur watched her work in thoughtful silence. He would have liked to help but was sure Molly wouldn’t let him. She never did, really. Somehow, she alone was able to see order in the chaos; Arthur knew this family wouldn’t last a day without her.

The thought wouldn’t leave him for the rest of the evening. Presently, when they had settled in their armchairs next to the fireplace, he spoke up.

“Molly, dearest, have I ever told you -”

He tailed off as he raised his eyes to his wife. Molly had sunk deeper into her armchair, the needles with Ginny’s half-finished new jumper resting in her lap. Her head lay fallen to the side, and her chest rose and fell in a gentle, regular pattern. She had fallen asleep.

Arthur watched her thoughtfully, studying her features that had become more familiar to him than his own. New lines had appeared on Molly’s forehead and around her mouth, and there were fine crinkles around her eyes that never used to be there, but she still looked so much like on the day they had first met at Hogwarts so many years ago.

He remembered it well, how he and Molly and so many others had stumbled into the Great Hall for the very first time, at the end of which, on a simple four-legged stool, an old, battered-looking hat had been sat.

Molly - still named Prewett, then - had been called to sit beneath the Sorting Hat first, and it had taken it quite a bit to announce a roaring ‘Gryffindor’ to the assembled school. Later, Molly had told him that the Hat had considered putting her into Hufflepuff, as well, and Arthur had never been gladder that the Hat had ultimately decided against it.

It didn’t take long for Arthur and Molly to become fast friends and only a little longer for Arthur to see even more in the loveable, caring and slightly hot-headed young witch. It took him several years to pluck up the courage to ask Molly out, but when he finally and she said yes, he was almost too surprised to speak.

They snuck out of the Gryffindor common room after curfew together, dodging the wary eyes of the prefects, portraits, and Peeves the poltergeist on their way outside, where they spent a lovely evening wandering about the lakeshore in the moonlight. It was such a lovely evening, in fact, that it was well into the small hours when they made their way back to the castle. They were just about to ascend the steps leading to their common room when a light appeared at the top of it, shining on the grim face of Apollyon Pringle, the Hogwarts caretaker.

Arthur didn’t think twice on what to do. Taking Molly by the shoulders, he pushed her behind a suit of armour, signalling for her to be silent. It had been just in time as well; no sooner had he turned away that the caretaker was upon him, gripping Arthur around the arm and dragging him away with a foreboding smile on his weathered face.

Arthur was dealt the punishment of his lifetime, but even though he was sure he would feel the effects of it for weeks to come (which he did), he didn’t mention Molly with a single word, and once he had received a clandestine kiss from her behind the very suit of armour she had hidden behind, he decided that the bruises had been more than worth it.

The relationship blossoming from that day held throughout their time at Hogwarts and beyond, and it didn’t take Arthur much consideration (but a lot of courage) to ask Molly for her hand soon after they had graduated. Their ceremony was small and with only a couple of people attending, but everyone who mattered had been present. Arthur had borrowed his dressrobes from one of his brothers, while Molly had taken it upon herself to sew her dress from the one her mother had worn on her wedding day. It wasn’t the elegant, stark-white dress with crystals and lace Arthur knew she had been dreaming about, but to him, it had been the most perfect dress he’d ever seen.

They moved into the Burrow soon after, back then only a small hut with one storey and two rooms, but it was theirs, and it was home. Then their son Bill arrived, and then Charlie and the rest of them, and with each of their children being added to the family, Arthur didn’t think his heart could hold any more love without having to burst eventually.

All the while, Molly had been there to be the rock for all of them, regardless of how many curveballs life had thrown at them. She was always there, steady and unwavering, and Arthur cherished her more for it with every passing day.

Dwelling on the thought, Arthur quietly got up from his armchair and stepped closer to his sleeping wife. She was moving her lips ever so slightly, as if, even asleep, she was trying to remind herself of everything she still had to take care of. A strand of her hair had fallen from where she had pinned it back, and Arthur noticed a few streaks of silver shimmering among the red - the very first of them he’d ever seen on Molly.

Knowing how they would upset her, Arthur raised his wand to vanish them but then thought better of it. Let Molly have her greys, he decided. They were a testimony of their time together, and if anything, they made him love her even more.

Quietly laughing to himself, he ran his hand over his own thinning hair before tucking the silvery strand behind Molly’s ear. As he did so, Molly stirred. Her eyelids fluttered, and as her gaze focused on Arthur, she sat bold upright.

“I fell asleep!” she cried out, giving Arthur a scolding look. “You should’ve woken me. There’s so much work to do.”

“Which is why I let you sleep,” Arthur replied calmly. “I figured you needed it.”

Molly sighed, a fleeting look of frustration crossing her face. “Well, you shouldn’t have. Now I won’t get everything done before tomorrow.”

“Yes, you will,” said Arthur, bending down to kiss her, “because you will go to bed and leave the rest to me.”

“You’ve been working all day, I really should -”

“So have you, my dear. I’m not yet tired, anyway. See, there’s this fascinating Muggle contraption I brought home from work today, which -”

At that, Molly rose to her feet and hastily bade him goodnight. Arthur smiled to himself as he watched her go; that trick worked every time.

***

The next day, when the sun had just about risen, Arthur silently got up and woke his children. Once he had gathered them in the kitchen and explained what he had in mind, they set to work, as quickly and quietly as possible.

It took them longer than he had expected - and they probably made a lot more noise, too - but by the time their surprise was done and floating on a tray up the stairs behind them, Molly was still fast asleep. When Arthur gently touched her shoulder, her eyes flew open, and she sat up with a gasp.

“Merlin’s beard, I overslept!”

She was on the verge of swinging her legs out of bed when she noticed that her husband and children had gathered all around her.

“Why are you all here? What happened?” A look of alarm formed on her face. “Is anybody hurt? Has there been another fire?”

“Nothing’s burnt, Mum. Relax,” said Fred, dramatically rolling his eyes. “Aside from those, of course,” he added, pointing his thumb at the floating tray carrying a stack of pancakes, a cup of tea, and a vase with the flowers Ginny and Ron had collected from the garden. He nodded his head at his twin brother. “George burned them.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, it was you!”

“No, you!”

Arthur placed a hand on each of the twins’ heads, gently but firmly pushing them apart. “Neither of you burned the pancakes.”

They looked at each other for a moment before unanimously saying, “Right, it was Dad.”

Suppressing a sigh, Arthur levitated the tray toward the bed, where Molly looked between her breakfast, her children and her husband in bewilderment. Then - much to Arthur’s horror - she burst into tears.

“What’s wrong, Mum?” Ron asked in a small voice, already climbing into bed to snuggle up against his mother.

“Isn’t that obvious, Ronny?” George said. “You made her cry because you’re so ugly.”

Fred nodded. “It’s true.”

Ron looked between his brothers with wide eyes as a pillow flew across his head and hit both twins in the face simultaneously. They gaped when they realised it was their mother who had thrown it, now both laughing and crying at the same time. Setting aside her breakfast, she opened her arms up wide.

“Now one’s ugly here,” she half-sobbed. “You’re all my perfect little children. And now come here!”

Arthur leaned against the doorframe, watching as the kids jumped into their mother’s arms so forcefully that they knocked her back into the pillows, all of them laughing as they did so. His lips curved into a smile.

Maybe theirs wasn’t the picture-perfect storybook life, but that’s just what it was - theirs.

And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #arthur weasley #molly weasley

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branwendaughterofllyr · 2 years

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Branwen reads ASOIAF (again) - AGOT Catelyn II

Of all the rooms in Winterfell’s Great Keep, Catelyn’s bedchambers were the hottest.

They’re pretty warm too!

Ba-dum-ching!

Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here until TWOW is released.

Listen, if George can indulge in his inner 12 year old boy all the time, I can too.

We also learn a lot more about WF in this chapter, and we all know I live for WF lore.

The castle had been built over natural hot springs, and the scalding waters rushed through its walls and chambers like blood through a man’s body, driving the chill from the stone halls, filling the glass gardens with a moist warmth, keeping the earth from freezing. Open pools smoked day and night in a dozen small courtyards. That was a little thing, in summer; in winter, it was the difference between life and death.

WF has an internal heating system that basically keeps the castle functional during winter. How interesting. I wonder if this will at all be relevant when winter comes. Also LOVE the description of WF being a body, with the hot spring waters beings its warm lifesblood. (also explains how the glass gardens work. Sorry Jonny boy, not sure if this would work at the Wall as well.)

Catelyn’s bath was always hot and steaming, and her walls warm to the touch. The warmth reminded her of Riverrun, of days in the sun with Lysa and Edmure, but Ned could never abide the heat. The Starks were made for the cold, he would tell her, and she would laugh and tell him in that case they had certainly built their castle in the wrong place.

Aw. Ned and Cat banter. Adorable. But I love how Catelyn really has been able to make WF her home in so many small ways, like having hot bathes and warm rooms, which all remind her of her childhood (notice LF doesn’t make the childhood memory reminiscence lol). And Ned thinking its too hot, but taking the teasing from Cat so well. (also the Starks choosing a super hot location to build their castle. HMMMMM. Feels relevant to more than just the terrible winters. I know people have already said this, but it’s important!).

So when they had finished, Ned rolled off and climbed from her bed, as he had a thousand times before. He crossed the room, pulled back the heavy tapestries, and threw open the high narrow windows one by one, letting the night air into the chamber. The wind swirled around him as he stood facing the dark, naked and empty-handed.

I CANNOT believe that Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, habitually stands butt naked in an open window after having sex with his wife. Everyone in WF knows a little too much about Ned, methinks.

He looked somehow smaller and more vulnerable, like the youth she had wed in the sept at Riverrun, fifteen long years gone.

I will never be over NedCat, thank you very much.

Her loins still ached from the urgency of his lovemaking. It was a good ache. She could feel his seed within her. She prayed that it might quicken there. It had been three years since Rickon. She was not too old. She could give him another son.

Just let them be happy with their babies!

Okay, now we’re going to get into the political discussion, which has a major chunk of the fandom convinced that Catelyn is an evil conniving bitch, whose ambition killed Ned. (no, I’m not even exaggerating a little.) Personally, I think that it’s an important moment that characterizes Cat as very politically astute, and the Race for Iron Throne guy agrees with me, which is always nice. What does the text actually give us?

“I will refuse him,” Ned said as he turned back to her. His eyes were haunted, his voice thick with doubt.

Ned is already strongly considering turning down Robert’s offer, but it’s clear from this description that he’s not sure if this is the right choice. He’s haunted by this decision, and he isn’t hiding the fact that he’s very unsure. There’s a reason why he's asking Cat. Not only are they a team, he also trusts her input. Saying he needed to talk to her was more than just an excuse to put off Robert, Ned really did need to talk to Catelyn, and he’s clearly not afraid to show just how vulnerable and unsure he is to here. This is one of the moments that really cements how strong their marriage is. Okay, so here is Cat’s reaction.

Catelyn sat up in the bed. “You cannot. You must not.”

Cat’s immediate reaction is “that is a bad idea.” She physically reacts because Ned refusing Robert could have really bad consequences down the road for them all, and she’s going to argue this case ion just a moment.

“My duties are here in the north. I have no wish to be Robert’s Hand.” “He will not understand that. He is a king now, and kings are not like other men. If you refuse to serve him, he will wonder why, and sooner or later he will begin to suspect that you oppose him. Can’t you see the danger that would put us in?”

Once again, we are seeing the idea that power changes a person, usually in the context of kingship, which is about as powerful as you can ever be in Westeros. And Cat is clearly no such when it comes to past relationships between kings and the people who turned them down. It’s a great way to breed suspicion.

Ned shook his head, refusing to believe. “Robert would never harm me or any of mine. We were closer than brothers. He loves me. If I refuse him, he will roar and curse and bluster, and in a week we will laugh about it together. I know the man!”

“You knew the man,” she said. “The king is a stranger to you.” Catelyn remembered the direwolf dead in the snow, the broken antler lodged deep in her throat. She had to make him see. “Pride is everything to a king, my lord. Robert came all this way to see you, to bring you these great honors, you cannot throw them back in his face.”

Ned’s stance is that Robert is still his friend and would never do anything to hurt him, which is probably largely true. But we have seen in the past that their relationship is from unshakable, and the only reason they made up after Robert giving Tywin the pass on war crimes was because Lyanna died (and also there’s a reason why you hid Jon’s parentage so well, Ned. You know why.) And we see in a few chapters the absolute fight Ned and Robert get in over the assassination of Daenerys that could easily gone south. And part of the problem is that Robert is usually extremely far way from Ned, so they won’t be able to physically reconcile if Robert is busy brooding in KL, with all the Lannisters around him after he leaves the North. But Ned is probably right that Robert wouldn’t be as bad if it was someone else turning him down, but he’s still probably going to be pissed, and we all know that Robert had ego issues and likes to hold grudges.

Which leads to Cat’s point that this would be an affront to Robert’s kingly pride, which gets played on a lot by other people, with various degrees of success. Think Cersei trying to get her direwolf skin. And if Robert has made it known he was going to ask Ned and Ned turns him down, it is going to be embarrassing for Robert. And also Cat is still freaked out over the very obvious omen but knows that won’t sway Ned so she keeps it to herself.

“Honors?” Ned laughed bitterly.

“In his eyes, yes,” she said. “And in yours?”

“And in mine,” she blazed, angry now. Why couldn’t he see? “He offers his own son in marriage to our daughter, what else would you call that? Sansa might someday be queen. Her sons could rule from the Wall to the mountains of Dorne. What is so wrong with that?”

“Gods, Catelyn, Sansa is only eleven,” Ned said. “And Joffrey … Joffrey is …”

She finished for him. “… crown prince, and heir to the Iron Throne. And I was only twelve when my father promised me to your brother Brandon.”

Oh boy. Let’s try to break this down. A consistent thing throughout this conversation is that Cat is trying to get Ned to see why she’s so concerned about this offer and why she so strongly disagrees with him. We see later that Ned has severe blindspots in several areas, and it’s really interesting to note the way the text goes out of its way to show Catelyn making Ned “see” what's really happening around him. Ned’s not stupid, but he has weaknesses that he needs Cat to compensate for, and vice versa. We make lots of jokes about Cat being consigliere of the North, but she really, really is. Ned at his core is a very trusting person that expects basic decency from other people, while Cat is much more able to see right through them (something which is very clearly inherited by Arya.)

And the marriage between Sansa and Joffrey. Ned, my love, in this world children are very much dynastic tools, and I think one of the people who are most aware of this is sitting right in front of you, so I think Cat probably has considered this quite deeply. Catelyn wants Sansa to be the next queen because not only is that the most secure/powerful position she can ever hope for for one of her daughters, it also means that the Starks will be permanently tied to the big power of their world and thus probably safer. There’s a reason why marrying your daughter off to the throne is such an important move to make. Catelyn is clearly thinking long term about this, planning out to her grandchildren’s futures. Ned is stuck on the fact that Sansa is eleven, and while he is VERY correct she’s not at all ready to be married off, she won’t be eleven forever, and a betrothal is far from out the question. Cat was twelve herself, and we see a lot of various other characters betrothed very young throughout the series. Why are none of your kids betrothed yet, Ned? Robb at the very least is old enough that you should start poking around.

And also, picking your daughter to marry the crown prince is ABSOLUTELY a major honor, and I think Robert would be extremely prickly if you turned this down, what with his Lyanna baggage. Tread carefully here, Ned.

Also, is this the first hint of Ned realizing that Joffrey is a psychopath and probably should not be allowed to marry his daughter? because if that's the case, maybe say something to Catelyn? She’d probably be more on your side if she thought Joffrey would be dangerous to Sansa, especially since husbands are allowed to do everything short of murder to their wives. (also, love me some queen Sansa foreshadowing. We all know that she won’t be Joffrey’s queen. 👸)

That brought a bitter twist to Ned’s mouth. “Brandon. Yes. Brandon would know what to do. He always did. It was all meant for Brandon. You, Winterfell, everything. He was born to be a King’s Hand and a father to queens. I never asked for this cup to pass to me.” “Perhaps not,” Catelyn said, “but Brandon is dead, and the cup has passed, and you must drink from it, like it or not.”

Oof. Now we can see what this is really about. Ned has really never (and understandably so) gotten over what happened to his family, and he has one of the most massive cases of survivor’s guilt ever to grace literature. And it seems like he and Cat have had this conversation before, which is why Cat is being a little short with him. They've been married for over a decade now, and have five children together. He has no reason to feel insecure in their relationship, but the past is always going to hang over both of them. Brandon and Jon’s mother in particular are always going to be there in the background. Oh shit, I forgot that the narrative straight up says this in the next paragraph 😂.

Catelyn softened then, to see his pain. Eddard Stark had married her in Brandon’s place, as custom decreed, but the shadow of his dead brother still lay between them, as did the other, the shadow of the woman he would not name, the woman who had borne him his bastard son.

I am very smart.

But I love the way that past constantly overlays the present in ASOIAF, its impossible for the characters to escape no matter how hard they try. (also, the connection between Brandon and Jon’s mother, though unintentional by Cat is... excellent. It’s always his family hanging over Ned, dead Starks.)

Also, a younger son drinking from a cup meant for his older brother sounds like some light foreshadowing for Jon and Bran inheriting what was meant for Robb when he dies. And the bitterness screams Jon to me, lol.

She was about to go to him when the knock came at the door, loud and unexpected. Ned turned, frowning. “What is it?” Desmond’s voice came through the door. “My lord, Maester Luwin is without and begs urgent audience.”

Way to clamjam, Luwin! Could you not have waited like half an hour for Ned and Cat to have emotional married sex????

The maester was a small grey man. His eyes were grey, and quick, and saw much. His hair was grey, what little the years had left him. His robe was grey wool, trimmed with white fur, the Stark colors. Its great floppy sleeves had pockets hidden inside. Luwin was always tucking things into those sleeves and producing other things from them: books, messages, strange artifacts, toys for the children. With all he kept hidden in his sleeves, Catelyn was surprised that Maester Luwin could lift his arms at all.

Alright, let’s take a look at Maester Luwin for the first time. Overwhelmingly grey, which suggests Stark loyalist right off the bat. But also, “his eyes were grey, and quick, and saw much.” feels very close to Jon. Possible connections include: diehard loyalty to the Starks, often underestimated, sworn to a celibate order? May not be that intentional, unlike the Waymar Royce description which was almost identical, but something that I picked up.

Also, I love Luwin and his sleeve pockets. I want them so badly. (also, he’s literally hiding something up his sleeve!!!!!!!)

The maester waited until the door had closed behind him before he spoke.

With this one move, Luwin proves himself to be smarter than half the characters in the books.

We move into the Agatha Christie section of the book which is very funny to me because it has a lot of early installment weirdness in it that will never be seen again.

I have been left a message.” Ned looked irritated. “Been left? By whom? Has there been a rider? I was not told.” “There was no rider, my lord. Only a carved wooden box, left on a table in my observatory while I napped. My servants saw no one, but it must have been brought by someone in the king’s party. We have had no other visitors from the south.”

I don’t care that much who actually brought the box, though I’m sure there are entire reddit threads devoted to it, but I think the important detail is that WF is not that hard to sneak through. The implication that it must be someone in the king’s party is also probably an early hint that LF’s fingerprints are all over this, since Lysa is already in the Eyrie. But no one will think about this, and we won’t get payoff until Sansa gets all the tea dropped on her three books from now.

The box contains a a myrish lens, and it turns out that Cat and Luwin have not been inviting Ned to the escape room parties they have on Thursdays nights, and they have to walk Ned through to the clue, that there’s something else they need to look for.

“What is it that they would have us see more clearly?” “The very thing I asked myself.” Maester Luwin drew a tightly rolled paper out of his sleeve. “I found the true message concealed within a false bottom when I dismantled the box the lens had come in, but it is not for my eyes.” Ned held out his hand. “Let me have it, then.” Luwin did not stir. “Pardons, my lord. The message is not for you either. It is marked for the eyes of the Lady Catelyn, and her alone. May I approach?”

It’s a secret message... for Catelyn! Also, love Luwin diligently enforcing mail privacy laws.

I know that there’s a not small contingent that firmly believes that Luwin and Catelyn conspired to trick Ned into going south for... political gain, I guess, which only gets funnier to me over time, especially post ASOS. Have they considered that Luwin and Cat are actually just really good friends, and that most of WF likes and trusts each other? No, impossible, Catelyn is the source of all evil, and Sansa has learned to be the worst character at her mother’s knee. It is known.

