"Here," Carol said, trying to hand Daryl the small package of fresh bread and dried fruit she'd traded some of her contraband goods for. But he wasn't even looking at her. His eyes were fixed on you as you were receding into the crowd. "Daryl," she said, smiling to herself.
"Huh?" He finally realized she was holding the little package out for him. "Oh. Thanks," he murmured. But his eyes went straight back to looking for you, but you were gone. He cleared his throat a little abashedly. "Who was that? That ya were talkin' to," he asked, unable to stop himself.
Carol was still smiling to herself. "Just another survivor I've connected with," she answered. "Should I introduce you?" Her smile widened.
"What? No—" he said quickly, ducking his head under the pretense of looking at the goods she'd handed him, letting his hair curtain across his face. "I was just curious..."
"Mhmm," she hummed knowingly. "I've been meaning to introduce you actually," Carol replied.
"Wh—why?"
"Oh—no reason," she shrugged. But her knowing smile was still there and this time Daryl marked it.
His eyes narrowed. "Shut up," he growled, faking annoyance.
"I just have a feeling you two are—well—I think you'll get along..."
I just found the spider who moved into the top of my gecko 's stump wet hide and caught a cricket many times her own size (and now she's 20x larger than at the start of the week) has been... busy.
So busy.
I don't know what to do with this Amazon woman and her baby daddy and all their unborn children. I would let them hatch outside but it's winter and I don't want to kill them.
Lolth help me, I get myself into problems regular people would never dream of.
"Oh yeah it's true, I totally made a philosopher's stone, yeah! It came outta me, thought I'd coughed up a damn organ or like, y'know in Silent Hill when she throws up the-"
"-hill three..."
"Right in Silent Hill 3 when uh, what's her name, Hayley?"
"Heather."
"Right yeah Heather she coughs up a lil red ball or somethin... it's god? I remember that right?"
"Yeah, it was God."
"Right, wild game. But it was like that except it was shiny and hard. And I thought 'boy am i coughin up marbles? am I an oyster here?' but - and get this - I picked it up and it was juicy..."
"The fuck you mean 'Juicy'?"
"Hah, now I got your attention. Yeah like it was rock-solid but it was still pumpin out juice. Smelled real good, too."
"Okay... so when'd you figure it out?"
"That it smelled good?"
"No, that it was the fuck-- THE fucking Philosopher's Stone?"
"Minute one, my brother. You cough up a juicy marble smellin THAT good, you're goin in for a slurp NQA. No Questions Asked."
"...And you knew instantly? You'd slurped the Juicy Marble of Eternal Life??"
"Hell yeah I knew. Couple sips and I knew then and there I-"
"Couple? You went back for a second lick of this thing you'd coughed up MOMENTS prior?"
"-Couple sips and I knew then and there I was on my LFS. Livin Forever Shit"
"Look, that's great and all, but why the hell are you calling us?"
"That's what I been tryna say! I wanna cancel. Don't need your shit anymore, health insurance, pet insurance..."
"You gave some to your dog?"
"You wouldn't let your dog live forever?? Last livin guy on earth, you think I'm doin that alone? You seen I Am Legend?"
"Wait, you don't plan on sharing it with anyone else? Anyone?"
"Yeah yeah, I know what you're askin. NCD, man. No-"
"-Can Do, right. But jus-- like y-- NOBODY else gets the Gift of Eternal Life??"
"Nahh man, that thing came outta me, I dunno if it's some important shit that makes my insides work, I stuffed it back in there post-haste. Two slurps for me, two licks for Francis, back down the hatch. Y'know how Jackie Kennedy was grabbin at those brains, maybe she was cookin..."
"Well shit. Let's say I believe a single word of this, that's... I mean, it's unbelievably selfish, right? You have this- ghh wait, you swallowed it after the dog licked it?"
"Look. Will you cancel my stuff or not?"
"Yeah. Okay, whatever. It's cancelled. Good luck with your whole living forever thing."
-- CALL RECORDED FOR TRAINING PURPOSES. AGENT RECEIVED DISCIPLINARY ACTION FOR CANCELLING ACTIVE CONTRACTS WITHOUT FIRST TRANSFERRING THE CUSTOMER TO OUR RETENTIONS TEAM --
idk if you grew up around farms but when you were learning about animal husbandry and farming practices did you ever consider going vegan/vegetarian? just asking because i have a couple of friends like that and sometimes learn something that makes me totally get it. (disclaimer: i know veganism places other demands on the environment and isn't an attainable lifestyle for everyone)
I didn't grow up around farms, but my parents were never interested in hiding where food came from. My mom grew vegetables in the garden and we knew what farms for animals were. I grew up in suburbia, but I remember even at about 6 years old, I was making plans for living on a farm when I grew up. My cousin and I hatched plans every family gathering about how we would get a farm so our parents couldn't tell us what animals we could keep. I distinctly remember sitting on the floor with her explaining that a farm house would cost us about $80,000 (????? Where did I get that number, I have no idea, but damn I was close, this place was $90k), and how we could keep a couple of cows for milk, and chickens for eggs. I'm not sure at six I grasped the "live animals -> meat" process, but at no point in my life do I remember being surprised or horrified that this would be the case. Cats hunt kill and eat mice and birds, wolves hunt kill and eat deer, humans raise kill and eat cows and chickens and pigs. Some animals eat other animals, and that was never a surprise to me.
The only thing that (briefly, when I was a child) made me want to be vegetarian was how truly terrible my father was at cooking any kind of meat. His philosophy, I think, was that you should cake the meat in black pepper and then cook the meat until it is leather and/or so closely resembles charcoal briquettes that you can use it to cook the next meat with. I, for some reason, have a practically pathological aversion to anything which even slightly has a browned/overcooked smell or taste to it now, surely unconnected. It also turns out I'm mildly allergic to black pepper, and get sick to my stomach when eating it which would explain why I thought I just hated meat, because every time I ate it at home I felt sick. Combine that with how good my mom was at cooking vegetables, and yeah, I considered maybe I was an herbivore (also nothing wrong with that, some animals don't eat meat, that wouldn't have been a surprise to me either).
However, I have never and would never consider going vegan for any reason that wasn't "your body has decided to be violently allergic to all animal products of every kind and you will die if you eat or use them" but even then, idk. It would be a tough choice. There's a quality of life (my life) issue there. Once I left home for college and started cooking my own meat and skipping the pepper, it turns out I really like meat. I have absolutely no desire to not eat meat because of some (incorrectly) perceived morality surrounding it. Animals eat meat. Humans are a kind of animal, adapted to eating meat and plants. I am human.
So the only real thing is understanding the differences between factory farming (which has so much room for improvement in animal care and well-being) and small farms raising their own animals for food, where they treat the animals well. And hunting. I'm not about to stop eating meat, I see nothing morally wrong with it, and there's nothing medically wrong with it for me. But I do try to source much of it from locally raised animals that were treated well (either by myself or by others in my community), or that were taken legally during legal hunting seasons (MOST of my red meat is venison from the one deer I get a year).
Like, I could get my eggs from a factory farm (ie, the supermarket) that packs their birds into battery caging, OR I could get them from my neighbor down the street who has 50-some chickens that free range their 40 acres all day every day and gather around her back door every evening waiting for her to come out and walk around with a big bowl of fresh mash (wet feed, veggies, mealworms, etc), putting scoops in various bowls around her yard as a bedtime treat (they have regular feed 24/7, too). I could get beef from a supermarket (who got it from a big factory farm that may or may not have their cattle on pasture, who may or may not treat them the way I hope they do) OR I can talk to the mini Dexter/highland breeder (called "2 men and a hen"!) in my state that pastures and names all their cattle and posts videos of them feeding treats and learning how to give them better lives and improve the breed, because they sell their extra steers and cows by quarters, halves, or wholes when it's time to have them processed, and know that that animal, was spoiled absolutely fucking ROTTEN because I see videos of them on Facebook almost every day. AND I would support a local small queer farm in the process.
