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caelumsnuff · 2 years

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THANK you I feel like every post I've seen is "nobody's perfect you just can't handle morally grey characters" but abusive behavior isn't "morally grey" it's wrong- people criticizing the villain fans who disapprove of cutie's behavior don't seem to realize that the unhealthy relationships with the villains we've had end with the other character being rescued or freed from that situation because the lack of consent and overstepped boundaries was/is heinous, why should it be different just because this time the one abusing their powers is a listener? I feel like people are so paranoid about these videos getting canceled they're jumping on any critique of cutie's behavior?

Also just everyone going "but in cutie's defense they act like this because of trauma!" and yeah probably there's some event in their past that they've internalized that makes them act like this but we don't actually know that? our only information about cutie's past is that they come from a family of magic users and they work for the department, it kinda annoys me that any criticism of cutie's actions is countered with a defense based on some assumed backstory?

Like maybe I'm oversensitive to this because I've been the geordi in a situation like this and it fucking sucked but it just annoys me that people are writing off abusive behaviors as "morally grey"- no I'm sure cutie isn't doing this to intentionally harm geordi or with malicious intent but it's still an abusive behavior and that's something that should be criticized

I dont think youre being oversensitive at all, anon, especially not when you have personal experience with something like this.

Yes! This listener's actions are not morally grey, they're wrong. And considering this is all we've had from this listener, they are just bad. Personally i dont think it matters if they intend harm or not, its still abuse.

I think a lot of people forget that the listener characters are no where near being as much of a character as the speakers, considering they're as blank as possible so that you can self-insert into them. Cutie has less personality that the fucking protagonist in Divergent. I would be genuinely surprised if we get an in depth backstory for them, because Redacted hasnt done that before and i think it should stay that way.

Also i genuinely don't understand how people still don't see the difference between the actions of villians, and the actions that listener characters have taken. I wasn't going to rant about it on this blog, but i will now. These actions are different in a few ways, mainly the relationships between listeners/speakers, the severity/mundanity of the actions, and the roles the listeners play in the story vs the speaker characters (who the actions are being done to).

(more under the cut because i got passionate about it aksdfsd)

Almost every single antagonists in the series that has harmed a listener character has just been some guy. The listener and the antagonist had no previous interpersonal relationship; Vega/Ivan and Baby didn’t really know eachother, Vega/Freelancer didn’t know eachother, Kody/Freelancer didn’t know eachother, Adam/Lovely didn’t know eachother, Regulus/Listener don’t know eachother. These are all practically strangers. Whereas Geordi/Cutie are in a relationship, Bright/Fred were good friends, and even other listener characters who have done Bad Things to the speakers were in a relationship (cough cough Angel/David in the shifting video cough cough).

The actions that these characters take are drastically different. The antagonists tend to take quite dramatic and large acts of violence/harm, while the listeners’ actions are far more mundane and, like ive said before, therefore more realistic. I am not saying that kidnappings and hostage situations dont happen in the real world, they unfortunately do, but they are far less mundane or common than the violations of boundaries and consent that the listener characters seem to always do. With Angel it was disregarding and pushing David’s boundaries and coercing him into something he didn’t want to do, with Bright it was disregarding Fred’s concern that ended in him getting very hurt, with Cutie it’s routine disregard of Geordi’s boundaries of consent and privacy.

And also, for most people, we self-insert into these listener characters when we listen to Redacted’s videos. When it is an antagonist doing bad things, the bad things are being done to us. Where as when it is the listener characters doing bad things, it’s almost like we are the ones doing the actions (because of the whole self-inserting thing).

A lot of people are understandably very very uncomfortable with the idea of self-inserting into a character who is doing shitty abusive things to the people they care about. Everybody knows that kidnapping and stalking are very bad no-no things to do, but some of the actions of listener characters are often normalized. (invasion of privacy for example, think how common it is that couples just go through eachother’s phones without consent). A lot of people use media as escapism, even dark media, it’s almost a type of power fantasy really. Some people use media to face their fears, and the idea that someone who loves you (or even someone who doesnt know you at all) would save you in your darkest time of need is comforting for some people. Not many people have power fantasies of abusing people they love, so the idea of doing this even in a fantasy setting can be not comforting to say the least.

So yeah, I think there really is a difference, and it is not bad to have nuanced opinions about some things. It’s okay to draw the line in the sand somewhere, even if other people draw their line somewhere different. People criticizing the actions of Cutie to get the point across that, no these things aren’t okay, is kinda expected. Some forms of abuse are very normalized, while things like kidnapping someone and holding them hostage for months on end isnt (and is in fact a social taboo in almost every culture, just like, say, murder). You should assume by default that people don’t support kidnapping even if they like characters who do that shit in media. If you don’t like characters who do these things in media, that is literally perfectly okay, but you shouldn’t judge people who separate fiction from reality to enjoy them. Unfortunately abuse and disregard for your privacy and consent is something that too many people have personal real life experience with, so media where they are the ones doing the bad thing is hard for a lot of people to consume. This is the down side of making videos that are both realistic and have the listeners doing these things.

Ive noticed that the same people who are bagging on others for liking Adam or Vega or whoever else are the same ones who are excusing Cutie’s actions as a result of trauma or saying theyre just “morally grey” instead of the deeply wrong and abusive they are. Ive even seen some people not just condone their actions, but openly say that they themselves would make these exact actions if given the chance, and i genuinely hope they are joking. There are very very few cases in which imma judge someone for just liking a fictional character, but if someone just straight up says “i would abuse my partner,” im judging them.

Idk i felt like i needed to put this all into words. Thank you for the ask and the chance to go on a rant avdbfkv

#anon #ask #redacted asmr #idk i just. grrrrrrrr bark bark maim tear rip #you know?#im so tempted to drop this in the tag #really.#actually?#fuck it #i wonder if itll even show up now but who cares

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pappydaddy · 2 years

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#2,8,9 for the questions for fanfic writers ask 😊

i was so beyond happy to see this ask in my box after i got home from work lovely (especially after the day i had)💛!

2. why do you write fanfiction?

at the very start of my writing journey, i started writing fanfiction because i was absolutely obsessed with one direction and i wanted to try to write a love story between me and Liam (that's a little embarrassing to admit, ngl). then i stopped writing fanfiction and worked on little original stories, then i wanted to change little things within the shows/movies i watched. then, it turned into me figuring out i can give these characters happiness, but i can also give people temporality escapes from their lives where, for a moment of time, they are happy and content, where they can be transported into the world of their comfort characters and have a connection with the characters that are their found family in a way (i discovered this through me reading fanfiction myself).

so, i guess i write fanfiction to give these characters happiness, but also to help whoever reads my stories a break from reality or from whatever trouble or issue is plaguing them.

8. which character(s) do you find easiest to write?

i do not think this will come to any surprise to anyone, but i find writing for fred weasley, jj maybank, steve harrington, stiles stilinski, and billy hargrove the easiest to write for. i think i just have their characterization understood better than other characters which means i do not have to sit there continuously while i write asking myself 'would they really react that way?'

9. which character(s) do you find most difficult to write?

nick goode. i am currently working on a request for nick goode and i am constantly asking myself 'is this good characterization?', 'would this be something he would do?', 'is this too dark?', 'should i include this or should i maybe do something a bit tamer?' (that's why it is taking so long).

when i wrote the ultimate betrayal, i did receive some flack for it being too dark. that was actually the first fic of mine that i encountered such bad reactions and interactions with. i had some people questioning me with how dark it was and it has (admittedly) affected my confidence as a writer in both what i post and what i write.

so, i would say it is not that i find it hard to write for nick goode aside from characterization, but i find it hard to write the type of fics i would write for nick since i am so consumed with the worry of what people will think if i publish this fic how i originally intended it.

if you would like to send in some questions like this lovely anon, these questions are from this prompt list i reblogged! feel free to send some in lovelies!

#pappydaddy answers #ask games #pappydaddy answers anons #pappydaddy answers ask games #pappydaddy plays ask games

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thistleandthorn-rpg · 2 years

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Congrats, Mary, on your app for Archie Andrews! Please check out this page for what to do next, and send us his blog within 48 hours.

OOC INFORMATION:

Name/Alias: Mary

Preferred pronoun: She/her/hers

Age: 39

Time zone/Country: EST/Venezuela

RP Experience: A lot

Activity Level: 7/10

IC INFORMATION:

Name: Archibald “Archie” Andrews

Designation: Dominant

Age: 21

Birthdate: June 17

Face claim: KJ Apa

Orientation: Pansexual

Kinks: Bondage, hot wax, clamps, oral sex, orgasm denial, edging, daddy kink, public sex, roleplay, group sex, breath play, non con. Open to almost everything, except anti-kinks.

Anti-Kinks: Watersports, scat, spit, armpit and foot play, pet play, child play, cages.

Key Points:

Headstrong

Likeable, honest and sweet, especially with his family, friends, and people he cares for in general.

Capable of putting himself in harm’s way to help others.

He wishes he could form a loving family one day, like his parents did, the one he grew up in.

He can sometimes have rage episodes, which he often drains with boxing training.

BIO

Older son to Fred and Mary Andrews, and brother to Noah Andrews, you could take a look at Archie’s life and say there isn’t nothing in particular that stands out in it, at least not on his younger years. With a friendly and open nature, it wasn’t unusual for Archie to always be surrounded by friends and people who he always tried to help in any way he saw fit. He played football, and also had a musical band during high school, and growing up in a small town like Lima, Ohio, he was only hoping he could graduate well, and maybe taking over his father’s business, Andrews Constructors, at least until the moment he would get his mark and was made to attend the school to work on getting to learn what to do about it.

Then his father died. It happened suddenly, and that shifted the axis of his entire family. He realized he couldn’t leave his family behind to go to the academy just yet, and for the next couple of years he focused all his attention and strengths to work in the family business, along with owning the local boxing gym, where people go to train on several impact sports, himself included.

Added to that was the fact that his brother, Noah had a very different view on the D/s rules of society and the world, and even if he loved his brother very much, that was a topic that generated friction on several occasion in the Andrews household. Then one day, just a couple of classes shy away from graduation his brother left, and even if Archie felt it was his right to go his own way in life, once he found out where did Noah actually ended, he marched over to where he was and personally took him away. He realized there and then it was time for both of them to set their steps on the path they were supposed to be on, and that part started with enrolling at the Stonewall D/s Prep School.

BIO QUESTIONS:

What are your feelings about the mark you have received?

I wasn’t surprised, honestly. I’ve always consider myself a good leader, and I feel my mark, and the responsibility that comes with it will be taken on with the same kind of drive I’ve had with everything else in my life.

How do your feelings on the system compare to your parents’ feelings on it?

My fathers and me are supporters of the system as it is. Not my brother. But I think the one thing we could agree on is that, like with everything else, there could be always be room for improvement.

Where do you see yourself after you graduate?

I wish for the chance to go to college. Business school. There’s a lot I feel I can still learn. I’m always eager about that, about learning about everything.

How do you feel about authority?

I think it’s important you offer a sense of authority, especially in you’re in a position where you need to take care of things, or when something is your responsibility. I consider myself a strong, but fair leader, which has been proven in all the moments that I had to be one.

#accepted #mary

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krizs-main · 3 years

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aight aight aight okay in the post i just rbed i talked about my oc fred, and because i like never share my oc stuff here (cause, understandbaly, no one cares its cool) i just wanna say real quick i somehow got this

for this man

and i just think thats funny, like its definitely exclusively because he dresses fancy, but i bet no one would actually like him

#kriz talk #or maybe the world will surprise me and people actually like fred #would be great tbh because i for one love him

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seriouslysnape · 3 years

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Under the Radar

Severus Snape x Fem! Professor! Reader

Warnings: None.

Request: hiii can I request a husband Severus Snape x wife reader. The reader is a professor in Hogwarts they don't want the students to know so they kept it a secret. And the Weasley twins are the first to know. (the Weasley twins are close to reader since she's kind thanks.) and you can continue it your own way. (灬º‿º灬)♡

Word Count: 2,014

“That is true, but we both knew that couldn’t last forever,”

“You have class in fifteen minutes, Severus.” You nagged at your husband who was still sprawled out in bed.

A groggy chuckle escaped from the man as he finally sat up on his elbows to look at you, watching as you hurried to get dressed before you were horribly late.

“So do you, love.” He countered.

“Yes, but I’m almost ready,” You argued with a slight roll of your eyes; “And you are not.”

“It doesn’t take me long. You know this.” He bantered.

It was true after all. Severus didn’t put that much effort into getting ready everyday. Pants, robes, shoes, and MAYBE brush his hair. That was the morning routine of Severus Snape. You were a bit more refined, taking time to pick out an outfit and making yourself look presentable to your personal standards.

“I know, but do you really want your Potions classroom unattended with a bunch of Slytherins and Gryffindors?” You grinned, knowing that they’d wreak havoc sooner or later.

Severus groaned at the thought. It wouldn’t have been the first time where he walked in at the last minute to stop Ron Weasley from throwing a cauldron at Draco Malfoy’s head. He swung his feet over the side of the bed, padding to his closet where you stood as well.

