Txtdreamss - Sweet Dreams Are Made Of Txt

I Wanna Hold Your Hand

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAUfem! Reader

Category: Fluff

TW: Mentions of usual CM case-related violence, mentions of Haley’s death, insecurity, and cursing

Well, this is new, innit? (And, yes, I am referencing The Beatles with the title). I wasn’t sure if my usual tags would be interested in this, but I’ve included it just in case - I’m sorry if I tagged you and you’re not interested in this! Hope you like it! xx 

Profilers are strange creatures. A bizarre breed of human, truly. Not bad, per se, just…odd. Charmingly odd, in most cases, as you’d discovered upon joining the elite Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. The team were a fascinating and brilliant bunch, but also unerringly loyal and empathetic (highly desirable and important qualities in your line of work). However, being able to read people also equips profilers with the infuriating ability to make themselves impossible to read. They know all the tricks of the trade to hide their tells and never give away anything. And now, nearly a year into working with the BAU, you’ve managed to crack nearly everyone…except your boss, Aaron Hotchner. The most intimidating man in the world. And why do you consider him the most intimidating man in the world? Because you’re not at all sure where you stand with your boss…ever. At any time. You have absolutely no idea how he feels about you or perceives you. Which is unsurprising considering the mixed messages you get from Hotch. 

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— george weasley

* smut — ♡ faves

pen pals (blurb) ♡ @weasleywh0r3s

george weasley x filipina!reader ♡ (blurb) @weasleywh0r3s

dating george weasley and being a ravenclaw (blurb) ♡ @darthwheezely

childish ♡ @lupinsclassroom

cameras and crushes @love-peachh

show and tell ♡ @harrysweasleys

always been you @spacexcowgirl

forever, i choose you @ickle-ronniekins

“i just got you this because i saw it and thought of you!” @hello-everyfandom

more than enough @minty-malfoy

crossed wires @parseltongueswriting

a bit too loud @lupinsclassroom

cult classic @lupinlongbottom

i wanna be yours @theweasleysredhair

city of stars @whizboingies

settling a bet @witch-and-a-half

obliviate @george-fabian-weasley

might be right @alwaysfeelingsaintlike

how to get over the wizard @kalimagik

driver’s license pt2 @wand3ringr0s3

physical affection @oh-for-merlins-sake

landslide pt 2 @oh-for-merlins-sake

the perfect husband @wandsandwheezes

clingy ♡ @anchoeritic

love, george ♡ @vivianweasley

coffee shop ♡ @pansydaisy

flowers and sunsets @pansydaisy

talk trash, get brass ♡ @writesowhatnext

accidental collateral damage ♡ @writesowhatnext

pretending is a gateway drug ♡ @writesowhatnext

are you sure he’s your favorite weasley? ♡ @writesowhatnext

lost in translation ♡ @writesowhatnext

all with you @gcdric

all i’ve ever known @weasleyclaw

loving you’s the antidote ♡ @vogueweasley

can’t take my eyes off of you ♡ @vogueweasley

of lace and laughter ♡ @buckysbeloved

a ghost is a wish ♡ @iliveiloveiwrite

moments like this ♡ @feetoffthetablee

pissing, shitting, crying, throwing up, all of the above

Travelin' Sailor | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Description: A fic based on the song Travelin' Soldier except it's the happy ending that it should have been

Content: Sad/Lonely!Bob for a minute, less than ideal family dynamics (Bob has mommy issues low key), friends that aren’t supportive, a love at first sight so quick it’s unreal, wrong info about the navy, probably wrong timing of how long it takes to receive a letter from cross country on a naval base, happy ending I promise

The absolute biggest thanks to @hederasgarden for being my beta on this and being incredibly patient with me never wanting to end a sentence properly. Another thank you to the top gun gang discord for encouraging me to write (and post) again, so much love for y'all.

You could always tell when spring was turning to summer despite the dates on the calendar. The humidity had begun to hang around, the sun set later, and those that came in on lunch break used more napkins to wipe their sweat. You found yourself fanning your warm skin in between running food in the family owned diner you worked in when your coworker, Melissa, asked you to cover her section while she took a quick break. It was nearing the end of the day and the dinner rush had begun to die down, so you accepted. 