I could buy pork from the supermarket that looks like this
Orrrr I could talk to the Dexter guys from above that also raise mangalitsa pigs and get some from them
Literally the only non-bacon pork I've ever considered voluntarily eating, because it looks amazing, and I love watching their pigs run around their pasture/Forest with piglets every year. I mean, look at these guys!
Those animals are going to live their best lives running around doing hog shit to their heart's content, and have one bad day at the end, and become a natural part of my food chain. I'm okay with that, actually. I like that. The animals are not immortal, they will die no matter what anyone does, and processing them for food is imo better than burying them or letting them rot.
So like. Yeah, man, there are things I learned about animal husbandry and farming that suck, but most of them regard practices and farms that have outgrown their ability to care for the lives in their hands as anything other than an amount of money. But that's not everyone, and it's not inherent to farming. And I have the ability to choose what kind of farming and what kind of farmers I want to support. Not everyone does, but I do, and tbh I think a lot of people have more choice than they think they do (and in before the bad faith arguments, I'm not talking about, like, people living in food deserts or anything, I mean like, people who have easy access to food and the means to pay for it never thinking twice about maybe having a gander around for local farms and trying to find small local operations that treat their animals well to support instead, or even raising some of their own like quail or meat rabbits or something). It takes time, effort, and yeah, usually more money than the supermarket charges to find someone local and get meat from them. But like I said before... Worth it.
Hi! What are your thoughts on the fourth arc so far? Are you going to read it? (idk if you've read arc 3 yet, but if you haven't I'd recommend at least book 11, it's great) I personally hope that Tui plans out the ending a bit better. Imo all the arcs start really well but have weak endings due to random elements being brought up at the last second or having to deal with an inconvenient set up in the early story. Also, I think Mulberry would look fantastic in your style. Have a nice day 🐉
Mulberry, as I would draw him. I don't really know anything about him yet, so it's difficult to pin down a fitting vibe for him. I tried to lean into the image of a half-ripe mulberry with the gradient on his neck. I think he looks cute like that.
I pretty much agree with your perspective on how the longform arcs usually progress. It wasn't as pronounced in the first arc, but from arc 2 onwards you often had the first book being really good and fresh. You can really feel the vibrant new ideas and excitement. The one after might also still be good. Then by the mid-point you can feel that the story is starting to get bored of itself; characters and developments get abruptly dropped or hastily ended. The fourth book then does a massive swerve into a wild new direction, concluding with an ending in the fifth that is either under-baked, not fully set-up, or far-fetched.
I heard that this arc is only going to be three books long (apparently this is just an unverified statement at present time; don't take it as fact), so that is probably a good idea. Even though personally I would like to see more books that are completely self-contained, like Legends: Darkstalker.
As for my opinion on arc 4... Well, I don't really have much of one since it's not out yet. I like Umber, I have mixed feelings on how arc 2 handled Sora... I'm glad Umber seems to still be gay. But there was this blurb a while ago that gave me some thoughts.
Umber was never supposed to be a hero . . . .
As the youngest sibling of his MudWing hatching, Umber doesn't have the responsibilities of his bigwings, Reed, nor the heroic destiny prophesied for his brother, Clay. He's always been content with his role as the cheerful, goofy, little brother. But when his sister, Sora, causes a tragedy at Jade Mountain Academy, Umber finds himself on the run and thrown into a whole new role--that of protector.
I find this very funny, the idea that Umber is "the youngest sibling" in any appreciable sense. From what we know, the special sibling bond that Mudwings experience happens between hatchlings of the same clutch, meaning all members in a sibling unit are roughly the same age. So unless Reed decided to carry Umber's unhatched egg around for a year or so as a prank or fashion statement, Umber is "the youngest sibling" by a measure of a few minutes at most. Umber, Reed, and Clay are the same age.
Admittedly, I don't have a twin sibling and thus I don't know whether a lot of twins usually define themselves by the order they were born. Maybe they do. I just find this description a bit misleading because to me it almost tries to imply there are full years separating those siblings.
I also never got the impression that Umber didn't have a defined role or responsibility within the group. When Sutherland released that dragon guide book a while ago, she clarified that all sibling units have one dragon who acts as the "face", who reaches out to other units and makes connections, mediates. When I read that I immediately thought "Yes! That's what Umber is! He was the first one to reach out to Clay when he noticed him, that role fits him perfectly. That's what he does."
It made sense to me. He was the social one, the one who's easy to talk to. He was the first to talk to Clay, and I assume he was also the one who suggested to Turtle to sleep back-to-back when he noticed Turtle's discomfort with being alone. Even when he took Sora and fled with her, that read to me as an extension of his role as the mediator, brokering a sort of "truce" between society and his sister.
Umber intuitively picks up on the needs of those around him, and then works to find the best strategy to resolve those needs.
So I guess if I have any thoughts about arc 4, it is my hope they will remember this aspect of Umber's characterization. That he is very socially intelligent and attentive. That he's easy-going because it makes him more approachable, not because he doesn't care. I hope they won't make him an unreliable goofball who needs to learn the value of responsibility. Because he already knows. He's been through a war and he's lost a sister.
oneshot | lazy drabble, just a fun idea that popped in my head | caleb x nonmc wife | mc as caleb's little sister | feat gideon | with oc named bob | mdni | read at your own risk
story masterlist : love and deepspace
The first two days at Skyhaven were a blur of the usual military shit and some… weird stuff happening around.
You spent day one getting your bearings, learning the layout of the fleet's new home. It was a normal day—if there was such a thing for a newly appointed lieutenant colonel—filled with the usual pre-transfer chaos and the exhaustion that comes with it.
The thing is, your transfer papers, along with Caleb's, got misrouted and mishandled by some new intern. Although, this unfortunate mishap gave you and Caleb a bit more time to prepare for your new role, also a bit more time for yourselves, since everybody deserves a breather, a pause, a couple of slow days before the real load of work pours heavily on your laps.
Day two was when things started to get... interesting.
In the women's restroom, hushed voices caught your attention. You froze, sitting silently in the cubicle as the name Caleb reached your ears. Your husband.
You strained to listen, and your heart sank when you heard phrases like "one-night stand," "not what was expected," and "boring."
A strange mix of fury and confusion swirled inside you.
Nobody here knew Caleb. His transfer papers were mishandled; no photos or personal details had been released. This was a puzzle you couldn't solve by just fuming, so you decided to investigate.
Your search led you to the break room, where you were stirring your coffee, deep in thought.
"I haven't seen you before," a voice said, pulling you from your reverie. You turned to see a man, about 5'7", with a confident, cocky smirk. "Pretty sure I'd remember someone like you around here. You new?" he continued.
You gave a polite nod, decided to keep your identity hidden and simply told him that you were a new pilot, not exactly lying, but entirely revealing who you really are. Well, not yet.
"Hm, I see," he said, puffing out his chest. "If you need a tour guide, I'm more than happy to be of help. After all, that's what I'm here for as the colonel."
His words hit you like a punch to the gut. The colonel? That's your husband. The audacity of this man made you want to pour your hot coffee on him.