“One of these days, I’ll get a morning of peace and have you for myself.” He grumbled.

You gave a mocking, sympathetic pout at your mumbling husband. You took his face into your hands, drumming your fingers playfully along his cheeks.

“Poor baby. Because you NEVER get any time with me.” You said with a tone thick with sarcasm.

Severus huffed, but his arms snaked around your waist.

“Is it so wrong to want a quiet morning with my wife?” He questioned.

Severus had a point. It had been quite some time since the two of you had the opportunity to sleep in, to drown out the world until the two of you felt ready to brave it together. He missed waking you up by peppering you with lazy kisses and soft, sweet mumbles in your ear. Life had just gotten so busy that things weren’t exactly what he would consider standard for the two of you.

It also didn’t help that outside of your private bedroom, you weren’t exactly a public couple. Aside from the faculty and staff of Hogwarts, none of the students had any knowledge of yours and Severus’ marriage. It had been a mutual decision, considering that neither of you were sure you wanted all the kids knowing that two professors were married to one another. While your last name had legally been changed to Snape, you were always referred to by your maiden name. As far as the students knew, you and Severus hadn’t even ever had a conversation, let alone tied the knot almost three years ago.

“I know, Sev. I’ll tell you what. I’ll clear my schedule for tomorrow since it’s Saturday. We can sleep in...” You said, lowering your voice to a whisper in his ear; “And I’ll be all yours all day.”

The way that his eyes lit up made your heart leap. He kissed you excitedly, your laugh muffled under the kiss. Despite the fact that you had a ten minute head start, Severus still managed to be ready before you, stealing another quick kiss before he was out the door en route to the dungeons.

Your classes went smoothly as usual. The students were peppy with energy since it was Friday, but their focuses were very in tune with your lessons for the day. You had returned to your office after classes to do some fast grading before giving in to the weekend. Most of the students had returned to their dorms to have some down time before getting into their weekend shenanigans. However, it seemed that your biggest fans were even more boisterous than usual.

Your office door swung open rather abruptly, causing you to flinch and grab at your chest in alarm.

“Hi, Professor!” Fred Weasley screeched.

“Hey, Professor [Y/N]!” George echoed.

The red-headed twins were (without a doubt) very fond of you. Your personality just seemed to mix well with theirs, and you were always willing to take time out of your day to chat with them. You were usually one of the first to know about their daring pranks, always having to fake your surprise when they actually did them.

“Hi, boys.” You greeted with a smile.

It wasn’t at all uncommon for students to come by your office during the day. Usually it was because they had a concern about their performance in your class or confusion on an assignment. With the Weasley twins, though, they always came by just because they felt like it.

“Grading on a Friday?” Fred acquired, plopping down into one of the chairs in front of your desk.

George tutted, eyeing over the stack of tests on your desk.

“It’s a shame. You should be out getting knackered at The Three Broomsticks with McGonagall.” George said, scanning nosily over the objects on your bookshelf.

You snorted, resuming your grading.

“I’ll leave the heavy imbibing to the two of you. The day that I see Minerva McGonagall getting hammered at a bar will be the day that I become a Legilimens.” You replied.

George and Fred snickered, continuing to talk your ears off while they snooped around. You never minded their company, as long as they didn’t stop your grading progress. You didn’t notice when the two of them went quiet. You also didn’t notice when George silently called for his brother to join him across the room.

Fred got up from his seat to see what George had found, his eyes practically bugging out of his head when he saw what it was. You had a habit of leaving your stuff laying around random areas of your office, so sometimes little hints of your relationship with Severus were out in the open for anyone to see. However, George and Fred were the only people on the planet who would actually find anything.

On one of your bookshelves rested an empty, opened envelope. It was a letter from a pen pal friend of yours that you had lost physical contact with after you graduated from Hogwarts. However, the kicker was that the addressed name on the front wasn’t what the twins would have expected to see.

It was addressed to you, using your married name.

George and Fred looked at each other with quizzical expressions. Why in the world would you have something addressed to you with Snape’s last name? George and Fred had this weird, telepathic twin communication thing that always freaked you out. They could sort out a problem or have a conversation without ever saying anything.

Their puzzled looks faded into realization when they sorted it out. They almost couldn’t believe it. Severus Snape married to one of the friendliest, nicest professors? It was shocking...but it did make sense.

You always wore a wedding ring on your left hand, but no one seemed to know who the lucky guy was. You were very private about your personal life.

Fred pocketed the envelope, and George announced their exit.

“Lovely to see you as always.” He said, holding down his giggle.

“Yeah, we’ll see you Monday, Professor.” Fred added on, ushering his brother out before either of them could blow it.

You gave them a friendly wave as they left, still clueless to the fact that they had found out your secret.

Monday morning rolled around (after Severus’ promised Saturday morning in) once again, and another week had begun. It didn’t take long for you to notice that something was odd.

Students all day had been acting strangely. Their quiet whispers and sneaky giggles when they passed by you in the corridors were definitely suspicious. You couldn’t get them to pay attention in class for the life of you, all of them clearly preoccupied.

“Draco Malfoy,” You snapped, hands on your hips; “Just what are you laughing about now?”

Draco’s laughter stopped, but his amused smile never left his face. This was the third time today that you had gotten on to him for disrupting class, him and Crabbe chuckling on and off about something.

“Nothing, nothing.” Draco replied, still chortling under his breath.

You sighed out heavily. All of the kids were testing your nerves today.

“If I hear any more interruptions from you, I’ll have to give you detention,” You scolded, but in a calm tone; “Do you understand?”

Draco nodded, waiting until your back turned to the board again before he responded.

“Yes, Professor Snape.”

Your writing stopped, the entire classroom bursting into hushed laughter. You turned to face the young Malfoy, his cheeks flushed as he and Crabbe failed to contain their laughter any longer. It was obvious now that the whispers and weird glances were due to the fact that they knew. Somehow, they had found out.

“Professor [L/N].” You corrected.

“Hmm, but technically you’re Professor Snape.” He hummed.

You bit your cheek in thought. If they knew, there wasn’t any sense in denying it. But you were curious as to how this started.

“Draco, how did you all find out?” You questioned.

He shrugged with a smirk.

“I heard it from Pansy.” He admitted.

You looked to Pansy.

“Blaise told me.” She confessed.

You followed the trail of names and who-told-who until it stemmed back to the original perpetrators. Two suspects that you should have figured long ago.

“The twins. Of course.” You sighed.

The students had questions (and a lot of them), curious to know how long and how it had happened. Most of them were just stunned that Severus Snape actually had a life outside of his classroom. A life with someone like YOU nonetheless.

You were fidgety to talk to Severus about it. You were curious to see how he’d react and how this would change the way the two of you interacted during the school year. After all, it was kind of your fault for leaving your stuff around.

“Were the students acting peculiar to you today?” Severus asked, breaking you from your thoughtful daze.

Your gaze snapped up from your dinner plate as you peered at him with a fluttery belly.

“Peculiar how?” You asked.

“They all seemed mischievous. As if they knew something they weren’t supposed to.” Severus claimed, looking at you as if he already knew the reason why.

“Well, now that you mention it...they sort of know about us...that we’re married.” You confessed.

Truthfully, Severus didn’t care that much if the student body knew. It was inevitable that they’d all find out eventually, but he was interested to hear how exactly the cat was let out of the bag.

“They ‘sort of’ know?” He questioned, clearly amused; “How’s that?”

You sucked in a breath.

“The Weasley twins might’ve figured it out. They’re smart, Sev. Much smarter than you give them credit for,” You babbled; “It’s not their fault. I shouldn’t have-”

“Stop, stop,” He cut you off with a soft smile; “You don’t think I’m mad about this, do you?”

Your shoulders relaxed at his gentle tone, but your eyes remained wide.

“It’s just that we...always wanted to keep it a secret.” You reminded him.

His head nodded and he set his fork down to give you his full attention.

“That is true, but we both knew that couldn’t last forever,” Severus pointed out; “I could never keep you hidden away forever.”

Your cheeks burned at his compliment, your smile beaming at him. He nudged your foot under the table. It was a wondrous thought to think about how different (or not) things would be now that they knew.

“I’m afraid I’ll still have to keep my maiden name. To avoid confusion.” You stated.

“Of course. Just as long as you’re still my Mrs. Snape.” He grinned with a wink.

You returned with a laugh, prompting the end of the lighthearted conversation.

“That I can definitely promise.”

#severus snape #severus snape x you #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x reader #severus #severus snape x female reader #severus snape fluff #severus snape imagine #severus snape oneshot #severus snape x professor #seriouslysnape

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sir-elyan · 3 years

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How Did The Car Get Here?

or: why the impala being in dean's heaven means it isn't really heaven

[content warnings: mention of the finale (15x20), though no screenshots are included because i can’t force myself to rewatch it]

okay so i'm finally cracking my knuckles and getting into a meta post after the finale, and it started because marlo and i watched scoobynatural the other month and of course that means some new revelations about the finale came to light, right? right (this is the grain of salt i'm throwing at you <3 it's gonna read like the fan fiction meta. that’s a warning)

you might be thinking, "ely, what the hell does scoobynatural have anything to do with the finale." and to that i say, surprisingly quite a lot

the basic premise of this episode is that sam, dean and cas are whisked away to a tv world (scooby doo) and have to save the people (characters—HEROES, hint hint) in it from a real-world ghost. it's revealed later that the ghost has been tied to a pocket knife that a real estate developer has been putting everywhere in order to scare shop owners into giving their stores to him. (wiki description that might’ve put it better than i could)

when sam and dean first arrive, almost immediately sam says, "how did the car get here?" but more importantly i’d like to ask: why is the car here?

so, let’s get into it.

[ID: A screenshot from “Scoobynatural” of the Impala at night. Sam and Dean stand to the left of the frame. It is captioned with Sam saying “How did the car get here?” / End ID.]

it feels like many of us, including dean himself in the finale, were surprised (read: offended) to see the Impala in heaven. what's the purpose? it's obviously inanimate, and though dean gives her a gender and a name, it doesn't make her "real," nor does it give her a soul, which seems like a heavenly prerequisite. so how—or why is the car there at all?

in scoobynatural, Baby is used simply as a means to get from one place to another (as vehicles do) UNTIL it becomes apparent that the ghost they're hunting is actually a ghost. then, the real purpose baby serves is to provide weapons and hunting materials in order to take down the big bad.

[ID: Two screenshots from “Scoobynatural.” In the first one, Velma is speaking and fixing her glasses, surrounded by the Scooby Gang. Scooby and Shaggy are on the left side of the frame, and Daphne and Fred are on the right. It’s night time. The caption reads, “We don’t have the proper tools or weapons.” The second screenshot depicts a cartoon version of Sam, with the caption, “That’s okay. We do.” / End ID.]

mind you, sam and (especially) dean weren't aware of why they'd been whisked into the tv in the first place, or that there was any "real" danger at all. dean was actually enjoying it a LOT, stuffing his face with much-too-tall sandwiches, hitting on daphne, and gaping at the mystery machine in awe. the Impala being there with them seemed insignificant (dean even says so)... until it isn’t, and her true purpose is revealed—

[ID: Two screenshots from “Scoobynatural.” The first one shows a shot from the perspective of inside the Impala’s trunk. Sam and Dean are surrounded by the Scooby Gang on either side of them, with Scooby, Shaggy, and Cas on the right side of the frame, and Velma, Daphne and Fred on the left. The caption describes the trunk unlocking. The second screenshot is of the contents in the trunk: several weapons like a wooden stake, various guns, an axe, a knife, and an arrow. / End ID.]

so, with the Impala appearing in the Scooby universe with all the equipment they could ever want...or need or...dream, doesn’t that remind you of what bobby says in 15x20? let’s see...

[ID: A screenshot of the 15x20 transcript. It’s a snippet from Bobby’s line, which reads, “You got everything you could ever want...or need or...dream. So, I guess the question is...what are you gonna do now, Dean?” / End ID.]

best of all, right after Bobby says this, Dean spots the Impala and decides to go for a drive:

[ID: A screenshot of the 15x20 transcript. It reads, “(Dean looks away from Bobby and sees the Impala, with the original KAZ 2Y5 license plate, parked on the road).” / End ID.]

let me rewind a bit to something i said earlier. “sam and (especially) dean weren't aware of why they'd been whisked into the tv in the first place, or that there was any "real" danger at all.” in my theory for 15x20, I think it’s actually quite a similar situation, in that they are fooled into thinking there is no real danger and that heaven is just...heaven. bobby is there, along with some (crappy) beer and dean’s parents are there, and— wait, doesn’t bobby hate john? and hang on...you’re telling me the beer in heaven is crappy? and hey, wasn’t jack acting a bit strange after becoming god? what was up with that?

a lot of things about the finale just...don’t add up. and the impala is there, even though Baby doesn’t have a soul and therefore could not be/manifest itself in heaven (just as she couldn’t actually be in scoobynatural because she wasn’t there when sam and dean got sucked into the tv). so we’re back to asking: why is the car here?

i’m going to just take a shot in the dark here and say that maybe it’s for the same reason that she was there in scoobynatural. to serve a purpose when they realize that there’s actually a big bad to be fought—that things aren’t exactly as they seem.

as to who the big bad is, take your pick!! it could be chuck!jack, or the Empty (it is still loud in there after all), it could even be a djinn dream. but throwing Baby into heaven for seemingly no reason other than to have dean drive her for like fifty years just seems ridiculous to me. she’s got weapons in her trunk, weapons that the heroes (good place to remind you that there is LITERALLY a s15 ep called The Heroes’ Journey) can use to their advantage.

there’s a lot that points to something being off about the finale. but personally, i think Baby might be our biggest clue.

kirk out.