A few minutes later, you spotted a tall man with dirty blond hair, outdated wire-framed glasses, and a green jumpsuit making his way across the small dining room to sit at the high top bar. It wasn’t unusual to see men from your small Tennessee town in uniform, many of them took any opportunity to get out just as you were planning yourself. However, most of them were surrounded by loved ones right before deployment. He sat alone, placing his duffel bag on the seat next to him and resting his arms on the counter. As you made your way over to him, you found yourself wondering how someone could be alone at such a time. He had a baby face, but he couldn’t have been much older than you. 

“Can I start you off with something to drink?” you asked with a kind smile, feeling sympathetic. 

“Not really hungry, ma’am. I could use some company though,” the blond man uttered in a quiet voice, as he glanced up only long enough to get a quick look at you. 

“Well, I’m afraid I’m not off for another hour, but if you want to wait until then you’re more than welcome to…Lieutenant Robert Floyd,” you said, reading the patch on his chest as you leaned down and rested your elbows on the bartop in an attempt to see his face better.  He looked down at his fidgeting hands, a deep red forming on his neck as he replied, “That’s fine, I have a few hours until I need to be in Memphis anyways.”

Despite what he said, you still put in an order of fries and got him a fresh cup of iced water. He graciously accepted and you spent the rest of your shift finishing with the few tables you had left, grateful it was a weekday and you didn’t have anyone coming in at the last minute. Throughout clearing tables, grabbing your tips, and beginning to sweep, you felt his eyes on you. Looking up, you had caught the man at the counter looking away as quickly as possible, creating a small smile on your face. As you rounded the corner from the kitchen with your purse and removed your apron, you found him rummaging through his bag.

“Ready to go?” you asked, shaking your hair out from the bow you used to tie it back.

“Um, yeah, I just need to find my wallet to pay for my food,” he stated, not removing his eyes from his duffel as he pushed his hands through the side pockets.

“Don’t worry about it Floyd, consider it a thank you for all that you do,” you said, grabbing his plate and taking it back to the kitchen. You found him shifting in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. “Or you can get me next time”.

He relaxed slightly, grabbing his duffel and watching as you came out from behind the bar to meet him. It wasn’t until he was standing next to you that you realized how tall he really was. You grabbed his arm, wishing Melissa a good night and walked through the front door. Starting your walk down the street, you noticed the hot sun finally beginning to set beyond the trees. 

“My name-, he started.

“So, are you,” you began, realizing you had spoken in unisom. “You first.”

“I was, uh, I was just going to say everyone calls me Bob,” he stated, motioning to the patch on his chest.

“Ok, Bob, I was just asking if you were from this area, think I would remember someone like you,” you inquired, watching a small smile, the first you’d seen him crack, appear on his face. 

“No, m’am, I was born and raised just outside of Knoxville, one blinking stoplight, one bar. Seems like you might know the type.” He let out a chuckle as he looked around the small main street you’ve been taking him down for the past few minutes.

Shortly after, the two of you arrived at a small wooden dock overlooking a pond that had begun to look green with lily pads. You sat your bag on the picnic table and walked down the rickety dock, making careful steps to avoid the weaker spots. Looking over your shoulder as you sat, you spotted Bob cautiously trying to follow your steps. You felt the dock shake slightly the closer he got to where you were seated, feet dangling inches above the water. He sat next to you, pulling his legs under him to avoid getting his boots wet. After a few moments of silence he spoke up.

“Miss, I need to be honest here. I know you probably have a boyfriend and I’m just a stranger, but I got no one back home. I remember during basic, they would pass the letters from loved ones out and I would just sit there. Having to would watch everyone read how much they were missed back home and I would just hope that maybe,” he cleared his throat. “Maybe next time, I’d have someone missing me. Yet here I am, headed to base for the next few months with no one. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I’d like to send a letter back here to you.”

You watched him lift his head, his blue eyes meeting yours for the first time. Your heart ached, wondering how a man with so much love could have no one to send a letter home to. 

“Who said I have a boyfriend?” You asked, keeping eye contact as long as he allowed.

“I guess I just assumed a girl like you would have men asking left and right for at least a dance,” Bob said in a voice so quiet, it was barely heard over the sound of the cicadas. 