"Perks of knowing the colonel, maybe you can be a favorite," he said, his eyes scanning your body. "Maybe I could help you get used to the whole place."
You feigned confusion. "Sorry… You're the… Colonel?"
His smirk widened as if you were playing hard to get. "Yes, Colonel Caleb. Might want to remember that, Miss Pilot."
And just like that, the puzzle pieces fell into place. This creep was using your husband's identity to hook up with women. You were both disgusted and relieved. Relieved because you hadn't called Caleb in a fit of rage.
You had a far better idea.
That night, you called your husband and hatched a plan.
"So, what you're saying is you want me to pretend I'm not the colonel… for… entertainment purposes?" Caleb's voice was low, a hint of suspicion and amusement laced in his words.
"Just for a couple of days," you purred into the phone. "We can pretend we're just two new pilots. Nobody knows who we are. It'll give us a chance to see how the fleet really operates." You kept the real reason to yourself, not wanting to spoil the surprise.
"You're up to something, aren't you, sweetie?" he asked, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "You're trying to get me to roleplay? I didn't know you had this kink."
"Maaaaaybe," you hummed seductively. "I promise you'll find it interesting. You can punish me if you don't."
A long, slow groan came through the line, "I swear, your devious mind is going to be the death of me. I'll take Gideon with me tomorrow. It's been a while since I've flown a jet."
"Perfect. I can't wait to see my handsome pilot hubby."
His voice grew husky. "A couple more hours, baby. I'm going to get there so fast, Gideon will just have to shut up if I speed over to Skyhaven. I need you so bad. Need to be inside you really soon."
"Mmm. I'll be counting every minute, Colonel," you whispered, using the name you knew would drive him crazy.
"Fuck," he grunted. "I'm going to fuck that pretty cunt as soon as I get there."
The words sent a shiver through you, a wave of heat pooling between your legs. You helped him finish over the phone, his groans and your whimpers filling the silent room. You both lay on your pillows, falling asleep with the video chat still open, your faces on the screen, the only comfort that brought you and your husband during the days when you're apart.
The next day, you waited in Caleb's office, a nervous thrill coursing through you. You were briefing him about your observations of the fleet, but you hadn't told him about the rumors or your encounter with the fake colonel. You were saving that for a face-to-face reaction.
Hours ticked by, and just before noon, he walked through the door.
He locked it behind him, dropped his duffle bag, and in a flash, your legs were wrapped around his waist. He gripped your thighs, his mouth on yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. Without a word, he sat you on the edge of his huge mahogany desk, his hands pushing your skirt up, pulling your underwear to the side. He didn't have the patience to remove it, and neither did you.
With a restrained growl, he pushed inside you, filling you with a familiar, aching warmth.
"Fuck, you're so good, so tight," he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "Missed my wife so bad. You feel so fucking good."
Caleb continued to ram himself inside your aching core, lips covering the bare skin he could reach, hands gripping your bare flesh firmly, as he savored the sensation of your walls enveloping every part of his length, being coated with your juices, as he hit those spots that made you see the stars, made you reach the heavens, made you moan his name so seductively that almost made him lose his control.
"Ooh fuck, Caleb," you moaned, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, aching to feel the warmth of his bare skin against yours, words spilling out of your lips without a thought in mind, just wanting more, begging for more, greedy to take what he could offer.
"Please, Caleb… More… Fuck."
You felt his chest vibrate from his low grunts and groans, his eyes never leaving yours, his actions so erratic, so intense and needy that beads of sweat were trailing on his forehead, his neck, his chest, making him look so provocative, making you lose yourself from the feeling of his rigid muscles and toned abs under your palm.
He thrust violently, the desk shaking under you. "I swear my - fuck - hand is not enough - oh shit - your pussy feels so - oh damn - perfect."
You couldn't form a coherent thought, your mind a mess of pleasure. All you could do was cling to him, watching his face contort with need and desire, your legs wrapped around his waist so tight, while he continue to wreck you, continue to get an orgasm after another, while his own is building up fast.
"That's it, baby, give me one more," he rasped in your ear. "I need you to milk my fucking cock dry. Come on, baby, let go for me once again."
You did, and he followed not long after, his pace fast and frantic, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as your toes curled in the intensity of your shared climax.
You remained in each other's arms for a few minutes, basking in the aftermath. "Fuck, that was intense," he panted. "We better clean up, or else I won't be able to stop myself and fuck you until you can't walk."
"You're impossible, Caleb," you panted, letting your head fall on his desk, smiling softly while massaging his damp locks, "I missed you so much."
"Me too, sweetie," Caleb gave you a boyish grin, face nuzzled between the valley of your breasts in pure contentment as if it's exactly where he belongs, "Almost left Gideon's ass behind. I missed you so bad."
You hummed in satisfaction, tummy filled with fluttery butterflies, as you lightly pushed your self to sit up, making Caleb pull away reluctantly but only after you gave him another affectionate kiss.
After you both got decent, he put on a gray button-up shirt and his leather straps, and your eyes went straight to his chest, the straps doing wonders for his physique. He chuckled, calling your attention back to his face.
"Keep doing that, and I swear you won't be able to walk for a week, darling." He gave your ass a playful squeeze as you left his office.
The next hours went in a blur of meetings and briefings.
You and Caleb had managed to maintain your cover of being the new pilots. He watched from the sidelines with an amused smirk as you efficiently handled the day's tasks, acting as someone superior than him since you came to Skyhaven earlier than he did, your authority evident in every word and gesture.
He followed you around as you gave him a tour of the base, told him about your observations and assessment and of course, he found your playful manipulation of the situation utterly intoxicating, even if he still has no clue about the rest of your plans.
You were sitting in the break room, a steaming mug of coffee in your hands, when you saw him. The fake-Colonel, Bob, looking as smug as ever. You found out that Bob is actually the copy machine guy, the one who does the errand for the officers, and somehow the guy actually thought it's a good idea to use Caleb's identity to get some clueless women to sleep with his creepy ass.
Just then, the door to the break room opened and you gave a silent signal at Caleb to play along as Bob walked in, clipboard in hand, a smug look on his face. You saw the moment his eyes landed on you, and his expression instantly brightened.
"I knew I'd see you here again, Miss Pilot," he said, puffing out his chest and ignoring Caleb entirely. "Did you rethink my offer from yesterday?"
You felt Caleb stiffen beside you, his jaw tightening. You gave him a quick, subtle kick to the leg under the table and a mischievous glint in your eyes. He shot you a look that clearly said, 'What the hell are you doing?' but he stayed silent.
"Sorry, Colonel," you said, your voice dripping with faux politeness, "I haven't changed my mind. I'm really not interested."
Bob's face fell, but he quickly recovered, his eyes narrowing as he finally noticed Caleb. "And who is this?"
Caleb simply shrugged, his expression a mask of playful insolence. "Just... a new pilot. Only arrived this morning." His eyes never left yours, a silent challenge in their depths.
Bob eyed him from head to toe, a look of annoyance on his face. "Is he the reason you declined my invitation?"
You hummed, your foot now rubbing against Caleb's calf under the table. You felt him tense, a flicker of heat sparking in his eyes. "I believe that's none of your business, Colonel."
"You'd rather sit with a… with a... rookie," Bob spat the words out as if they were poison, "when you could have fun with the colonel himself?"
You smiled, staring directly into Caleb's eyes, your foot moving higher up his leg.
"Well, you could punish me for that, Colonel," you said, your voice a silken thread of temptation. You leaned forward, the motion subtle, and your foot came to rest on the inside of Caleb's thigh. "Write me up for… hmmm… say… insubordination." You emphasized the word, your gaze locked with Caleb's.