#metas #my post #rambleoncas meta #FINALLY DROPPING THIS WAAAH #described #finale denial #spn 15x20 #creativecaviar #klinejack #chocolatecakecas #roc original #spnclownpals

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shadowsinger11 · 4 years

Text

Inspiration

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

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

Word Count: 3.3k (my hand slipped oops)

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

Warnings: Slight innuendo, Fred being cute and hot simultaneously

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

Message me if you'd like to be added!

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How has Ginny been dancing like that for hours?

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

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

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

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

And you were afraid to admit you had too.

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

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

"What's with your feet?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Perhaps I am."

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

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

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

"Is that why your legs are killing you?"

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

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

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

He wettened his lips, never breaking eye contact.

"Perhaps I am."

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

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

"Cheers to us control freaks then."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You attempted to tame the butterflies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fred turned to you.

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

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

Had you possibly missed your chance?

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

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

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

Fred's grin grew wider.

"Excuses…"

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

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

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

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

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

"Wow! That's certainly exciting!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, motivation."

"Motivation for what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Inspired."

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Masterlist

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

2K notes · View notes

candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 3 years

Text

if I can never give you peace — two || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader // Word count (chapter): 5.8k // Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers // Ao3

↳ It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Warnings and tags (chapter): Descriptions of violence, Threats, kind of dark in general

First · Previous · Next

The car is late, you think as you smooth over the fabric of your skirt, your mouth twisted in a disapproving scowl. Annoyance is one of the few emotions that ever appear on your face, and you don’t even bother to hide it. You have only been standing there, waiting, for a few minutes, but it already disrupts your perfectly well-oiled routine. This is just one of the many changes that have come with Jungkook taking over, but it could be the one you are the least fond of.

You used to have the routine down to a T. You knew exactly when to leave your apartment so that the car would stop in front of you right as you reached the pavement. There were small hiccups every now and then — traffic, last-minute phone calls —, but most of the time, it went perfectly. You liked that. Having that kind of control, when your life had always been completely out of your hands, was comforting.

That went out the window the day you started working for Jungkook.

When the car stops in front of you, five minutes, that’s three-hundred seconds, after the agreed-upon time, you take a short breath before opening the door and stepping in.

There, of course, is your new boss, sitting with his legs widely spread on the leather seat. He changed your discreet sedan for a limousine, which you find obnoxious, but you didn’t protest. You liked to think that you were better than that at picking your battles

“Mr. Jeon,” you say with a nod, voice even.

Jungkook grins when you call him that. You know he enjoys the title, the power it indicates, particularly since hybrids are supposed to only ever have the same last name as their owners.

“Lot of work to be done today,” he comments, and you know he’s just saying that to rile you up. You used to report to Mr. X, but you worked on your own more often than not. Now, you’re basically Jungkook’s glorified secretary. You wouldn’t particularly mind the change if it didn’t mean that you had to sit and watch him superbly ignore your carefully crafted schedule, as he had every single day for the past week.

“Indeed,” you reply without batting an eyelid. “This morning, you have a meeting with Suga,” this one he should go to, he never misses them, “then you are supposed to eat with Fred Lucas,” chances were he wouldn’t show up to that and make you take him to a fancy restaurant instead, and you would be the one to have to handle the situation with him, “and later today I think it would be important for you to pay a visit to the Mystery Room.” That place was one of the few legal aspects of the business at the moment, if you ignore the drugs that get sold there, and it was not a location you should lose right now. “They have been quite… difficult, since the change in direction.”

That last one is new, and you’re not sure how Jungkook will react to it. Of course, there is plenty more work to do, but you’re trying out new methods to get him to do at least what really matters. You don’t understand why he would hire you if he doesn’t let you do your job, but hey, at least you’re alive. And so is your family.

You don’t know how long that will last, though. Unless Jungkook seriously gets his act together, it won’t take long for someone to think that they can do the same thing he did, and have him murdered. You’re even mildly surprised it hasn’t happened yet. That’s the thing, when a leader gets killed. It weakens the whole structure, and it gives people ideas.

The grin disappears from Jungkook’s face and he nods gravely at that last piece of information. That catches your eye, because it’s new. You tell yourself that maybe, just maybe, he spent the last week riding the high of his victory against Mr. X, and that he will be efficient if there’s trouble, at least.

“Cancel that second thing,” he says. “I want to eat at that restaurant I went to last week. You should get me a reservation there.”

Or not.

“But you can go meet him,” he adds, and you blink.

“Mr. Lucas is expecting to see you,” you say, in case you weren’t clear.

“And he doesn’t get to demand my presence like that,” Jungkook snaps. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from wincing. His voice sounds harsh, cutting. Dangerous. “Did he think that I’d go ask for treats because a human joined us? That’s not how that shit works.”

Okay. He’s not wrong here, but you don’t know about this— approachto the situation. Fred is, indeed, one of the two human leaders who decided to immediately join Jungkook when the news of the death of Mr. X and the uprising of hybrids in various parts of your branches in the city spread. You wouldn’t be surprised if he expected a treatment of favor for that, too, but you’re not sure letting him know how little his gesture was appreciated was the way to go.

“I don’t think—”

“He’s replaceable,” Jungkook says with a dismissive movement of the wrist. “I’ll swap him for one of my men the second he makes a mistake. It would be a lot better if no one forgot that.”

The look he gives you makes his message crystal clear. You feel your mouth getting dry, but you know nothing is showing in your expression, and that at least is a relief.

“I’ll go to the meeting and get you your reservation, then,” you say, pulling out your phone. “Does the rest of the schedule work for you?”

Jungkook frowns, and the tiniest feeling of satisfaction spreads in your chest. You know he’s just applying pressure and waiting for you to crack, but you won’t.You’re used to contorting yourself to please everyone. You’ve made it work for years, and it will take much more than those childish games for you to snap.

Or, at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the past week.

“Fine.” Then he closes his eyes and leans back in the seat. You raise an eyebrow at the sight. You know it’s not because he trusts you, but because he doesn’t think you have the guts to do anything to him — and because, even if you did, he’s pretty confident he wouldn’t have any trouble stopping you. You hate that you find something endearing in that vision. Jungkook was genetically designed to be handsome, and he is.More than that, though, when you look at him right now, even though his long bunny ears are skillfully hidden under a headband, he looks cute.

And he could — and would — take less than a second to snap your neck.

“This afternoon should be fun at least,” he mumbles under his breath, and you hide your grimace.

Shit. That can’t be good.

It’s been clear to you from the very first day that Suga knows exactly what he is doing. It’s also been clear that this isn’t his scene. Being at the forefront of operations, taking the lead — it’s obvious that he would much rather stay in the shadows. You’re not sure how important he was to Jungkook’s organization before, since no one has bothered trying to inform you of that, but you suspect that he’s usually more the type to be in the field.

Right now, though, he’s standing in front of a small group, exposing what the recent developments have been. Sitting behind Jungkook, you listen to him attentively. Those reunions should become less frequent, but right now things could still change completely, and you cannot afford to be taken by surprise.

You are, however, starting to feel less and less comfortable with the fact that nothing seems to be coming out of them. Sure, Yoongi informs you of the people who have sided with Jungkook and of those who are openly opposed to him — a minority, so far — but there is a large group in between that seems to be in no hurry to take position. And you don’t like it.

It hasn’t been long since Jungkook has taken over, but you should at least have gotten someintel by now. You’re not sure what isn’t working here. For now, you don’t want to risk provoking anyone by offering your services. Worry is starting to gnaw at you, though. You could all be driving into a dead-end street at full speed, and that stupid struggle you’re having with Jungkook just isn't worth dying over.

“So not much has changed,” Jungkook comments, tapping his fingers onto the table. He looks nonchalant, but you notice a muscle in his jaw twitching. You wonder if he understands more than he lets on.

“Things have been stagnant,” Yoongi admits without batting an eye. “There hasn’t been any open rebellion, but communication is lacking.”

“That needs to get better.”

“We’re working on it.”

They probably are, but it doesn’t look like that’s going well. Word has reached your ears that some of the branches have been keeping hybrids at bay as discreetly as possible.

“What about that Mystery Room thing?” Jungkook asks, frowning. “What’s going on over there?”

“The what?” Yoongi frowns.

Jungkook looks puzzled — pissed, actually — for a second, then glances at you over his shoulder, and the attention of the whole room suddenly shifts to you. You straighten your back, swallow.

“The owner of the bar has missed a payment to us,” you state calmly, “and it seems that he has no intention of making it and is trying to get out of his contract with us. It would be better if we didn’t lose it right now.”

“What do you mean, ‘it seems’?” Yoongi asks, narrowing his golden eyes at you. His voice sounds more like a hiss, and this time, you struggle to hide your reaction. You haven’t forgotten what it felt like, when you thought he was going to kill you. It’s affected you more than you’d like to admit.

“I have a contact who—”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, and you close your mouth.

“I’m going there today,” Jungkook informs him, and Yoongi nods.

“I’ll be around.”

The two men have a silent exchange of looks. Their relationship is somewhat atypical, not something Mr. X had with anyone. It looks like they genuinely rely on and trust each other. You suppose someone else would find it touching, but you don’t have it in yourself. Especially not when that means they both have it out for you.

“Haven’t you been following what we’ve been talking about here for the past week?” Jungkook snarks at you, and you blink. “Any information you get from now on needs to get to Suga so he can factor it in.” At that, you give him a disbelieving look. That just won’t work. It can’t. Not for the first time, you wonder how much he underestimates you, exactly. If he knew anything about the way you work, about how many contacts you have and how much information you’re usually juggling with, he would never ask that of you.

Yet you nod. You don’t know yet if you’ll send a believable amount of intel to Suga, or just absolutely drown him under it until they tell you to stop, but once more, this just isn’t worth fighting over.

Especially when fighting over something can so easily mean dying over it, in your current situation.

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

He looks displeased, and you know it’s because all he’s waiting for is for you to slip.

“I shouldn’t even bring you to these meetings. You’re not even taking any notes. That’s fucking useless.”

It takes everything in you to bite back a scoff at that. You could tell him you don’t need to take notes when Yoongi is talking about minimal changes in a landscape you know on the tip of your fingers, that maybe you would if he said anything of value, and that this wouldn’t be an issue if people actually feared him.

You marvel at how annoyed that quip makes you. You suppose you don’t like it when your competence is questioned. You don’t like the threat either, though. You don’t want to risk falling out of the loop.

“I’ve gotten you a reservation at that restaurant,” you say. “If things are done here, I’ll be on my way to meet Mr. Lucas.”

Changing the subject. Deflecting. Trying your best to live to see another day. It seems like it’s all you’ve been doing for the past week. You know you can keep it up for a long time, you’re patient enough. You also know that this game is set up to make you lose.

Right now, as Jungkook looks at you, clearly not amused by your attitude, there is a terrifying moment during which you fear that he might just drop the charade. The only point of this whole thing is to get rid of you. He could decide he only wants to do that any second.

“Yeah, right. Be on your way.”

He dismisses you like you’re some low lackey, but that, at least, isn’t anything new, and you know how to handle it. You bow politely, then exit the room.

“You really wanna keep her around?” Yoongi asks once you’re gone, and Jungkook groans.

He doesn’t know why he had expected you to break easily. He’d seen you work for Mr. X, do that same shit he makes you do and survive as long as you had, so he should have known you’d be good at it. He supposes he’d been used to you making decisions for him, back then, and had thought that was a normal thing for you, that you wouldn’t enjoy being in the position of taking orders. But you were, after all, just someone who worked for others that whole time.

Not that he gives a fuck about it. He couldn’t care less why you did the things you did. All he wants is to give you a taste of your own medicine. Dangling a false chance of survival in front of your eyes and let you handle the rest yourself. So as long as you push through… well. He’ll let it slide.

It’s not like you can keep doing it forever anyway.

Fred Lucas worries you. He’s always smiled too widely, been too loud, made too many jokes. You know Mr. X considered him to be some sort of buffoon, but also kept his distance from him. Mr. X didn’t like people who pretended to wear their hearts on their sleeves.

“Always a pleasure to see you, (Y/N),” he greets you warmly when you walk up to him and you give him a nod. If he’s upset that Jungkook isn’t there, he doesn’t show it, just like you don’t show your distaste for his use of your first name. “I’d like to discuss with just you, though,” he adds, eyeing Hector, who’s standing beside you. The fact that you still have him by your side is the only good thing that has come from working for Jungkook so far.