“Well then, it may come as a surprise to you that I do not have a boyfriend and I have far less men asking me for a dance than you’d expect. Zero to be exact,” you trailed off, suddenly embarrassed by the admission. “But, I really would enjoy receiving a letter from you, Bob”

He smiled at you, “Tell me about yourself“

The two of you spent the next few hours talking about your hometowns, his time training, and even what he could about the next few months. When the time finally came for him to make his way back to town to catch his ride, the sun had set and the air had become cool again.

You walked him back into town, sharing a comfortable silence. Reaching where you had parked, you found yourself filled with dread at the idea of him leaving. You finally met a man your age with a good head on his shoulders, and he was hours away from being shipped across the country from you. Trying not to be bitter in your last moments together, you looked up at him with the best fake smile you could muster. Despite knowing him for only four hours at this point your conversations felt so natural and you hoped that he’d felt the same.

“I wanna thank you for today,” he started, looking down at his hands as you leaned against your car. “Having someone to be with before being sent away made today less dreary…” he trailed off, looking back at your face, and studying your reaction. Although you would never understand what he was feeling now, you couldn’t imagine the loneliness that came from not having anyone to come home to after months away. 

“The pleasure was all mine, never met a navy pilot before.” You smirked, watching him open his mouth in protest. “Sorry, forgot you’re ‘just a WSO’. I can’t believe you thought being the person in charge of dropping bombs from an airplane was lame. I never wanna hear that again, got it?”

He looked at you confused for a moment. “Again?”

“Well, I’m not going to write these letters and pay postage for a man I don’t plan on seeing again. Plus, you owe me for the fries.” You replied, watching his face redden as he pushed his glasses back up.

“You'll wait for me?’ He asked, making sure he was reading you correctly.

“As long as I keep getting replies to my letters.” You reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck to embrace him and hoped he couldn’t hear the way your heart was beating out of your chest. After a moment, you pulled away, taking one last look into his eyes as a truck pulled up. As it slowed to where you both stood, you noticed a man in a similar uniform sat in the driver’s seat. Bob took a step back, eyes staying locked on yours as he opened the door and climbed in. You broke contact first, hand rummaging through your purse at your side as you took two steps forward, now standing on the edge of the curb. Your hand hit silk and you pulled the ribbon out quickly.

“Something to remind you to come back,” you said, reaching through the rolled down window, and tying it onto his duffel bag. You knew he’d have to find somewhere else to keep it once he got to base, but for the time being, it would be tied in a bow on the top strap.

You stood still, watching the truck drive away until it turned down a street out of sight. You walked slowly, feet dragging along the pavement to your car. You took a few moments of silence to consider the events of today before you turned the key and made your way home, drafting what you wanted to include in your first letter.

—--------------

The first month went by fast, school was out for the summer which meant there were more teenagers at the restaurant and more time you spent working. The times you weren’t, you spent in thought about Lt. Robert Floyd. Your friends took notice of how often you spent staring off and despite your best efforts to explain the connection, everyone brushed it off as a simple school girl crush over a man in a uniform. At first you were frustrated having to explain how in a few short hours and two letters with military postage, you felt you knew him forever. As the months would go on, the comments from your friends had become less frequent. You didn’t know if it was from them beginning to understand or them growing bored of the same jokes, but it didn’t matter.  The third letter you’d received at the very end of the month had a new return address– San Diego. You felt your heart ache as he was now across the country. 

By the second month, you built a routine of sorts. The main part included going into work before the sun rose to distract yourself and avoid worrying about how he was. Some days you felt silly, stressing over a man that was too busy doing tasks of actual importance to worry about some girl he met once at a small diner in a map dot town. Other days, you worried about his safety. You would attempt to reassure yourself with the thought that he knew what he was doing, but his pilot? You had no idea who they were. Did they have someone to come home to? Did they care about the safety of their WSO in the backseat? You wondered if the man that drove him to base was his pilot. 

The days new letters came were your favorite. No matter how soon the last letter had come in, everyday you’d run to the mailbox hoping to find a white envelope with clear, neat handwriting addressed to you. On days you did, you’d drop your bag on the floor of the hallway and hurry to sit and read every word of his surprisingly tidy cursive. After the third read you’d carefully fold it back up exactly as it was and hold it to your chest, sighing deeply. Any chores you’d saved for after work were abandoned in order to get your reply out as soon as possible. 