“What is it? My lady, you’re shaking.” “I’m afraid,” she admitted. She reached out and took the letter in trembling hands. The furs dropped away from her nakedness, forgotten. In the blue wax was the moon-and-falcon seal of House Arryn. “It’s from Lysa.” Catelyn looked at her husband. “It will not make us glad,” she told him. “There is grief in this message, Ned. I can feel it.”

I doubt that any mail from Lysa is ever that fun even in the best of times. Catelyn knows that this is going to be very, very bad.

“Lysa took no chances. When we were girls together, we had a private language, she and I.” “Can you read it?” “Yes,” Catelyn admitted.

AND THIS WILL NEVER COME UP AGAIN. Ding ding ding, early installment weirdness strikes again.

Okay, Catelyn gets up butt naked across the room and makes everyone wildly uncomfortable in a scene that is very funny to me personally. Also, she says that Maester Luwin delivered all her children, but we also know that Robb was born at Riverrun. Is Luwin originally from the south? Did he come North with Cat? Is this a character detail or just early installment weirdness? Idk, I’m sure someone somewhere knows the actual answer, but it is not me.

Catelyn immediately burns the letter after reading it, which freaks Ned out because “wtf was in that letter?????” The answer? Treason!!!!! (and the Catelyn conspiracy theorists will say that the letter actually said something different and Cat burned it so Ned couldn’t see it which makes NO SENSE)

“Lysa says Jon Arryn was murdered.” His fingers tightened on her arm. “By whom?” “The Lannisters,” she told him. “The queen.” Ned released his hold on her arm. There were deep red marks on her skin. “Gods,” he whispered. His voice was hoarse. “Your sister is sick with grief. She cannot know what she is saying.”

And there was no saving anyone from this point onwards. Everyone is irrevocably fucked.

“She knows,” Catelyn said. “Lysa is impulsive, yes, but this message was carefully planned, cleverly hidden. She knew it meant death if her letter fell into the wrong hands. To risk so much, she must have had more than mere suspicion.”

Sounds to me that someone other than Lysa may have been involved with this letter. HMMMMM.

Catelyn looked to her husband. “Now we truly have no choice. You must be Robert’s Hand. You must go south with him and learn the truth.” She saw at once that Ned had reached a very different conclusion. “The only truths I know are here. The south is a nest of adders I would do better to avoid.”

Cat, Ned, I love you both, but I’m not sure if Ned’s really qualified to become an amateur detective in a place with ridiculously high stakes. Ned might be right that it could be better to stay in the North and ride shit out. There’s a nonzero chance KL is just going to self-implode. But I guess Cat has a point that they should probably be proactive.

Luwin plucked at his chain collar where it had chafed the soft skin of his throat. “The Hand of the King has great power, my lord. Power to find the truth of Lord Arryn’s death, to bring his killers to the king’s justice. Power to protect Lady Arryn and her son, if the worst be true.” Ned glanced helplessly around

AH, chafing collar motif! Service as a source of discomfort! One of my favorite little details that will come up again and again. The in world metaphor of maester’s chains is one of my all time favorites.

But also, while Luwin is correct, I feel like we’re overestimating Ned and underestimating the Lannisters. As far as you know, they killed the previous hand of the king, and are probably willing to go for round two.

Ned glanced helplessly around the bedchamber. Catelyn’s heart went out to him, but she knew she could not take him in her arms just then. First the victory must be won, for her children’s sake.

Once again, Catelyn is very much a political animal in a way that Ned never was, and a lot of people hate for it, but when it comes down to it, Cat is a mama wolf out to protect her family. And I think it’s very clear in Cat’s pov, that as it stands, the Lannisters are gaining more and more power and aren’t afraid to fuck any of their rivals up, which include the Starks. If she wants to make sure her kids don’t get knives in their backs five, ten years down the road, they gotta act soon before it’s too late entirely. Who knows how Robert will feel about Ned if he goes back after Ned turns him down? Who knows if Robert will even still be alive next year? Better to play what they have now before they lose it. (and yeah, she is more than a little manipulative but she’s a woman without any power in her own right???? She has to go through the men in her life???? It’s called soft power, look it up. It’s what queens and ladies have doing for like two thousand years.)

“The Others take both of you,” Ned muttered darkly. He turned away from them and went to the window. She did not speak, nor did the maester.

Poor Ned. I think he can tell he’s absolutely fucked.

And the best bit of descriptive writing this chapter goes to sad Ned who’s trying not to cry.

They waited, quiet, while Eddard Stark said a silent farewell to the home he loved. When he turned away from the window at last, his voice was tired and full of melancholy, and moisture glittered faintly in the corners of his eyes.

*sniff sniff* I’m not crying, you’re crying!

“My father went south once, to answer the summons of a king. He never came home again.” “A different time,” Maester Luwin said. “A different king.”

I know that you know that Robert is no Aerys but there is a 99% chance that this line will be said again when another Stark contemplates going south to meet with another Targaryen. Just saying.

“Catelyn, you shall stay here in Winterfell.” His words were like an icy draft through her heart. “No,” she said, suddenly afraid. Was this to be her punishment? Never to see his face again, nor to feel his arms around her?

Say what you will, but there is no doubt that Catelyn truly loved Ned. And though this is very clear death foreshadowing for Ned, and for Lady Stoneheart, I think that Catelyn was not entirely prepared for the consequences of Ned basically moving to the south for probably the next decade without her. But also, you were always going to have to stay, Catelyn? Did you not realize it or were you just in denial?

“Yes,” Ned said, in words that would brook no argument. “You must govern the north in my stead, while I run Robert’s errands. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Robb is fourteen. Soon enough, he will be a man grown. He must learn to rule, and I will not be here for him. Make him part of your councils. He must be ready when his time comes.” “Gods will, not for many years,” Maester Luwin murmured.

EVERYONE HAS GOT TO STOP FORESHADOWING NED’S DEATH. I DO NOT LIKE IT.

Ned was never going to make it out of the book alive with all of this very helpful foreshadowing.

Also, I’m going to say that 14 year old Robb does not in fact turn out to be ready to rule, but hey. You tried.

“Maester Luwin, I trust you as I would my own blood. Give my wife your voice in all things great and small. Teach my son the things he needs to know. Winter is coming.” Maester Luwin nodded gravely.

Tears are just weakness leavening the body. I’M FINE.

But Luwin really did remain loyal to the end. He really did.

Then silence fell, until Catelyn found her courage and asked the question whose answer she most dreaded. “What of the other children?”

Oh, Cat. All your babies are going off and you can’t do anything because its the best course of action.

Ned stood, and took her in his arms, and held her face close to his. “Rickon is very young,” he said gently. “He should stay here with you and Robb. The others I would take with me.” “I could not bear it,” Catelyn said, trembling.

Catelyn is very smart and astute, but she loves her babies so much.

“You must,” he said. “Sansa must wed Joffrey, that is clear now, we must give them no grounds to suspect our devotion. And it is past time that Arya learned the ways of a southron court. In a few years she will be of an age to marry too.” Sansa would shine in the south, Catelyn thought to herself, and the gods knew that Arya needed refinement. Reluctantly, she let go of them in her heart. But not Bran. Never Bran.

I still think that Ned should let Catelyn know about his misgivings about Joffrey, but it’s too late for that. And also maybe you should let Sansa know that she should be careful around her future in-laws???????

But Catelyn does know her girls very well, and even Ned knows that Arya needs to go through lady bootcamp. (personally I hope Arya would have remained a little hellion if everything hadn’t gone horribly wrong.)

But also Bran. He really is Cat's favorite and she’s going to blame herself for his fall for the rest of her life which just breaks my heart.

“Yes,” she said, “but please, Ned, for the love you bear me, let Bran remain here at Winterfell. He is only seven.” “I was eight when my father sent me to foster at the Eyrie,” Ned said. “Ser Rodrik tells me there is bad feeling between Robb and Prince Joffrey. That is not healthy. Bran can bridge that distance. He is a sweet boy, quick to laugh, easy to love. Let him grow up with the young princes, let him become their friend as Robert became mine. Our House will be the safer for it.”

Big lol on the Starks being friends with Joffrey like Ned and Bobby B. Bran is incredibly easy to love, but even that isn’t going to save the relationship between Joffrey and the Stark boys because Joffrey is Joffrey. Also, let’s debate below if the Robb/Joffrey conflict foreshadowing was fully fulfilled in the War of the Five Kings happening, or if maybe a personal fight between Joffrey and Robb was initially planned but then dropped, bc I could could either way.

Also note that Ned was only eight when he was fostered out, so Jon Arryn really was a second dad for all intents and purposes. I wonder if Ned ever felt a little bit like an outsider in the North? Possible.

He was right; Catelyn knew it. It did not make the pain any easier to bear. She would lose all four of them, then: Ned, and both girls, and her sweet, loving Bran. Only Robb and little Rickon would be left to her. She felt lonely already. Winterfell was such a vast place. “Keep him off the walls, then,” she said bravely. “You know how Bran loves to climb.”

😬

Way to bring the negative foreshadowing, Catelyn. Grouping Robb and Rickon together does not make me feel warm and fuzzy inside about Rickon’s survival chances.

Ned kissed the tears from her eyes before they could fall. “Thank you, my lady,” he whispered. “This is hard, I know.”

Guys. I don’t know if I can survive Ned and Cat dying all over again. I really don’t know if I can do it. Every time I cry all over the place and these moments are not helping.

“What of Jon Snow, my lord?” Maester Luwin asked.

Thanks for ruining the mood YET AGAIN, Luwin.

Catelyn tensed at the mention of the name. Ned felt the anger in her, and pulled away.

Many men fathered bastards. Catelyn had grown up with that knowledge. It came as no surprise to her, in the first year of her marriage, to learn that Ned had fathered a child on some girl chance met on campaign. He had a man’s needs, after all, and they had spent that year apart, Ned off at war in the south while she remained safe in her father’s castle at Riverrun. Her thoughts were more of Robb, the infant at her breast, than of the husband she scarcely knew. He was welcome to whatever solace he might find between battles. And if his seed quickened, she expected he would see to the child’s needs.

Oh boy. It’s time to have the bastardy conversation again. So Catelyn is essentially not allowed to be mad at Ned having a bastard. “He has a man’s needs” and all the garbage, but Catelyn was raised to suck it up and shut up about it, and that’s what she’s done. She is obviously very hurt by it, but she can’t really be mad at Ned without having to reevaluate how fucked up Westerosi marriages really are so she’s not going to. This is actually pretty standard for Westerosi women and real life medieval women. But the real kick in the teeth is Ned bringing the bastard home and Catelyn knows it.

He did more than that. The Starks were not like other men. Ned brought his bastard home with him, and called him “son” for all the north to see. When the wars were over at last, and Catelyn rode to Winterfell, Jon and his wet nurse had already taken up residence.

That cut deep.

This is what pissed Catelyn off, and frankly, she’s right. She's a new wife, an outsider to both the family itself and the North as a whole, and when she shows up to her new home, Ned has already installed his acknowledged illegitimate son there. Catelyn is already starting at a disadvantage at WF in pretty much every way, being a Southerner and of a different religion, and her only leg up is that she’s already done her job and produced an heir. But Ned already has another son, one that is not only already there when she arrives, but also looks more like Ned than her sons, which is going to rankle her every time she sees him, and also bastards in this world have started at least a couple rebellions against true born heirs. Is Cat right to be mad at Ned? Yes! Should she be taking it out on Jon? No! But she can’t really do anything against Ned, but she can ice out Jon, so she will.

Also, having your children inherit is basically the only “reward” noble women get in Westeros and the medieval period for being “good women,” and we’ve established that Catelyn is all about defending her children’s rights (and her only real legacy she’s allowed as a “good” Westerosi noblewoman.) Bastards are a really problem in that system, and Catelyn KNOWS it.

There’s also the emotional betrayal. Even though Ned and Catelyn didn’t really know each other when they got married, they’ve by now established a very close and living relationship, but the fact is that he cheated on her and she has to deal with the proof everyday. The entire segment about Ashara Dayne is really about the emotional betrayal rather than Catelyn just hating Jon because she’s a bitch.

Ned would not speak of the mother, not so much as a word, but a castle has no secrets, and Catelyn heard her maids repeating tales they heard from the lips of her husband’s soldiers. They whispered of Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, deadliest of the seven knights of Aerys’s Kingsguard, and of how their young lord had slain him in single combat. And they told how afterward Ned had carried Ser Arthur’s sword back to the beautiful young sister who awaited him in a castle called Starfall on the shores of the Summer Sea. The Lady Ashara Dayne, tall and fair, with haunting violet eyes.

Once again, Catelyn is absolutely all up in her head over this, because who is she supposed to talk about this with????

This is the same thing I was talking about earlier, the way the past constantly overlays the present, even as it passes into story while some of the players are still alive.

Also... is this the version that Sansa hears??? I assume not because Ned puts a stop to it after Cat asks him about Ashara, but Sansa knows that Ashara committed suicide? I do wonder how she heard it (and how she would feel about this version considering she idolizes her parents’ marriage.)

It had taken her a fortnight to marshal her courage, but finally, in bed one night, Catelyn had asked her husband the truth of it, asked him to his face. That was the only time in all their years that Ned had ever frightened her. “Never ask me about Jon,” he said, cold as ice. “He is my blood, and that is all you need to know. And now I will learn where you heard that name, my lady.” She had pledged to obey; she told him; and from that day on, the whispering had stopped, and Ashara Dayne’s name was never heard in Winterfell again.

OOOOH. The one time that Catelyn is ever afraid of Ned. The one time she describes him as “cold as ice” the way other people do. This really is the major sore spot in their marriage, and don’t think I missed “She had pledged to obey.” SHE HAD PLEDGED TO OBEY. Just.... Remember that. As much as Ned clearly loves Catelyn, he does always have the upper hand in the relationship because of the society in which they live, and Catelyn is very aware of that even if Ned often isn’t.

Whoever Jon’s mother had been, Ned must have loved her fiercely, for nothing Catelyn said would persuade him to send the boy away. It was the one thing she could never forgive him. She had come to love her husband with all her heart, but she had never found it in her to love Jon. She might have overlooked a dozen bastards for Ned’s sake, so long as they were out of sight. Jon was never out of sight, and as he grew, he looked more like Ned than any of the trueborn sons she bore him. Somehow that made it worse.

This entire conversation is littered with Jon’s parentage conversation, but this feels like some of the strongest stuff right here. Aside from Catelyn, the woman that Ned thinks about constantly with love, is Lyanna. I don't think that there are that many Ashara truthers out there anymore, but there’s the evidence right there for Lyanna.

Also Catelyn straight up spells out why she’s so icy to Jon. She loves Ned, but she can’t stand that he brought the proof of his infidelity home, and there’s literally nothing she can do about it. And Jon looks like Ned more than her sons, and honestly, that’s probably pretty scary considering what we learn about the Blackfyres in later books.

I am a Catelyn apologist, and while I don't think that Catelyn should have taken her feelings out on an innocent child, she is under no obligation to love Jon and her stance is pretty understandable, especially since the text straight up spells it out why she feels this way. This entire situation is really on Ned, but neither Catelyn or Jon can put the blame on him for many reasons, so they hate each other instead. And that’s a pretty interesting emotional conflict in my humble opinion!

“Jon must go,” she said now.

“He and Robb are close,” Ned said. “I had hoped …”

“He cannot stay here,” Catelyn said, cutting him off. “He is your son, not mine. I will not have him.” It was hard, she knew, but no less the truth. Ned would do the boy no kindness by leaving him here at Winterfell.

The look Ned gave her was anguished. “You know I cannot take him south. There will be no place for him at court. A boy with a bastard’s name … you know what they will say of him. He will be shunned.”

Catelyn armored her heart against the mute appeal in her husband’s eyes. “They say your friend Robert has fathered a dozen bastards himself.”

“And none of them has ever been seen at court!” Ned blazed. “The Lannister woman has seen to that. How can you be so damnably cruel, Catelyn? He is only a boy. He—”

Okay, Ned, what was the plan for Jon? You really should have been thinking about this. I repeat: WHAT WAS THE PLAN?

Also, the implication that Ned had just as much to do with seating Jon away from the royal family as Catelyn has not gone unnoticed by me. He is also aware how petty Cersei is.

His fury was on him. He might have said more, and worse, but Maester Luwin cut in. “Another solution presents itself,” he said, his voice quiet. “Your brother Benjen came to me about Jon a few days ago. It seems the boy aspires to take the black.”

Ned looked shocked. “He asked to join the Night’s Watch?”

Catelyn said nothing. Let Ned work it out in his own mind; her voice would not be welcome now. Yet gladly would she have kissed the maester just then. His was the perfect solution. Benjen Stark was a Sworn Brother. Jon would be a son to him, the child he would never have. And in time the boy would take the oath as well. He would father no sons who might someday contest with Catelyn’s own grandchildren for Winterfell.

Thank the gods for Luwin, thus fight could have gone completely sideways.

But also, yeah, Ned. He asked to join the Night’s Watch. Where the hell else is he supposed to go??????

Also, Catelyn worrying about Jon's children competing with her grandchildren.... Catelyn, I have the perfect solution but you are NOT going to like it.

Maester Luwin said, “There is great honor in service on the Wall, my lord.”

“And even a bastard may rise high in the Night’s Watch,” Ned reflected. Still, his voice was troubled. “Jon is so young. If he asked this when he was a man grown, that would be one thing, but a boy of fourteen …”

OH, so now a boy of fourteen is too young? Make up your mind, Ned!

Also, another mention of honor and Jon, bastards rising high, everyone take note. This will be on the test.

“A hard sacrifice,” Maester Luwin agreed. “Yet these are hard times, my lord. His road is no crueler than yours or your lady’s.” Catelyn thought of the three children she must lose. It was not easy keeping silent then.

Fun fact, the kindle version of AGOT has “cruder” instead of “crueler” and that did make me snort a little.

But I think this line is kinda the thesis statement for the Starks’ journeys. Everyone’s road fucking sucks, just in different ways.

Catelyn thought of the three children she must lose. It was not easy keeping silent then.

STOP WITH THE FORESHADOWING CATELYN.

This chapter repeatedly putting Robb and Rickon together is NOT good for my nerves.

“When shall we tell Jon?” the maester asked. “When I must. Preparations must be made. It will be a fortnight before we are ready to depart. I would sooner let Jon enjoy these last few days. Summer will end soon enough, and childhood as well. When the time comes, I will tell him myself.”

This entire chapter is just meant to emotionally wreck anyone foolish enough to reread the books. I’m not even going to make a joke about Ned’s inconsistency on when kids should become adults, because I too just want Jon to enjoy these last days of childhood.

So, some wrap up thoughts on this chapter.

This is the first repeat POV, so there’s a departure from the last couple chapters, which were in my opinion basically mini foreshadowing arcs for the character’s whole story. This chapter was much more intent on establishing the personalities and relationships between Ned, Catelyn, and Luwin, and I think it did a pretty good job. I think that Catelyn comes off fairly sympathetically, as a person trapped in u fortunate circumstances, but that’s just me.

Oh, and the LF and Lysa conspiracy really was planned from literally day one.

I have no idea when the next chapter will be coming bc I have to actual work for my uni that sadly does not include analyzing ASOIAF, lol.

#branwen reads asoioaf again #Catelyn II #Catelyn #AGOT

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negativepeanuthoarder · 1 year

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For the werewolf au, how does the werewolves behaver around each other? Like are there two who maybe just like to snuggle when wolfed, or constantly get into the trouble the moment they're left alone together? 👀

They're funny around each other - they'll snuggle a lot, but they also chase each other's tails and bark at each other and go on "hunts" as a little pack (none of them have ever caught anything (other than Sapnap - who managed to grab a deer one time but he let it go after Dream almost started crying begging him to release it) so they mostly just run around in the woods together).

The four of them tend to wind each other up constantly, and they can get destructive when left to their own devices. Karl especially is already super high energy in wolf form and being around Foolish/Punz/Sapnap just hypes him up.

Punz is very... dazed? in wolf form - he kind of just wanders around and sleeps and sniffs things and gets the munchies so he goes to look for food. Sapnap has heightened abandonment fears so he's pretty much constantly glued to Dream and George, while Foolish tends to do goofier things all the time - he'll bark at himself in the mirror and accidentally roll off a bed and stuff like that.