You don’t like that. You’re all too aware of the fact that this is his land, and that the only reason why he’s saying that is that Hector is a hybrid. If that gets back to Jungkook, it wouldn’t be good for Fred — but you don’t think he’ll go down without a fight. You glance at Hector, who looks as placid as always and offers no help. The gears in your head are turning fast. Before, you were protected by how indispensable you were considered by Mr. X. That is clearly not the case anymore, but Fred likely isn’t aware of that. Yet.

On the other hand, sending Hector away would show weakness, and you can’t afford that.

“Hector goes where I go,” you say.

Fred’s smile widens even more.

“Of course, of course, can’t trust anyone those days, can you?”

You wonder if it’s a jab at you and how quickly you changed sides, but he is more or less in the same position, so you could just be paranoid.

“Come on, come on in, let’s get ourselves a drink.”

You don’t want a drink, but you do follow him in. The sooner you do that, the sooner you will be out of here.

Fred has a lot of things to say. Most of it isn’t relevant to anything that is happening right now, but you’ve never been able to tune things out. You always worry you’ll miss an essential piece of information. So you listen as he babbles about his business — getting weapons in and out of the city, something he is decently good at — but also about his family, his friendships, and his favorite kind of alcohol. You let him pour you a glass, even if you have no intention of touching it.

“I hear you,” you manage to interrupt him, “but I am curious to know why you wanted a meeting with Mr. Jeon. It seems to me that you have the situation here under control.”

Flattery has always worked on Fred, and you have no issue in using that against him.

“Of course we do,” he gloats. “It’s just— There are a lot of rumorsfloating around those days, you know?”

You do know. You suspect Fred has heard the same things as you. You also suspect most people have been very careful not to let those things reach Yoongi’s ears.

“People are talking about a ‘human opposition’ forming,” Fred gasps dramatically. “Can you believe it? Some people are really not happy about being led by a hybrid.”

That seems to be more concrete than what you’ve heard, which means that Fred could be exaggerating things… or that he was contacted to join that opposition. And you don’t like that second possibility, not at all. You trust Fred about as far as you can throw him, and that means you certainly don’t trust him to not try and play both sides.

“That was to be expected,” you reply calmly. “I do not doubt that Mr. Jeon knew such a reaction was coming.”

Fred narrows his eyes at you, trying to gauge what you knew then and what you know now. Which isn’t much, but that’s not something you plan to let slip out.

“Do you know of anything specific?”

You see from the glint in Fred’s eyes that he knows the game is on. If you know something and he doesn’t tell you, he will look suspicious, but he could also reveal too much, and you doubt he wants to play his cards so soon.

“I— don’t, unfortunately,” he finally says, and you nod. Either he hasn’t heard of the Mystery Room, or he is voluntarily hiding it from you. Regardless, that limits how useful he is to you. “But the word on the street is that Jungkook may not know what he’s doing all that well.”

You send him a sharp glance. He’s taking a risk in telling you that, you both know it. That doesn’t make the information any less precious.

“I see. And, again, I don’t suppose you know where this— ‘word on the street’ is coming from?”

He shrugs, a true picture of innocence, and maybe you’d have believed it if Fred hadn’t been in the business for longer than you. He knew, he just wasn’t telling because he wanted to preserve his opportunities if something happened.

“I have to go, then. Thank you for the drink, Mr. Lucas.”

“Please,” he says, holding out his hand. “Call me Fred.”

That won’t be happening.

“Goodbye, Mr. Lucas.”

Once you’re out, you take a second to collect yourself, Hector following like a shadow and waiting for you silently.

“Is everything okay?” he asks after you’ve mulled over the conversation that just happened for several minutes.

“It’s fine,” you say as a reflex. You couldn’t stop thinking about how Fred had taken a gamble when he’d proclaimed his allegiance to Jungkook. He’d bet on him coming out on top, and yet you didn’t trust it. You couldn’t think of a reason why he would do that instead of carefully waiting to see how things would go, like everyone else. You didn’t like this. Not one bit. “We need to get to Mystery Room,” you add.

“Of course,” Hector nods, gesturing towards the limo, and you don’t bother repressing a groan this time.

“God. That’s so tacky.”

That brings a smile to Hector’s lips, but you don’t smile back. You never do. Instead, you climb in, roll your eyes at the whole thing, and let yourself be driven away. You can’t come to a conclusion about Fred Lucas just yet, but you have no intention of forgetting about him either.

It takes you a few seconds, once you’re out of the car, to understand that something isn’t right. You’ve never been good with feelings — instincts, as hybrids call them — and the air doesn’t feel particularly tense or charged to you. Hector stands a little close to you for comfort, and you piece things together from there. There are a few cars around, but not too many, which isn’t surprising considering it’s the middle of the afternoon. Still, you can hear voices from inside, and you know there’s an argument going on there.

“Let’s go,” you say with a decided nod, and Hector leads the way, shoulders tense, ready to pounce if needed. You trust him to do his job, and that’s a lot, coming from you.

You frown when you walk into the bar, taking a few seconds to let your eyes get adjusted to the lack of luminosity, and that frown only deepens when you hear the argument going on and recognize Jungkook’s voice. God. The concepts of subtlety and discretion are completely lost on him, aren’t they?

Making your way through the room, you try to evaluate the situation. Yoongi is leaning against a table, looking bored out of his mind, though you’re sure he doesn’t miss anything from what is going on in the room. As if to prove your point, his golden eyes flick towards you for a second when you approach, before looking away, clearly uninterested. Other than him, it seems that the only other people present are the owner and various employees. You think it’s stupid and dangerous that they showed up here basically alone but, for the millionth time today, you grit your teeth and don’t say anything.

There are five men around, including the bouncer and a security guard. They’re probably armed, and that’s to say nothing of anyone you cannot see. Outside of Yoongi, though, no one pays attention to you, not until the bartender asks loudly “Mojito, as usual, Miss (L/N)?”

It’s a bit early for that, actually, but you give him a nod. The Mystery Room isn’t quite your scene — you’ve always been one to prefer classy restaurants — but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re well-known here, and everywhere, actually, which is something that everyoneknows, except your own boss. That is obvious by the way people’s attitude shifts when they see you. The owner bows to you politely. You acknowledge it with a curt movement of your chin. Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. He doesn’t look happy about it.

You wait until you have your glass in your hand to say something. The silence that fills the room is heavy, and you can feel Jungkook’s anger emanating from him, having lost the men’s attention. He’s the man who murdered Mr. X, took over half of his operations without anyone noticing, and their fucking boss, and they’re still treating him like a low-life hybrid.

“You haven’t been paying what you owe us,” you say, almost lightly, when you get your drink. “Has business been slow?”

You know it has. You know people aren’t too sure what to think of Jungkook yet. You also know they’ve still made money. Better yet, you’re sure the men in the room know youknow that. You’re giving them an obvious way out. All they have to do is say “yes”, and you’ll come up with something. You won’t let them go off scot-free, but there’s no need for this to end in a bloodbath, either.

“That’s not the issue,” the man says, voice raspy, and you don’t let it show, of course you don’t, but you’re still taking the hit. They’re underestimating Jungkook.

This might be the last mistake they make.

“I think it would be better for everyone if we could work through whatever issue there is,” you say slowly.

Better for them, really, especially because this is you giving him a second chance. There won’t be a third one.

“I’m afraid we don’t, uh, approve of the recent change in direction,” he replies, a stupid grin on his face. He’s mocking you and your infamous overly procedural speech. You know people say you can’t accept who you’re working for, that you can’t take the idea of having blood on your hands.

You may not care, but you’re well-aware of it, and you really don’t appreciate him saying that to your face. You’ll have to make an example out of him.

You sigh and shake your head at his answer. You’re not going to enjoy this. You’ve seen people’s attempts at rebellion against Mr. X, even if those were few and far between, and no matter how much of a fight they put up, it never ends well. For them.

You’re prepared to just leave the place and arrange for it to be set on fire during the night, when Jungkook’s voice snaps you out of it.

“What’s your problem with the change in direction, fucker?”

The mood changes immediately. Hector’s hand on your shoulder gently pulls you back, and Yoongi hops off the table to come stand next to Jungkook, hands in his pockets. He looks nonchalant and relaxed. He could probably easily kill everyone in this room and not get a drop of blood on his jacket.

The owner squares his shoulders and walks up to him. He’s slightly taller and much larger than Jungkook.

“Listen, bunny…”

You barely have the time to widen your eyes at the word, to think about all the ways Jungkook has made it clear that he’s not your typical rabbit-hybrid before his right hook connects with the man’s jaw, so fast you would have missed it if you’d blinked.

A moment of stunned silence follows, during which the man stumbles backwards, hand coming to cup his face in disbelief. And then, he seems to decide that it’s a good idea to retaliate. The dozens, hundreds maybe, of fights you’ve seen Jungkook win flash before your eyes. He doesn’t stand a chance.

People start moving around you, but it seems like it’s only a fistfight. No guns are drawn, for now, and you’re reminded of how much you fucking hate watching people fight. You take a step back, bored already at this stupid display of strength and violence. Still, you can’t help it when your eyes are drawn to Jungkook. There’s a— curiosity within you. How much has he truly changed, in the past two years?

For one, he certainly isn’t pretending this time, isn’t trying to make this fight last for a few more rounds. There iscertain showmanship there, though, you note. He’s giving time for the owner to recover while he takes out some of the other men with hits of surgical precision. He wants them to seewhatever he’s going to do to their boss. Hector and Yoongi keep the fight contained, don’t let anyone escape or call for help, but Jungkook doesn’t need their help. No one here is a threat to him, and it doesn’t take long for the men to be on the floor, groaning in pain.

The owner pushes himself up, spits some blood on the floor. Jungkook turns to face him and beckons him closer with a flick of his hand. He looks amused.

“You fucking piece of—”

This time, Jungkook doesn’t go for the head. His fist gets the man in the ribs, and that first punch is followed by dozens of others, not giving the man any respite, not letting him breathe. When the man falls back, Jungkook doesn’t stop, though the hits slow down, based on what you can see and hear. You have to clench your jaw to stop yourself from grimacing at the sound of flesh hitting flesh, of the bones underneath clashing. It was drowned out, back when he fought in a ring, but knowing it was there disgusted you back. You don’t know why, you just hate it. It makes you sick.

When Jungkook finally gets back up, he hasn’t even broken a sweat. There are five men on the ground, clenching different parts of their bodies and crying out in pain, and he isn’t even out of breath.

“You should fucking reconsider,” he spits out.

They won’t have to. This place will be gone soon enough.

His eyes meet yours as he walks out, and his expression turns to a disgusted scowl. It almost draws a scoff out of you, but you hold it in, and instead, you follow him dutifully.

Jungkook doesn’t speak to you in the car, eyes instead on his bloody knuckles. It will heal fast, you know, and that’s probably why he doesn’t bother taking care of it. When the car stops, you look outside and find yourself faced with your own apartment building. It’s not even five in the afternoon yet. You turn around to give your boss a quizzical look.

“You’re not needed anymore,” he shrugs. He doesn’t sound like he’s playing this time, though you’re still sure that he wants to get on your nerves.

You hate that it’s working this time.

“The day isn’t—”

“I think you’ve proved exactly how efficient you are today,” he says, obviously dismissing you. “I have no fucking idea how you got this job.”

You bite your tongue not to reply. You don’t care about the job, you don’t care about his opinion of you, you barely even care about the Family. You should just nod, give him the usual “yes, Mr. Jeon,” and walk out. But something keeps you in place a little longer than it should, and that’s how much you hate jobs that aren’t well done.

Your voice sounds distant to your own ears when you say what you’re supposed to, your body doesn’t feel like your own when you walk out and close the door. Your breathing quickens while you hear the car leave behind you like it’s all happening in a dream, your head spins, and you stand frozen in place, staring right in front of you.

Is this your life now? you wonder, feeling your heart thumping like it’s trying to get out of your chest. Are you going to let yourself be so disposable, so mediocre, let everything you’ve spent years building fall apart? This isn’t the time for pride, you’re well aware of that, but it’s still eating at you inside.

You walk back to your apartment like you’re in a trance. There’s a heavy weight on your chest, and you realize you have to make a choice. If things stay like that, you suppose Jungkook will have your head at some point. This is a fight of patience. One you cannot win. But if you make yourself indispensable, then maybe, maybe you can survive it. You’ve done it once already.

You brush aside the little voice mocking your reasoning, telling you that you’re doing this because you don’t want to lose your status. Not because it’s wrong, but because you know that’s not enough of an incentive for you to take a risk. You need something stronger than that. Even if you know it’s a lie.

That doesn’t stop your hand from trembling as you dial Yoongi’s number. You’re happy there’s no one to see you, because God, you couldn’t take your carefully crafted facade crumbling right now.

“Yes?” he answers quickly. If he’s surprised to hear from you, it doesn’t show.

“What are the plans for the Mystery Room?” you ask, satisfied that your voice doesn’t quiver, even if you’re a mess right now.