The third month was hard, nothing you did could distract you from your thoughts. Everywhere you looked there were banners and flags in celebration of those who serve. The local VFW hall was handing out small flags with tags that included names of local veterans or those currently serving. Your friends humored you by tagging along when you placed one in the ground, a small label that read, Lieutenant Robert “BOB” Floyd US Navy, WSO.You spent the Fourth of July watching fireworks with your loved ones, hoping next year he could be beside you on the small blanket. After the holiday passed, you went back to the VFW hall and grabbed the small flag to show Bob when he returned. 

The fourth month brought a lot of doubt from those around you, especially your friends. You were young and they felt you should be out having fun, not waiting by your mailbox hoping for a letter from your favorite sailor. You had shared your frustrations with Melissa and some of the regulars at work, but they encouraged you to ignore what those around you had to say. The older crowd at work especially loved what you were doing, believing it was romantic and a true test of commitment.

At the beginning of the fifth month, you had grown anxious. It had been almost a month since you heard anything from him. The prior letter was short and explained, without giving details, that training was going to be more rigorous to help prepare them for something that had come up. This meant that he wouldn’t be able to write much. In your reply to him you wrote you understood the situation and told him he needed to focus on training. The letters could wait if they needed to, you wanted him to have a clear mind in the sky. That was twenty six days ago. Worried thoughts had begun to take up space in your mind with each day that passed. You wondered if his plane was shot down or if there was a malfunction in equipment during training. In the back of your mind you selfishly wondered if he had grown bored of this game the two of you had been playing. 

After one exceptionally long day you raced home to check your mailbox and this time, there was a letter. In his handwriting, your full name and address were on the front. Tears welled up in your eyes out of relief and you couldn’t wait to open it inside. As you sat in your car, you carefully opened the envelope and saw it contained more pages than he had ever written. Each sentence cleared any doubt you had about him coming back to you.

The first page was strictly apologies. One for the late reply and making you wait for him, the other for not being able to fill you in. In the second page, he went on to explain that he had been selected for a mission that was ‘complicated’, as he described it. He figured it was easier to sugar coat it than worry you that his admiral called it a suicide mission. But somehow, against all odds, everyone made it back on the carrier.

Bob shared more about his family next, he explained that he was raised by a single mother that worked nights and overtime to support them. This led to him joining the navy right out of high school after researching the benefits they could receive. He wanted to step up and help provide a better life for the both of them. He even wrote how he watched her heart break when she found the papers in his bedroom. Instead of beaming with pride as he expected, she was furious, wondering how he could put himself into such a dangerous situation willingly. It’s been nearly four years since they’ve spoken. The fear of losing him in a tragic accident was too great and she couldn’t take anymore heartbreak.

Your cheeks had become damp with tears, but you continued to read. As he would tell you later, you had become the first person Bob ever admitted feeling scared to. He would never tell anyone else, but sometimes the lack of control in the backseat made his hands sweat. This was immediately followed by how in those times of fear the past five months, he would take a deep breath and imagine you. Specifically how you looked dipping the tips of your shoes into the pond with a smile on your face, a pale pink haze from the sunset surrounding you. Your letters  motivated him to stay focused and do whatever he needed to do in order to come back for you. Afterall, he owed you fries, and he could never turn back on that. 

You sat in your car until long after the sun had set and the cool breeze coming in the windows helped to dry your tear stained cheeks. You held the letter against your chest like all the times before, but this time it wasn’t just to feel close to him, it was to make sure that you weren’t dreaming. You wanted to be sure that the pages where he had poured his heart out to you were real. You tried to imagine him writing the letter, probably on a bunk too small for his height. Maybe it was late at night after everyone else had fallen asleep. Above all, you wondered if he felt the same butterflies writing it as you did reading it. The thought alone left you with a giddy smile as you walked into the house. 

Three weeks had passed since that day and you still reread parts of the letter daily. Specifically, the final paragraph where he’d promised to come back. You’d gotten a few letters since, one that had come the next day apologizing for dumping a lot on you. He hoped it hadn’t scared you off, but if it did, he understood. At the end of it he told you that they were starting to wrap up this deployment and while it could still take another month until he was back, the end was within reach. After receiving it you woke up everyday excited to see if today was the day. However, you didn’t feel disappointed when you returned home alone because that meant you were one day closer.