Karl is definitely the cuddliest of the bunch - but he tends to forget that he has things like claws so he's accidentally scratched people before while trying to snuggle. Sapnap is right behind him in cuddly-ness, but he's extremely cautious because he doesn't want to hurt anybody. Foolish and Punz are somewhat neutral on cuddling but they're down for it if anyone else is lol

#werewolf sapnap #i love talking about this au lol

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newmusickarl · 1 year

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Album & EP Recommendations

Can You Afford To Lose Me? By Holly Humberstone

Although I hail from Nottingham these days, my original hometown is in Lincoln, Lincolnshire. Now other than being known for the renowned Lost Village Festival that takes place once a year, the music scene in the area is kind of dead. Once upon a time, bands would regularly play there on their way up to superstardom (indie titans like The Killers, Kings of Leon and The Wombats all passed through back in the day), but nowadays most will just head to nearby cities like Sheffield or Nottingham instead.

With this being the case, it also means that rarely new artists emerge from Lincolnshire. So when one does eventually break through and get some national exposure, it’s kind of a big deal. Back in the mid-00s, emo-tinged synth-pop outfit I Was A Cub Scout were the band that looked most likely to put Lincolnshire on the map, but sadly they quickly disappeared almost as quick as they arrived. Now it may have taken nearly 15 years, but Lincolnshire finally has a new hope and she’s already making waves that no other artist from the area has done previously. Her name is Holly Humberstone.

Holly has already had quite an incredible 2022, having been named as this year’s Brit Awards’ Rising Star winner before then going on to support pop heavyweights like George Ezra and Olivia Rodrigo on big UK and US tour dates. She also overcame her nerves to deliver a memorable Glastonbury performance on the John Peel stage over the summer. Now as she gears up for her as-yet-unannounced debut album to be released some time next year, Holly has combined her latest single and highlights from her recent two EPs into an impressive “Story so far” compilation.

If her brilliant EPs passed you by previously, then Can You Afford To Lose Me? Is the perfect introduction to Holly’s music. An unconventional pop star in every sense, her music is always beautifully written and tastefully understated. The album’s opening title track is a great example, with her soft vocals gracefully gliding over a Bon Iver-esque folktronica accompaniment. Scarlett is then an upbeat, instantly catchy track in which Holly reflects on some tough love advice given to her friend over a one-sided romantic relationship. Her very first single Deep End then continues to hit home thanks to the rawness of the words and guitars, before Haunted House presents a gorgeous stripped-back piano ballad offering up an ode to her childhood home.

Structured almost like a live set, Holly ultimately saves her real big hitters for the album’s back end. Thursday remains my favourite song of hers to date, a spiritual sequel to Scarlett with the lyrics “Let it burn, this is hell on earth and you're enjoying the weather” giving a playful nod to Earth, Wind & Fire’s September, which is also directly referenced in the track. Popular single The Walls Are Way Too Thin then radiates with a Lorde-esque melody, emotive lyrics and shimmering instrumentation. It’s all then wrapped up with the glorious duo of Falling Asleep At The Wheel and Friendly Fire which combine to deliver a stunning grand finale.

Obviously I’m going to route for her anyway because of her Lincolnshire roots, but I do think Holly Humberstone is an exceptional talent who already has an impressive catalogue of just great pop songs. At only 22 years old she’s only just getting started too, with plenty more room for further artistic growth. I’ve enjoyed following her journey to this point, but I have a feeling next year things are going to go up another level – so use this compilation as an opportunity to jump aboard.

Listen here

Mareas De Oro EP by Gold Tides

Mama Mañana Records are quickly establishing themselves as a record label that just doesn’t miss. Following up Hubba’s brilliant Empty Dreams EP last month, the attention now turns to the latest offering from Sante Fe’s desert rock heroes, Gold Tides.

Collecting together six songs crafted during pandemic writing sessions, Mareas De Oro is a hazy and brilliantly trippy listen, filled with jangly guitars and mind-altering musical passages. Sunni, Pt.1 opens the shortplayer with deep, warped vocals and gorgeous sand-stained guitars, before Monsoon Seduction chimes in with its playful keys and punky vocals from frontman Gabe Koehler. Recent single Satanas then sees Lorenzo Aragon take over vocal duties for a hypnotic moment sung completely in the Spanish.

Sunni, Pt.2 then presents a complete contrast to the similarly named opening track, channelling imagery of cool, deep blue oceans over a rambunctious refrain of “stop fighting it and run to it.” The appropriately titled So Far So Good remains my personal favourite, featuring a psychedelic central guitar groove with an instantly catchy refrain of “Through the Void I Saw It / Through The Flames I Saw It.” Before you know it, the rumbling bassline of Sweettart arrives to carry you into the sunset on a wave of joyous surf rock.

Overall, this another brilliant EP from Gold Tides and also another excellent release from Mama Mañana Records. You’d do well to keep an eye on both band and label going forward as they continue to deliver the goods.

Listen here

Life In Miniature by Low Island

“As the name of the record suggests, it is a snapshot of the last two years in which frontman Carlos Posada seemed to encounter all of life’s blessings and curses during one quite intense period. From love and loss to happiness and grief, to sad endings and new beginnings, here Low Island present a beautiful tapestry of treasured memories that, although personal, impactfully resonate out of the audio through lyrical gut-punches and life-affirming sonic uplifts.

With Life In Miniature, Low Island have successfully built on last year’s debut with another strong collection of songs that simply radiate with electronic majesty whilst also frequently moving you to your core. The songwriting really is the star of the show this time, gifting a beautiful reflection on life, love, death and memory that is just stunningly poetic in its blend of joy and melancholy. This may be Life In Miniature but the lasting impact is closer to the max.”

Read my full review for Gigwise here

Listen to the album here

Ultra Truth by Daniel Avery

“A grooveable record with no interest in hanging at the club, for every floor-filling moment like “Wall of Sleep” that features newsletter favourite HAAi offering heavenly vocals over synths and a skull-crushing foundation, there’s a slower, atmospheric comedown which gives pause to the trek. Perhaps no song demonstrates this idea more than “Overflowing With Escape,” the auditory equivalent of being crushed by a wave under layers of compressed distortion. The listener is forced to confront the track’s heaviness, but there’s beauty in staying in the demanding moment.

Ultra Truth is one of those albums that skirts description, instead begging to be experienced with a fully devoted ear. Daniel Avery crafts a moment that gloriously combines electronic music with pure humanity.”

Read Kiley Larsen’s full review here

Listen to the album here

Brothertiger by Brothertiger

“Musicians usually give the self-titled treatment to their debut album. Still, when a vet decides to go down this path, it typically means pursuing a reset with an offering that plays to their strengths. After his acclaimed Tears For Fears Songs From the Big Chair cover album and four compilations of lockdown-era livestreams in the form of the stunning Fundamentals series, it’s only natural Jagos is looking for new trails.

Not only is Brothertiger a successful reset, but it’s also Jagos’ best official album. Even when hanging on to his chillwave roots, like on “Summer Wave ’98,” a song that wouldn’t sound out of place on Nick Hexum and George Clanton’s collaboration album, Jagos’ technical explorations are evolved. As we head into another turbulent week, make space to float away with Brothertiger. You’ll thank yourself for it.”

Read Kiley Larsen’s full review here

Listen to the album here

Protector by Aoife Nessa Frances

“Throughout eight tracks, Frances takes us on a journey though love, loss, angst and hope. There are a wealth of female influences throughout the album, with ‘Chariot’ recalling Alanis Morrissette’s ‘Uninvited’ in particular, while shades of Kate Bush and Tori Amos are plain to hear, as well as even Madonna on ‘Only Child’. Whether consciously or subconsciously, Aoife is definitely drawing on what has come before.

Everyone will find something to relate to in these songs and the sonic melodies will haunt you long after a first listen, but perhaps what is most intriguing will be to see how this music translates live.”

Read the full HeadStuff review here

Listen to the album here

Other Worlds by The Pretty Reckless

“Supporting their forthcoming UK tour, The Pretty Reckless release an album of covers and alternate and acoustic versions to wonderful effect.

Other Worlds is built around a tribute to the band's hero Chris Cornell. They were touring with Soundgarden when Cornell sadly passed, and you can hear their influence. The cover of "Loud Love" is a perfect nod to the Soundgarden sound, with lead singer Taylor Momsen bringing her A game.

This record is a fan service dream. That said, if you aren't familiar with The Pretty Reckless and their work, then this would actually be a smart place to start, there's a lovely, warm feel to the record, and it offers you a great look into the band and their influences.”

Read Stu Evans’ full review for XS Noize here

Listen to the album here

English Leather by Nancy

“Hailing from the north-east, the psych-pop provocateur created quite the buzz last year off the back of his well-received mini-album, the interestingly titled The Seven Foot Tall Post-Suicidal Feel Good Blues. That record introduced listeners to Nancy’s bizarre artistic vision, where he draws inspiration from vintage sounds of the 60s and 70s and blends them into a carnival of eccentricity. Wasting little time delivering the follow-up, English Leather is Nancy’s latest offering which sees him build on his previous effort in every way – both the good and the bewildering.”

Read my full review for Gigwise here

Listen to the album here

Also worth checking out: Where I’m Meant To Be by Ezra Collective, Myself in the Way by Turnover, How can I Sleep? I’m Wide Awake EP by Beaux, Smithereens by Joji, Alpha Zulu by Phoenix, The Hunna by The Hunna

Tracks of the Week

You Better Mean It by Nimmo

Rejoice as the UK’s finest dance act is back and preparing for their next era. As we’ve come to expect from the duo of Sarah and Reva, You Better Mean It is another straight-up banger to add to their extensive catalogue, powered by bassy synths and rich soulful vocals. Glorious!

Listen here

The Delicate Nature by Bob Vylan featuring Laurie Vincent

Fresh off the back of dropping one of the Albums of the Year, grime-punk duo Bob Vylan have now teamed up with Slaves’ guitarist Laurie Vincent for another hard-hitting thumper. With harsh heavily distorted guitars and steaming hot bars from Bobby, it all erupts into a frantic and ultra-aggressive final 20 seconds. Awesome!

Listen here

CYAN1DE by nothing, nowhere featuring Pete Wentz

And finally just in time for his highly-anticipated UK tour getting underway this week, emo/rap/pop-punk sensation Joe Mulherin has teamed up with scene legend, Fall Out Boy’s Pete Wentz, for another passionate and mind-melting genre crossover. With a big anthemic chorus and a balanced mix of clean and scream vocals, its sure to go down a storm on his upcoming live dates.

Listen here

Also out, also great: Running Up That Hill (Like A Version) by The Wombats, Mother by Matt Maltese, Pretty Boy by Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds

#holly humberstone #can you afford to lose me?#gold tides #low island #daniel avery #pretty reckless #brothertiger #aoife nessa frances #nancy #nothing nowhere #pete wentz #nimmo #bob vylan #slaves #laurie vincent #fall out boy #new music #best new music

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podcastdrita · 2 years

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Ringo starr today

Q: Oh, good! No weird side effects or anything? Starr: I've got both jabs and I'm feeling groovy. That (concert) is seven or eight minutes long in the original (film) – it's now 43 minutes. It's beautiful and it's joyful and we play live on the roof. So I love Peter and I love what he's doing. And every time he came to LA, he'd come over with his iPad and say, "Look at this." And I'd say, "Yes! There's laughter and there's joy," and (footage) of the band being the band: digging each other, fooling around. And we found 56 hours of unused film, so we gave (Jackson) that. I remember lots of humor, lots of laughter. We had lots of those moments, but we had a lot of loving, too, and that was never shown. It was based on a couple of seconds of what two guys (McCartney and George Harrison) went through. Starr: Yeah, I'm always moaning that the Michael Lindsay-Hogg (documentary) was miserable and it was. 27) is a recut of the 1970 film "Let It Be" about the making of the band's final album. Q: Peter Jackson's new documentary "The Beatles: Get Back" (in theaters Aug. 'Let It Be' at 50: Why the Beatles' last album is a 'mess,' but still spawned a masterpiece But I never know where they're coming from. I can't sit there like, "I'm going to write now." I write a lot of lines down that I feel could be good songs later. Rex frontman) Marc Bolan came over for dinner one night and that's how he talked: "Hey, back off! Ah, boogaloo!" Then I go to bed at night and I can hear (the chorus), "Back off boogaloo." I ran downstairs trying to put it on tape but none of my machines worked, so I was stealing batteries from my children's toys. It came out of the blue like "Back Off Boogaloo." (T. I thought I was writing a big blues number. Q: "Don't Pass Me By" is a personal favorite of mine. It was great because they were all joining in. Starr: Well, "With A Little Help from My Friends," that gave me a whole career, really. Q: Do you have a favorite Beatles song you sang lead on? I was a rock star and they made me a balladeer! (Laughs.) Then they started writing for me and ruined my whole career. They're records I love, so we did my versions. Starr: No, they'd always say, "We've got a song for you." When they couldn't be bothered writing for me, I started by doing Carl Perkins ( "Honey Don't," which the Beatles covered in 1964) or "Boys" (by The Shirelles, recorded by the Beatles in 1963). Did you ask Paul McCartney to write you a song or how did you wind up singing "Yellow Submarine?" Q: The Beatles' "Revolver" album turns 55 later this year. I mix it myself with salad and fruits and put it all in the spinner. Every morning it's berries, no matter what else is on the plate. It's always with berries. I have a protein drink (during) the day and a protein bar. The two B's, baby! I don't know if it's good for everybody, but I set my palate on what I want. Starr: Yeah, I'm telling you: blueberries and broccoli. Is it really just the broccoli, blueberries and vegetarian diet that keep you so young? I had two tours I had to let go of, and I've already canceled the May/June one this year because I don't think it'll be safe. six times? You've got to help protect yourself if you can, but I was really pissed off. I have a beautiful box here (on Zoom), but I've been in it a lot. So there's "zooming in" in that way, and I think we are all zooming in a little emotionally. When you see the (cover of) the EP, it's a big camera lens behind me. Question: Your EP is titled "Zoom In," which is a very apt title for right now. Review: Paul McCartney's experimental 'McCartney III' is a welcome return The jovial Starr, 80, who just released the new book "Ringo Rocks: 30 Years of the All Starrs," recently caught up with USA TODAY for a wide-ranging chat over – what else? – Zoom: Starr recorded the five-track effort over Zoom with famous pals including Paul McCartney and Dave Grohl, who feature on the wistful "Here's to the Nights." He also invited some musicians into his Los Angeles home studio, which "was a lifesaver for me, to be able to hang out with another musician with a mask on, at least 10 feet or 6 feet away." "There's not a lot of hugging and I'm a big hugger, but you've got to stop all that lately," says the legendary Beatles drummer, whose new solo EP, "Zoom In," is out Friday. If there's one thing Ringo Starr misses most about pre-pandemic life, it's probably the hugs.

#Ringo starr today

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thejustmaiden · 5 years

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Jaime&Brienne Ending Has Got Me Literally Heartbroken 😭😭

It's just nothing really makes sense anymore. (I apologize, this will be rather long.)

I feel so betrayed. Like what the hell was really the point?! So much time and effort was put into showing Jaime's character development over the years, all that progress he made and the major impact Brienne had on helping him regain his former more knightly self, how they kept saving each other time and time again, I could go on and on! The mutual respect and deep understanding that grew between them, and that, mind you, continued to grow into something more..... and no one can convince me that it wasn't pure love and admiration in the end. (You'll never be able to pry that from my cold dead hands so don't even bother! 😤)

Only they two knew each other like no one else did- the good, the bad & the ugly- and still had each other's backs no matter what. Their journey really was one of both true friendship and romantic love.

Let's not forget that the show version of Jaime and Brienne had extraneous scenes written for them that never happened in the books (i.e. Brienne/Cersei showdown at PW, Tarthgasm scene, Tent of Feels), all of which the show could've just well left out if they never meant for them to be endgame. Why so carefully build up a beautiful relationship with not so very subtle romantic implications over the years if all it was gonna be used for in the end was as a cheap means to give Jaime the final push to go back to his sister?? How fucking dare you use Brienne like that, and then subject Jaime to having to cause her that kinda pain when we all know the real Jaime would never. How about be fucking consistent with Jaime's actions instead of trying to throw us for a surprise of the stupidest proportions?! How can anyone have such a nihilistic way of looking at the story after everything they've already given us with Jaime and Brienne from all the way back in the end of season 2 to the last 3 episodes in the entire series???! Please tell me, how can you be so cruel to not only your characters but to this fandom that has been so loyal?!!

Yet D&D, you kept up the JB charade because you're apparently sadistic fucks and wanted us to suffer more knowing their bad ending would be that much more "successful" and "shocking" after everything was said and done. My ass! Of course before any of us knew what was really in store for Jaime and Brienne, D&D sure made up for lost time with episodes 1-3 and the first half of 4 in season 8, and it was GLORIOUS!! Finally, us JB shippers had all our dreams come true and we rejoiced! But it didn't last for long.... our beloved ship sunk before it ever really had a chance to set sail. There are a lot of messed up things that have come out of this show (as we are all very familiar with), but I never thought I'd see the day they could ever eff these two up.... never ever in a million years would I have believed you if you had told me that was where their story was headed all along. But why, you ask? Well, who really knows, because literally nothing- NOTHING- in the narrative was pointing us in that direction!!

It's hard to fathom that this was what D&D and possibly George had planned from the beginning, but damn, who can say for sure, right? One thing is for sure though: literally no one, and I mean NO ONE, else on the cast and crew saw this coming, and you can tell by their commentary over the years. Everybody was rooting for these two to get together for fuck's sake. And D&D knew it too and played us like a fiddle!! How fucking dare you lead us on to only go and break our hearts because "shock value." 🙄 AND how fucking dare you hurt these characters and completely ignore their arcs and what they mean to each other- TO YOUR FANBASE.

Gods, poor Nikolaj! He hasn't spoken out much since Jaime's death, and my heart is breaking for him, because we all know in our hearts he's the captain of our ship and wished for the exact same thing we did in regard to Jaime. I just pray he's not getting a lot of hate, and that, yes, he eventually does speak out more about Jaime's ending. I need to hear from him, to know his actual personal views on his ending. I only hope he's more open about his true feelings on the matter too and isn't so diplomatic about it all like he was in that EW interview. I respect that you've come to terms with the ending, my beautiful man, but that doesn't mean you need to pretend you loved it either. We all know you didn't, so why try and hide it anymore? I adore you, Nik, but it's important to us Jaime and Jaime x Brienne fans that you're completely honest now. Emilia was about Daenerys' ending, and if you weren't satisfied either, just please come out and say it already. Besides, I think you'll find it rather cathartic to let it all out. You've been holding way too much in anyway and you need some release. 😉

I hate to put that pressure on you, because as an actor you were just doing your job, but dammit, we deserve answers! We were robbed, and you know it! Since the show isn't giving it to us, maybe we can find some solace in what you have to say about it all. I've always trusted your take on Jaime since the very beginning, and I truly believe it when I say that nobody else could've brought my favorite character to life quite the way you did. Despite the injustice your character was served in the end, I'll never forget that.

I'm getting emotional as I'm writing this because the pain is still so fresh. That and because these two have been such a big part of my life the past few years. I started reading the books for them for God's sake! You can laugh or mock me if you want, but I saw a lot of myself in each of these characters and needed to believe their love for each other was real and would/could actually be realized. That they could embrace their love for each other regardless of appearances, past deeds, family/duty, conflicting oaths, and other obstacles. You name it, nothing ever stopped them from being there for the other. Yes, even when they were on opposing sides, which is why their "break-up" made no sense whatsoever. Jaime always picked Brienne over Cersei time and time again (for example, turning back to Harrenhal for Brienne instead of getting to Cersei, going behind Cersei's back and sending Brienne to find Sansa, & more!), but all of a sudden now you're telling me he never really did any of those things for Brienne and/or his bloody honor in the end and this was just one big ruse??! You got us alright, D&D, but only because your trick was stupid and you cheated us. No one saw it coming not because of your clever writing but because it was so beyond mediocre and no one really thought you capable of such a lackluster imagination. So you should feel bad because you clearly didn't think any of this through concerning these two beloved characters.