There’s a silence at the other end of the line, and you suspect he’s considering not answering you, so you take the initiative.

“You need to at least replace the owner,” you say, kicking off your shoes. “You can convince him to sell to us,” — convince, one of your favorite euphemisms — “or get rid of him and get the place from his family. Burning the place down is also an option. We can’t let what happened slide like that.”

“Hmm,” Yoongi says.

“Also, it would better if Mr. Jeon could avoid fighting with people. The last thing we want is people who think they can challenge him.”

“He can take them.”

“That’s not the issue. If people think they have a chance, they’ll keep trying. We don’t want them to do that.”

Another, longer silence.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he’ll listen to you.”

“And you think I will listen to you?”

You roll your eyes. It’s strange, you know you’re gambling your life right now, but the tension you were experiencing earlier has been replaced by an eerie calm. You feel detached from everything.

Maybe you’ve been doing this for too long.

“You don’t have to,” you say, “but this is my job. I’m good at it. If you just let me do it, it would be far more efficient than whatever has been going on for the last week. I know you don’t trust me, but you can probably come to the same conclusions as me in this situation at least.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest. This is an explicit critique, something you would never have risked with Mr. X, and it’s the most open act of defiance that you’ve ever done — and it’s to convince them to let you workfor them.

“We’ll see about that,” he replies dismissively, and your shoulders fall at first, but then he adds, almost reluctantly, “I’ll take what you said into consideration.”

“Good. We also need to talk about tomorrow’s meeting. I’ve gotten some important information about the opposition to Mr. Jeon, and I think—”

As you explain the situation to Yoongi, you feel yourself calming down. Maybe it’s because you’re doing something that’s familiar to you, you’re not sure, but you can breathe again, and that solidifies your conviction that you’re making the right decision.

Finally, you’re ready to take back your life.

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iwritefanficsnottragedies · 3 years

Text

Fred Weasley

Request: None

Prompt: "My mum asked about you again"

***

Forgotten in a corner of the library, their books and parchments scattered all over the table, 4 students were restlessly doing their homework.

"Can't this be done already?" one of them broke the silence, so sudden it startled the others. "Bloody hell, it's been over 3 hours!"

"We're almost done, Ron, no need to get so loud," Hermione scoffed, "besides, you barely did anything."

"I assume Hermione and I could finish it in the morning. It's getting quite late and Madam Pince isn't looking quite fondly at us," (Y/N) sighed, feeling her eyelids heavy.

A yawn from Ron made Hermione groan. "I doubt we'd get much done tonight anyway, let's just go then."

Not long after, the 4 of them found themselves on the nearly empty halls of Hogwarts, on their way to the Gryffindor common room. They walked in silence, the tiredness from a full day finally getting the best of all of them. That is, until Ron broke the silence once more.

"(Y/N)," he said, making the (H/C) girl turn her head, "are you sure you don't want to come over for Christmas?"

"No, Ron, it's alright. I don't wanna be a bother," (Y/N) smiled kindly at the ginger.

"Nonsense! You know mum loves to have you over and i wouldn't have asked if I didn't want you there."

"Plus me and Ginny could use some more girl company around, we need all the help to stop these two from getting in trouble," Hermione added. She playfully pushed (Y/N)'s shoulder, making them both chuckle for a bit, time in which Harry finally broke his silence.

"And I'm sure theres someone else who'd love to have you there," he muttered in a whisper soft enough that only Ron heard him over the laughter of the girls. He elbowed Harry, shooting him a warning glance. The brunet shrugged, but kept silent all the same.

"See?" the youngest Weasley boy started, "you have to come. My mum's gonna kill us if we destroy something again. And i do mean anything."

"I'll... I'll think about it," (Y/N) offered shyly. As much as she wanted to go, she felt like she would intrude. But there was something really pushing her to go. Or rather someone...

After a while, the girls were settled in their beds, ready to sleep, or at least (Y/N) was. Hermione seemed to be in the mood for a bit of an interrogation.

"So what's the real reason you don't wanna come?" the young witch asked.

(Y/N) laid quiet for a moment, unsure of the answer herself. She reflected silently. Her parents were more than willing to let her spend Christmas at the Burrow, her closest friends would be there. So why was she refusing really? She didn't have a reason other than the feeling that a certain brother of Ron's, Fred, to be more specific, didn't want her around.

It all started during her visit the previous summer. The holiday was coming to an end and Harry had just arrived at The Burrow. The younger Weasleys, Hermione and (Y/N) spent most of their time together till that point, but when Harry arrived, his 3 best friends spent the rest of the evening with him. Catching up, making jokes and whatnot. Night fell quickly and while the other 3 weren't as tired, (Y/N) managed to fall asleep, right on Harry. They didn't have the heart to bother her until Fred woke up, coming downstairs.

"I should take her upstairs" the twin said, making the others turn to him.

"No, it's ok. I don't mind it," Harry smiled, his arm resting around (Y/N).

"Nonsense," Fred scowled, not leaving Harry any room for protest, before scooping (Y/N)'s sleeping figure off the bed and carrying her to Ginny's room.

The next day, (Y/N) woke up surprised to find herself in bed and even more surprised to find out Fred was the one who brought her there. She went to thank him, finding him eating breakfast, but he barely acknowledged her.

"No worries," he nodded, not even glancing up from his plate.

And from then on, what was quite a beautiful friendship turned into distance between the 2. (Y/N) never understood, Fred never gave her time to ask.

The (H/C) girl was brought back from memory lane by Hermione's words.

"Will you answer before I die of old age please?"

"I don't know what to tell you, Hermione. I don't have an actual reason."

But Hermione knew better than that. It was with good reason she was comsidered the brightest witch of her age.

"I'm sure Fred wouldn't mind if you'd come. And even if he does, the rest of us want you to come. So please, change your mind. Please? For me at least?" The brown haired girl begged.

(Y/N) smiled. She knew her best friend would put her thoughts into words better than herself. But she still felt bad. After all, she didn't even know what she did.

"I don't know, Hermione, I don't wanna make empty promises."

The room fell into silence soon after, both girls too tired to go on.

The next day came and went faster than expected, and soon dinner was served. With Hermione's words from the previous mind still on her mind, (Y/N) realised she haven't seen Fred the entire day. She scanned The Great Hall for him, but there was still no sign of the redhead.

"Where could he be?" she wondered, seeing his twin a few chairs away, seemingly not missing his brother.

Her question got answered shortly afterwards though, when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"May I speak with you?" Fred asked.

(Y/N) nodded and hurried to follow Fred, who was already halfway out the door. She followed him to their common room, not making a sound.

Fred sat down on a couch, motioning for (Y/N) to sit next to him.

"My mum asked about you again," he said. "She wants to know why you arent coming over for Christmas."

"Oh, it's just... you already have guests and there would be so many people, i don't wanna be a b-"

"I talked to Hermione," he intervened,"She told me why you don't want to come."

(Y/N) blushed, that meant he knew he's the sole reason. And the sad tone in his voice only made the girl feel worse.

"I don't wanna be there if it troubles you in any way."

"It doesn't, (Y/N), and I'm sorry if that's the impression I gave you." For the first time in months, Fred turned his head to look (Y/N) in her eyes. "I promise you, that's not it, I'd love it if you'd come."

"Looks like quite the opposite to me," (Y/N) frowned.

Fred let out a puff of air as he looked down at his hands. He knew well how he's been acting with (Y/N) these past few months. Though he wouldn't admit it, he was ready to flee even then from the room, go away, as far away as possible from the younger girl. Poor (Y/N) had no idea how hard it has been for Fred. Keeping himself away from someone he actually cares about was just as hurtful for him as it was for her. But he couldn't let himself fall into unrequited feelings. He remembered when things started to change.

It was the end of July and they were all home at the Burrow, when someone knocked on their door. He opened it to reveal a sun-kissed (Y/N), with a big smile on her face, a smile that gave him butterflies. Her eyes shinning bright, her rosy cheeks, everything about her, it changed everything for him. The child- his little brother's best friend- had disappeared and instead there stood (Y/N) in a whole new light, transformed into a guilty dream, an innocent desire for romance, all with one look. She hugged him and for a moment he wasn't at the Burrow anymore. He was in his own mind-made world, just for the two of them. The moment lingered for a just a bit, not nearly enough, and he was abruptly brought to reality by Ginny's excited screams, by the loss of (Y/N)'s arms around him as she hurried to Ginny.

Fred wanted more moments like these. He spent his summer longing for them, doing everything in his power to get them. Day by day, he grew more fond of (Y/N), day by day he observed her, gazed at her like she was a piece of art, never to be touched.

One evening, after the house had quieted down, Fred and his mum cleaned up after dinner in amiable silence for a while until she broke the silence. "Young love," she said, looking up at him, "it is the sweetest of all."

"Hmm?" Fred turned to face his mother.

"I know my children, Fred, and I watch over them. A mother's eyes see things others can't."

Fred continued to look at Molly, unsure of what she was talking about.

"Go talk to her, Fred, you can't just watch her like she's gonna fall into your arms." His mother laughed, but her son was far from laughter.

He froze as realisation dawned upon him. That was it. Infatuation. He had fallen for (Y/N) and he'd fallen hard. And oh, how his dreams shattered now, as it all turned to reality. His little dream was now this cruel world and he couldn't bring it here.

His thoughts wandered for some time before he heard Molly's voice, loud enough to bring the whole house downstairs.

"Harry, dear!"

It was a few hours later and Fred couldn't sleep. (Y/N) wouldn't leave his mind, but not in the same fairytale way it did before. Concerns about what he could do, what she would do if she knew- all of these imagined scenes kept him restless and wide awake.

Maybe a glass of water would help, he thought and so he made his way downstairs. And what he saw made his stomach hurt just enough to be a bother. He knew Harry and (Y/N) better than to think anything of it, but someone touching her, being so close to her, someone who isn't him, pained him.

"Bloody jealousy."

"Jealousy? Who are you jealous of?" (Y/N) asked in confusion, bringing Fred out of his thoughts. Fred swallowed dryly, realising he'd said that out loud. He didn't know if now was the right time to share his feelings or not.

Luckily for him, a commotion could be heard very close by and soon the door to the common room swung open.

"Fred!" He heard his twin brother yelling his name, giving him a chance to swallow his feelings just a little longer.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N), i gotta go. But please reconsider coming over for Christmas. I'd love it if you would join us."

And with that he exited the room, leaving (Y/N) as confused as ever and he, conflicted and at odds with himself. But it could wait. He had waited until then, what's a few more days, weeks, months. Perhaps it would pass...

________________________________________

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you'd like a part 2.

Requests are open, just send me what character you want and a prompt as long or short as you'd like!

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freddie-weaselbee · 3 years

Text

Real//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex, I think that’s it ?

Summary: One small favor. A trade. That was all it was. Mutually beneficial! Until things between Fred and Y/N and their new relationship get a little more complicated and cause too many prying eyes.

Prompts: Fake Dating with dialogue prompts “we could have prevented this!” and “did you know you talk in your sleep?”

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: Day 3 of @theweasleyslut‘s 2k writing challenge

“I’ve made my list of rules which you will abide by and under no circumstances will be broken. Number 1: this ruse does not leave the shop. I don’t want random people on the street questioning me because you couldn’t keep your huge mouth shut. Number 2: I will allow you to kiss me on the cheek and forehead as often as you like, within reason of course, and you can give me a peck on the lips 3 times in total. I will keep track. And Number 3: Don’t take up the entire bed any more or I will be forced to push you onto the floor. Sound good?”

“Bloody hell, you are crazy aren’t you?”

“Just a little bit.”

Fred was starting to regret his previous decision of making this arrangement with you, but a jingle of his shop bell and glance at who was walking in quickly made those feelings disappear.

“Deal,” he said, eyes not leaving the woman who had just entered. “But we start right now and I want one of those kisses.”

You looked up at your friend, confused at his sudden nerves before you followed his line of sight and understood immediately. You sighed and ruffled your hair a bit, looking for a mirror to fix your makeup. “I’m on it, give me a few minutes.”

Fred nodded, still watching his target walk slowly through the aisles of his store. As she turned a corner you ducked into the back office, waiting for a good time to reemerge.

“Freddie!” A high pitched voice pierced through the ear, equal parts flirtatious and absolutely unbearable. Fred glanced up, pretending not to have noticed the girl before. Putting on a fake smile, he set down the product he was pretending to tinker with and placed his hands on the counter table.

“Brooklyn, hi! How are you?” he asked, hoping his fake politeness would pass as genuine.

“Ugh I am so good. So SO good actually,” she said, twisting a finger through her hair. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you! I’m so glad you received my letter, I was hoping we could catch up, maybe over dinner sometime? I’ve had so many fine young men ask me out over the last few months, but none of them seemed to compare to you, my little Freddie Bear.”

He winced at the nickname, it bringing an onslaught of unwanted memories that he had desperately tried to forget. Brooklyn bit her lip and placed a hand on top of Fred’s, leaning in to accentuate her breasts and make sure Fred got a good whiff of her new perfume.