On the last Saturday of the fifth month, you arrived at work early in anticipation of a busy day. There was a lot that needed to be done and you didn’t want to be working on it while the breakfast rush was coming in. As expected, the diner filled up within an hour of being open and remained busy for most of the day. Thankful for the fall weather that had begun to come in, you opened the windows in the late afternoon to get some fresh air before remaking the coffee. With your back still turned to the door you heard the familiar chime of the bell alerting you to someone arriving.

“I’ll seat you in just a second!” You called out, focused on pouring fresh water into the coffee pot.

“That’s alright ma'am, I think I’ll sit at the counter if that’s alright. Just here for some fries,” a timid voice replied. 

You turned around to greet the man and there he stood, Lieutenant Robert Floyd in the same green flight suit you met him in nearly six months ago. He had a slight tan from the west coast sun and he looked tired, but it was him. You stared in disbelief, wondering if your eyes were playing tricks on you.

It took one of your favorite regulars yelling out, “Well honey, don’t just stand there, welcome the sailor home!” to snap you out of your trance.

You don’t remember where the mug you were holding went, all you could focus on was taking the five large steps across the outdated tile to be standing in front of him. Bob met you halfway and pulled you into a tight hug, his hand holding the back of your neck. You nuzzled your head into his shoulder and inhaled, trying to memorize the way this moment felt in every sense. The silence that had fallen over the diner was gradually replaced with the regular sounds of the dinner rush, but you don’t hear any of it. The only thing you could focus on was his heart beating, the sound grounding you to him. After a few moments, you removed your head from its spot and looked into his eyes. His watery blue eyes meet yours as the tears that had been collecting begin to descend down your cheeks. 

“Hey, hey, hey, no tears okay? I’m here, plus I brought something back for you,” he said as he moved his thumbs from the side of your face to wipe your tears. One hand unzipped the flight suit and the other reached into the breast pocket, pulling out the same silk ribbon you had given him. You were surprised at the condition. It was perfectly intact. He reached around your shoulders to tie your hair back with it, similar to how it was when he first got a glimpse of you. As you opened your mouth to ask how he kept it so nice, Melissa called out, “Alright kids, outta here, I’ll close up tonight.”

Before you could protest, Bob had your hand in his and was pulling you outside to where his truck was parked. As you reached the door he turned you, pressing your back against the warm metal and leaning down close, trying to judge your reaction. With a subtle nod, he closed the gap between the two of you for the first time. His lips were soft and you reached up to grab at the back of his neck..

He pulled away first. “It’s nice to have someone to come home to.”

Tagging: @skvatnavle @a-reader-and-a-writer @callsign-phoenix @wildbornsiren @hederasgarden

—𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆-𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒔

summary: a collection of moments throughout your relationship with one Aaron Hotchner.

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

word count: 28.8k 

warnings: lots of heavy stuff, lads. mentions of: r*pe and sexual assault, slightly graphic descriptions of violence, hotch gets stabbed, reader gets shot. age gap, SMUT (including dom/sub undertones, oral, floor sex).

notes: takes place from the start of season five to 7x02 i believe? lots of time skips so DONT KILL ME but pls………………….come shout about hotch in my askbox…………………….i have many thoughts

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the boy who has everything// [f.w.]

Summary: Fred and you have been secretly going steady since the end of your fifth year. Now that he and George are making their grand exit to follow their dreams, you are struggling to come up with the perfect parting gift.

Inspired by: https://open.spotify.com/track/37hblhCnC5YzhDQH58Rgpi?si=0EISnLcTRE2mctlIXNObTA

Warnings: Angst, Malfoy!Reader, difficult home life, neglect mentioned

A/N: Currently going through a bit of a writers block that definitely came from school, but I thought something to do with my fav boy would help clear my mind. Just want some input from ya’ll, would you be interested in me starting to take requests? Also, low-key miss having mutuals before I decided to completely start over lol. Also, why does ‘each other’ look wrong to me? Like I am a native English speaker but the words just like sus...

Word Count: 2.2k

    The numerous differences between your childhood and your boyfriend’s were anything but subtle.