What the show gave me instead was some shit reason that completely negated everything it had been telling us this whole time and up until the very end: that, in fact, healthy loving relationships based on deep trust and respect between an ugly/unconventional woman and a very attractive man don't actually and can't probably ever exist and you should know better to wish for such ridiculous happily ever afters. I have faith the books will be kinder to them and give them an ending they deserve. It's okay if it's not a happy one, per se, I just ask that it does their characters justice and keeps them true to themselves and up to their last moments. So obviously, not like we got in the show, especially in Jaime's case. They should've just sent him to the slaughterhouse and even that would've been a more merciful death. At least he still would've died the same Jaime we grew to know and love. I suppose as long as Brienne knew who he really was in the end and why he left that's all that matters, but the show could've at least made his intentions clear for clarity sake. Fans deserved some closure from both Jaime's sudden 360° character flip and his death. Can't forget Brienne either, because they could've at least had Tyrion or Bran acknowledge his love for her. For her sake, yes, but for ours, as well.

I've never invested so much of myself into a fictional pairing before, and I was so sure that once they went canon (because there was never a doubt in my mind), that it would be the real deal. Maybe one or both would die, but there would be some kind of love declaration before, and their ending wouldn't leave such a bitter taste in my mouth. I'll accept a bittersweet one, sure, but never just a bitter one. Nah, I trust George ain't gonna do them that dirty.

Expect the worst and hope for the best... Well, the worst has already come, so it can only get better from here, right? It better, ya hear me, George buddy? In George We Trust. 🙏

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georgeandiareinparis111 · 2 years

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In the closet (George x reader)

Warnings: Unprotected sex~breeding Kink~praise Kink~cunnilingus~hand job~friends to lovers

Tell me if there's anything else (:

Summary: You two get detention with Snape and it leads to something else...

——————————————————————

"Mr. Weasley, would you like to share what that note says to the class?" George froze in place, note halfway open, his eyes still locked with the giver of the small piece of paper, you. You looked at Snape, fear taking over your face knowing that what the note says should not be shared with the class.

"N-no professor" He stumbles over his words. You nod your head, agreeing with his words. Snape looks at the two of you, flustered expressions and wide eyes. He thinks over his next response, wondering if it's really necessary to put you in detention.

"Detention, both of you. After Supper" he turns back to the chalkboard, writing down more nonsense that no one's gonna remember. You look at George, mouthing 'sorry' with a disappointed smile.

George really isn't upset. He gets to spend more time with his best friend and he loves doing it, No matter what situation you're in. You and George both love each other dearly. You both have for a couple of years now, but you don't plan on telling each other about your feelings. You're both happy with what you have right now and it's just gonna have to be that way.

The bell rings signaling that you've been released to go to your free period. You and George always spend it together in the Library. You read and he admires your features sitting next to you. The calming glow of the candles light your face up perfectly, showcasing your gorgeous eyes and concentrated smile. He loves watching you.

You pick up your stuff, jogging out of the room with George following after you. Once you've both gotten out of the room, you turn to him, an apologetic look plastered on your face.

"I'm so sorry, George" "It's ok, love. I get to spend more time with you" he responds, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and heading to the Library.

—————-after dinner

"I want you to organize the material closet in alphabetical order," Snape says, opening up the dusty walk-in closet.

"I'll be back in an hour and expect you to be finished and waiting for me at your desks" And with that, he's off, his Cape sending a small gust of wind to blow on your ankles.

"Let's get started, shall we?" He asks, moving out of the way to let you in first. You mumble a 'thank you’ before walking into the congested room. You're already confused and you haven't even started moving bottles.

"Why don't kids just put these back where they found them?" You ask, extremely annoyed with the task you were given.

"I know right? So annoying" You nod in agreement and start moving containers around to their correct places, occasionally sneezing from the dust floating off them. George let's out a deep dramatic sigh.

"This is so boring!" He says dramatically, flopping over your shoulders. You giggle at his actions, falling forward from the sudden weight change. You catch yourself on the shelf in front of you, his head right in the crook of your neck, his warm breath tickling your soft skin. He chuckles, the light rumble of his chest on your back sending shivers straight to your heat.

You gasp as his hands make their way down to your waist, gripping it lightly before standing up straight and gently rubbing your sides. He lifts your ass up so it's level with his crotch and lightly grinds on you, groaning in satisfaction when you whimper.

"Such a needy little thing aren't you?" You nod in response, groaning at the feeling of his cock hardening.

You snap out of the sudden daydream, George still on your back. Your breath goes uneven and your vision is dark with lust with your big baby of a best friend on top of you. He's a laughing mess, arms wrapped around your stomach, shaking around, completely unaware of the state you're currently in.

"Your neck is soft" He says, rubbing his face in it, ticking the skin. His nose rubs against the sweet spot behind your ear and without warning you let out a quiet moan causing him to stop his movements.

"What was that?" He asks. You groan in Annoyance.

"Was that your sweet spot, darling?" He asks seductively, leaning down to ghost his lips over the spot. You nod, hardly biting your lip when his mouth comes in contact with the spot again. You squirm in his grasp when he starts sucking, leaving a pretty little mark. You moan again, leaning your head back and to the side to give Him more access.

"Sound so pretty. Fuck, I wanna destroy you" you nod your head vigorously.

"Please" you say just above a whisper.

"Of course" And with your consent he spins you around, crashing your lips together in a hungry kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss and reaching down to palm him through his slacks. He grunts, pulling you closer and pulling apart to place sloppy kisses on your neck and shoulders.

He starts moving, the back of your legs meet with a table. You jump up, sitting on it and moving your legs apart so he can move inside them.

"Can I touch your pussy?" He whispers in your ear, placing a soft kiss to your lips. You nod and mumble 'yes' agest his lips. He chuckles at your desperate behavior, moving his hand down to gently rub you through your panties. You gasp at the sudden friction, grinding yourself on his fingers. He can feel your wetness seeping through the innocent material, pulling away to gently tug on your lip.

"You're so wet f'me, princess" You whimper when he moves your panties to the side, running his fingers up and down your slit, collecting your juices and bringing them back up to your sensitive bud.

He brings a finger down to your entrance, lightly rubbing it before slowly putting it in you. You moan in pleasure, the tip of his finger barely grazing your g-spot.

"George- ohh!" He groans when you moan his name, his slacks getting obviously tighter hearing you say it. He adds another finger, still moving slowly while drawing small Circles on your clit with his thumb.

"Fuck, you're so tight. You're gonna feel so good" He says, picking up the pace a bit. He drops to his knees, replacing his thumb with his mouth, sucking lightly.

"Oh! FUCK!" You arch your back, hand shooing down to grab a fist full of his hair tugging on it. His movements feel amazing, dragging his tongue up and down your clit, eating you out so good. The knot in your Stomach tightens, your orgazum nearing rapidly.

"George! Fuck, I'm gonna-" You moan loudly, cutting yourself off.

"Mmm, you gonna cum, baby? Go on, cum on my fingers" His dirty words send you over the edge, letting out a silent moan and holding onto the table for dear life. His pumps slow down, licks getting gentle as he coos you and tells you how good you did for him.

He stands up, connecting your lips immediately. Your hand goes back down to his cock, squeezing it making him moan in your mouth. Your hand starts working on his belt, pulling it out of its loops and throwing it somewhere before undoing the zipper and button. You shove them down his thighs, rubbing him through his boxers making him buck into your hand.

"Please" He whimpers, making your eyes turn dark with lust.

"Want me to pump you, Georgie?" You say, teasing the elastic of his boxers.

"Yes, please touch me!" He begs making you wetter if it was even possible. You plunge your hand into his boxers, slowly pumping his length in your hand. He throws his head back at the sudden pleasure, moaning loudly.

You let go, making him let out a needy whine before you pull his boxers down, letting his cock free and hit his stomach. Your eyes go wide at the size of him, taking it in your hand and stroking it gently. You swipe your finger over his sensitive head, pulling out more colorful words and sounds.

"Fu-CK! I wanna be inside, p-please let me fuck you" You smile before nodding your head and letting him take over. He grabs the base of his member, pushing your panties to the side before bringing his head to your folds, tapping and rubbing at your clit.

"You sure you wanna do this?" "Yes George, I'm positive" He smiles, bringing himself to your weeping entrance.

"Just tell me if you wanna stop ok?" You nod your head, and say 'ok' before wrapping your arms around his neck and scooting closer to the edge of the table.

He slowly pushes the head in, the both of you gasping at the pressure. He rests his head on yours, looking down at the connection between you two.

"Can I keep going?" He asks timidity. "Of course, please George" He pushes half way in, you arch your back, pushing your chest into his. He keeps pushing till he's filling you to the brim, the stretching sensation making your eyes roll into the back of your head.

"You're so tight and warm. Feel so good, baby" he says, pulling out half way before pushing back in. You both moan as he sets a steady pace, moving gently and slowly.

"Oh! George, fuck yes" He kisses your neck and jaw leaving little marks as he goes. He groans into your skin, the pleasure you're giving him is making him go crazy wanting nothing more than to completely destroy you. You moan again, holding onto him tighter.

"Faster please" He obliged, moving faster and harder turning you both into a babbling mess. He has a death grip on your hips, moving you closer to him so he can drill into you harder making you both see stars. His tip hits your g-spot over and over again, making you clench onto him. The white hot pleasure drawing him closer to spilling inside you. He pulls out, drawing a needy whine from you.

"Turn around, baby" You do as he says, turning around and sticking your ass up. He groans, kneeding your ass cheek before lightly spanking it making you squirm. He slips back in, continuing his fast hard pace.

"Fuck! You like that? Like how I fill you up?" You nod vigorously, moaning and groaning.

"Yes! Ahh! It feels so good" You fall forward, gripping onto the edges of the table with a death grip. He leans down, kissing in between your shoulders and resting his head in the crook of your neck.

"I'm close" He says, sucking another mark on your neck. You are too, the knot in your belly getting tighter and tighter.

"Me too, so close Georgie! Please-" He slams his hips forward, the sound of skin slapping fills the room, echoing off the walls.

"Cum baby, cum on my cock" You let out a scream as you squirt all over him and it felt amazing. You clench onto him harder

"Fuck, that was so hot, princess. I'm gonna cum, fuck you feel amazing! Gonna fill you up. I'm cumm- fuuckk" He spills inside of you, changing to steady hard thrusts, making sure you get all his cum. The feeling of his warm liquid going up into you makes you moan in pleasure, creating a Symphony with his.

You both calm down from your highs. Standing up, he slowly pulls out, flipping you over and sitting you on the table again. He watched as his cum seeped out of you, groaning as his cock twitched in Curiosity. You reach down, sticking two fingers into your entrance, pulling them out and sticking them in your mouth. The salty sweet flavor takes over your taste buds as you suck his cum off your fingers.

Once you're done, you pull your fingers out, swallowing before sticking your tongue out to show him. He chuckles before kissing you gently, pulling his boxers and pants back up in the process.

"Let's get out of here" He says, you nod your head in agreement, the tired after sex feeling starting to take over. You wrap your arms around his waist and he picks you up, taking you to his dorm to clean up.

You're both in bed, holding onto each other's bodies, the heat making you very drowsy.

"Y/n?" You hum in response

"Will you be mine?" You look up at him, smiling widely. You grab his face and kiss him hard, taken over by emotion and love. You pull away, peppering kisses all over his face, making him giggle and pull you closer. You mumble 'yes' against his skin, stopping after a couple more kisses.

"Yes! Yes, I'll be yours" He smiles, kissing your forehead before snuggling closer to you.

"Good, now get some rest, my love" You nod against his chest, letting his heartbeat sing you to a deep, peaceful sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags:

@horrorxweasley

@lunacurlclaw

@mentallyinlovewithgeorgeweasley

@fancy-pantaloons

#george weasley #george weasley smut #george weasley x fem!reader #harry potter #weasley twins #🚀#george weasley fic

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celestialking · 3 years

Text

Side quest

◇ NSFW~ 18+ only ◇ Minors/Ageless blogs DNI◇ You will be blocked ◇

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: afab, oral, a spoiler or 2 from today’s manhunt, tiny bit of posessiveness, hair tugging (sam receiving) let me know if i missed anything

You heard a low chuckle causing you to lookup. Dream was perched on a tree. One of his legs hung over the side swinging slowly. While the other was brought up for his elbow to rest upon. You pulled back your bow aiming at Dream. "Say when I win will you give me a winner's reward?" Dream hummed from the treetops. A sudden noise startled you causing you to release the arrow. It flew to the left of Dream, missing him completely. Looming over you was Sam.

A mixture of a hiss and a growl had left him, but it wasn't directed at you. The creeper hybrid himself was glaring up at Dream. "Sam you scared me," his face softened looking down at you.

"S-sorry sugar," he chuckled nervously.

Sapnap bolted past you, the wind from him blowing your hair into your face. "He's getting away you guys!" He yelled. Ant, Bad, and George weren't too far behind. Both of you snapped out of it running after the green Teletubby. God damn was this lanky bastard fast. And diamonds? How the fuck did he get those?

Sapnap screamed running after Dream. He really shouldn't have brought his dog down here to be fair. Sapnap didn't last long and then that left you. It seemed the tables had turned as you stepped back from Dream. You were now the hunted.

"Go away!"

"Oh (y/n)," Dream sang chasing after you.

There's a reason you had been hiding behind Sam for a bit. You had the least amount of things to protect yourself with. You halted in your sprint accidentally running yourself to the edge of a cliff. "Have a dance with me," Dreams hand clasped around your wrist, spinning you around quickly. "Save me a kiss for when I win!" Then he shoved you.

"Y/n's flying lessons crashed and burned"

You woke up back at spawn, Sam hovering over you. "Everyone else already started running back," he admitted, helping you up. "He really got us," he huffed. "And I wasn't able to protect you while you got stuff," You placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's fine Sam let's just get some iron and catch up with the others," he nodded following you into a nearby cave. The silence was a little awkward as you mined and smelted.

"So," Sam started.

"You and Dream a thing?" You almost burned yourself on the furnace in surprise.

"W-what? No there's nothing between us," your heart pitter patted at the random question. "Oh okay," silence fell upon the two of you once more. You finished making some armor and turned to Sam to fish it out of your inventory.

"Sam," you gasped.

"You startled me,"

you hadn't expected him to be right behind you. Your back pressed up against the cool cave wall.

Sam didn’t answer, instead, he leaned forward, towering over you. He made you feel incredibly small. One hand was placed by your head on the wall. "Would it be okay if i-" he trailed off, softly gripping your chin with the other hand. You looked up at him, nodding slowly. Sam leaned down brushing his lips over yours, his hands grasped your hips tightly. It was like something snapped in him. You tasted like sweet sugar and it was addicting.

Sam wanted more. His tongue pushed into your mouth dancing with yours. Soon he pulled away, his lips began to travel moving to your cheek then onward onto your neck. He was eager to cover as much skin as he could. Sam's hands moved to your lower back pushing you closer to him. Your head tilted back bareing more for him to claim. "S-sam," you gasped, grasping his forearms.

"We can't do this right now, we're- ahh- working," you whined trying to pull away. The creeper hybrid buried himself deeper into your neck. You shivered as his fangs scraped lightly across your throat.

"Just give me a few minutes darlin, I'll be fast. Promise," Sam murmured into your skin.

Your hand shot up into his green hair gripping him closer. His hand slipped under your pants, a finger circling your hole teasingly. "Sam hurry up," "hurry up what?" He whispered, pressing his lips up your neck to your cheek.

"Please, touch me,"

"I am touching you," he responded simply. You let out a frustrated noise. "Fucking put your fingers in," you choked on a gasp as he plunged two fingers in roughly. His pace was incredibly fast, his thumb rubbing over your clit. Every nerve was on fire, the sudden pleasure a shock to your body. Sam was silent, attaching his lips to your collarbone. He wasn't going to stop until your skin spelled his name. Your thighs shook uncontrollably, they felt like they would give out at any second.

"S-sam-" you whimpered.

He pulled away finishing making the last letter with his hickeys. "What darlin?" You couldn't respond, couldn't focus on anything but him. Sam was overtaking all your senses, the way he was pressed against you and murmuring dirty nothings into your ear was intoxicating. He curled his fingers up into you, adding another, satisfied by the way you a single thought couldn't leave your lips. Sam leaned down capturing your mouth in a kiss, swallowing your moans and whimpers.

Right before you could cum he removed his fingers, covered in slick. He pulled back making you look at him questioningly. "What are you-" his hands grasped your pants yanking them down. Your cheeks flushed red as you realized what he was doing. Sam dropped to his knees, quickly pulling your thighs over his shoulders. "Ngh, Sam we- we have to," you panted as he suckled on your clit. "We have to catch dream," suddenly his tongue plunged into you, your nails gripped his hair tightly. Sam groaned as the sting, then pulled away slightly.

"The only name I want to hear leaving your lips is my own," he then dove in, getting back to work.

Sam messing lapped between your thighs. You repeated his name like a prayer, the sweet haze of lust clouding your mind. "S-sam," you slurred, whimpering. He glanced up at you. Your cheeks were flushed, eyes a little unfocused but still staring at him with an insatiable hunger. Now he really wanted you to cum on his tongue. The mess between your legs grew as he continued with no end in sight. Plunging his tongue into you.

Your thighs were tightly clamped around his head, not that Sam cared. Your hips bucked slightly against him, you attempted to tug him closer in your blind need to cum. Sam knew you were close. He pulled away listening to your soft whine of discontent. "Look at me when you cum," he murmured into your thigh. You barely managed to peek your eyes open, feeling him eat you out with a passion. His eyes were dark with need. "Cum on my tongue sweetheart," he cooed softly.

You tugged his hair harshly causing Sam to groan. You whimpered feeling that pressure in you release, reaching your peak. Sam cleaned up the cum until you were squirming from overstimulation. He pulled his face back, his chin wet and glistening. "Thanks for the meal darlin," you rolled your eyes at the statement. Sam helped you down, grinning at your quivering legs. "Don't look so smug of yourself," you blushed turning away. He just chuckled in response.

You glanced looking down at the obvious problem in his pants. "What about you?" He reached back scratching his neck. "I'll take care of it later," you smiled staring to slowly walk away. "Just meet me after the game, winner or not I'll have a prize for you," you hummed. Sam trotted after you. He needed to win that prize fair and square.

Reminder: DNI = Do Not Interact

If you are a Minor/Ageless blog, Do not follow. Do not comment. Do not reblog. Do not like. DO NOT INTERACT.

Either add your age to your bio/pinned, message me in private, or DNI.

#celestial:awsmd #celestial:scribbles

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ukiyokki · 3 years

Text

mars reads too much dreamnotfound fanfiction for their own good

a dreamnotfound fanfic recommendation list by your resident dumbass (me)

this took way to fucking long... i’m tired

below is a (very extensive) list dedicated to all my favorite dnf fics, ranging from quick one shots to 100k+ word monstrosities that devour the storage on my computer, forever incomplete masterpieces to ongoing works of art, you get the idea. i provided links for each fic/series for your reading pleasure. there will be no smutty/nsfw fics on this list, that’s just not my vibe lmao. this list goes in no particular order, and i’ll update it from time to time when i feel like it. now, without further ado, let us begin.

Heat Waves (complete) by tbhyourelame

(wtf else did you expect, looking at a dnf rec list?) amazingly well written, and while it’s not my favorite dnf fic it’s damn near close. in the midst of a brutal heatwave, a suffering dream comes to terms with the fact that he is desperately in love with his best friend. everything i could say about this fic has already been said by nearly everyone who’s read it, so if you haven’t yet caved into the hype, just go for it. you won’t be disappointed.

Gonna be around (completed) by georgescatcafe

(mc irl) my favorite dnf oneshot to date. just read it, i don’t wanna spoil for you :)

Inferno in the Sky (ongoing)by zairielon

(star wars au) an ongoing star wars au currently clocking in at almost 200k words. need I say more? everything about it absolutely slaps, each chapter is amazingly written, and it’s just good. also, can we just appreciate dream and tubbos dynamic in here? 10/10, amazing, must protecc. oh right, a summary: george, an exiled padawan turned engineer, must return to the jedi temple after attacks on it from an unknown assailant threaten the safety of himself and the other jedi.

Like Magic (ongoing) by KangarooKen, NotGra55 (Gra55)

(harry potter au) the unofficial official dnf harry potter au. we watch the young unlikely wizard pair grow up together throughout their years at hogwarts as they battle good old fashioned wizard racism. beautifully written, incredibly fun and suspenseful, and just an overall blast and a half.