You saw the immediate shift in his expression. The playfulness was gone, replaced by a dark, hungry intensity. His eyes, now the color of dark galaxy, bore into yours. Bob was an afterthought. All that mattered was the silent, sizzling communication happening between you and Caleb.
Bob, completely offended, was flustered. "You little…"
But he didn't get to finish.
Caleb stood abruptly, a silent, powerful command in his every movement. He didn't even bother to glance at Bob. His towering height, his sheer presence, was enough to make the other man take a step back.
Caleb simply walked over to the counter, grabbed a couple packets of cream for his coffee, and then returned to his seat. The entire action was so filled with unspoken authority that it left Bob sputtering, his face a bright, mottled red.
You leaned back, a bored look on your face. "I'll be waiting for that write-up, Colonel," you said, your tone mocking.
Bob, defeated, huffed and stormed off. The moment the door swung shut, you both burst into laughter. You laughed so hard your sides ached, tears welling in your eyes. Caleb's laughter was deep and hearty, a sound you hadn't realized you'd missed so much.
That's when Gideon walked in, completely bewildered by the scene. You explained everything, telling them about the rumors you had heard in the restroom—that the colonel's dick was small and he had no stamina in bed—to which you revealed that the poor women were fooled by Bob and used Caleb's identity to get into their pants.
Gideon wasn't sure whether to be angry for his friend or join in the amusement. He's wondering how these rumors haven't reached the other officers, yet with the number of tasks on their workload, they probably have no time to listen to the hushed whispers in the corridors.
Caleb just patted his shoulder, "Lighten up, Gid. It's actually fun."
The next morning, the grand hall of Skyhaven was abuzz with anticipation.
The media was there, officers in their pristine uniforms, the air charged with excitement. You sat at the long table, the "Lieutenant Colonel Xia" nameplate a silent testament to your new rank. A camera flashed, and you smiled, a confident, practiced expression. The buzz of your phone in your pocket told you Caleb was on his way, and a jolt of anticipation, both professional and deeply personal, shot through you.
A lower-ranking officer announced your name, and you took to the microphone, your voice calm and poised. You answered a few questions, gracefully handling the media’s curiosity about your relationship with the new Colonel. You saw Bob in the back, his face a ghostly white as he listened to you casually drop the bombshell that you were, in fact, the Colonel’s wife.
Another reporter asked how you met, to which you gave them a polite, but proud smile as you answered, "Colonel Caleb and I were in the same batch as cadets. We were both pilots. We were sparring partners. I tried to beat him multiple times, but he'd always come out on top of our batch."
"Except for target shooting!" Gideon chimed in from the side. "She has the best aim in our batch!"
You blushed slightly at Gideon's smug expression, not really wanting to put yourself in the limelight. You're not exactly trying to fake your humility, but you wanted this day to be for your husband—to celebrate his hadwork and recognize his accomplishments that led him to this point, his promotion.
Yet Gideon, being the good and loyal friend that he is, wanted to make sure that you and Caleb would both get the recognition that you deserved. You made a mental note to tell Caleb to treat Gideon to a nice meal somewhere in Skyhaven later on.
Then, a sudden hush fell over the room as the doors opened.
Caleb.
He stood for a moment, his broad frame filling the doorway, a towering silhouette against the bright light of the morning. He was in his full uniform now, a crisp white shirt, the dark jacket with its polished brass buttons and the gleaming rank insignia on his shoulders. His aura was powerful, commanding, the very definition of authority. Every eye in the room was on him. You saw women whispering, their faces a mixture of awe and dawning horror.
And Bob?
Poor guy looked as if he was about to collapse on the spot.
Hushed whispers spread through the crowd. "That's the colonel?" "No way, we were fooled by some jerk!"
As he strode down the aisle, his presence seemed to swallow up all the air in the room. He moved with a purpose, a confident stride that spoke of power and absolute control. The officers, your colleagues, stood at attention, saluting him as he passed.
He offered them a brief nod before his gaze settled on you, and for a fleeting moment, all the power and command in his eyes softened. He reached the podium, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back, guiding you back to your seat as if you were the most fragile, precious thing in the world. The contrast of his public demeanor and his private tenderness was dizzying.
After a formal introduction and a look at your impressive credentials, one brave, or foolish, reporter raised his hand. "There's a rumor that has been going around that the colonel is quite… inadequate in size and... in bed. How would you react to that, colonel?"
The room went silent. You glanced at Gideon, who was trying his best not to laugh, while the other officers looked nervous and offended at the audacity of the person who asked. You and Caleb knew that the reporter must be from a tabloid newspaper, after all those guys wanted the juiciest and scandalous bits of information, most especially from the youngest crowned Colonel of the Farspace Fleet.
This rumor had been circulating even before you and Caleb came to Skyhaven, probably Bob heard Caleb's name, thought it was a brilliant plan to use his identity without realizing that he screwed up with the real deal.
His downfall started when he started to hit on you—the wife of the Colonel.
You glanced at the audience, saw some of the women staring at Caleb in admiration, in defeated hope, in painful confirmation that the young, tall and handsome Colonel is already married, while some who met your gaze in guilt and shame, averted quickly due to the possibility that they're part of the wide-spread of rumors, could have also been fooled by Bob and thought they actually slept with the Colonel himself.
Also, the women can't help but feel jealous. After all, the Colonel is certainly a fine, young gentleman, with his tall frame, well-built physique, handsome features, smooth, commanding voice. And those galaxy orbs... just one look, any woman would drop on their knees to do whatever he wanted.
And as soon as you met Gideon's eyes, he recognized the mischievous glint in your eyes. He had seen them multiple times before, that he is sure that Caleb knew that his wife—who absolutely have no filter, very shameless and has a knack for stirring up trouble—would take this question all to herself.
And Gideon was right.
As soon as you took the mic in front of you, Caleb and Gideon expected everything that you were about to say.
"You, brave Sir, are asking the wrong person. You should've directed the question to the most reliable source of information," you smirked playfully, the reporter's eyes (and everybody's) were glinting hopefully that you'd give them a good, satisfying answer, as you continued to speak, "Those rumors are the only reason the Colonel is still breathing and our marriage remains strong. Because to put it simply…"
Caleb saw Gideon from the corner of his eye… Gideon's hand was repeatedly gesturing (frantically) at Caleb to do something, or say something, anything to cut you off. And Caleb's eyes widened as he understood, his hands scrambling for his own mic a few seconds before you finished your statement.
"…The truth is quite the opposite and way faaar from those circulating rumors because my husband is definitely not sma—"
"—Leeeeet's just say," Caleb successfully cut you off the last second, the attention of the media and audience directed at him, Gideon releasing a sigh of relief, "I am a very devoted man and a husband who aims to please his wife and deeply values his life," Caleb paused as he wrapped an arm around you, "And there goes a saying that a Happy Wife, a Happy Life," he, then, cleared his throat, continued to speak decisively and with finality, "Rumors cleared. Q&A done. Thank you all for welcoming us."
You giggled as Caleb squeezed your hand under the table, his eyes giving you a warning look.
"Someone's going to be punished tonight for misbehaving," he whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "But judging by the lack of guilt in your expression, I'd say you don't actually mind being... punished."
"I guess not, Colonel," you whispered back, a sweet, sinful smile on your face. "How about I reward you instead?"
"What kind of reward am I getting?" he asked, his eyes hungry.