    Growing up, you felt as if you were a puppet being dangled for the world to see. Your mother, Narcissa Malfoy, was a complex woman; She obviously loved you very much. She held you, but never longer than it took to keep your tears at bay. Lucius Malfoy, on the other hand, was your father in blood only. His disdain for your lack of enthusiasm regarding blood purity was obvious. He had never once in your 18 years on Earth said ‘I love you’, or even a simple ‘I’m proud of you’. Until the day came where you were willing to take the dark mark and fight on behalf of Lord Voldemort, you would be nothing in your parents’ eyes besides a test child before Draco’s birth.

    Now, from what Fred had told you, his childhood was seemingly filled with sunshine and rainbows. He spent his summers wading in the pond near the Burrow, listening to the chirp of crickets and giggles of his numerous siblings. The entire family was open about showing their love in words and actions. Molly and Arthur, despite not being particularly rich, would give the clothes off their backs if it meant their children would never have to experience fear in any capacity. Fred always had a playmate, and never did he have to go through life fearing being expelled from the family home for his opinions.

    In the simplest of terms, Fred and you were complete opposites. Your similarities were found in the small things; the way you both were headstrong and loyal, and most of all...

   You both despised Filch. Fred had saved your butt from being caught in the halls after dark at the beginning of 5th year. He had decided then and there that despite the fact that you were in a different house, you simply had to be more than another member of the besmirched sacred twenty-eight. He knew from the second you were taking his outstretched hand in the dimly lit corridors that no matter what, you both were destined to be in each others’ lives. As he led you down a secret passage to the sound of Mrs. Norris’ eardrum-rattling mewls, you knew that the idea that he was just another impoverished ginger from the Weasley family was anything but true. Despite all the odds, that night was what laid down the foundations for you and Fred to become more than just another member of the family feud.

    Going on almost 2 years later, and your relationship had shifted from what was a slightly odd friendship to an unexpected relationship. Fred and George were now planning their grand escape for sometime after the Easter holidays, but you had a totally different date on your mind; April 1st.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

    “Oi, Weasley! You are a whole 42 seconds late!” You giggled, and Fred simply chuckled before dropping his books next to yours.

    It was rare for Fred to be on time, but he always made an effort (and usually succeeded) for you. Due to your obvious difference in house loyalty, the easiest way you found to spend time together was to carve out 2 afternoons each week to just bask in each others’ presence. Every Monday and Friday (unless there was a quidditch match), you would meet Fred in a secluded corner of the courtyard. The two of you would goof around study, snack on some treats from Honeydukes, or simply lie back and enjoy the sunset while talking about whatever came up.

    “So, anything big happen today, love?” Fred pecked you on the cheek quickly before dropping his head on your shoulder.

    “Just the usual. Apparently, my mother has finally given up on sending me howlers to come home.”

    “Y/N, mum already said she would love for you to come and stay with us during the holidays. You could come get a feel for the family over the holidays next week, and you would finally get to see what the Weasley-Twin-Birthday-Bonanza is like!”

    “You mean watch your aunt call you George for a whole evening while asking why you aren’t a prefect? Oh, I am so in.” The ginger made a face of mock offense while dramatically huffing into the shoulder of your robes. “That reminds me, will you finally cave and tell me what you want for your birthday?”

    “Love, I don’t want anything at all. Having my gal be there for the big one-eight is more than I could ever ask for.”

    Money was no issue; Your mother had continued sending you a small allowance, most likely in the hopes that it would sway you to ‘do the right thing’. Fred had always made an effort to get you a new charm for your bracelet for your birthday, which most likely cost him a few weeks in sales, so of course you wanted to return the favor and find the perfect gift. Last year, you had crocheted him a plush lion wearing a Gryffindor-themed scarf and he had loved it. For some reason, though, you couldn’t help but feel like you needed to find him something bigger and better for his final birthday as a Hogwarts student.

    “If you say so, Fred. Just don’t complain when you open my gift and it’s a pair of socks embroidered with little kittens.” Fred simply smiled and grabbed your hand that was previously tapping on the edge of your potions textbook.

    “I’ll wear them with pride.”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

    “Ginny, please tell me you have some amazing idea for a gift that I haven’t thought of....” Ginny grimaced as you sunk into the wooden chair, obviously aware that this meeting you had called in the library wasn’t just to give her some advice in terms of course selection.

    “Well... um... maybe you could bring him some muggle joke products? He really gets quite a kick out of them.” The apples of Ginny’s round cheeks became rosy, and she awkwardly rubbed at the back of her neck. “I mean, no offense, but couldn’t you just ask him?”