GeorgeNotFound, Son of Poseidon, and the League of Minor Gods (ongoing) by Clichewho_69, Cygnvs, Trash_Kinggg

(percy jackson au) percy jackson au? check. “road trip” (technically quest but u get what i mean)? check. enemies to friends to lovers? check. this fic follows the plot of the lightning theif (albeit loosely), but everything is explained enough where you don’t have to read percy jackson to understand what’s going on. basically after moving to the usa, george gets taken to camp halfblood where he learns that a) gods exist. b) he’s the son of poseidon and c) he needs to prove that he didn’t steal zeus’s master bolt.

Protected (completed) by aenqua

(royalty/camelot au) my favorite piece of dnf media of all time. dubbed the official dnf camelot au, where dream is the heir to the throne and george is a servants son with a secret that couldp get him killed. these childhood friends grow up together and learn trust, love, and acceptance. (that summary did not justice to the masterpiece that is this fic) here’s the directors cut

The Hunter (completed) by HederEgo

(mc irl) a choose your own adventure fic with 13 different endings, where dream the hunter must kill george and stop him from beater the ender dragon. enough said.

The official dream team cowboy AU (series)(ongoing) by antsu_in_my_pantsu

(cowboy au) cowboys and outlaws horses and shit. and the big gay. it’s a cowboy au, what else did you expect? fucking yee haw (all seriousness this is a great read, i loved it so so so so much and i can’t wait for the final chapter to release).

This is a Drista moment, let's just accept it (completed) by Qekyo

dnf fic from drista pov. considering its unique perspective, it’s perfectly done. beautifully showcases a sibling relationship through drista and her memories/moments with dream, and it just works, y’a know? also drista supremacy.

Dear Dream (completed) by Qekyo

(wwii au) i don’t cry when watching/reading anything sad. translation: i’m a heartless bitch. however, this fic is the only exception. it caused me to cry so hard my mom walked in my room and asked if i was ok. ‘nuff said.

TECHNOlogical Wingman (completed) by Closeted_Bookworm

techno is the autocorrect ai on dreams phone, and he gains sentience. interesting concept, and the author fucking nailed it. great fic.

It Was Only a Fic (ongoing) by imagineitdear

dream starts reading a dnf fanfic (we’ve all been there buddy).

Teacher’s Pet (ongoing) by niyuha

(teacher au) in which dream is a high school english teacher and george is the new comp sci teacher in room 297.

Saltwater Secrets (ongoing) by earlgay_milktea

(mermaid/high school au) a great example of the shear amount of variety in fics this fandom has to offer. when i started reading dnf fics i would have never thought i’d find one about a mermaid george hopelessly crushing on his human friend, who happens to be his schools star swimmer. yet here i am, and i am far from disappointed.

Smash My Heart (incomplete) by dontrollthedice

george and sapnap are commentators for duper smash brothers tournaments, and george develops a crush on an up and coming smash streamer named dream.

roleplaying in the dark is harder than it seems (completed) by Alienu

laser tag. 10/10

solar system (completed) by quartzfia

(mc irl) george vists dream in pandora’s vault.

Ramblings of a Lunatic (completed) by jungkooksfic

ahh communicating through a notebook left on a shelf in a bookstore- what a perfect way to start a relationship.

Paint me like your French Girls (It's Charcoal, Actually) (completed) by Turtle_ier

(artist au) george is an art student, and dream is a model.

00:00:00 (completed) by isleofdreams

(soulmate au) 00:00:00 is the moment you meet your soulmate, as indicated but the clock ticking down on your wrist until the moment you meet. i’m not a fan of soulmate aus; this fic is the exception.

Blue Skies Smilin' At Me (completed) by kivy

(artist au) i don’t usually cry while reading stuff, but this brought me damn near close. george is a painting conservator and chats it is with the ghost of the artist if the painting he is working on. they fall in a love.

Current Location (incomplete) by hendollana

(influencer au) george simps for a hot american instagram model. who knew he’d actually follow back?

The Withering (series) (series ongoing, 1 work completed) by App1e_Juice

(mc irl) lore and world building and fight scenes and everything i crave. what’s not to love? something starts making the plants and crops around dreams village wither, and must team up with new friends to find the cause of the mysterious disease plaguing the land.

Minecraft, But You Can't Leave (complete) by facadecake

(mc irl) dream and george are sucked into their own private minecraft world together and must beat the game to escape.

Free The Game, Beat the End (incomplete) by goatgoatwasfound

(mc irl) a glitch in minecraft causes thousands of players from around the world to be trapped inside minecraft, with only one way of escape- beating the ender dragon. first dnf fic i ever read, and it’s still 10/10 for me.

Why don't you come a little closer? (completed) by lifeofandoms

george gets stood up by a date, and Dream pretends he’s the date to save george from the embarrassment. simply adorable.

lightning bug (completed) by saintachesP

(band au) while on tour, dream realizes his feeling for george.

Hold me closer (completed) by Treesofmyheart

(mc irl/dsmp) i just,, really like this trope.

Dizzy on caffeine (completed) by GleamingGreenGoggles

(coffee shop au) best dnf coffeeshop au i’ve read. periodt.

living a life of crime isn’t always easy (series) (completed) by itisjosh

(mafia/assassin au) stockholm syndrome except it’s not weird.

Inhibitions Make Interesting Situations (completed) by Ship_On_The_Sea

i pissed myself laughing. it’s just a dream and george being hilariously dense, flustered idiots. serotonin central.

thy eternal summer shall not fade (completed) by gracequills

(high school au) that moment when you recite shakespeare to your crush in your ap lit class instead of confessing (hate it when that happens).

All is Fair in love and Football (ongoing) by graciegirl2001

(college au) #1 favorite college au. in which george is a cheerleader, and dream is the football teams rising star player. this one gets extra points because of the amazing karlnap moments sprinkled throughout. *chefs kisses air*

online love (completed) by andbutso

(high school au) online classes go zoooooooom

Can’t help falling (completed) by isleofdreams

dream re-learns the guitar to sing to george on his birthday. beautiful. fluffy. amazing

dance in the rain and my arms (completed) by lazy_kitkat

george is a rain god, and dream is a wind god

Weather Boy (completed) by DaintyDiizzle

wouldn't you like to know, weather boy? (where dream can control the rain)

The color orange (completed) by anon

(mc irl) dream describes the colors of a sunset

Family Mode (completed)by Strawberry_flavoured_tears

they’re dads :,)

Breathing Room (incomplete) by papercranes

(band an) an amazing band au. the mad lad author wrote original songs for each chapter. above and beyond, mad props :). unfortunately, it’s incomplete

Piece of Clay (completed) by carbonbrine

(artist au) george is a sculptor and his sculpture comes to life- but oh no he’s hot.

Try (completed) by Not4typicalwriter

(royalty au) george must choose a suitor, but none of them are up to dream, his head knights, standards. or dream is hella jelly. also protective dream is perfect

When the Roses Bloom (completed) by HederEgo

(royalty au) close second for my favorite fic. go to royalty au for a quick serotonin bost. it’s all fluff and flowers and crushes, and i love it. criminally underrated.

Heavenstruck (ongoing) by dontrollthedice

george is dreams guardian angel, and dream want to find out more about him and his past life. bittersweet :,)

Bang and Burn (completed) by App1e_Juice

(spy au) george accidentally falls for target number 1 on sapnap’s secret agency’s hit list. this ones great, i love me a spy au :)

Can I get a uhh… (completed) by lemonskies

dream keeps pulling up to the drive through mcdonald’s that george works at drunk.

Pretty Stranger (completed) by anon

when looking for dream in the terminal, george sees a cute guy and decides to flirt.

Take my Hand (completed) by latinbias

(royalty au) another royalty au? poggers. surprise twists? double poggers. love this a lot.

seconds, minutes, hours, lifetimes (complete) by meridies

ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP *inhales to compose herself* roadtrip au. unrequited love, ignored feelings, longing, pining, you know the drill. absolutely love this one, its the best roadtrip au i have ever read, in any fandom. (maybe cause i identify with it a little too much, but thats not important. whats important is that you read this fic. right now. im waiting).

Message redacted (complete) by justyouraverageloser

(text fic) dream asks for a girls number and realises hes been given the wrong number. however, an unexpected relationship starts to form between him and the stranger on the other end of the line.

the waves (completed) by anon

(mc irl) this fic was written by the same anon who wrote the color orange, which is up there on my fav dnf oneshot list. dream and george know they have a higher purpose. they don’t know where they came from, or why they are seemingly the only humans in the world, or how they feel about eachother, or even where the skeletons come from, but they are sure of one thing: they have to beat a dragon.

The Dream Doll (completed) by PeppDream (Pep_Pizza)

(voodoo i guess) i’m a real big fan of fics with really out there or unique concepts, so naturally this one makes the cut! i really liked it, it’s really sweet and made me think a lot about what matters to me in the world. george finds a strange doll in an antique shop, and would really like to just stuff it in a drawer and forget about it. sadly (?), the doll has other plans.

last updated February 6th, 2021

#dnf #dreamnotfound #dream not found #dreamnotfound fic #dreamnotfound fanfic #dreamnotfound fanfiction #dnf fic #dnf fanfic #dnf fanfiction #dnf fic rec #dreamnotfound fanfiction recommendations #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #i’m ok i swear #i read too much fanfiction #i should probably go to bed

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blueeyedgeorgie · 3 years

Text

Cancelled-Dream Was Taken

A/N: Surprise bitch. Weren’t we expecting for me to release mcyt fanfics soon? If I didn’t tag my usual @‘s it’s because idk if you’d like to be tagged for mcyt content.

Pronouns: she/her

Word Count: 2.3k+

_________________

"You're so harsh on him!" Her hands sat on the keyboard, staring at the green human that stood on Y/n's computer screen.

She needed to be careful. While this was a heated moment, she couldn't let herself get too loud for multiple reasons. If she got too loud, Dream's stream viewers would be able to tell she was in the next room or they would just receive noise complaints from their neighbors.

"No Y/n! You're too soft on him! He needs to learn that he can't get away with everything. You're setting him up for failure." As the h/c girl listened to her roommate speak, she had to remind herself over and over again; 'This wasn't real.' Dream was mad, not Clay.

This had all been arranged as roleplay. Y/n would be leaving in a few days to go visit some of her family for a reunion, so Wilbur had been the one to think up the brilliant idea of what was playing out now; an argument between Y/n and Dream. The plan was to have Y/n get so upset she didn't log onto the SMP for the next few days, only to come back with a master plan to backstab Dream.

At first, Clay wasn't really on board with the thought of him getting angry at Y/n. They had been together for a little over a year, there wasn't a single moment they had gotten upset with one another. But surprisingly, Y/n had been the one to convince Clay it was a good idea.

The fans knew Dream and Y/n had a close friendship, Dream had always been so protective of her. But when this was going down, they didn't know how to act.

Every time Y/n would glance at her chat, she'd see thousands of comments rising up as new ones appeared. Comment after comment, it looked like the fans were shocked by the way this stream was turning out.

"I'm not setting him up for anything! He's a kid, Dream!" Y/n glanced from the chat, back at the screen showing her PC game. Standing on her screen was Dream and Tommyinnit, she had accompanied Dream to visit Tommy.

"You're just babying him! 'He's a kid!' Well, he needs to learn to grow up eventually," his voice had been filled with such spite. It felt weird to hear Clay speaking to her like this in such a tone.

For a moment, she stared at the green man before a short scoff escaped her lips. "I can't believe you." With that, Y/n had pressed a few keys, turning her character towards the nether portal a couple of yards away. Before Dream had gotten the chance to speak again, Y/n began to move away.

"Y/n! Come back here!"

She flicked a few buttons, taking a moment to look behind her character to see Dream following. Good, everything was going according to plan. Within the next few minutes, she'd be able to log off and she'd be on vacation for the next few days.

The h/c girl ignored the green man as she stepped through the portal, taking her to Minecraft's version of hell. Almost done, she just needed to find a good spot to stop as she listened to Dream continue to speak.

"You can't keep ignoring me! You know I'm right in this. You know you can't keep defending Tommy. You know Tommy is driving a wedge between us-"

Perfect. Y/n had stopped just on the edge of a bridge, molten lava sat feet below them. If she fell, she'd surely die. "No."

"No?" Dream was a bit surprised to hear Y/n cut him off, but he stayed silent as he was prepared to listen to what she had to say.

"No. No more. I don't wanna hear you blame Tommy for us breaking apart. I want you to listen to me. You've been acting like much more of a dick than usual and I hate it. I despise it. You've changed for the worst because you think you can step on everyone. At this point, everyone fears to tell you the truth-except me. I'll be a hundred percent honest with you, you've been so egotistical, it's really pissed me off. This is your fault, Dream. Not Tommy's. You exiled a child for pulling a prank on a vacation house! Not even George's real house!"

"But-"

"Shut the fuck up. I'm done, but I don't wanna hear you bullshit me. So shut the fuck up."

A moment of silence passed between them as Y/n stared at her screen. Just a few more steps.

And within seconds, Dream had pulled out his netherite sword. With one hit, she was falling back into lava. Y/n glanced at her chat, a look of shock on her face as she read over what a few comments said. A moment of silent tension had passed before Y/n had finally spoken up, removing her from the voice chat she was in.

"Alright guys, I guess that's enough for the day. I'll see you all... later." With that, she had clicked a few buttons, raiding Dream's live-stream as she ended hers.

For the next 20 to 30 minutes, Y/n knew Clay would be busy streaming. So she had decided to take a bit of time to wind down and think to herself.

Get a glass of water.

'Are the fans harassing him in his twitch chat?'

Sit down on the living room couch.

'The SMP fans were always so protective of me.'

Pet Patches.

'Was I too much when I snapped at him?'

It didn't seem like 30 minutes had passed when Clay had walked out of his streaming room, only to find Y/n on the couch with Patches in her lap. "Hey, N/n." "Oh, your stream is already over?" Y/n smiled, pulling herself out of her thoughts as she scoot over, giving Clay room to take a seat right by her.

"Yeah, did you lose track of time or something?"

"I must've. How did the chat react after I 'died'?" She smiled up at her boyfriend as he wrapped an arm over her shoulders, pulling her closer into his embrace.

"Everyone was filled with joy that you died."-Y/n playfully swatted at him. "Okay, okay! I got a few chat messages of people bashing me for it, but it's fine."

"Well, it's a good thing the chat wasn't completely littered with hate. How was it after my raid?"

"Honestly, not that bad as you expect. Like I said, just a few comments. Nothing bad, I just ignored it." Clay placed a hand on Patches's head, gently scratching her, followed by the animal beginning to purr.

"Good to hear, anyways... I'm not ready to pack. Do you think we can procrastinate?" The h/c girl let out a huff leaning against her boyfriend. "How?"

"I was thinking a bit of movie binging, cuddling, and ordering dinner?" A cheeky smile spread on her face as she spoke.

"It's like you read my mind."

The couple had made it through three movies, by now it was later at night. The sun had set and they had already door dashed some food. By now they were in the middle of watching 'The Empire Strikes Back.'

'I love you.' 'I know.'

The iconic moment between Hans and Leia had been interrupted by the sound of Clay's phone buzzing. "Why is George calling?"

"What?" Y/n was a bit curious herself. Considering the timezones, George should be asleep right now. Pausing the TV, she turned her attention to her boyfriend's phone.

"Hey Clay."

"What's up, George? Isn't it like early in the morning for you?" Clay raised a brow, moving his phone so Y/n would be able to see George as well.

"Yeah, I had to stay up to fix a YouTube video I need to get out today. I was about to go to bed and I checked Twitter-"

"Oh no." Clay made a short joke, only to be cut off by his friend.

"I don't know if it's trending for you in America, but you might as well look."

"What's going on?" He swiped up, taking him to his home screen so he could click on the little blue bird app. Y/n had grabbed her phone from the coffee table, opening up the app as well. "#Cancel Dream... #Y/n... #Dream SMP"

"Is... is Clay getting canceled for killing me in Minecraft?" Y/n scrolled through the tweets involving the hashtag 'Y/n.' She could see plenty of people defending her, but making it much bigger of a problem than it actually was.

"Oh, hey Y/n. But yeah, he is." George chuckled awkwardly, scrolling through his Twitter app as well.

"This is so fucking stupid."

"It really is. So we might as well get this cleared up with the fans as soon as possible. Do you want me to tweet something, or do you want to?" Y/n looked up at her boyfriend, it looked like he was thinking.

"Yeah, I'll tweet it. Don't worry about this, Y/n."

"Alright, whatever you say," she replied, pulling a blanket over her as she waited for Clay to finish typing his response.

"Here's what I'm gonna say: 'I can't believe you guys actually think me and @(y/n) are in an actual fight in real life. We have been good friends since forever, the fight was only roleplay. I love that you guys are so protective of Y/n, but no one's actually upset.' How's that sound?"

"I think that's good," George hummed softly.

"Yeah, I doubt you'll stay 'canceled' once you've explained to them it was all part of the SMP lore." The h/c girl smiled up at her boyfriend with a small nod.

"Alright, I'm gonna post it. George, I think you should go to bed because you're half asleep already."

Y/n turned, looking at her boyfriend's iPhone. "Go to sleep, Gogy!"

"Alright, alright... I'll talk to you guys later." The call had ended with Clay and Y/n saying goodbye to their friend while George simply yawned to them as a response.

As soon as the call was over, Clay looked at the response to his tweet. It didn't seem to be going too well. There had been a few fans who understood what was going on and responded with a paragraph as an apology for the misunderstanding. But most replies had been telling Clay he was bullshitting the fans or that he wasn't being honest.

"I'm sorry, Clay," his girlfriend had huffed as she read through the responses to his tweet.

"Honestly I'm just a bit pissed off. Literally, any time someone tries to 'cancel' me, it's over something stupid. I'm not a bad guy, it just feels like some people just don't want to see me succeed." Clay had excused himself to grab a glass of water from the kitchen.

It hurt Y/n to hear how upset her boyfriend was. He never got too upset over things, but seemed to take a small toll on him. "Hold on. Let me say something." The h/c girl couldn't be asked to post multiple tweets of her response to hate sent towards Clay over the internet. So what was better than a short video that could be posted to the blue bird app?

"Um, hey guys. I'd just like to make this quick. Stop sending hate towards Dream. The fight was roleplay and nothing more. I'm gonna be busy for the next couple of days so Wilbur thought of a good idea to help build SMP lore with me and Dream and we both agreed to the argument. Now stop sending the green man hate, or I'll commit war crimes or something-"

Y/n had been interrupted by the sound of Clay letting out a small giggle. "What? What did I say?"

"Nothing, just keep going with your video."

"Whatever, I'm cool. No matter what Dream says. Anyways, I'll speak to you all later." Y/n had hit the red button again, ending her video. Within seconds, the video had been uploaded to her Twitter account.

Placing her phone back down on the table, Y/n approached her boyfriend, wrapping her arms around his torso. "I'm really sorry about the hate, Clay. I love you."

"Don't apologize for something you can't control. I love you more." The brunette held his partner close, accepting her hug. Y/n always loved his hugs, she always felt so safe in his embrace.

The rest of the night had been spent with more cuddling and more Star Wars movies. Hours had passed before Y/n had even thought about the Twitter situation again. But for some reason, she had decided to look at the app again tonight.

It was 2 in the morning by now, Clay was half asleep. His head laid in the h/c girl's lap as she brushed a hand through his hair, her free hand opening up her Twitter app once again.

It had been a bit of a surprise to see a couple of trending hashtags had changed so quickly. What was trending now was #Dream, #Y/n,#(ship name), and #Dream's Laugh. This had to be about Y/n's short clip she posted. And by the looks of it, people had stopped acting so harsh towards Clay. But instead, they had decided to focus on the fact Dream and Y/n were hanging out together. Not to mention the fact Dream and let out a stupid little giggle because of Y/n. People had been apologizing to him through Twitter for being so hard on him.

"Babe."

"Hm?" Clay mumbled, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Pretty much everyone is apologizing to you over Twitter for being hardasses."

"Hm, that's good to hear."

"You're really tired, huh?" Y/n paused her scrolling to look down at her boyfriend.

"Yeah," He continued to mumble, followed by a short yawn.