"How about I sit on your face, hm? Then I'll give you head. Let you use my body as much as you can. Is that reward good enough for the Colonel?"
"No backing out, sweetie," he squeezed your thigh under the table, and you gave him a sweet smile that promised him one of the best nights of his life.
And so the afternoon at Skyhaven was supposed to be a peaceful one.
The press conference was over, the drama had subsided, and you and Caleb were finally enjoying a quiet moment. You were perched on his lap in his spacious office, a comfortable silence settling between you as you both read through a stack of reports. Caleb's hand rested on your thigh, a familiar weight that grounded you in the midst of the day's chaos.
The quiet was shattered by the sound of a familiar, panicked voice. "Caleb, your little sister just texted!" Gideon burst into the office, his chest heaving. "She's here at Skyhaven, and she got lost in the building."
Caleb didn't even flinch. He simply flipped a page in his report, his eyes scanning the text. "I'll call her and tell her to wait in the lobby."
Gideon, however, was clearly still stressed. He took a few steps closer, his voice low and worried. "No, you don't understand. MC said… there's some creep in the coffee room who is hitting on her. He introduced himself as the Colonel."
The words hung in the air, the name "Bob" silently screaming in your minds. You and Caleb simultaneously stopped reading. You let out a long, theatrical sigh, not out of worry, but out of pure exasperation. Caleb's own sigh echoed yours, a shared understanding passing between you.
You knew he wasn't worried. He knew you weren't worried.
"My sister is a hunter," Caleb said, his voice laced with an almost bored certainty as he went back to his report. "It's not her we should be worrying about."
Meanwhile, in the break room, Bob was in a familiar scene, using his favorite—and only—pickup line. He had spotted an attractive young woman who looked like she was lost, her uniform hinting at her a hunter, but he was too distracted by his own ego to notice the danger.
"If you're free, maybe I could help you get used to the whole place," he said with his usual suggestive smirk. "Perks of knowing the colonel, maybe you can be a favorite."
The young woman, who had been staring at her phone with a confused frown, looked up at him. "The Colonel?" she asked, her voice dangerously calm.
"Yes, Colonel Caleb," he said, puffing out his chest.
In a flash, Bob found himself face down on the cold floor, his arm twisted painfully behind his back. The young woman’s knee was a firm weight on his spine, and he yelped in pain, "Ow! Ow! You crazy bitch!"
"HOW DARE YOU USE A CREEPY FUCKING LINE TO HIT ON ME USING MY BROTHER'S NAME YOU DISGUSTING MOTHERFUCKER!" she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls. "DO YOU HAVE A DEATHWISH?!"
And that's exactly how you, Caleb and Gideon found them as the three of you walked into the break room, following the trail of screams. Bob was on the floor, his face pale with a mix of fear and pain. Caleb's little sister, your beautiful sister-in-law, had her knee perched on Bob's back with her hands gripping his arms tight, her eyes blazing with fury.
"Oh, hi Caleb!" she said, a cheerful smile replacing her furious scowl as she saw her brother, as if there's no yelping guy in pain under her knee. "I was just… handling some things."
Caleb simply nodded, a hint of a smirk on his face as he looked down at Bob. "I can see that."
You crossed your arms, looking down at the man who had been impersonating your husband for days. "Looks like you have some explaining to do, 'Colonel.'"
Gideon simply sighed in exhaustion, already dialing security and telling them to bring someone from the medical team.
Content warnings: 18+, female reader, mentions of drug abuse, reader uses drugs (no actual drug use in the fic), reader is obsessed and desperate and possibly a little unhinged and kind of creepy, oral sex (m recieving), vaginal fingering, penetration
Summary: You have it down bad for your dealer and you're willing to do pretty much anything to have him
A/N: So I got kind of inspired by dealer Eric from Three's Company by @thedevotchka and Or sometimes not at all by @a-differentbrandof-beans and since he's so sweet I just had to give it a try too. I don't know too much about drugs and definitely didn't want to google it all so it's all pretty vague lol. I had fun with this one so I'm not taking it too seriously. No native speaker has read this so sorry for possible problems with language
Word count: 3,5k
Eric wasn’t your regular plug. His supply was irregular and he wasn’t available like the others, he was slow to answer, and he wasn’t keen to wait home just for people to maybe come or just flake. His place was farther and you had to change subways, but you always asked him first just so you could get to see him. He wasn’t just dreamy and silly hot, he was nice. He talked to you like a normal person and went out his way to help you.He was always respectful too - his eyes never really wandered, even if you wore tiny tops or mini skirts when you went to his place. It was infuriating, it just made you want him more.
At first, you would just stare at him and feel all kinds of impure thoughts flooding your mind, but after you had a really vivid dream of him after which you woke up soaked and needy, you couldn’t get him out of your head. It became harder to be around him and see him smile at you, but it was also what you looked forward to most. You wanted to buy shit you didn’t even need just to have a reason to see him. You knew quickly you couldn’t go on like that for long.
He had once sent you a voice message, something quick and practical in a hurry, when he was too busy to type. You had listened to it over and over again, gotten off to it. It wasn’t enough, you needed more. You were desperate and sweaty in your bed at night, thinking of his tattoo-covered arms and how his T-shirts always clung to his frame. You just knew he looks perfect under it, it’s all you could think about really. That, and having his cock in you.
No, you couldn’t go on like this, so you hatched a plan.
You texted him to ask if you could come over, not even asking if he had anything specific to sell. He usually had weed on him, so he didn’t even question it. He told you he’d be home in the evening, so nervously, you made yourself pretty and headed into the night. You could barely sit straight on the subway, you had no idea if this was going to work.
You fidgeted with your coat sleeve after knocking on his door, tapping your foot on the pavement impatiently. For a second you thought the anxiety would swallow you whole. Maybe this was a bad idea. Then he was there, relaxed and somehow bigger than you had remembered. His hair was damp and ruffled. He looked so cute like that, that you forgot to breathe for a second. Then he smiled at you, like God had said ‘let there be light’.
“Hi.” he said, making your stomach turn.
“Hi,” you muttered and tried to smile, but it must have come out forced.
“You going to a party?” He asked as you passed by him. He smelled so good, fresh from a shower, and you just wanted to bury your face in his chest. It took you a second to register his question, you just shook your head without saying anything.
You walked into the living room, it was messy as always. Dishes and clothes everywhere, rolling papers and cards scattered on a table with an ashtray with some joint butts. You were used to it. You made your way on the couch and rubbed your palms up and down your thighs, staring at a bong that needed the water changed.
“You want something to drink?” You snapped your head up to look at Eric standing on the doorway. Your awkwardness was rubbing off on him.
“I’m good, thanks.” You tried to sound normal. Take a deep breath. You forced your shoulders to relax and smiled.
“So, what are you looking for? I’ve got at least something fast, but mostly weed.”
You needed to think of something quickly, anything. “Do you have ketamine?” His eyebrows raised, you really should have thought about it beforehand.
“I don’t think so, let me see what I’ve got.” At least he didn’t comment on it.
He disappeared into his bedroom, you could hear him opening drawers before he emerged back.
“Sorry, nope. Best I have right now is benzos, or DMT, but it’s more expensive.” He was holding a bag with white pills in it.
“That’s fine, I’ll take it.” It’s not like you even cared what it was.
He plopped down next to you on the couch and opened the zip lock. “How many do you want?”
You went quiet at that. Your shoulders tensed again. You looked down at your hands, fingers digging into your thighs.
“How many?” He repeated, assuming you hadn’t heard him.
“I don’t have money,” you whispered, still not looking at him.