    “I tried that already. At this rate, he will be turning 19 before I figure out what to get him...” A puff of air escaped your chapped lips, and you once again found yourself nibbling on them in thought.

    “Well, here you are, big sis! Trying to figure out a gift for your git of a boyfriend?” Draco’s familiar greasy head popped out from behind the shelf before the young wizard marched up to you directly. “Do us all a favor, give him a little ‘life sans Y/N’... Merlin knows his parents probably don’t want a child of dark lord sympathizers at their shack anyways.”

    “Shut up, Draco...” Before Ginny could attempt to soothe your anger, you had up and left the room.

    “Psh, serves her right anyways...” A resounding smack was heard as Ginny wacked the platinum-headed goon on the back with the heaviest textbook lying nearby.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

    It wasn’t like doubt surrounding your relationship had never been an issue before. You often found yourself wondering if your company was putting Fred in danger, especially considering the current climate surrounding the resurgence in death eater activity. Fred had always tried to quell your worries, but sweet words and gentle kisses could only do so much. You and Fred knew how you both felt towards each other, but it seemed like the world was against you some days.

    Maybe Draco is right, he could get out of here and find a nice girl with normal parents to settle down with. After all, who wants to be known as the significant other of a Malfoy?

    A single tear slipped out of the corner of your eye, but you quickly dabbed it away with the edge of your sleeve to avoid grabbing attention from any of your housemates. The only perk you found that happened to come with being sorted into Slytherin like the rest of your family was that it was far enough away that you knew Fred wouldn’t find out if you spent any time sulking about your common room. For once, the slam of the heavy dungeon doors brought you comfort instead of a nagging chill.

    Fred isn’t like me. He has everything he could ever want... All I do is create more stress for him.

    Ignoring the harsh gaze of your housemates, you slipped into your dorm and found yourself slinking to bed without so much as slipping off your robes. Pulling the emerald comforters over your head, you let yourself slip into a restless sleep.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

    It was finally the day before the Easter holidays, and Hogwarts was more alive than ever. Young couples were spending their last day on campus wandering the corridors, groups of friends sat laughing and promising to write letters on what they each planned to bring back, and even some people that swore they were enemies seemed to be acting more hospitable. It must’ve been nice to not be spending the morning trying to calm your beating heart and convincing yourself that what you are doing isn’t wrong.

    “Hey Lovey! Have you finished packing yet?”

    “Well... not exactly, Freddie.” Fred’s face dropped, and he took your hand in his.

    “Is this about my aunt? I promise you won’t even have to say more than a simple ‘hello’ to her.” The mere mention of Fred’s Auntie Muriel almost cracked your tough exterior.

    “I can’t come home with you, Freddie. There is no way your family wants to spend their holiday break with the daughter of Lucius Malfoy. Look, I mean... here’s your gift. Just please promise to wait till you get to the station to open it.”

    Fred opened his mouth to argue, but you had already turned away as to avoid him seeing hot tears trail down your cheeks. You would have to be insane to go and willingly spend your holiday alone in the Malfoy Manor. There would be no family meals, especially now that all your parent’s energy went towards providing shelter for the death eaters. As you stumbled away to make your way back to your dorm to finish packing, Fred’s warm hand grasped your shoulder.

    “Please. Y/N, all I want is to be able to spend every day of this holiday mucking about with you. I know why you want to go home, and I’m telling you as your boyfriend and best friend to not do it. Just please, grant me a birthday wish... come home with me.”

    Fred drew you into his chest, and you found yourself clutching onto his striped button-up as if it would save your life. His larger hands rubbed across your back, and he pressed a small kiss on the top of your head.

    “Are you really sure about this, Fred? I wouldn’t want to make your mum and dad uncomfortable, or even your older brothers for that matter.”

    “Y/N, my love, the light of my life, just come home. If you can manage to get George to like you more than he likes me, I promise you the rest of my family will love you.” His signature smirk spread on his freckled face, and he pressed a quick peck on the tip of your nose.

    “Now, let’s go get you packed, Y/N.”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

    “Oi, Fred, what’s in the box?” George elbowed his brother while somewhat attempting to be quiet. The train ride was almost over, and you had resorted to using the seat opposite to the twins as a temporary napping spot.