Very calmly, Fred placed his other hand on top of hers, now sandwiched in between his strong grip. “Brooklyn,” he said, faking sympathy, “you’re a lovely girl, and I’m sure any guy would be lucky to have you, but--”

“Hey, love!”

A voice interrupted Fred’s rejection, making a very surprised Brooklyn become absolutely enraged as she witnessed you come up and place a chaste kiss on Fred’s lips, smiling into him. Fred pulled his hands from Brooklyn’s grip and placed it instead on your hip, pulling you into him and placing another peck on your forehead. You both stared lovingly into each other’s eyes before a harsh cough stole your attention.

“And who is this?” Brooklyn asked, arms crossed angrily. She was glaring daggers at you, not even trying to fake sweetness for Fred’s sake.

Keeping his hand on your waist, Fred turned back to the girl who seemed as though she was about to explode. “That’s what I was trying to tell you Brooklyn,” he said, trying to keep his smile as pitiful as he could without it drawing suspicion. “This is Y/N, we’ve been seeing each other for a while now.”

You nuzzled into Fred’s chest for half a second before reaching a hand out to Brooklyn. “It’s so nice to meet you! Brooklyn, was it? I don’t think Fred’s ever mentioned you before, are you one of his childhood friends. Cousin, maybe?”

That had done it and you and Fred both knew it. He subtly fist bumped you under the counter as you watched the girl’s face become redder than Fred’s hair.

She opened her mouth before taking a huge breath and stepping back. “No, actually,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m his ex-girlfriend. I left him to move on to much better things. Speaking of which--” she flipped her hair and smoothed out her skirt, straightening her posture to try to keep what little dignity she had left, “--I actually have a date. With a dragon trainer no less, and a very renowned one.”

“Oh really?” Fred asked. “That’s amazing. My brother, Charlie, is a dragon trainer as well, and he’s very well known in the community. May I ask the name of the lucky young man? Maybe Charlie knows him.”

Caught very off guard, Brooklyn rolled her eyes and turned to face the door. “That’s none of your business. I better be going, before we’re late to dinner at a very nice place, somewhere the likes of you most likely couldn’t afford.”

You felt Fred stiffen next to you and you squeezed his hand gently. “Have a nice time! It was lovely to meet you Bridget.”

“It’s Brooklyn,” she seethed.

“Oh right, silly me,” you said, shaking your head. “Bye!”

As Brooklyn sauntered out of the store, you turned to Fred and whispered seductively, just loud enough for the exiting girl to hear. “How about we have a nice night in tonight? I got something the other day that I’d love for you to see. Maybe after seeing it you’ll make me scream even louder than last night.” Fred’s face began to grow red and he had to discreetly adjust his pants, hoping you didn’t notice exactly what your words were doing to him.

Brooklyn slammed the door and practically ran down the cobbled streets, only screaming when she thought she was far enough away to not be heard. You and Fred both waited a few seconds before cheering and hugging each other, him patting you on the back for a great performance.

“Y/N! That was incredible! I knew I could count on you.”

“Yeah yeah,” you said, “I’m amazing, I know.” You smiled up at him completing the high five he was waiting on. “When you told me you needed help with a crazy ex I didn’t know you meant like actually crazy. She’s insane! How did you put up with her for so long?”

Fred shrugged, jumping up onto the counter. “She was hot and I was horny. Not much else to it.”

You rolled your eyes, jumping up to join him. A few days ago you wouldn’t have been nearly comfortable enough to lounge out on the shop’s counters like you were now, but that was before you were a permanent resident of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Before you and Fred had made the deal.

“You want me to do what?”

“Please, Y/N, it would only be for a little while until this all dies down, I swear!”

You groaned and rubbed your temple, wondering how in the world a friendly visit to your friend’s shop would turn into something with much more commitment.

“You’re telling me that you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend? Why on earth would you need that?”

You were pacing around the shop, trying to avoid customers as to not involve them in this very personal conversation. Fred followed you, pleading for you to help him like the great friend you were.

“I told you,” he said, “after The Daily Prophet did that expo on the shop and made me and George out to be rich sexy businessmen, and I mean where’s the lie, all of my crazy exes have been sending me letters and trying to get back with me. I can’t stand it, there’s so many!”

“Yeah, you were never one for long-term relationships, were you?”

Fred hmphed but quickly picked up with his pleading once again. “You don’t understand, Y/N, it’s absolutely unbearable. It’s common knowledge that George and Angie have been going steady for years now, so he’s got pretty much no one after him. But me? I can’t handle it.”

He dramatically threw himself on one of the empty product tables, causing a couple kids to glance in your direction before quickly becoming distracted by one of the exploding jokes across the shop.

“Oh, woe is me, I have too many beautiful women throwing themselves at me, whatever am I to do?” you mocked, earning a nasty glare from your friend.

“I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t of upmost importance,” he said, straightening his tie and assuming a more business-like manner. “Those girls are crazy. Hot, yes, but crazy. And all you have to do is pretend to be dating me for a few weeks, a month at best! What do you say?”

“And what do I get out of this?” you asked. Usually, you’d never say no to helping a friend, especially Fred, but pretending to date him and having him practically use you to make other girls mad? You didn’t like the idea in the slightest. Well, maybe seeing the mad girls would be a bonus. You never cared much for most of the girls Fred went out with.

Fred’s face turned into an upward grin as he rolled his sleeves up and leaned forward. “I was hoping you’d say that. I hear that you’re looking for a place to stay, is that right?”

You nodded hesitantly, having an idea of where he was going.

“Well,” he said, pacing back and forth, “to keep up this charade we’ll need to convince everyone, including George and Angelina. You see, Angie’s friends with Alicia, one of the girls who’s been constantly OWLing me, and if she knew this was fake then she’d blow our cover for sure. Which means…”

You gulped.

“You’d have the pleasure of sharing the loft with me. You’d get a room, shared with me, and a nice living space all rent-free, and all you have to do is act all lovey-dovey and occasionally snog me. That sounds like an offer you can’t refuse.”

Unfortunately, he was right. You were tight on money at the moment and really had no other options. It was a deal you had to make if you wanted to stay afloat, no matter how much annoyance and embarrassment it would cost you.

Sighing, you let your shoulders slump, a sign of defeat. “You do know how to negotiate, don’t you?”

“Well I am a businessman.” Fred stuck out his hand, and with a slow, drawn out motion, you shook it.

It was the 4th night of living with the Weasley twins, or maybe 5th? The nights all seemed to blend together as you’d been having more fun than you had since Hogwarts. George and Angelina didn’t seem surprised at all when you and Fred told them your made up story about how you and Fred started seeing each other. In fact, they both said they always knew it would happen. You and Fred shared a laugh about that in bed that night, before he decided to take up all of the space on the small piece of furniture, prompting you to write your third rule.

Overall, it had been a great experience. Couples game night, movie marathons, gossip sessions with Angelina about you and Fred’s sex life (which you didn’t have to fabricate too much, you already knew too much from the incredible amounts of detail he used to provide about his dates with other girls). It was like being thrown back into a dorm room, and your old teenage self was starting to shine through again.

You stared at yourself in Fred’s bathroom mirror, very proud of how you handled Brooklyn earlier that day. She was one of the few girlfriends of Fred’s you never got to meet, probably because they only dated for a short period of time before she left him for the first rich snob to bat an eye at her. Out of everyone you could think of that he dated, she was by far the worst, which meant the next few days would probably be more difficult. It was easy making that bitch angry with smoke coming from her ears, but you didn’t know how good you’d feel about lying to someone a lot nicer than she was.

After brushing your teeth and donning your pajamas, your Hogwarts house colors of course, you crawled into bed and joined Fred, who was reading one of the novels you had recommended to him. “You like it so far?” you asked.

Fred took off his reading glasses and nodded, setting a bookmark in the book before placing it on his nightstand. “Surprisingly, yes. I didn’t think it would be my thing, but so far it’s actually really good.”

“Told ya,” you said as you laid down beside him. You and Fred were comfortable enough to share a bed with few problems except for his stupid long legs. You’d been friends for years and had grown way too comfortable with each other, so squeezing together each night wasn’t too out of the ordinary.

As you snuggled into the covers, Fred following suit, you mentally went over the schedule for the week.

“How many girls are there again?”

Fred paused for a moment, trying to remember what he had sent to each girl. “A few I was able to ward off via letter, the more sane ones, but there are still two more girls who insisted they pay me a visit. Addison’s coming tomorrow and Alicia the day after that.”

You nodded, although you ducted Fred could see it from his position. “Got it. Addison’s sweet, I liked her.”

Fred scoffed, wrapping an arm around your waist as he had started doing while you two slept. It was nothing more than platonic, Fred was just a touchy person. You told yourself he would do this with any semi-attractive girl laying in his bed.

“Yeah, sweet girl all right, until you come home to your entire apartment torn apart cuz she thought you were cheating on her because apparently you ‘took an extra 12 minutes of lunch break and it seemed awfully suspicious.’”

Your body reverberated with a small giggle, remembering how Fred had to crash with you at your old place while he was trying to replace all the furniture she had literally torn up. “That’s right, she’s almost as crazy as I am.”

“Almost.”

You wouldn’t have a hard time lying to Addison, you decided. It was actually kind of fun when you did it with Brooklyn. You could get really creative with this one.

You released a deep breath and closed your eyes, nestling back into Fred as he spooned you, claiming it was the only way he wouldn’t sprawl out and kick you in your sleep, which you knew was a lie. He’d find a way to kick you somehow. The git always did.

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

“That was surprisingly better than expected!”

You nodded gleefully, handing Fred a scone and coffee that you had picked up from a nearby bakery. Scaring off Addison had been even more fun than Brooklyn, you and Fred really getting into character and being as lovey dovey as possible. She seemed to take it well, but you wouldn’t be surprised if she triggered the security system tonight trying to break in and destroy the shop.

“And if I’m being honest it was actually kind of fun,” you told him, settling in behind the counter.

You raised your muffin to your mouth to take a bite but Fred’s huge mouth snagged a taste before you could, bending down and taking a chunk out before you could have any. “That’s disgusting,” but you had no disgust lingering in your tone.

“I agree,” he said through mouthfuls of muffin. “It was an excellent way to spend the morning. Bloody hell she would not leave!”

“At least she was nice about it.”

Fred reluctantly agreed before making another move to your muffin, one that this time you anticipated and you swatted his nose with a nearby newspaper. “You have your own, you greedy pig.”

He yanked the paper from your hand, using it as a napkin before the front page caught his eye. He quickly crumpled up the paper and tossed it into a nearby waste bin, something you wouldn’t have been suspicious of had he not done it so nervously.

“Fred, what’s in the paper today?”

He shifted to put himself in between you and the wastebin, his tall figure looming over you. “Not important, just more junk that no one cares about.”

You didn’t believe him for a second. “Frederick Weasley you move this instant.” You tried pushing him out of the way but it was like moving an annoying ginger stone wall. Trying another approach, you darted to the left before doubling back and running right, but before you made it two steps he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. “Fred!”

You wiggled with all your might and finally made it out of his grasp, snatching the paper and unfolding it to read the headline.

Diagon Alley Playboy Finally Settling Down? Or Is Y/N L/N Just Another of Fred Weasley’s One Night Stands?

The color drained from your face and you slowly lowered the paper, reading the front page again and again. Attached was a blurry picture of you and Fred from the day before with you tucked into the side. The buggers at The Daily Prophet must’ve caught it through the store window.

“I’m sorry,” Fred said softly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I tried to keep things quiet, but I guess the press always finds a way in.”

You rubbed your temple slowly, trying to ignore the dread in your stomach. After seeing Harry Potter be brutally torn apart by the press for years, the last thing you wanted was rumors about you going around.

"We could have prevented this!” you exclaimed, slamming the paper onto the desk. “This is complete bullshit. We’re not even dating! I swear I’m going to march straight to their office and--”

“Don’t bother,” Fred said, completely exasperated by the constant coverage of his family. “It does absolutely nothing, trust me. As a close relative to a professional Quidditch player, The Chosen One himself, and his two best friends who literally saved the world, we’ve learned that nothing will keep them away. Especially since they pinned me as the player of the Weasley family.”

“But you’re not!” you said, getting angrier by the second. “So your relationships don’t last long, so what? You’re not some womanizing piece of shit that the papers say you are!”

Chuckling, Fred replied. “I know that, and you know that. But the rest of the world wants drama, so if they want to think I have a new girl in my bed every night I’ll let them.” He shrugged. “You get used to it after a while.”

“Well you shouldn’t have to,” you grumbled. “You’re one of the best people I know, and the world should know it too.”

Catching you off guard, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your torso and a head lay on your shoulder. “It’s ok, love, just one more day and then you can stay out of the papers forever, I promise.”

Sighing, you turned to face him and let a small smile shine through. “Thanks. But I still think it’s absolute rubbish what they’re doing to your character.”

“Me too, but at least you know what a charming and caring gentleman I am and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Aww,” you coed, “you love me don’t you?”

“Shh, don’t let the press hear! It’ll ruin the image they worked so hard to create.”