"Alright, time for bed, babe." Y/n smiled to herself, beginning to carefully move away from Clay. "I can pack tomorrow and we can laugh over the stupid bird app tomorrow after you've gotten a good amount of sleep."

"I still can't believe Twitter tried canceling me over roleplay."

"I can't believe you got uncancelled by shippers."

Taglist: @notphilosopherstudentblog

#dreamwastaken #dream was taken #dream was taken x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream smp #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #dream was taken imagine #dream was taken one shot #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken oneshot #dream smp x reader #dream smp imagine #dream smp oneshot

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darlington-v · 2 years

Text

have you ever shared a premonition?

an endersmile drabble

ranboo logs on after hearing about sapnap and george tormenting his kid.

The air around him crackles into life as he logs onto the server, just now hearing of the harassment his zombie piglin child had gone through and how George and Sapnap were at Snowchester to talk. He can see Tubbo out of the corner of his eye, already shooting out rapid fire pleas to not overreact, that Tubbo had gone through the same song and dance of berating and bruising Sapnap and George himself.

Ranboo can hardly hear his husband due to the blood rushing and thrumming in his ears, however.

The cold wind rushes in and stings Ranboo's cheeks when he throws open the mansion doors. The sound cracks the atmosphere and turns the moment colder. He doesn't stop moving, not when Tubbo is hot on his trail screaming at him to stop, to just look at what Tubbo had already done to the two. He doesn't falter when bruised up Sapnap and George enter his line of sight and he doesn't falter when he lunges for the fireborn. He pins Sapnap to the ground, snatching the collar of his hood.

His thoughts turn fuzzy when something like wrath begins to throttle his mind. A loud groaning screams in his ears, ire and rage, violence and agony, everything all at once fills his senses. // And in all his fear and dread, that's when George sees it, when George realizes it.

Ranboo's eyes are glowing a bright purple, his teeth are bared, and the ferocity in his being reminds him of a rage he's seen before.

George, Sapnap, and Dream had been messing around, playing silly games and rough housing. George knows it wasn't that long ago but to look back on it makes him feel ancient. Everything seems so different. His mind pulls him back to Ranboo, whose claws are currently at Sapnap's throat. Perhaps everything is not as different as it seems. George recalls Sapnap and Dream taking their rough housing too far, playful jabs turning into cutting insults, and the spiteful kill of a mob George can no longer remember.

He didn't pay it any mind at first. They were just playing around and being stupid. As someone watching their inane argument unfold, it was a little funny. At least until the mob died, until Dream lost his nerves and lept for Sapnap.

George could remember that moment with such eerie clarity. Dream's eyes, despite how dark they were, seemed to glow. His teeth were bared and that groaning, that terrible groaning seemed to fill the air. There was no escaping from the noise. It took everything for George to beg him to stop. Dream gripped Sapnap's throat as he landed wet, bloodied punches over and over again. George threw himself over the pair, trying his best to get between them. He remembers the only words he could force out so vividly.

"Dream, stop, you're going to kill him."

Ranboo's head snaps up towards George and the purple in his eyes begin to thrum away slowly.

"What?" he whispers.

George realizes the words were said aloud now, and not kept within himself, safely, tightly, and in a place no one would ever see.

He clears his throat, an attempt to salvage what he knows he cant.

"I said you're going to kill him."

But Ranboo knows. //

And now, so does George.

Ranboo stays wordless as he lets go of Sapnap, releasing the full weight of his body off of the fireborn. He continues to keep his eyes on George when Sapnap scrambles out from underneath him, largely unscathed. Ranboo knows that Sapnap is too panicked right now to notice the similarities as George had, and really, that's all Ranboo can ask for in this moment. He steels himself, sure to harden his expression and push his point across. He knows that if looks could kill, Sapnap and George would be down a life.

There's a second of silence before Ranboo speaks, "You know what happens if you try it again, right?"

The question is pointed toward George more than it is the two of them. George's expression turns distant and at this Ranboo knows he's recalling back on whatever event made him call for Dream to stop.

Sapnap's composure resumes it's usual cockiness, a well of arrogance.

"Yeah we'll see about th-" Sapnap begins, but George throws his hand in front of the fireborn to shut him up.

"Yes. We get it." The conversation is cut short.

Ranboo doesn't know what happened between the three of them, but he's seen his brother single-handedly take down men in droves.

It doesn't take much to imagine.

#prince.txt #endersmile #ok please don't make fun of me #not maintagging bc im embarrassed by my writing always

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wicked-hg · 3 years

Text

Empire || o.w.

This is a part of @iliveiloveiwrite song fic challenge.

Oliver Wood x reader

Song prompt: Empire by Elle Henderson

Summary: Oliver has an interview with a quidditch reporter who wants to know more about the “quidditch empire” he has built. Oliver reflects on the life he has built with Y/N.

WC: 3.9k

A/N: I am so excited to finally post this! I’ve been working on it for a while and it went longer than I thought it would, but that’s okay. I hope you all enjoy it. Please please please check out the song! I tried to keep it in mind writing this, but overall it is just a fantastic song and one of my favorites. I found the below image when looking for an Oliver Wood gif, and this was so cute!!!! Plus it goes with the story. Italics are the interview.

“Mr. Wood, thank you for sitting down with us,” the reporter greeted. “I know many people are dying to know more about you and your growing quidditch empire.”

“Empire?” Oliver chuckled. “I wouldn’t call what I ‘ave an empire.”

“What would you call it then? You are a renowned quidditch player and now a coach for Puddlemere United. Your wife was a former strategist for the Pride of Portree and is the granddaughter of Kennilworthy Wisp and Devlin Whitehorn. You also have seven children. If that isn’t a quidditch empire, then what is it.”

“Me family,” Oliver answered. “Aye, me wife comes from two great lineages and aye quidditch did bring us together, but I love her for so much more than that. Quidditch was only an excuse to talk to her. It isn’t our relationship.”

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

You had friends at Hogwarts. There were people who enjoyed your company. They were always there to talk quidditch to you, but that was about it. Once you tried switching the subject they suddenly had to go work on homework that had already been turned in. You knew though captains of quidditch teams didn’t lie that they wanted to be your friend. They were straightforward that they wanted your analysis of their team, and the other teams, and what strategies they should use to be successful. Each one came on the same day at the same time like clockwork. Today was Wednesday. That meant Oliver Wood would find her around 6:55. Oliver was the one captain who would seek you out no matter where you were in the castle. You had to always be in the same place for the others.

The clock chimed 7:00 when Oliver found you today. “You’re five minutes later than normal, Wood,” you commented.

Oliver shrugged as he sat next to you. “I knew you’d be here, but I wasn’t sure how loud it would be,” Today’s spot was the clock tower. “So I wanted to wait until after the clock rang.”

You sat in silence. Usually you jumped quickly into the quidditch talk, but Oliver sat silently. “You alright, Wood? You’re quiet today. You play Hufflepuff next week if I recall. I wouldn’t really worry about them. They’ve had a devastating losing streak so far. Their beaters aren’t doing well. They’ve been on injury rotation. Fleet also doesn’t have your skills.”

Oliver smiled. “Me skills? You notice I’m quite skilled, Y/N?”

You tried to keep yourself from blushing. Something was different about how he said this. “Of course I do, Wood. I’m Hogwarts residential quidditch analyst.”

“Oliver,” he said. You glanced at him, confused. “Call me Oliver. Not Wood.”

You nodded. “Okay then...Oliver.” Silence washed back over the two of you. “Do you have any other questions? Or do you want info about the new Nimbus? The rest have wanted that.”

Oliver shook his head. “Why don’t you play? Every house goes to you for advice, yet you don’t even play for your own. Why is that?”

No one had ever asked you that. In fact, no one had ever asked any questions about you yourself. “I used to when I was younger with my siblings. I have six older ones.”

“Me too,” Oliver said. “Poppy, Daisy, Juniper, Ivy, Violet, and Flora. They thought I was gon’ be a girl. When it turned out I was a boy, I was named Oliver instead of Olive. That way all they had to do was add an ‘r’ to everything. Sorry for interrupting you. The Weasleys are the only other ones I know with a family of seven siblings.”

You smiled. “It’s alright. Sounds like your family went for a theme.” Oliver nodded. “I think that’s cool. My parents didn’t. I’m the youngest. I have four brothers—Dorian, Finnigan, Simon, and Leon—and two sisters—Evangeline and Benjamina.”

“So you played quidditch with them. Why not anymore?”

“I got hit in the head with a bludger,” you told him. I know that happens a lot to players, but I was about five. Gramps and PopPop were fighting again. They don’t get along at all, and my parents were out celebrating their anniversary. I don’t know why they had those two watching us instead of just picking one. Granny and Nan were trying to calm them down. We were playing quidditch on PopPop’s prototype of the Nimbus 1650.”

“Nimbus 1650? I’ve never heard of that one.”

“That’s because it was never released to the public. It had too many flaws. Anyway, I played seeker. It’s how I learned to analyze patterns besides listening to Gramps. The bludger hit me upside the head and as I fell it hit me again in the jaw. Honestly though, it felt like two hits to the head because my head was the size of a bludger back then. I couldn’t get on a broom after that. I tried. I tried so many times. I just was never able to fly. The brooms wouldn’t listen. Besides, the healer says one more bludger to the head will kill me.”

“We can’t have that then. I’ll get ya on a broom, but I’m not letting ya anywhere near a bludger.” You grinned at his comment. “You belong in the air though. Every time I find you, you're usually high up. The wind will be blowing through your hair soon enough. I promise.”

“You can’t make promises like that, Oliver.”

Oliver shushed you. “Tomorrow. We start tomorrow at this time on the pitch. You’re not meant to be caged, Y/N. Let me help you fly free.”

“What makes you think that you will be the one to do so?” You asked him, trying not to gain any hope from Oliver’s promise. Your family had done everything they could. How could Oliver be successful?

He smiled and grabbed your hand. “I won’t let you fall. I’ll catch you. Do you trust me?”

There was a fire in his eyes now. He had hope he could do this, and you did too. “Absolutely.”

—————

“And what about having seven children? A quidditch team is made up of seven players. One could assume you are breeding your own quidditch team.”

“Well, one can assume all they want. The truth is, life just happened this way. Y/N and I both came from large families; both of us are the youngest of seven. We were fine having that many kids. Just know though there aren’t any more Wood children coming,” Oliver grinned. “And don’t believe that rumor that all of our kids are named after types of wood unknowingly or fun. It was the result of losing a series of bets.”

“What?”

The reporter paused in thought. “Oh my Merlin. Your children are all named after types of wood. You did that on purpose? Because of bets?”

Oliver blinked. “No…”

“But you just said—” Oliver stared at the reporter, daring him to continue. “So when did people pick up on it?”

—————

He was so small. Granted, Rowan and Willow had been too. Perhaps he was bigger than them though. He was definitely louder. “He’s got quite the lungs to him,” you murmured to Oliver as you handed him your new son. “Rowan and Willow were quiet and pensive. He’s loud and ready to fight. Has been since the womb. Hopefully the bruises will go away now.”

This third babe had been a handful—constantly moving and kicking the bruises actually began to appear on your abdomen. “Reckon he’ll be a beater if he plays some day,” You chuckled in agreement with your husband. “Hello there, Al. Glad you’re finally here. Your brother and sister are so excited to meet you.”

“Al,” you sighed lovingly, “I like it. Al Wood. Is it short for anything?”

“Alder.”

“Alder. That’s nice,” Silence washed over the room until your eyes flew open. “Alder? Did you just say Alder? As in the tree? Oliver, is our son named Alder Wood?”

“Yes…”

“Rowan and Willow are going to ma—” Realization hit you. “Rowan and Willow. Rowan Wood. Willow Wood. Oliver Wood, are our children named after types of trees? Have you named our children after types of trees when I am in a state of fatigue after birthing them?”

“Yes and no,” he replied. He carefully held the newborn close to his chest. “All of these names I suggested to you when we discussed it, and you liked them. I just suggested them in a different light. Rowan is a good Scottish name, and Willow is an old English name and a well respected magical tree. Alder...I don’t think I ever did mention Alder to you. I was hoping to get away with that one.”

You reached for your son. Looking down at him, you couldn’t imagine him being named anything else. “I can’t imagine him being anything else now. If we have more children, we will discuss this first. I just didn’t realize you so desperately wanted a theme. I thought you hated the name theming after your parents have done it to you and your sisters.”

“I do!” Oliver argued.

“Then why name our children after types of wood and trees?”

Oliver sighed. He knew there was no lying to you anymore. “I lost a bet back in Hogwarts to Weasley.”

You sighed. “I’m gonna yell at George when I get out of here. I can’t imagine our children being named anything different now, but still. I don’t care if it was his or Fred’s fault.”

“Actually it was Percy.”

—————

“You were married right before hell broke loose in the Second Great Wizarding War, and if I recall you even participated in it.”

“Aye. I did. Many witches and wizards in the league did once it got shut down in ‘97.”“Did this affect you and your wife?”

“Of course it did. It affected everyone. Plus we were still young and so was Rowan.”

“Rowan?”

“Me eldest boy. How did you not know that? I would’ve thought you’d know the names of me kids the way you’ve been going on.”

The reporter shrugged as he jotted this all down in his notebook.

——————

Oliver had done what he could to help the light in the war, but his priority was his family. He had a wife and a son now. His wife was also expecting their second child. He laid down next to his wife. “Rowan’s fast asleep,” he whispered. “He went down quickly tonight.”

You smiled as you snuggled into him. “She’s being quiet tonight too.”

He smiled and glanced down at your protruding belly. “How do you know it’s a she?”

“I just do,” You were quiet for a moment before asking, “Oliver, do you ever regret how we did things?”

Everything was on track for you and Oliver when you graduated. You had both taken big jobs in the world of quidditch. You were young and everyone knew your names. Then in the late spring of 1995 you found out a baby was on the way. Rowan was born that December. A year and a half later you two finally got married in the early summer of 1997. Now in May of 1998 you were almost 8 months pregnant with the second baby Wood.

“I will never ever regret us or our kids,” he told you. “This is I guess just how it was meant to be. Do I wish that the world was safer for them? Absolutely. I wish we would’ve had more time to fight to give them a better world. I will do anything to make sure they don’t live under these conditions. I hope every day that Rowan doesn’t remember living in a time of such fear and chaos.”

“I am terrified, Olli,” you admitted.

“Me too,” he agreed, “But I will always be here to protect you. No one will destroy what we have created.”

Hours later he was summoned to Hogwarts for one last battle. You waited for him to return. When Rowan woke, you acted as if everything was normal. “Daddy just had to go take care of some business,” you told Rowan when he asked about Oliver. An owl from St Mungo’s arrived close to bedtime. You flooed your mother to stay with your son as you rush to the hospital. Oliver, with his confunded eye, grinned at you. He had a gash on his forehead and was covered in dirt, yet he smiled because they had won.

——————

“So did helping in the war aid your career at all?”

“That’s a stupid question.”

“I just didn’t know if it helped your skills.”

“My skills are and were fine both prior and after the war.”

—————

“Sweetheart, I think you need to get your sight checked out,” You told Oliver one morning before he headed off to practice. “You’re missing more shots on your right, even though you’re right handed. People are starting to pick up on that.”

“I still catch the quaffle,” Oliver muttered. “That’s what matters.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t. I’m just saying your reaction time is slower and more have been slipping through. You know, as an analyst for an opposing team I shouldn’t even be telling you this.”

Oliver sighed. “That’s the eye.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh. I forgot it was the right one. I thought you got it healed?”

During the Battle of Hogwarts, Oliver had taken a confundus charm to the eye. For a while his eye was completely confounded and unable to focus. Eventually the healers were able to resituate it back to normal; however, Oliver’s vision had not quite yet returned back to normal.

“It can still get a bit blurry and spinny.”

“You need to talk to the coaches, Oliver. That can be a danger for you,” you said. You wrapped your arms around him. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I know you will overcome this and learn to play with it, but I need you safe. You have a family to come home to.”

Oliver nodded and hugged you. “I promise, leannan. I promise.”

—————

“Was there ever tension or conflict when you played the Pride?”

Oliver shrugged. “Y/N and I had a deal. We would note interfere between Puddlemere and the Pride of Portree. Teams have multiple strategists, and while, aye, she was their main one there were others to take care of handling strategies against Puddlemere. As for me, in my entire career, I never played a game against them—even after she retired and took over the broom business. The main keeper during my early years and reserve in my later years always played.”

“Seriously? Not even after she retired? You could’ve. It would’ve just furthered your career.”

“Perhaps, but I also knew that if I did it would make me wife choose between her husband and the team she grew to love. I couldn’t do that to her. Plus it kept me in shape.”

————

You saw Oliver walk down the stairs carrying your newborn girls and Al clinging to his back. “I thought you had a game today,” you asked as he set Al down and tried to put Holly and Hazel into the highchairs. Rowan and Willow followed behind them.

“”Play quidditch, daddy?” Willow asked. “We go watch a game?”

“Puddlemere plays Portree today. I never play against them.” Oliver sat down and started to feed the twins breakfast.

“But, Oliver,” you said confused, “That was when I worked for them. I don’t work for them anymore. You can play if you want to.”

He shook his head. “Today is for us.”

“Us? Like you and mum or the whole family?” Rowan asked.“

The whole family,” Oliver answered. “I’ve gone this long not playing Portree. No reason to start now. Besides, the team means so much to you, Y/N. I can’t put you between them and me. It’ll be a good day for us all to hang out too. Be a proper family.”

You smiled as you set the rest of breakfast in front of your children and helped Al get his food while WIllow and Rowan snatched theirs up. “That actually sounds amazing. Thank you, Oliver. Anything in mind for us to do today?”

“Perhaps the beach? The sun is out for once.”

“You just want to even out your tan line,” Rowan chuckled. Oliver glared at his son, knowing he was absolutely correct.

————

“You could’ve had another few years to your career. Why did you retire? Your retirement came before your predecessor’s exit.”

Oliver thought for a moment, wondering if he should tell the whole truth. “I was a father to six. I had just found out Reed was going to be born—“

“Is Reed your sixth kid?”

“No he’s the seventh and final.”

“Can you tell me who all your kids are. I’m getting them confused.”

Oliver huffed. “In order there is: Rowan, Willow, Alder, we call him Al, the twins, Holly and Hazel, followed by Ash, and ending with Reed.”

“One more time.”

Oliver sighed. He couldn’t take much more of this. “Rowan, Willow, Alder, Holly, Hazel, Ash, and Reed.”

The reporter finished writing those down. “Got it.”

“As I was saying, I had just found out my youngest child was on the way and I had also found out some other news.”

————

“Pregnant?”

You nodded. “I know we hadn’t planned this. It’s kid number seven,” You sat down next to him. “Oh Merlin, it’ll be our seventh child. We’re going to have a full team, Oliver. Al starts Hogwarts next year. Willow is starting her second year this year. Rowan takes his OWLS this year! The twins just started nursery school. Ash is finally no longer scared of the loo.”

“I’m going to retire,” Oliver said suddenly.

“What?” you gasped. “Oliver, darling, you don’t need to do that. Dorian and I run PopPop’s business just fine. You don’t need to give up your career. We support you. I support you.”

Oliver kissed your cheek and rested his hand against your stomach. “I’m almost 40, Y/N. I’ve been missing goals at practice for a while. Coach sent me to a healer during practice. There’s no more quidditch for me. Too many bludgers to the head. We make quite the pair. They found that part of my brain is swollen. I have to have treatment for a few more weeks and I’ll be good as new.”

You threw your arms around him and held him close. “Oh Oliver. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Didn’t want you to worry. I didn’t want you to act differently in front of the kids. I found out all the details today though. I’m telling Coach tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe you have to do this, Oliver.”

He smiled and kissed your forehead. “I’m getting old anyway. This was going to happen eventually. I missed parts of my kids' lives because of quidditch. No more of that.”

“They’ll be heartbroken, you know.”

Oliver nodded. “What about you?”

“I just want you safe and happy. I will always support your choice. I can’t lose you, Oliver. You’re silly to think I’d ever let you near a bludger again now.”

Oliver chuckled remembering his promise to you all those years ago. “Poor Al. No more bludgers for the Woods. We’re gonna need to find a place to send him.”

“I ran into an old classmate of ours. She’s married to Marcus Fli—”

“I’m not sending me son to play with a bludger at Marcus Flint’s place! I’d rather take him to Weasley!”