“What?” he asked like he had heard you wrong.
“I don’t have any money,” you repeated, trying to keep your voice steady. You felt like flaking out now, you could still make up an excuse and leave, but you had come this far.
“Then what are you-“
“I can suck you off.” You cut him off. It took all your courage to meet his eyes, but you needed to see his reaction.
Eric’s eyes shot wide open. For a moment he just stared at you in shock. He opened his mouth but closed it again.
“I’m not doing that,” he said then. Of course he did.
You looked down again and tried to swallow the lump in your throat. “Please,” you whispered. “I need it.”
“No, I’m not going to use you like that just because you’re desperate. I’m sorry.” He was firm, but not unkind. At least he didn’t sound angry.
Tears welled in your eyes. The rejection settled heavy on your chest. Humiliating. How could you show your face here again? The thought of this being your last chance to talk to him pushed you to keep going. It was too late to save face anyway.
You met his eyes again and leaned closer. “Please, Eric.” You tried one more time.
You could see your pleading tone got to him, his jaw was clenched, but his eyes were kind, searching yours. He discarded the pills on the table.
“Look, I can give you some weed, maybe one pill. You can pay me later.”
You took a shaky breath. “I don’t want it,” you whispered then.
“What?! What do you mean? You just said-“ he started but cut himself off when he saw tears streaming down your cheeks.
“Hey, hey.” He moved quickly, placing his other hand on your shoulder as he brushed your tears with his thumb.
“It’s alright, everything’s alright. Take a deep breath.” His tone was soft and understanding, meant to soothe you. That just made you cry more, but you took another shaky breath. This was beyond embarrassing, crying here on his couch, making no sense at all. What a mess.
“What is it? You owe someone?” He was still stroking your cheek, speaking to you calmly.
You shook your head. “Then what is it? What’s gotten you like this?”
You swallowed some tears. “You.”
He frowned, his hand stilled on your cheek. “What do you mean? What did I do?” You could hear he had no idea what you meant, and you didn’t blame him at all.
“I should go,” you whispered, defeated and mortified.
“Please don’t go yet. I want to understand what I did.” He squeezed your shoulder quickly, but very gently, he wasn’t stopping you or preventing you from moving in any way.
You slumped back down the couch and sighed. “Give me sec.”
“Yeah, of course.” He seemed relieved and happy to give you space. His hand dropped from your shoulder to your knee. You wiped your tears and calmed your breathing while he watched patiently.
“You didn’t do anything,” you admitted then. He looked confused again.
“Then- what? You come here telling me you need to have something, seems like anything, but then you don’t want it. I don’t understand, what do you want then?”
“You.”
His face went blank. It looked like there were no thoughts moving in his head for a moment.
His eyebrows shot up. “You what?”
“I just want you.”
The tension in his body left slowly, like an inflating bounce house. He was still quiet, it was making you nervous when he doesn’t say anything.
He brought his hand to the side of your neck. He stroked your pulse point slowly, his eyes trained on his hand on your neck.
“Is that so?” You hadn’t heard his voice like that before, low and smooth.
“Yes.”
He locked eyes with you, dark and unreadable. “So, you came here, begging for drugs, because you really, really, really just wanted to suck my dick?”
“I did.” Your voice was just a whisper now.
He smirked and leaned closer. “Little minx, trying to deal me out of goods for something you would give me for free.”
Your breath hitched. He wasn’t mad, was he?
His expression softened when he noticed how tense you were.
“All you had to do was ask,” he said softly and closed the distance between you.
He brought his lips to yours, just brushing them against yours lightly, trying out your reaction. You didn’t hesitate. You kissed him back eagerly and his hand slid into your hair while his tongue slipped into your mouth.
You couldn’t believe it worked. Well, it didn’t really, but the results are what mattered anyway. You were kissing him and it was all you wished for. You opened your mouth for him and met his tongue. His hand hiked up your thigh and under your skirt. He brushed his thumb over the fabric of your underwear, and you moaned into the kiss.
“Tell me what you want,” Eric murmured against your lips.
He brushed his thumb just a little harder against your core, which made you gasp.
“You. Everything.” You weren’t even sure what to ask now that you had the chance to, you really were happy to just suck his cock.
“Let’s go to bed, yeah?” He asked gently and you nodded eagerly. He pulled you up with him, caressing your hip as you stood against his chest. He looked down at you with soft eyes and placed his hands on your hips. He guided you to his bedroom, hovering right behind you. It was also a little messy with lots of clothes and things lying around, but it wasn’t in any way terrible. He had sheets, unlike too many men you had seen in these circles.
You sat on the bed and looked up at him with big eyes. You hadn’t really thought this far. You had thought about this a lot, but not what would happen in reality if he actually just wanted it too.
“You alright?” Eric asked as he brushed your cheek with his thumb.
That made you relax. “Yeah, I am.”
You tugged on his T-shirt and he did as asked, pulling his shirt over his head. You bit your lip and just stared. Blood ran south as you took in the sight of him, just as you had imagined. You wanted to study his tattoos, imprint them on your memory and lick over every one of them, maybe make a spread sheet. You kissed him just below his navel and he ran his fingers through your hair slowly.
You kissed down his happy trail and started pulling down his sweatpants and he let you. You looked him in the eye again as the sweatpants dropped on the floor and he stepped out of them.
He stood there in his boxers, and for a second you just looked at each other in the eye.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“I want to,” you said, more confident now. You slipped your hand into his boxers and took a hold of his cock. It was quickly hardening in your hand, and honestly, you just wanted to stare in wonder as it grew in your hand. You licked up the underside of his length, you loved his taste and couldn’t resist sucking the tip into your mouth.
“Oh, fuck,” Eric sighed as you wrapped your lips around him. You let it go with a wet pop.
“Get on the bed,” you told him, and he didn’t question you. In one movement he pulled out of his boxers and laid down on the bed.
He raised his eyebrows when you got on your knees on the floor, but he didn’t get a word in before your mouth was on him like a Venus Flytrap.
His mouth fell open and he tilted his head back. You sucked him in deeper and watched his abs flex in front of you. It was beautiful to watch him try to stay still and it only encouraged you. Mesmerizing, even better than you had imagined.
You took in as much as you could, deeper, deeper, not worried about breathing yet. You had to squeeze your eyes shut and pull back a little to draw in a breath to fight the gag reflex. This time you relaxed your throat and soon you found a rhythm where you could breathe in sync with the movements. Your eyes were watering and your jaw was quickly protesting, but you didn’t care, you just wanted to see him squirm in pleasure. You pressed your thighs together to ease some of the tension between them. You could feel all the sounds that escaped him, like an electric current leading straight to your clit.
“Look, I’m gonna-“ he warned you and you pulled away. He was breathing heavily as you climbed on the bed next to him. He pulled you down on a kiss and you let him push you on your back as he leaned over you.
“What do you want now?” he asked and brushed his nose against yours. It made you smile.
“Fuck me,” you said softly as his hand traveled under your skirt again.
“Yeah? You ready?” he asked and slipped his hand into your underwear. Your eyes glossed over when his fingers dipped between your slick folds. He smirked when he realized how wet you were already.
“I guess you are.” He slowly eased one finger into you, and you moaned softly. He ate the sounds with a kiss and pumped his finger in and out of you. You clung to him, gripping the hair on the nape of his neck tightly.
Your moans just grew louder as he added another finger. “You really liked that, huh? Soaked already.” he asked and peppered little kisses from your lips to your ear.
“Yes, Eric.”
As nice as this was, you were needy for more. You had been dreaming of his cock in you, and you were this close to getting it.