You hit your head against Fred’s chest. “Only one more day of this. One more to go.”

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

“Do you know you talk in your sleep?”

“What?” You were so busy trying to find something to wear that you had barely heard what Fred said.

“Last night, when you fell asleep. You said something funny.” He was sitting on the bed, adjusting his work tie and pulling on his socks and shoes. He looked...confused. Like he was trying to solve a complicated problem and he just couldn’t git the pieces together.

“Oh?” you said, growing nervous. Had you dreamt last night? You were racking your brain, hoping you hadn’t said something embarrassing.

You definitely had a dream, and Fred was there. You were at the shop...and Alicia came in! And…

“You were saying ‘Alicia, no, Fred’s mine not yours, I love Fred,” and umm, other stuff like that.” His face was heating up by the second, as was yours.

“Really?” you said through awkward laughs. “Must’ve been preparing for today, huh?”

Fred said nothing, instead choosing to focus on retying his shoes.

“Well,” you said, finally picking out your outfit, “I’m going to change, I’ll meet you down there later, ok?”

He nodded, still confused, and you rushed to use his bathroom before things could get more awkward.

You decided to take a nice, long shower to cool down, hoping that you could somehow wash away the embarrassment. So maybe you had a slight crush on Fred. Who could blame you? You’d been spending the last week cuddled up with him and spending so much time at the shop, not to mention acting like a couple in front of everyone. Who wouldn’t develop feelings?

But for some weird reason you had a feeling that this wasn’t a recent crush, rather something that’s been lurking right beneath the surface for a while. You groaned, hitting your head against the shower wall. This was not the time for this. You had a job to do, and Alicia would be here in 30 minutes so you had to hurry up.

Scampering down the steps 15 minutes later after using a drying spell and getting dressed, you stopped in your tracks when you saw what was happening across the shop. Alicia was here early.

From the looks of it, she had already made herself comfortable, leaning in to talk to Fred, who wasn’t doing anything to discourage the behavior. Instead, he was leaning in as well, laughing at a joke she just made.

Fury burned inside you as you watched the scene unfold. You knew from the beginning that Alicia would be the hardest ex to deal with. Not only had she been Fred’s longest and most intimate relationship to date, but she was also a really nice person, meaning you had no reason to hate her. But at this moment you did.

Alicia leaned closer, her nose almost touching Fred. What should you do? Did he want your help getting rid of her? Was he still harboring feelings and actually looking to reconnect? You saw him slowly lean in toward her, which you took as a sign to continue with your plan.

You were almost running when you reached Fred, who turned and seemed happy to see you. “Just in time,” he said the Alicia, “Alicia, you remember--”

You cut him off with a kiss, the third kiss you’d promised him. Except this one wasn’t one of the pecks you described on your terms and conditions. You pulled Fred down into one of if not the most passionate kiss you’d ever had, wrapping your arms around his neck and drawing him closer to you.

Almost immediately he pulled off of you, looking more bewildered than you had ever seen him. “I…”

“Well that was quite the spectacle.”

You looked over to where Alicia was standing, smirking at the two of you. Contrary to what you had expected, she actually seemed rather calm and actually amused at what she had just seen.

“S-sorry,” you said. Fred tried to say something but he was too dumbstruck to even get a word out. He just stood there, eyes wide and mouth twitching.

“Is this a bad time?” she asked. “I’m supposed to be meeting my fiancé for breakfast later so I can just come back another time if that works for you.”

“Your...fiancé?”

“Yeah!” Alicia beamed as she showed you her left hand, her ring finger adorned with the most beautiful engagement ring you’d ever seen. “Actually, the reason I’m here is because I just asked Fred if he wanted to be in the wedding as a groomsman. Or bridesmaid. Whatever works for him. Thankfully the big oaf said yes before you laid that on him, or else I think I’d be waiting a lot longer for an answer.”

Fred was still as frozen as ever, making you and Alicia chuckle. “Hey, it’s been forever since we’ve caught up, how about you and Fred go on a double date with me and Lee sometime?”

It took you a second to understand why Lee would be there, until it dawned on you. “You’re marrying Lee Jordan?!”

She couldn’t hold back her laughter at this, loving to see your reaction. “That I am! You’re obviously invited, I’m sending invitations out soon. I’ll hope to see you there, and don’t be afraid to reach out, alright?”

“Y-yeah, will do,” you said. Alicia looked up at Fred and then to you and winked, before waving goodbye and leaving the shop.

You refused to make eye contact with Fred, too embarrassed to even begin to talk to him. Maybe you’d just take 5 and take a walk down the street? That would help distract your brain from whatever just happened.

“Real?”

You turned around to the source of the voice, a now more interactive Fred. “What?”

“Real,” he repeated. He shook his head a few times, blinking rapidly. “Sorry, I just mean, that kiss was umm, it was real.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. The fact that you had kissed Fred, and an actual kiss at that, was finally hitting you. “Yeah, it was real, I guess.”

He took a step closer, his face assuming the puzzled look from the bedroom earlier. “Was...was what you said real too? From the dream, I mean?”

Now it was you who was frozen, feet stuck to the ground with no way out. What should you say? Confess your feelings and hope for the best? Or deny everything and try to work your way around this mess? You didn’t have time to think nor ration. Just act.

“Yeah. It was real.”

Fred nodded, pursing his lips and shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Cool.” He hesitated. “Would it be super crazy out of the blue if I asked you to maybe go out with me sometime. For real?”

A smile rose to your face, hoping that this wasn’t a joke. Slowly, almost shyly, you nodded. “Yeah, it would be a little crazy. But I’d say yes.”

Fred smiled too, a big toothy grin that only made you smile wider, before pulling you into a side hug. “Good, because you’re a little crazy too, so we’ll match on our date.”

“You’re a big dork,” you said, returning the hug. “What will the paper say when they see you with the same girl? They’ll probably explode!”

“I hope so,” he replied as he gave you a loving squeeze. “What I’m worried about is how we’re supposed to explain to George and Angelina that we’ve been faking this whole time and it’s only now getting real.”

“Eh, that’s a problem for another time. Right now, we’ve got some more pressing matters.” You gestured to the front window where a reporter was holding a huge camera, trying to snap a good picture of the two of you.

“I’ll handle it, grab me the dungbombs.”

“Yes, sir!”

You ran to assist Fred, head rushing with thoughts of first dates and future ones down the road. Of attending Lee and Alicia’s wedding together and getting completely wasted with each other. Of sleeping together each night, holding each other in an embrace that was now true and deep and caring. In a relationship that was now real.

Tag List:

@famdomhideout @amourtentiaa

#theweasleyslut's 2k writing challenge #fredweasleyimagine #fredweasley #fred #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fake dating #fake dating au #freddie

177 notes · View notes

thenonbinarydetective · 2 years

Note

Give me all your opinions on hardy boys ships

This is so vague. Do you mean in general or the show? Since I have no parameters this will be long, brutally honest, and even mean but only in places where I feel like they deserve it.

Francy: I hate it, honestly, I do. It's one of the ones where the shippers ruin it more than the material does because a large portion of them are not respectful at all if you ship either one of these characters with someone else. Also, they are frequently misogynistic, as mentioned/heavily implied in my post about there being a double standard with how Callie and Ned are treated by fans. Although speaking of the actual source material of this ship, because that does matter, a lot of it is shit. The games, the more they leaned into the more boring and fucking shit they wrote Frank. He became a dull fuckhead whose only personality traits are having a crush on a girl he might never have and being an older brother. That's it. Literally, nothing else it sucks. The show in the 70s, sexist. It's literally all sexist. Pamela Sue Martin said it herself. They purposefully made Nancy weaker and a worse character when the Hardy Boys got involved. She basically became like another Bond Girl type conquest, the only difference was that she was slightly smarter. But still needed to be saved cause she was a woman and therefore weak and defenseless and needs a man to save her. The Super Mysteries I & II, The first one is significantly worse with again how Callie was treated in the name of relationship drama. It's poorly written, they're extremely out of character most of the time and in a way that's actually shouldn't be surprising the ones where they were the most in character. The ship stuff was barely a fucking thing. They would never cheat on their partners, they wouldn't. They also wouldn't do the toxic ass bullshit they fucking did. They are not compatible as romantic partners. They are too much alike. There's nothing that they could get from each other that they don't get with people they are more compatible with. Super Sleuths and How to Be a Detective are much better crossovers because it never does anything with this shit. I literally don't care if people get mad at me for this, because it's fucking time someone actually said something after Francy shippers basically silenced everyone who disagrees with their opinions. Because y'all do that even though you pretend you don't. Just like being kinda sexist. There's a lot of sexism in this fandom if you think about what people say for more than a goddamn second.

Joe/Nancy: No. No thanks. This one just sucks. It's a bad idea

Fred (Frank/Ned): Innovative, Extraordinary, Masterpiece, Overlooked, Genius. The accidental outcome of Frank and Nancy having so much in common is that this also technically works. The only difference is that Frank is more into science than Nancy is.

Fredcy (Frank/Nancy/Ned): Eh maybe.

Joe/Ned: Eh no. It's the age difference. Unlike some people here, I do care that he's a minor. I don't care if the New York age of consent is technically 17. I know that I lived there. Does that make shipping Joe with legal adults while he only gets by on a technicality better? Absolutely the fuck not.

Frallie (Frank and Callie): I do love it. Both for the content I've gotten with it and the content I could have with it. There is so much potential to make it better than it already has been. The way they can so easily reflect Fenton and Laura the same way that with SPY Ned and Nancy reflect Kate and Carson. It's great. I like that he likes everything I love about her and vice versa. She is a great character and the perfect love interest for Frank. She is so supportive of him and I wish the world could see more of that, but again Super Mystery I has done it's damage. Doesn't mean that Hulu can't fix it cause it definitely is. Content-wise, I love that Files did make Frank completely devoted to her and never cheat on her. Although many girls tried, he told them he wasn't interested (glares at files Nedcy). They're just cute and underappreciated

Jola? (Joe/Iola): I think that's the ship name. They are adorable. I don't think they would ever work together long term. I don't even think they're soul mates, sorry Fridged! Iola but you died for nothing. I'm kidding she died for Man!Pain! I think they at least have a very cute and fun high school romance. I love the season where they tease and joke with each other. It's all adorable

Joe/Vanessa: I don't know if they ever had one. I'm gonna be honest. I don't ship them. I never have. She weirdly feels a tad bit like rebranded Iola. Like they killed Iola and then people got tired of Joe's playboy thing so they just remade Iola into Vanessa. I also just think she's a little boring. She was clearly made just to keep both of the brothers with someone. Which I don't think is necessary. Joe remaining single or with a girl of the week is a good juxtaposition with Frank's steady dating status.

Fress? (Frank/Bess): I'm not sure whether or not I just made that ship up. Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. I don't care either way. This is honestly a bit of an underrated ship. It is. They would be adorable together. I'm not kidding. She's so sweet and caring and he's a total fucking mess. Let her fix him. She could do it. Another that actually could reflect Fenton and Laura, but not in the same way.

Jess? (Bess/Joe): Again this isn't one I ship. I don't see it that much. I think they have literally only been put together because it's convenient with Francy. Because that's the only time it appears. Also completely ingenious writers putting the two characters that basically have been written to want to fuck anyone with a pulse together. It's brilliant /s.

Frank/George: Don't think there is one for this. But it has happened. In the rare crossovers where Francy thankfully doesn't exist, this occasionally happens. It's not the worst. I'm not one of the people that stereotypes George as a butch lesbian, because I like lesbians so I'm smart enough and respectful enough to not do that shit. They wouldn't be that bad together honestly.

Joe/George: A bit like the above. It's not really the worst. They're both impulsive and athletic and would fight anything. I weirdly like it. I would want them to just fight bad guys together and then make out because that would be their main thing.

Frank/Chet: No. not a thing for me

Joe/Chet: Same as above

Joe/Phil: Better off as friends

Chet/Phil or Chet/Tony or Chet/Book!Biff: I think Chet might be their token straight in my mind, so the answer across the board.

TV!Chet/TV!Biff: Fuck no

TV!Biff/TV!Phil: It's cute. Slightly prefer the book version where it's gay and I honestly could see it. For the show, I'll be fine with the straight version lmao

Biff/Frank: Book obviously. Honestly a maybe. He's a complete himbo idiot and Frank's smart. So like a maybe there

Joe/Biff: Yes, meathead jocks. Absolutely

Tony/Biff: Actually into this one the most. I love the height difference. We all know that Tony and Jerry had a bad breakup that resulted in Jerry no longer being a part of the group and he rebounded with Biff but it turned out better than he thought and they stayed together.

Tony/Frank: Nah.

Tony/Joe: No

Callie/Nancy: Honestly maybe this is the dream. This could be the dream.