————

Oliver watched the reporter go with a smile on his face. That was the last one. He couldn’t handle continuously doing those. His agent was right; he just needed to write a damn book.

“Is the reporter done?”

Oliver turned and his smile became a grin as he kissed you. “Aye. Thank Merlin too. That was an imbecile. I’m gonna have to write that book so I don’t have to deal with any more of them.”

You grinned and hugged him. “I told you so. Come on now, sweetheart. They’re all waiting for you.”

“Can you believe Al is off to Hogwarts tomorrow?”

You shook your head as you snuggled into him. “That leaves us with four though. We’re not quite at an empty nest, Oliver.”

“I know. It’s just,” Oliver paused. “As I answered questions I just thought back to different moments in our life. Did you ever think we’d get here? That we’d build this...this...this empire of ours?”

You smiled. “I always hoped. I couldn’t imagine living my life with anyone else. Though our life is full of quidditch, in so, so many ways, you still made sure it was about so much more than that. Now come Oliver. Our little empire is ready to eat dinner.”

————---------

“Are we almost there?” You asked Oliver. “I feel like we’ve been walking forever. Why couldn’t we have just apparated?”

Oliver chuckled as he gripped your hand tighter to make sure he didn’t lose you as you climbed higher on the hill. “That would ruin the magic of it all, leannan.”

“Can you give me any clues, Oliver? Besides the fact it must be a decent spot for a picnic,” You glanced down at the picnic basket in your hand. When Oliver had invited you to his home, you were excited. Never before had you been to his family home in the highlands. You had met his family at his sisters’ homes. “You know the only thing I know about the highlands is that you are from here, and you don’t even live here anymore!”

“We’re almost there anyway,” he answered. “This is a place me dad took me mum when they were like us. When I told them about you, he brought me in case you were my gu bràth. We’re in the midst of Loch Katrine. It can be a popular place for muggle photographers to come take photos but they’re quite intimidated by this mountain, thanks to magic.”

Oliver helped you climb up a few more meters. You saw the giant grin on his face. This must be someplace special. He was just as excited as if they were about to jump right into a game of quidditch. You set the basket down and felt his hand squeeze yours. “Look at it, leannan. It’s beautiful.”

Finally you turned to join him, and he wasn’t wrong The area of Loch Katrine was gorgeous as the leaves had started to change. “This is beautiful, Oliver. It is absolutely gorgeous here.”

His smile grew and he pulled you closer. Your head rested on his chest and listened to the sound of his beating heart. Afterwhile he whispered, “I have found strength in your arms. We have built the foundation for an amazing love, and you will always rule my heart. Nobody can or will ever destroy what we have.”

You burrowed closer into his chest and felt his arms wrap around you more. Oliver had always been a ray of hope, and you knew he would continue to be one for you. You knew, you could feel your relationship growing in many ways at that moment. You hoped to Merlin, as you looked across the Scottish highlands in the arms of the man you loved, that someday you would build an indestructible empire with him. It is what you both deserved.

#oliver wood #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood imagine #oliver wood one shot #oliver wood x y/n #oliver wood reader insert #hp imagine #hp one shot #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #my own work #iliveiloveiwrite3.5k

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free-pool-trash · 3 years

Text

come off it - george weasley

i wrote this because i was bored and in my george feels :) if you know me irl no you dont

word count: 5k

warnings: swearing, y/n absolutely bullying draco 💓😌, angst at the start for 0.2 seconds, mentions of blood, umbridge being a bitch, kissing 😽 slytherin!reader

summary: george wants to break up just until you graduate to keep umbridge off your case but it comes out wrong. eventually you both agree to keep your relationship on the low until you can see each other at graduation <3 (im terrible at summaries)

this is my first time ever writing for hp so please let me know what you think, id love feedback <3 reblogs are so appreciated

let me know if you’d like more hp stuff

masterlist

(also i dont support jkr if i saw her on the street she’d need new kneecaps <3)

The silence was screaming, the room completely devoid of volume, and yet, you’d never heard anything quite so loud.

He never moved from his spot, perched on the arm of an old grandfather chair, his head hung and his hair blocking his eyes from view, hiding any chance you had of reading his expression.

Feeling suffocated by his lack of dialogue, you spoke up again, your voice nothing more than a whisper to be swallowed up by the silence, “So, that’s that then.”

The quiet in the room didn’t bother you so much after you heard the words that had slipped from your lips, you could find solace in the hollow silence. Relating it to your thundering heart, that was beating rapidly, but the thought that you no longer knew what it was beating for left you like the aforementioned silence; hollow.

“I’m sorry, love.” His voice, as smooth as ever, brought your thoughts back to the situation at hand. All you managed was the weak shake of your head, willing your wet eyes to dry out before you lost hold of what little dignity you had left.

How could you possibly cry? You wondered miserably.

If you had only listened to the whispers in the back of your mind, you’d have seen this coming, foolish girl. You scolded yourself mentally.

“Don’t be.” You told him simply. Regaining your composure long enough to make it to the exit of the room, you spared the boy one last glance, he was looking at you then, brown eyes cloudier than you’d ever seen them.

What would he have to be sad about? This had been his choice, after all.

With a steadying breath you left the room, uttering an almost pathetic, “Look after yourself, Georgie.”

Only when he was sure you were truly gone did he allow his tears to fall, he hadn’t wanted to end things with you, not really.

It was for the best though. Tensions were high in Hogwarts at the minute, with Umbridge’s take over of the school putting everyone on edge. George knew well enough that the pink sporting she devil wouldn’t take too kindly to the prestigious, pure-blooded, princess of Slytherin embroiled with the likes of him. A supposedly lowly Weasley. A blood traitor.

Of course, status never mattered to you, or to your family for that matter. But it mattered to the new headmistress and George couldn’t bear the idea of putting you on the wretched witches radar knowing that he and Fred would be leaving you before the end of term.

He hadn’t expected it to be so bloody hard though. He thought he’d breeze through it with the thought process of “it’s only temporary”, as he’d initially intended. His plans for a temporary reprieve were hushed the second he saw your heart shattering right before his eyes.

You should’ve known really, you can’t just break up with the girl you’ve been completely in love with since third year out of nowhere. Merlin, you’ve really done it this time, haven’t you? She must think you’re a right tosser.

He reprimanded, the words trapped in the confines of his muddled mind.

His sadness turned to anger as it dawned on him, he’d just let you go and for what? Merlin, his mother was going to kill him.

Molly Weasley absolutely adored you, George recalled the first time he’d introduced you to his family. You’d been so nervous, it wasn’t every day a Slytherin found themselves in the midst of mostly Gryffindors.

Of course, yourself and George were just friends at the time. Fred had been the one who had begged you to visit the burrow as a matter of fact.

George cringed at the thought of the letter he’d surely be getting from his mother when she got wind of what he’d just done.

Overcome with frustration, George lifted himself from the arm of the chair and began storming through the stone halls in search of you. The conversation, if you could even call it that, hadn’t gone the way he planned.

He’d planned to sit down with you, talk you through his thought process and then hopefully you’d promise each other to rekindle your love in six months after you graduated.

Obviously that’s not how it ended up going. He’d screwed it up completely, he’d frozen on the spot and suddenly he’d forgotten everything he had planned to say.

He spotted you then, sluggishly moving down the corridor, small sniffles emitted from your retreating form and George jogged to reach you.

His large hand grasped your wrist, stopping you in your tracks, “Wait. Please.” His voice was strained, pleading.

Inhaling shakily you turned to face him again, the redhead tried his best to ignore your red rimmed eyes as he could already feel his guilt eating him alive as he held your wrist.

You didn’t speak. Just looked at him expectantly.

Carefully, his hand slipped from your wrist to your own hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Can we talk?” You nodded wordlessly, allowing him to lead you wherever he intended to go.

The pair of you didn’t speak until you reached your destination. You found yourself standing in the privacy of the astronomy tower, hugging yourself to lessen the chill you felt when George released your hand, you stared at him expectantly, praying that you wouldn’t cry anymore.

“I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did.” He confessed while taking a calculated step closer to you, acutely aware of your habit of simply walking away if you felt as though you were being ridiculed. It was a characteristic that he loved about you, you didn’t take anyone’s shit, including his. Which is why he wanted to keep a close proximity, knowing that there was a very real possibility that he’d say the wrong thing and you’d tell him to shove it.

“First of all, I love you. I don’t want you thinking for a second that I don’t.” He couldn’t quite hold back his grimace as you shuddered and turned your face away, staring out at the view as opposed to at him.

With an aggressive sniff you blinked away the water forming in your eyes before meeting his gaze again, “Then what is this about then?” Your tone was demanding, the cold air making itself comfortable in your bones while you waited for an answer.

George took another step forward, the sound of your shaky voice sending a pang directly to his heart. Throwing caution to the wind, he grabbed hold of your arms, just above your elbows.

“I want to be with you more than anything, honest. But I can’t have you in Umbridge’s bad books because of me, especially when Fred and I will be gone in two weeks.” He tried his best to explain, his grip on you softening when he felt your body become less rigid, although you still shook slightly from the cold.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?” You chastised him weakly, your lips turning downward as you realised he was right. Umbridge had been on your case since she had arrived, with being the top student in her house, she didn’t take kindly to your “fraternisation with the likes of them”.

He let out a sigh, tugging you gently to his chest, his long arms wrapped around you tightly. “Because I’m a knobhead.”

His words had obviously been intended to get a laugh out of you and he was pleased to confirm that it had worked when he heard the soft giggle leaving your lips.

You gave his shoulder a halfhearted whack, “Yeah, you are.”

“Are you still breaking up with me?” You asked, voice a whisper, arms tightly around his waist, afraid if you loosened your grip he’d disappear.

George chuckled at that, “I was never breaking up with you, love.” His lips met the top of your head before he continued, “I just think we should keep a low profile for a bit.”

“I hate it when you’re right.” Your grumbled, pulling away from his hold slightly to look into his eyes.

“I know this isn’t ideal… but we’ll get through it. I need you in one piece for our wedding, after all.” He teased, wiggling his eyebrows and causing you to bark out a laugh.

“One minute you’re breaking up with me and the next your banging on about marrying me? I’ll never understand you Weasley.” You reciprocated his teasing, eyes finally dry and shining a little brighter than they had been just a few minutes prior.

George lowered his face close to yours, your noses nudging together ever so slightly as his mouth, formed in a grin, hovered in front of your own. “I’ve got to keep you interested somehow, love.”

With that his lips met yours, his hands sliding up to cup your cheeks when you began to move your lips in unison with his and your own hands tangled in his ginger hair.

All too soon, he removed his lips from yours and rested his forehead on yours. “Maybe we should make up some code words.”

“Like what?” You entertained him, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck as he thought about possible code words.

“Right, how about this? When I say “ Merlin, you’re hard work”” he spoke, his hands leaving your cheeks to make air quotes and you watched him fondly as his hands moved to your hips, “That will mean. You’re bloody incredible and I wish I could snog you right here on the spot.”

Throwing your head back, you laughed, “Perfect.”

Then you paused, thinking for a response and then you bit back a smile, hands sliding to his chest pushing him away ever so slightly, “And when I say “Oh, come off it, Weasley” that will mean You’re a prat but I love you regardless.” A dopey smile crossed his lips.

“I’m choosing to ignore the part where you called me a prat.”

Innocently, you shrugged your shoulders, “You are a prat.” George scoffed at that, pulling you into his chest again, rocking your bodies together and lulling you into a sense of tranquility as your cheek rested against his chest.

He let out a long sigh, tightening his grip around you, muttering cheekily in your ear, “Merlin, you’re hard work.”

A small laugh left your mouth and you looked up at him with a half hearted glare, “Oh, come off it, Weasley.”

This ‘keep it on the down low’ plan was to put it plainly: dreadful. Acting as though you and George had broken up didn't do too much to keep Umbridge off your back. What it did do however was have, what seemed like every girl in the entire castle, crowding around your boyfriend in hopes of being the next one to catch his attention.

He entertained them all with charming smiles and false niceties, more often than not passing them over to Fred, who basked in the new found attention.

Not that George was the only one being bombarded with love offers, you had your fair share of Slytherin boys sniffing around you over the last couple of days.

One boy had been particularly persistent though, and it was easy to see it was driving the youngest Weasley twin absolutely mental.

The boy in question was currently sat beside you at the Slytherin table in the great hall, doing his very best to keep you interested in what he was saying.

“I don’t know if I mentioned it earlier, but I’m sorry to hear about you and Weasley.” He told you, his voice uncharacteristically shy.

You supposed you shouldn’t be so curt with him, as far as Slytherin boys went Adrian Pucey was probably the kindest of the lot. With a small sigh you turned to the Slytherin chaser and gave him your best fake sad smile, “Thanks, Adrian.”

The boy cleared his throat and you couldn’t help but notice the flush beginning to form on his cheeks, Merlin he is going to be upset when he realises you're not really available.

“If you ever want to talk about it I’d be more than happy to listen.” He offered up kindly, his kindness wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary, the pair of you had always been friendly with each other, but your perception told you that Adrian was definitely hoping for something a little more than friendly to come of this situation.

Giving him another small smile you nodded your head, deciding to cut the poor boy some slack, “I appreciate that. It’s been pretty strange honestly, feels like every girl in school is lining up to take my place…” You trailed off, eyes landing on George who was sat at the Gryffindor table, a fifth year Hufflepuff girl sitting way too close to him for your liking, twirling her hair and you let your eyes roll at the sight.

Adrian followed your gaze before giving you a sympathetic look, “He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that left you at that, you returned your gaze to him, giving him an expectant look, “You seem more upset than I am.” You pointed out, trying not to smile at the furrow in his brow.

Adrian looked away from you towards George who was now laughing with Lee, the Hufflepuff girl now long gone, shrugging his shoulders lightly he began to speak his eyes never leaving the red headed Gryffindor, “The pair of you were great together. I just don’t see what he could possibly want that you couldn’t offer… if you ask me he’s a right idiot for letting you go.”

George was looking in your direction now, his jaw set in a tight clench as he watched Pucey playfully bump his shoulder against yours. Why on earth were you smiling at something Adrian Pucey said?

You caught his gaze from across the room, sending him a sad smile then turning back to the Slytherin beside you, keeping in character as you were very aware of Umbridge’s eyes on you and what she would consider an eligible bachelor.

“Yes well, you know how Gryffindors are. Don’t often think before they act.” You told him, pushing yourself away from the table and collecting your things.

Adrian nodded in agreement, quickly standing up too, “Um, I was wondering if you were after a new potions partner?” He asked quickly, voice shaking ever so slightly with nerves.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you glanced towards George- your usual potions partner desperately, turning back to Adrian you reluctantly nodded your head, you’d need a new partner in a week or so anyway. “Sure.”

Seeming pleased with your answer the brown haired boy sat back down and smiled happily as he watched you leave the hall.

The evening was drawing to an end as you found yourself on the balcony of the astronomy tower, eyes set on the sunset, your body leant comfortably on the railing in front of you.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the future Mrs. Pucey.” Came the voice you’d recognise anywhere, his tone teasing.

Without looking away from the view you chided him playfully, “Don’t be jealous, Georgie. Or should I say Hogwarts’ most eligible bachelor?”

You let out a content sigh as George wrapped his arms around you from behind, leaning his chin on your shoulder and placing a delicate kiss to the curve of your jaw, “I quite like that title. But I’d prefer to be known as your future husband.” He shot back cheekily, placing a flurry of kisses against your neck making you giggle joyfully.

As you threw your head back, your laughter was silenced by his lips catching your own in a passionate kiss, his hands moving to your hips to flip you around to face him, your back pressed against the railing now as you looked up into his eyes.

“That’s all I’ve been thinking about all day.” He admitted, his hands sliding up and down your sides gently as you slid your own around his shoulders.

You hummed approvingly, pulling him towards you and placing your lips against his again, tongue moving against his as his hands gripped your hips. When you pulled away, he chased your lips, pressing short kisses to them while simultaneously pressing his body closer to yours.

“Bet Pucey wouldn’t be able to kiss you like that, eh?” George smirked cockily and you let out a breathy laugh.

Matching his energy, your hands slipped up his neck and you let them get tangled in his hair, you raised an eyebrow, “I could always go and find out… how much are you willing to bet, Weasley?” At your challenge, his lips returned your neck, dragging along the sensitive skin and making your stomach flip.

George’s lips paused right at your ear, his voice gruff and low as he whispered, “No amount of galleons would tempt me if it meant you’d be kissing that git, darling.”

“Stop, you’ll make me swoon.” You joked dryly, tugging softly on his long hair causing him to detach from your neck.

His forehead met yours as the sun finally retreated, leaving just you, George and the stars in the darkness of the tower.

“You know, you could always run away with me. Then we could go back to snogging whenever we want and that old cow wouldn’t be able to punish either one of us for too long.” You could tell he wasn’t truly joking despite the tone of his voice, you released a sad sigh, running your hands through his hair, your nails scratching his scalp the way you knew he liked.

“Mm, but imagine how incredible it’ll feel when we reunite at graduation.” He let out a small puff of air against your face, tightening his arms around you.

It was then that a worry crossed your mind, would he and Fred even bother showing up? Ron wasn’t graduating until next year, Ginny in two, so there would be no family members there for them to see. But surely they’d show up to see Lee?

“You’ll come won’t you? To graduation?” You wondered out loud, his hands rubbing soothing circles into your hips as he sensed your nerves.

He pressed his lips to your forehead and hugged you close, “Freddie and I wouldn’t miss it for the world, love.”

“If I don’t see you there I’ll hex you both.” You promised, snuggling into his embrace.

George let out a small chuckle, hand running down your hair with a content smile, “I don’t doubt it.”

All too soon, Fred and George disappeared from Hogwarts in a blaze of lights and explosions and you couldn’t have been prouder of them. With the ambition those boys had you sometimes questioned how they weren’t placed in Slytherin.

You’d managed to stay on Umbridge’s good side for the most part, you’d become quite close with Adrian too, but to avoid leading him on you’d fed him a story about how you were still mad about George and that you were sure he’d only broken up with you so it wouldn’t hurt you so much when he left, he accepted it far more gracefully than you’d expected and continued to be a great friend to you despite knowing you weren’t interested in anything romantic.

There was only a week left until you graduated from the school you’d called home for the past seven years and you’d managed to make it this far with no detentions with Umbridge and her favourite quill.

You were so close.

It’d been a long day of classes and you were on your way back to the Slytherin common room, Adrian by your side when you’d come across the scene.

Some of the fifth years were crowding a scared looking fourth year, you let out a low growl as you recognised Ginny to be the girl cornered by Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. Throwing all your previous caution to the wind you stamped towards the scene, wrapping an arm around the youngest Weasley’s shoulder and pulled her into your side protectively.

“What do you three little demons think you’re doing?” You seethed, checking Ginny over for any injuries only to find she had tears pooling in her eyes.

It was no secret that you adored the Weasleys. You’d visited the burrow six Christmases in a row and Molly has never failed to send you an owl with a present attached on your birthday. It was also no secret to the family, even George, that you’d both kill and die for little Ginny. When she’d been taken to the chamber of secrets in her very first year you’d nearly popped a blood vessel worrying about her and very nearly ended up petrified while looking for her. Your fake break up with George hadn’t changed how you felt about the family.

Malfoy scoffed, turning his nose up to you, “What’s it to you, you’re just as bad as them. Filthy blood traitor you are.” It was then Adrian stepped in, clamping a hand down on the blonde’s shoulder.

“I’d watch your mouth if you’re looking to play in the final game on Saturday.” The chaser spoke lowly, his threat scaring the younger boy only slightly.

“Oh you’re such a big hard man, Draco.” You laughed mockingly, you’d known him since he was in nappies due to the fact that your mother and his were quite close up until recent years.

Pushing Ginny gently into the grasp of Adrian who had again moved to be standing by your side, he gave her a kind smile and you nodded reassuringly and that was all she needed to go willingly to Adrian.

Now that Ginny was out of the line of fire you squared up to the spoiled brat in front of you, you were anything but intimidated by him, it was high time you gave him a little reminder of exactly why you’d been named the Princess of Slytherin for so many years.

You were never mean for no reason. In fact, everyone believed you’d been misplaced at first. That was until half the student body had watched you absolutely verbally obliterate a Ravenclaw two years above you after he’d called you a slut. You had been absolutely ruthless. Nobody dared to speak badly of you or your friends as you proved on several occasions that you’d not hold back in retaliation. It seemed that little Draco needed a reminder of this.