“You want me to use a condom?”
“Yes, please.” He hummed and placed a kiss on your temple before he slid his fingers out of you and stood up. He sucked his fingers clean as he stepped to his drawer.
You sat up and looked at him from behind, you wanted to take a bite out of his ass.
He smiled at you when he stepped back and bent over to place his hands on your hips. “You want to keep your clothes on?”
“No, you can take them off.”
He pulled your top over your head and helped you out of your bra. He placed a kiss on your nose and brushed his thumb over your nipple before tugging on your skirt. You lifted your hips for him, and he slid it down with your underwear.
“Beautiful,” he murmured before he got on his knees on the edge of the bed, and you lied on your back again.
“You want to be on your back, or do you prefer something else?” he asked softly. He ran his fingers gently through your folds as he rolled the condom on.
You had imagined all the ways he’d take you, but this was the way you wanted it to go. You would have taken what he gave you, and you would have enjoyed having him push your face into the mattress and pound into you from behind or riding his cock relentlessly until he came against your cervix, but your favorite image was to have him on top of you. You wanted to feel him as deep as possible, all of him against you. You wanted to be able to hold onto him and see him.
“Yeah, this is good.”
He hooked his arms under your knees to spread you open and position himself between your legs. He looked at you in the eye as he lined himself with your entrance, looking for signs of discomfort as he started sliding into you.
The second you felt the head of his cock push you open, you gasped as a blissful weight of contentment settled over you. Finally, finally, finally, all you had hoped for after all the waiting.
You hooked your feet behind his thighs, pulling him closer and he obeyed. He leaned over you and bottomed out inside you. It wasn’t like nothing before, but still it was. It was him, and you enveloping all of his length.
Your lids grew heavy, lips parted as he started moving, gently rocking into you. His fingers brushed your hair, and his nose brushed against yours with every roll of his hips. You tilted your head back to give a small kiss on his nose. It made him smile so sweetly, you wanted to give him anything to keep him smiling like that.
Then he kissed you again and picked up the pace. He swallowed all your moans as you wrapped your legs around his waist, caging him against you so tightly he could barely pull out of at all. You wanted to keep him buried in you. You couldn’t hear anything outside, just your own breathing and pulse throbbing in your ears.
“That’s good, sweetheart?” His breathing was heavy too, but you barely registered it, the pet name made your chest bloom with warmth and affection.
“Yes, Eric, it’s perfect,” you whimpered in a whiny voice.
He picked up the pace again and kissed down your neck. “I still don’t understand what made you come here begging for this.” He murmured and sucked on your collarbone. “But I’m not complaining.”
“This, it’s…” you started but trailed off, too far gone to find any more words for any of it, and you forgot what you were even talking about when his lips wrapped around your nipple. The sound you made was uninhibited and unguarded. Maybe lewd to some, but Eric only seemed excited. He sucked harder and grazed his teeth on your nipple until you were panting and digging your fingers into his back.
You could only tilt your head back and cling to him tighter. “Eric, I’m coming.”
He didn’t answer, without a word he brought his hand between the two of you and rubbed circles on your clit. You tensed up, locking your legs around him as every thrust of his brought you higher and higher until it all melted into one blissful blur.
You followed his expression closely when your walls fluttered around him. He was still rubbing circles on your clit, the aftershocks made his eyes gloss over and his jaw went slack. You moaned with him, a few harder thrusts and he buried himself to the hilt in you. You felt disappointed you couldn’t feel him spill into you. You wanted him to mark you in and out.
He slowly grew heavy on top of you. Neither of you spoke, only the sound of both of you catching your breath in the room. He buried his face in your neck and rubbed circles on your shoulder, still buried inside you.
You didn’t want to move at all, you didn’t want anything to break the moment and as long as you didn’t move, you could hold onto it. He was brushing his nose along your neck, and your arms were still loosely wrapped around him.
Eventually he placed a sloppy kiss on your neck. “You want to stay for a while? You could spend the night if you want to.”
A hopeful current ran through you. You could sleep here, maybe in his arms, maybe you could do this again.
“Yeah,” you whispered.
“Yeah? I think we could use a shower. We could just chill and watch something. Or… whatever you want.”
You felt like your heart would just burst there. “Sounds perfect,” you said and tugged his hair as you placed a kiss on top of his head.
“Such sweet girl,” he whispered into your ear, brushing his nose against your earlobe. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”
You held onto him tightly, finally content and satisfied to be in his arms, all the desperate nights washed away by him.
Tagged who I think might be interested: @melancuntly @voidofsunlight @coryoslut
𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘𝐒 | george weasley x lestrange! reader
summary: when george introduces you to his family, you quickly realize that his parents do not approve of you.
⤷ requested by @hpxmcusworld
warnings: fred is dead, rude molly and arthur, angst angst angst but happy ending
wc: 2k words
author's note: sorry this took me SO long but looooooved writing this concept. also sorry there's acc not that much george in this
George Weasley and Y/N Lestrange. It was a pairing most unlikely — the mischievous redhead who'd lit up the halls of Hogwarts with his joyful personality, a prankster reputation that preceded him — and you. A reputation preceded you as well. The daughter of the infamous Bellatrix and Rudolphus Lestrange, a combination of two of the oldest Wizarding families in the world. The poster child of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, raised by Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, growing up in the cold walls of Malfoy Manor alongside Draco.
The House of Lestrange had stood for thousands of years, with sacred roots linking to the French royal family, years and years of tradition (such as murder and torture) which were automatically associated with the name. You were it's sole ancestor, carrying the weight of your parents' actions after the second Wizarding War.
You hadn't meant to fall for George Weasley. You'd heard off him, of course. Draco would send letters to you at Beauxbatons, laced with scorn as he described the latest antics of the Weasley twins — how they'd spelled off his eyebrows, how they'd set of fireworks or turned a corridor into a swamp. He overcompensated his hatred, and you suspected deep down that maybe he was jealous of the camaraderie the twins shared.
It was not until after the war that you met George, when you had purchased an apartment in Diagon Alley. You'd wandered into into Weasleys Wizard Wheezes on a whim, and from the second his eyes met yours, you knew you were a goner.
You knew without doubt that your Mother was rolling in her grave — a fact that brought you particular pleasure. You had half a mind to write to your father in Azkaban, perhaps let him know you were loudly and proudly in love with a Weasley. You chose not to — Rudolphus was a proud man, and the mere fact his daughter was not in contact with him was sting enough.
Seven months later, George had bestowed upon you the biggest honor of all and invited you to spend Christmas with his family. Thus, you hatched Plan Winning over the Weasleys. From Bill to Ginny, you were determined to conquer them all
You started small. You bonded with Ron over your love for the Chudley Cannons. You gave Ginny romantic advice for her relationship with Harry Potter, who was unfortunately as dense as Draco described. You listened patiently as Percy droned on about his work. You helped Bill pick out a Christmas present for Fleur, who had been your senior at Beauxbatons. Even Charlie, who you'd chalked up as the most difficult to warm up to, decided your firm handshake was perfect if you'd ever wanted to pursue dragon taming.
Your one obstacle? Arthur and Molly Weasley. Try as you might, you were met with short, cold responses. It was a good thing you were stubborn, determined to crack them. When you sat at the dining table that night, you flashed them warm smiles. They didn't return them, but that didn't deter you. Bit by bit, each Weasley sat around the table bunched up together, making jokes and reveling in the Christmas spirit.
"So, Y/N," said Percy, raising his glass in your direction. "What made you fall for our George?"