Trudy/Jesse: FUCKING LOVE IT. I LOVE THEM. THEY'RE PERFECT

Fenton/Laura: I wish they had better names to create a ship name with because I love them so fucking much. I really do ship their parents. They're so cute when they're allowed romantic moments lmao. Love the tragic backstories and height difference trope between them. I love how strongly it is implied that she is was possibly the first person in Fenton's life to support him becoming a private investigator because what's left of his family hates it. They love and support their dumbass kids. Love that he genuinely respects her opinions and her help when she helps him on cases, because that is actually canon. They're just amazing and sexy parents, I love them and I love that they love each other.

Fenton/Laura/Me: The truest dream that anyone (me) could ever dream /hj

Fenton/Laura/Carson: I'm gonna admit that I have thought about this before and the thoughts have never been negative.

Hardy Boys Incest: Fuck no fuck no fuck no. Any disgusting fucks like that shit can literally get the fuck off my page and turn themselves into the police. Y'all are fucking gross

Any other ship I didn't mention: Assume either no or maybe

Any other ships that include a minor being shipped with a legal adult or incest: Assume the answer is "Fuck off you disgusting fucks and stay the fuck away from me."

Does that answer your question? lmao

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l4verq · 3 years

Text

fight back | b.b

bucky barnes x enhanced!reader

in which bucky won’t lay a hand on you no matter what :(

tags : a little brawl, fluff cause icanthelpmyself, mentions of blood, john walker (idk if we're supposed to like him now ??) bucky is a cat lady okk

fic : one shot

a/n : inspired by that scene in the final ep of tfatws when karli is screaming at sam to fight back lol😳

|| gif by @unearthlydust ||

one world, one people.

you repeat it in your head one more time, when he comes into view, vibranium gleaming onyx with loops of gold.

you know that he knows you’re here, back to the wall a few feet away, peeking at him.

he doesn’t know that you let him know.

doesn’t know that you laid out a trap and just like the foolish mouse, he walked right into the lion’s den.

although you’re not sure who the fool actually is, when you meet his eyes, knees almost buckling at the sight just cause of how long it’s been without them.

“y/n.” he breathes out, almost in disbelief.

it’s been fourteen months since he woke up to an empty bed and a handwritten goodbye letter folded in a clean white envelope, tucked under a pillow still marked by the soft indentation of your head.

fourteen months since you took off in the dead of night, pulling your- his hood over your head, the cold wind nipping at your skin, almost like it was punishing you.

maybe, it saw what you did.

oh, but fred definitely saw what you did, that damn cat always followed you two around even though it’s owner was the blonde next door. her name wasn’t even fred, bucky came up with it after the third time it snuck into the apartment.

he swore he hated it but always seemed to have a treat lying around in case it did come.

and it did, a lot. neglected by it’s owner, it chose to seek comfort in the couple next door, and sometimes a meal or two.

“sorry, no treat today bub.”

fred scowled - honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if an actual human was living in it - mewling as it came up to you for the usual chin rubs and cooes.

you sighed, caving into it’s antics, squatting to pet it.

cradling it’s head into your palm, she was purring, a very uncommon sight. fred doesn’t purr, she scratches and hisses at anything and everything that moves.

“you’re particularly nice today.” you commented, getting up. it mewled even louder this time but you turned on your heels and headed for the stairs.

you were already late.

your legs picked up pace quickly, easily crossing multiple blocks over in a few long strides owing to the blue serum coursing through your veins.

though your mind remained stationary, fixated on a single face, how it’d crumble at the sight of the letter, how he’d probably end up hating you.

“took you long enough.”

her auburn locks were tied into a loose braid that curved around her neck, the tip sat just below her collarbone, a piss poor job held together by a thin maroon colored band.

it was quintessentially her, the lack of utter patience to spend two minutes looping three knots of hair one over the other.

you jogged over to the other side of the black suv, noticing a stark white rectangle where a liscence plate should be.

“he’s knocked out cold,” you asked as soon as you grabbed the door handle open, “how?”

lazropthalein.

it came in the mail in a brown package, no return address. bucky wasn’t home, he had a scheduled therapy session down the block.

just a pinch is enough.

the text from the unknown number read.

it had no odour, a clean, white colour to it that blended in seamlessly with the flour.

“you baked without me?” bucky gasped, dramatically, hand covering his gaping mouth. his other hand carried two plastic bags, filled to the brim, a purple razor was poking out the top.

he even had to drop the poor bags on the floor, just to emphasize the utter shock he felt.

“i got bored.” you giggled, wiping the countertop with a wet cloth, remnants of flour on the sleek marble turning goopy under it.

“traitor.”

“it’s just cupcakes.”

“still a cake.”

you sighed, “you’re a five year old.”

he huffed, trudging towards the living room, shoulders hunched to really hone in on just how devastating this was for him.

“don’t i get a hug?” you held your arms out, making grabby hands, following him.

apparently, the devastation was to the point where he had to bring out the big guns, the sad baby blues.

the act lasted for another minute? at best. hours later, he was happily munching away.

“i know why it tastes so good.” he moaned, smacking his lips.

your smile faltered a little, did he kn- no, there’s no way he could have known. you burned that little plastic bag as soon as you dumped a pinch in.

“yea?”

he grinned, popping the last bit left in “it was made with your love.”

“how did it work?” your voice rose several octaves higher, amplified further by the cool, silent night.

drugs and sedatives don’t work on supersoldiers yet a certain blue eyed one was back home, unmoving even if you screamed right into his ears.

“dr wilfred, he invented it. the power broker wanted something to balance out our,” she flared her hands at both of you, “super-soldierness, so that we don’t have an upper hand when all’s said and done.”

would the either of you even be alive when all was said and done?

“look, i know you didn’t want to do this but james, he won’t understand. he’s not one o-..”

“yea, can we jus- let’s just get out of here.” you get in beside her, whipping the seatbelt over your torso.

the car was stuffy, felt like a choke around your neck that only seemed to tighten more and more.

“if we go now, there’s no coming back.” she glances at you, hand curled over the gearstick ready to position it in place.

she was giving you an out, one last chance. karli was a lot of things and having a heart inside that cold, bitchy exterior was one.

“i know.”

you sunk deeper into your seat, the hoodie had a faint smell of burnt toast and that cologne which was on sale, almost half off if you cut out the taxes.

it smelled like him, too much like him.

until it didn’t after a few days. but you still slept with it, just outright refusing to wash it despite karli’s snarky remarks about hygiene.

hygiene could go fuck herself, for all you know.

compared to the motels and basements you guys shifted around in, that hoodie was a doctor’s scrubs.

when the moon hung low on the black sky, you tried not to think about him too much. the silence didn’t help, you needed something to drown out your thoughts. that’s when the ‘socialising’ with the other flag smashers started. they were nice.

nice cause you were the leader’s little sister. but also a huge fucking liability because of a certain supersoldier hot on their heels in search of you, ruining every goddamn plan so their niceness was.. limited.

karli was a natural when it came to it, all of it. the talking, rallying of supporters - fuck, she just had a way with words. she could make you believe she hung up the stars in the sky.

probably how she convinced you that holding a room chock full of council members hostage right smack in the middle of nyc was a good idea.

the only idea, more precisely.

you guys had the upper hand, more than a handful supersoldiers at your disposal, capable of taking down the entire military force if you so pleased.

the only playing card they had was one supersoldier, who was better off distracted, kept off the field.

so who better to send to do the deed than the love of his life.

“fred had a baby. multiple babies, spawn of the devil if you ask me. always running around, thrashing the place up.” he takes small steps towards you, slow and calculated, as if a lion stalking around a prey.

“you shouldn’t be here.” you lie through your teeth, a tiny white compared to the ones that’ve rolled off your tongue before.

“i think the neighbours call me a cat lady now,” his eyes shift around and he leans in to whisper, “they haven’t even seen my knitting skills yet.”

“stop.” you think you said it or much rather whispered it, your voice was failing you. he’s getting close, too close for your liking so why aren’t you backing away from him?

“fred misses you, you know. she wonders where you went.” he smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

the hairs on your neck shoot up, a slight twitch of your brow. the way bucky’s ear perk up, you realise it’s not just you and him here anymore.

someone else has arrived.

“i’ve got it handled, john.” bucky turns around, plants him directly infront of you, blocking john’s view of you.

sure enough, it’s john limping in, a nasty gash across his chest.

your blood runs cold because this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

john isn’t supposed to be here, he’s supposed to be fighting.. oh god. you notice the various splatters of blood on his cowl, on his boot, on his shield.

it’s too much blood from a guy who’s barely bleeding.

“really? i was thinking you should do more than just talk.” he spits on the ground and wipes his mouth.

you notice, the spit’s all blood too.

“i’m giving you a chance to walk away, right now.”

john snorts, leaning sideways to get a view of you, neck craned out.

“and leave this prize all to yourself?” he grins, “i’d be an idiot.”

“you have a death wish then.” you lift your chin a little higher, praying your quickening heartbeat doesn’t give away your calm exterior.

john whistles, grimacing as he straightens, “so, she does talk.”

you scowl, crossing your arms.

he’s in bad shape. he has no chance, not that he ever did even in his best shape. he knows that too yet he’s still here. that sends a chill up your spine.

“go, i got this.” bucky tips his head, glancing at you.

“i don’t need you to save me.” you hiss at him, which comes out a little harsher than you intended. an apology dies in your throat as he flinches just the slightest.

“trouble in paradise?” john’s barely finished saying it before he’s reached behind his back and swinging the vibranium

you hear it before you see it stopped mid air by a gloved hand. then you charge.

it’s all a hazy mix of blue and red until your fist connects with his jaw, sound of something breaking ringing in your ear.

something pulls your waist back, a grip far too strong to be just flesh.

“go, i’ll ta-..” bucky’s barely said anything before an upward cut from john connects to his neck, violent coughs ensuing.

you grip john’s arm before he’s even retracted it back, jump up his back, settling around his neck and twist until you hear a crack and a bloodcurling scream following suit.

he whips his head back right into your stomach, seizes that moment when the wind knocks out of you to pull you by your hair off him.

“i told you to go.” bucky growls, kicking john right in the shin that makes him kneel and you almost fall off but you keep your fingers tightly looped around john’s hair, pulling as hard you can.

but he’s relentless.

your head hits something hard and you realise you’re on the ground now, legs loosely around john’s shoulders, him also on the ground.

it’s like the both of you realise at the same time but you’re quicker. your legs tighten around his neck, against the spot where a thick neck muscle throbs. he claws desperately around, straining for oxygen

soon, his hands lull down, the dull thud on the ground confirming his unconsciousness.

“are you hurt?” bucky’s hovering over you, seemingly unfazed by john’s neck in a chokehold by your legs right now.

you reject his hand he extends and push yourself off the gravelly concrete on to your feet.

“this was a mistake.” you trail off, saying it more to your own self.

you weren’t the lion, you were the stupid fox who thought it was.

stupid enough to believe you were over bucky and that everything wouldn’t come rushing back as soon as you laid eyes on him.

he whips you around by your hand and before you know it, he’s already caught your other fist heading for his sternum. you barely feel the grip, it’s soft, just so incredibly soft and fits so right.

you hate it.

rage bubbles inside you, mostly at yourself. partly at him because he’s not screaming at you or slamming you against the wall or jus- anything.

you wrench your hand away, land a swing which he does nothing to block. his grip on your other hand loosens and he still does nothing when another hit to the jaw leaves him staggering,

instead, he looks at you softly as if resigning himself to your anger, to let it simmer off.

“fight back!” you scream, outstretched palms pushing him back.

he stumbles a few steps back, hands reaching out to yours resting on his chest, fingers intertwining yours tightly.

“stop.” it’s a soft plead, tears spiking the corners of his eyes.

“hit me!” you’re practically begging at this point, thrashing your arms around.

his hands grapple at your shoulders, bringing you to his chest, “it’s okay.”

he smells so sweet, just so sweet that you almost believe him.

“i drugged you and i left you and i-,” you inhale sharply, “i killed so many people, bucky.”

the last fourteen months had escalated quickly from doing what’s right to doing what’s needed, lines blurred between moral ethics and survival.

“it’s okay.” he repeats, hand patting your hair, gentle and soothing. your body betrays you, sinking into his touch, his warmth.

“you should hate me.” you whimper.

you wouldn’t blame him if he did. you doubt he could hate you more than you already did yourself.

he pulls back, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “i couldn’t if i tried.”

god, why does he have to be so.. bucky?

frustated, you spit out, “this? this was a distraction to separate you and sam.”

you don’t say it but it’s understood, understood that you wouldn’t have met him if not for it.

the inner corners of his brows angle up slightly, a ghost of a smile on his lips, “i know.”

your breath hitches, if he knows then wh-

“then, why..?”

you finally look up at him, vision blurry because of the stupid tears pooling at your eyes.

his thumb wipes away a tear dribbling down your cheek, the coldness of the metal a clear contrast to the warm moisture, “you know why.”

a/n : this one’s been sitting pretty, collecting cobwebs in my drafts so thought i’d take it out lol, also haven’t been posting fics in a whileeee cause im dumb and i’ve been working on multiple things all at once lol yea this is me rambling and also i just wanna say that i. love. folklore. sm. that whole album has me crying and sad and just :((

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fic #james bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #fatws bucky #fatws #flag smashers #marvel #mcu

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