“You’re so cool. Bullying girls…” You told him dryly, smirking wickedly as he swallowed harshly when Crabbe and Goyle had the good sense to take a few steps back, you raised an eyebrow lowering your voice and forming your lips in a pout, “Tell me, Draco, is your daddy proud of you? Or have you yet to catch his attention?”

Draco fumed then, huffing and gritting his teeth, by now there was a small crowd forming and Ginny had retreated into the arms of Ron, another one of George’s siblings that you simply adored.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He spat out, venom lacing his words, only egging you on further.

The grin on your lips only widened and your eyebrow rose higher, “Oh? Because the last time I checked” You lowered your voice so only he could hear before going on, “He’s missed your birthday for the last three years.”

His face turned red and he lunged. Shouts came from the crowd and you considered your options, were you really, as a seventeen year old, about to fist fight a fifteen year old prat with daddy issues? You got your answer in the form of Draco connecting his first to your jaw and busting you lip. The fifth year being restrained by Adrian and Ron, both of whom looked like they were going to fight him themselves.

The crowd watched with bated breath as you dabbed a finger under your cut lower lip. Noticing the blood that now painted your finger you let out a humourless laugh and tilted your head to the side.

You were absolutely about to fist fight the fifteen year old with daddy issues.

Just as you realed your fist back, a voice that met your ears like nails on a chalkboard sliced through the jeers of the crowd, “What is going on here?”

Umbridge screamed when she took in the scene. And you’d be the first to admit it looked bad. Draco with his hands being restrained by a seventh year and your fist in the air, there was absolutely no question about what was going on.

“Why Ms.(L/n)! My office this instant!” She seethed but you could tell she was biting back that horrid grin of hers. She’d been waiting for a reason to lock you in detention with her before you left.

You didn’t bother arguing with the women as she glared at Adrian, Ron and Draco.

“Pucey, Weasley let the boy go. I will deal with the three of you later.”

She motioned for you to follow her and you obliged, sighing softly when the voice echoed from behind you, “My father will be hearing about this.” He couldn’t quit could he? Seeing as you were already in trouble, you continued walking but turned your head over your shoulder and gave him a look of agreement, “Yes Draco he’ll be hearing, but will he really be listening?”

“You have been soiling the good name of Slytherin for far too long, positively whoring yourself out to that Weasley boy.” Umbridge had been criticising you for what felt that hours, watching intently as your hand bled as you wrote.

Not too bothered you let her go on her little rant as you write out your line: house embarrassment, her words stung far less than the growing wound on your hand.

The women took a deep breath as she continued, “A bright girl like you should be putting her talents to good use not entertaining the likes of blood traitors.”

It took everything in you to bite your tongue and refrain from stabbing her with her own enchanted quill. It was funny how you’d ended up in that position really, not because of George but because of his little sister.

“I had half a mind to hold you back. But you’d only get in my way. Consider yourself lucky.” She shut up after that, obviously growing bored of your lack of response she relieved you after another half an hour.

When you got back to the dungeon Adrian was sat waiting for you, a tired smile on his face, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Oh how your words injure me.” You jested, flopping onto the sofa, dropping your feet into his lap.

He patted your shin with a chuckle, “How’s the hand?”

You wiggled your bloody hand at him and he winced, “Merlin, (Y/n)...” It looked at lot worse than it felt.

You only shrugged, a dazed smile on your face, “My only regret is not getting a punch in.”

“That Ginny girl is quite worried about you. Kept saying how George was going to prank her so badly for getting you in trouble.” Pucey told you, laughing lightly when you sighed dreamily at the mention of the twin you loved.

“I’ll protect her.” You murmured, thoughts trailing off, “Did I tell you he’s coming to graduation next week?” Adrian nodded, soft smile on his face.

“D’you reckon a reconciliation is on the cards?” He asked teasingly, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Mimicking his eyebrow movements you nodded with determination, “No doubt about it, mate.”

He barked out a laugh, pushing your feet off his lap and standing up, “Save me the details, a man’s heart can only take so much.”

With a wicked smile you watched as he walked towards the dorm stairs, “So are you going to tell that Ravenclaw girl you fancy her before the end of the week?” He went rigid then, blushing furiously as you laughed.

“How’d you find out about that?” He whined miserably.

Just like earlier, you wiggled your eyebrows at him, “Saw you snogging at the back of the library.”

Adrian groaned, grabbing a cushion from the armchair by the stairs and chucked it at you, “Why’d you ask if you already knew?”

You placed your uninjured hand over your chest and faked hurt before it morphed into a triumphant grin, “Thought it’d be fun to rile you up considering you didn’t think to tell me.”

Adrian shook his head before finally heading up the stairs, “Don’t stay up too late.”

The days until graduation flew by and before you knew it you and the rest of your year were shouting in delight, a few even crying.

“(Y/n)!” Lee’s voice caught your attention and you met him with a bright smile and squeezed him tightly when he pulled you into a hug, “Come on, the twins are here!”

Being Fred and George’s best friend, Lee knew all about your fake split, never shy to tell you how utterly stupid he thought the whole thing was. But it didn’t matter anymore because the jig was about to be up. Finally.

Eagerly, you followed Lee through the crowd, rushing ahead of him when you locked eyes with George.

When the pair of you collided it was as if you’d never been apart. Your hands immediately tangled in his hair as he lifted you from around the waist, spinning you around excitedly before placing you down but keeping his arms around you

“Merlin, I’ve missed you.” He whispered lowly into your ear, you pulled your lip between your teeth, and leaned away to look at him fondly.

“Hi.” You whispered, a huge grin on your face.

“Hello.” He whispered back, the look on his face nothing short of enchanted when he studied you for the first time since he left.

Without another word you used your grip on his hair to bring his lips to yours, kissing him softly through your smile as you heard Ginny giggling from her place beside Molly.

George grumbled at the short length of the kiss, settling for holding you hard and leaning down to whisper, “You’re hard work, my love”

With a laugh you pecked his cheek adoringly, staring deeply into his eyes as you murmured with a shit eating grin, “Come off it, Weasley.”

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #harry potter x reader #weasley twins x reader

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heliads · 3 years

Text

What We Are

You’ve hated Draco Malfoy from the moment you met him at the Sorting Ceremony all those years ago. However, you have the strangest feeling that things are changing between the two of you- like just maybe, you like him more than you thought.

masterlist

You are eleven years old, small and swallowed up by the dark cloth of your school robes. You’re filling through the main aisle of the Great Hall, surrounded by a cluster of other anxious first years. Four long tables stretch down the room, two on each side of the hall and each filled with chattering students. Four banners hang at the end of the hall- ruby, emerald, gold, sapphire. One for each house. You’ve been briefed on the houses and their qualities by a newly formed friend, one Hermione Granger, but you’re still nervous. You don’t entirely know which one you belong to, although you have an inkling as to which one should be avoided.

Professor McGonagall begins listing off the names one at a time, and the subsequent first-years file up to her, place the worn Sorting Hat on their head, and receive their assigned House. After a while, your name is eventually called, and you make your way to the front. The Sorting Hat considers for a time, then a smile crawls across its weathered fabric features. “SLYTHERIN!” The word is shouted across the hall, and you feel a sinking pit yawn open in your stomach. Slytherin? That was the one house you were supposed to avoid.

You make brief eye contact with your new friend Hermione, who looks about as stricken as you feel, before settling into a place at the Slytherin table. The emerald-clad students around you clap you on the back, issuing congratulations, but you still feel uneasy. Wouldn’t it have been better to go to Ravenclaw, where all the smartest students belonged? Or brave Gryffindor, or dedicated Hufflepuff? Anywhere would be better than ambitious, cunning, snakelike Slytherin.

A boy seated one space down looks at you, taking in your glum expression. He has striking platinum blond hair, and appears to be a first year just like yourself. “Don’t look so upset. You got into the best house there is, you know. All of the students who go to Slytherin end up being the greatest lot here.” For some reason, the condescendingly arrogant tone of the boy gets to you, and you shoot back a haughty reply. “If all Slytherin students are like you, I don’t fancy staying here at all.” The boy’s expression changes into a glare, and he glowers at you for the rest of the dinner.

That boy would turn out to be Draco Malfoy, Slytherin House’s most famous elitist. The two of you would hate each other ever since that night, and that feeling of utter loathing would continue for years. You’re now far older than you had been as a wee little first year, and so is Draco, but your attitude towards him hasn’t changed a bit. He’s just so conceited, so full of himself- and you’re no better, you know that, but at least you try to hide it.

However, you were lucky enough to score yourself a bunch of friends who knew exactly why you hated Draco, and happened to feel the exact same way. Hermione had been your best friend ever since that first day on the Hogwarts Express, and you had introduced yourself to Harry and Ron around the same time she did. Now the four of you were a regular fixture on the grounds, and you wouldn’t change it for anything, even a few of the haughtier Slytherins (read: Draco Malfoy) made sure to mention that one of their house shouldn’t be mixing with the Gryffindors.

However, you didn’t really care what they thought. Yes, you were a Slytherin, and that meant a good many things: pride, ambition, and a thick skin in terms of others doubting you. So you became even better friends with Harry, Ron, and Hermione just to spite them. You often found yourself with them at the Quidditch games, walking across the grounds, sneaking out of your dormitory late at night for a couple of misadventures, or now, with you and Hermione studying together at a table out in a corner of a stone hall.

One of the problems of being a Slytherin friend of three Gryffindors is that they could never go back to your common room to study with you, and you certainly weren’t allowed into their common room. Fred and George had offered to sneak you in loads of times, and you technically had been there before under Harry’s invisibility cloak, but for right now, you and Hermione were content to stay away from the roaring fires and plush red armchairs of the Gryffindor common room to work on a particularly gruesome Potions essay. You both wanted to finish it early, Hermione especially so she could then go teach it to Harry and Ron, so you stayed out of the lion’s dorm until you were adequately prepared.

Hermione sighs at the paper in front of her, wrinkling her brow in consternation. “Honestly, what does all of this even mean? I swear, Professor Snape’s directions get worse and worse with every assignment.” You nod fervently. “This prompt makes no sense, and I’ve been staring at it for the last fifteen minutes.” You drum your fingers on the table, thinking, then stand up. “I’m going to get that Potions primer from the library. You know, the one we were reading earlier? I thought I saw some similar wording in one of the chapters, and at any rate, I need an excuse to go stretch my legs. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Hermione waves goodbye as you head off down the stone corridors. The walk towards the library takes you across the courtyard, and you’re glad for the refreshing bite of the wind, even if it leaves your cheeks raw from the chill. You traipse inside the halls once more, twisting around corners until you reach the library, and gratefully slip through the doors to reach the towering bookcases crowding the room.

You stride purposefully through the shelves until you come to the row you’re looking for at last. Your eyes scan the titles in front of you, and you think you’re almost at the book until a familiar figure steps into the space right next to you. You don’t even have to look up to recognize him. You’ve seen his unwanted presence too many times for a case of mistaken identity.

Draco speaks first. “I’m surprised to see you, L/N. I didn’t think reading was one of your strong suits.” You raise an eyebrow, still perusing the books on the shelf. “Those are strong words coming from somebody who hit his peak academic performance as a weasel in the fourth year.” Draco rolls his eyes. “Ferret, not a weasel.” You look over at him at last, but can’t help a small grin. “Does it really matter? It was still a small animal, and it was still you.”

Draco heaves some dramatic and egotistical sigh, but folds his arms over his chest and stays put. He’s not looking for books, just standing there. In fact, his eyes keep flickering over to the corner of the library, near the door. You straighten up, following his gaze in confusion. “What are you doing?” You ask him, still trying to figure out what he’s looking at with such unease. “You don’t usually go out of your way to enjoy my company and you also keep staring at the door.”

Draco starts to mutter something about how not all of the library belongs to you, but you cut him off with a gasp of delight. “You’re hiding from Pansy Parkinson! She’s over there looking for you, and you’re trying to make sure she can’t see you by hiding behind all the bookshelves!” You laugh, and then start to raise your voice, as if you’re about to call her over. Instantly, Draco leans over you, pushing you against the bookcase and holding his wand against your throat.

“Don’t say a word.” His voice is cool and low. A teasing grin flickers across your lips, and you push his wand away with one finger. “What, you going to hex me, Malfoy? In the middle of the library? I think that would draw your favorite girl over here more than anything.” Draco just stares daggers at you, breath coming harshly in his chest. He stares there, unmoving, until you jerk your chin towards the doors. “Pansy’s gone. Now can you please let go of me?”

Draco waits a moment just to spite you, and then releases his grip on your wrist. You snatch your hand away from him with an air of disgust, and grab your potions book off of the shelf. “Never do that again.” You hiss at him, and stalk away. Who does he think he is, that lout? You’re still storming over the incident the whole way back to the table, and barely notice that Harry and Ron have joined you until you throw yourself back into your seat.

Hermione looks up at your abrupt arrival. “What’s wrong, Y/N?” You heave a sigh of irritation. “Draco Malfoy, that’s what’s wrong. I ran into that lowlife in the library. I just can’t stand him.” Harry nods knowingly, but Ron, who appears to be in an even worse mood than you, rolls his eyes. “Oh, stop complaining. You’re a Slytherin, he isn’t as bad to you.” This is entirely the wrong thing to say, and you know you should just ignore him but you’re still fired up from the confrontation in the library.

“Are you saying that Malfoy’s not as mean to me because I’m from his house?” Ron nods, ignoring Hermione pointedly shaking her head at him in an attempt to get him to stay quiet. “Yeah, I am. You keep pretending like he’s such a jerk to you, but you don’t have it half as bad as the rest of us. Honestly, you need to stop making such a big deal out of nothing.” You know you’re overreacting, but you can’t take Ron’s griping, not today. You stand up, slamming your books shut and sweeping your parchment and quills into your bag.

“In that case, I suppose you don’t need my nothing when it comes to your potions essay. Good luck figuring that out.” You glance over at Hermione. “I’m sorry to leave in a rush, but I should be on my way. Swing by later if you need help.” Hermione says her chagrined goodbyes, and as you stalk away from the table, you can hear her laying into Ron already. The sound brings a smile to your face.

You’re still fuming over Draco and Ron and the god-awful Potions essay the next day, and your irritation must show because Pansy takes advantage of the opportunity to cross paths with you as you’re walking through the halls. She’s chattering with a group of her friends in the courtyard, and as you hurry past, you hear her call something out to you. “Oh look, there’s Y/N. You know, she looks surprisingly proud for someone who’s father is a mudblood-lover. Maybe she’s alright with it.”

Your footsteps slow, and you turn back to face Pansy. You know that this is just what she wants, but you’ve got a burning feeling in the back of your head that tells you that if you let one more person walk all over you you’ll never be able to deal with yourself again. You eye Pansy coolly. “What was that, Parkinson?” Pansy smirks, victorious. “I heard a rumor that your father was getting a little too close to some Muggles. That would certainly tarnish your reputation, wouldn’t it? And here I was, thinking that the L/Ns were an upstanding wizarding family, but I guess not. It looks like-”

You feel like you’re a couple of seconds away from punching Pansy right in her arrogantly prissy face, but before you can try to argue yourself out of violence another boy steps up beside you. You groan inwardly when you realize it’s Draco. Great, another person to make fun of you, because this day wasn’t going badly enough already. However, he doesn’t join in the laughter. In fact, he shoots a glare at Pansy. “Amazing, Parkinson. Did you finally realize that your own family was so low that you had to make up rumors to get anywhere? Although, you might want to stay away from the Muggle story. I think it might be a little too true on your end.”

Pansy’s face blanches, and she starts stammering something about how that couldn’t possibly be true and she has no idea what Draco’s talking about. You stare at Draco in amazement, and he turns back to you. “Let’s go. I don’t feel like wasting any more of our time.” With that, the two of you strut away across the courtyard, leaving Pansy behind to make up excuses to her group of friends.

Only when you’re out of hearing distance from Pansy do you finally let yourself relax. You look over at Draco, unable to stop yourself from laughing. “What was that about? Is it really true about Pansy’s family?” Draco, surprisingly, is grinning as well. “I don’t know, but she didn’t seem like she could deny it.” The two of you carry on in hilarity for a while, but then you turn to him, grin slipping away from your face. “Why did you do that?” Draco frowns. “Do what?” You gesture idly behind you with your hand. “Defend me against Parkinson. I would have thought you’d join in instead of having my back.”

Draco shrugs, looking down the hallway. “We’re supposed to be enemies, aren’t we? I don’t feel like having my rival limited by false rumors. It would lower me too.” You look at him askance. “You publicly insulted Pansy Parkinson just because you think that me being called names hurts you as well?” Draco shrugs. “Why did you think I did it?” You sigh, furrowing your brow. “I don’t know.”

Even after you and Draco turn down separate hallways, you find yourself still thinking about him. Why would he defend you? It makes no sense. You even think back to that moment in the library, and realize that he wasn’t really as cruel as you had thought. All he had done then was exchange the usual retorts, although those had the same joking tinge as always. And wasn’t it strange that of all the places to hide, he had chosen your aisle? It could have just been a coincidence, or maybe he was seeking you out intentionally.

You’re not sure how you feel about this. You’ve grown so used to thinking of Draco as an enemy, someone to be hated, that you don’t quite know what to do when he is nice to you. You find your eyes flickering his way in the common room, or your gaze constantly catching on his silhouette as he walks past you in the halls. You usually never spend this much time thinking about him, but now, he seems to be everywhere.

One night, you can’t focus on your homework. Between the smoky atmosphere of the Slytherin common room or the mind-twisting Transfiguration tasks McGonagall’s set for you, you just can’t seem to get your thoughts in order. Eventually, you close up your books and decide to head to the Astronomy Tower. The cool night air will clear your head, and you’ll still technically be doing homework because you’ll be studying the stars.

You’re grateful for the still emptiness of the tower. You prop your arms up against the stone edge of the balcony, letting your shoulders slump as you consider the dizzying drop to the grounds below. You tilt your head up slightly, letting the wind trace patterns against your skin. You’re just beginning to feel peaceful once again when you hear the door to the Astronomy Tower open and a figure joins you on the turret. You sigh inwardly when you recognize the familiar shock of white-blond hair. Of course- Draco always goes to the Astronomy Tower as a place to unwind. Then you’re surprised as to why that fact popped so readily into your head, and how you even knew that in the first place.

Draco’s steps falter for a second when he realizes he’s not alone. You start to move away from the balcony. “Here, I’ll go. You can have the tower to yourself.” You turn around to find yourself caught in Draco’s gaze, those storm grey eyes pinning you in place. Draco shakes his head just slightly, and his voice echoes across the stone room. “No, don’t go. It’s alright.” You hesitate for a moment, then turn back to the view before you. Your eyes follow the line of trees dotting the grounds, the twisting snakes of rivers that feed into the Black Lake.

After a moment, Draco joins you at the balcony. He leans up against the stone, just a few inches away from you. You both stand there in silence, unable to say a word. At last, Draco turns to you. “What are we?” You return his gaze, slightly confused. “What?” Draco looks away for just a second, and then his eyes return to you. “When we first met, we hated each other. We’ve been rivals for years, and now-” He breaks off. “I don’t think we dislike each other anymore. I don’t think we have for a while.” You stay silent for a second, taking in his words. Then you nod.

“There’s something else, isn’t there? It isn’t just me?” For a moment, you think you’ve gone too far, spoken too rashly. Draco stares at you, then he leans forward and kisses you. When he breaks away, panic and regret flash through his eyes when you don’t say anything. He starts to move away, but you step towards him and kiss him again. This time, he doesn’t break away, not immediately. His hand slides up to the small of your back, the stone of the balcony cool against your legs.

You can still feel his hand on your waist when he breaks away. You look away, sure you’ve made some mistake that you’ll regret in the morning, but then his fingers are lightly pressed against your cheek, guiding you back to look at him again. He looks less sure of anything than you’ve ever seen him, but all of a sudden that doubt is replaced by a calm determination. “This is right. This is what we were supposed to be.” You nod quietly, letting your hesitation break free with a smile. He’s right, isn’t he? No matter how it felt to win all the arguments or competitions with him, this moment right now feels far better than anything before it. This is what you always wanted, and what he wants as well.

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