If you haven't noticed, he's a bit of an dunce, innit?" chortled Charlie.
"Just a bit?" quipped Ginny, chuckling slightly.
You grinned back at them. "George makes me laugh. More than I have in ages, if I'm being honest."
"You were always very serious in school. I remember. Madame Bernard used to use you as an example for the elder students." commented Fleur, sipping her drink. "We all thought you would join le ministère."
"The Ministry," you repeated. "I almost did; they gave me an offer. But, I had to come back. For my family."
"Family?" echoed Mrs. Weasley. "You still consider yourself tied to them, then?"
The table quieted slightly. George frowned, squeezing your hand. "Y/N is very close with her cousin."
You nodded. "Draco is practically my brother. When things began to shift, I wasn't going to leave him all alone."
"And by shift," said Mr. Weasley slowly. "You mean when he chose to follow You-Know-Who?"
"Draco didn't choose anything," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. You were beginning to realize why the two had been so cold. "He was sixteen and forced to join. I wasn't going to abandon him and let him drown."
"Is that why you bear the Dark Mark on your arm?" spat out Mrs. Weasley. It seemed she'd stopped hiding her disdain.
"That's enough, Mum." said George, jaw clenched.
"I bear the Mark because it was the only way I could think of to protect my baby cousin. And I've never regretted it for a moment." you responded carefully. "It doesn't mean that I supported what they did."
Mr. Weasley's eyebrows were furrowed as he drummed his fingers on his cup. "I'm finding it difficult to make that distinction. Loyalty and complicity balance on a fine line."
George looked utterly helpless as he glanced at his elder brothers. Bill spoke slowly. "I don't think this is the best time to have this conversation."
Mrs. Weasley ignored him. "Y/N, do you realize who used to sit in the seat you find yourself in?"
George tensed. You nodded. "Fred."
Mrs. Weasley's voice cracked. "My beautiful baby boy. He was killed by your people." She looked at George, lip wobbling. "How could you, George? How could you disrespect his memory like this?"
"How dare you?" whispered George. "Accuse me? Of what, disrespecting his memory? He was my twin. I will mourn him for the rest of my life. Not a day goes by when I don't think about him."
"Then why would you do this?" asked Mr. Weasley.
"Do what, Dad?" asked George sharply. "Find love? Try and build a life for myself?"
"You can do that, son," said Mr. Weasley. "But not with her."
Mrs. Weasley nodded her head in agreement. "Not with what her family stands for. Her mother—"
"Who you killed, Mum," defended Ron. "Dial down the judgement."
Silence. You could see flames dancing in Mrs. Weasley's eyes, almost, her hands clenched on the table. Mr. Weasley didn't looked angry, more disappointed as he stared at George.
"I'll think I'll excuse myself," you said quietly.
George tried to hold onto your hand. "Sweetheart, you don't have—"
"I think I do." And then your hand slipped from his as you ascended up the stairs.
When George found you five minutes later, you were bustling around the room, tossing your things back into your trunk, trying to ignore the tears pricking at your eyes. He strode across the room, cupping your face into his. "Baby, don't go."
"I have too, Georgie," you insisted, a watery smile on your face. "You know why? On our first date, you couldn't stop talking about your family."
"Y/N—"
"George, you spent the better part of thirty minutes telling me about how you used to prank Ron and Ginny, and how Bill and Charlie taught you Quidditch, and how Percy used to tutor you. You told me about your Dad tinkering around in the garage, how your Mum knit you all sweaters every year for Christmas. I will not come in between."
George guided you to the edge of the bed, your knees buckling as you sat and looked up at him. His eyes were watering. "Angel, every single one of those memories happened with Fred. Every moment of my life, Fred had been beside me. And when he died, a part of me died as well."
George placed a kiss to your forehead before he continued. "I never really thought I'd be able to move on from that. That I'd be able to get up every day and live, really live. Until you walked into the store. And that's when I knew — you must've been sent by Fred himself."
His brown eyes were gazing into yours. Your eyes softened as you leaned up to kiss the corner of his mouth. "What will your parents say?"
"Merlin, I don't give a fuck." said George decidedly. "I know you, and I know your heart. Your family doesn't define you. And if my parents can't see that, then it's their loss."
He smoothened down your hair. "Stay the night, my love. And tomorrow we can leave. Go back to our home. If there's one thing I know for certain, it's that you're my future."
The next morning, George and you tiptoed out of the house in the early hours of the day. Before you left, he insisted he wanted to show you the sunrise. He held you close, arms hooked as you trudged down a small hill.
The sky was streaked with golden hues as you and George watched the horizon. As the gold light bathed your face, you let out a content sigh, snuggling closer into George's chest.
"Fred and I used to come here all the time," said George softly. "He said the sounds of the birds singing was the only thing loud enough to out-scream Mum."
"I'd like to offer your voice as an alternative." you teased, poking George's cheek.
He pulled you even closer, placing a kiss into your hair as he mumbled: "You can tease all you want — I've heard you harmonizing along"
Your perfect little moment was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. You whirled around to see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and your smile fell. "I'm sorry. I was just leaving."
"Y/N, can we speak to you alone?" asked Mrs. Weasley. Her tone wasn't harsh like the night before, it was quiet. She was pleading, you realized.
"Of course," you replied.
"Here to berate my girlfriend again?" asked George, his face hardening.
You raised your eyebrows at him, shaking your head slightly. "I'm fine. Head on inside, I'll be a moment."
When George had trudged off, albeit reluctantly, Mr. Weasley handed you a cup of hot cocoa. "I believe we owe you an apology."
"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, you really don't have to—"
"Yes, we do." said Mrs. Weasley, her voice bordering on a shrill. "You are just a child, yourself. How could you bear responsibility for what happened to our Fred?"
"The Weasleys and the Malfoys have had rivalries that preceded your birth," said Mr. Weasley. "But it was not fair to pin that onto you."
"You came into our home, kind and gracious." said Mr. Weasley. "And we made you feel unwelcome."
"I understand your suspicions," you said slowly. "My family, my mother — they were not good people. And I will spent the rest of my life making up for their actions."
Mr. Weasley nodded. "You said returned to protect your cousin."
"I did."
"There is honor in that, Y/N." said Mrs. Weasley. "I understand, above all, the urge to protect what is sacred to us."
"When Fred died," said Mr. Weasley. "Molly and I, of course, we were devastated. But we were more so worried for George."
Mrs. Weasley's voice cracked. "They were soulmates. I couldn't imagine how George would move forward, and as his mother, that terrified me."
"George has found happiness, again." said Mr. Weasley. "He's more himself around you than he has been in a long time."
"I never thought I'd see the day that my son would laugh again. The day his smile would reach his eyes." said Mrs. Weasley. "It's all we could have hoped for. And it's because of you, darling."
"We're so very sorry," said Mr. Weasley gruffly. "For how we spoke to you. For how we made you feel. If you're willing, we'd... we'd like to try again."
You nodded, quickly wiping away the tears. "I'd like that."
Mrs. Weasley held out a sweater - your initial was sewn in the front. "I made this last night. Welcome to the family, my dear."
You held the sweater close to your heart, already feeling it's warmth seeping into your bones. "Thank you."
The three of you began the walk back. Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat awkwardly. "I'd also like to apologize — er — for, y'know —"
"Killing my mother?" you offered. You gave her a dry smile. "I would've done it myself if I had the chance."
The Burrow came into view. George was leaned on the outside wall, arms crossed on his chest. Mr. Weasley patted you on the back. "Take care of our boy, yeah?"