    “I nearly forgot I had it on me to be quite honest. Do you think I should open it even though she is coming with us?”

    “She said to open it at the station, but we are obviously past that point, so please just open it!” George bounced in his seat, and Fred gave in to temptation. He unwrapped the ribbon holding the small box shut, opened the lid, and discovered a dainty chain with a circular pendant hanging on the end.

    “Is that a size reference for your-”

    “George! Shut up, you dimwit. I think it might be a mirror-glass type thing, but I genuinely have no idea...”

    “Freddie, bring it to your eye and look through it.” The twins both jumped as you rolled over, clearly no longer asleep.

    Fred brought the pendant to his right eye, squinted, and his immediate smile couldn’t be contained. When held at the right distance, he could see a small picture of you and him from your first date at Hogsmeade. He was much more lanky and awkward looking, and you were almost matched in height. The smile you both shared in the photo warmed his heart to no end, and Fred found himself having to gather his emotions from the memories he had of that day. 

    The ginger all but leapt to your side of the cart, and he wrapped his arm around your still-sleepy figure. He squeezed you tightly to his side before leaning in to whisper something in your ear without allowing George to hear.

    “It’s perfect, my love.”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

~Post-fic A/N: I hope this was a good read for you guys! I am definitely on the verge of passing out, but proofreading is superior to sleep (jk). Anyways, if anything comes to mind, don’t hesitate to reach out or send in an ask! I love interacting with you guys, even if it is just a brief hello! :) ~

The Suite Life of Zack & Cody, Lost In Translation (S02E23)

Thank You For Your Service // F.W.

I can still taste the powder from the barrel of my gun. I can hear my Sergeant screaming, “Run, Soldier, run.” I can feel the backpack on my shoulders, God, it weighed a ton. I see death in every single thought. They taught me how to put that uniform on, I just can’t get it off // A Soldier’s Memoir (PTSD Song) - Joe Bachman 

Part 1 of 2. 

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem! Reader; George Weasley x OC (Mentioned briefly)

AU: Is early 2000s AU a thing?; military!AU; muggle!AU

Summary: Private First Class Fred Weasley is severely injured during his deployment, teaching you - his wife - about the meaning of sacrifice and unconditional love. 

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: ANGST to FLUFF, pregnancy, children, marriage, mention of 9/11/2001 terrorist attacks, Operation Iraqi Freedom, American military, violence/war/combat, long distance relationship, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), mention of prosthetic limbs/loss of limbs/severe injury, amputee, hospital, vomiting, burns, coping with disability, hurt/comfort, reader takes on a caretaker role, night terrors/nightmares, crying, fighting, throwing things, talk of su*cide, emotional outbursts, kissing, cuddling, i think that’s everything. PART 2 WILL FEATURE VANILLA SMUT. 

Author’s Note: I want to make it clear I am not pro-war nor am I in support of war, so please don’t come for me. I do, however, support active duty and veteran military members for their sacrifices. Also, I don’t know how accurate the timeline of events are so please bare with me. While this story is a work of fiction, the reality is that thousands of veterans are living with both mental and physical wounds as a result of their service during Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom. To learn how you can help post-9/11-veterans, please visit The Wounded Warrior Project.  A small donation to the Wounded Warrior Project significantly helps the men and women they serve. The WWP provides a number of valuable services to wounded warriors, including connections to mental health services, peer-to-peer support, independent living support (for veterans with severe injuries, such as traumatic brain injury), employment services, family support, housing, and more. For more information on PTSD among vets, please visit the United States Department of Veteran’s Affairs National Center for PTSD.  I want to highlight that love/a good relationship is not enough to cope with PTSD nor does it ‘fix’ it. If you or someone you love is experiencing PTSD symptoms, please seek help through means of professional counseling. 

_________________________________________

There are so many things no one tells you before you marry a soldier. There is a tendency to leave out the heartbreak that forms when you marry one. In reality, you aren’t just marrying him, but the Army as a whole. Being a military spouse comes with its own code. You learned to walk on his left side at all times just in case he had to stop to salute with his right; you always stood for the Anthem and crossed your heart at the Pledge; you spent hours learning acronyms and ranks; and overall, you strived to be as proper and patriotic as possible. However, you wouldn’t trade the world for the life you had with  Private First Class Fred Weasley. You had married young - like many military wives - so that you could have the opportunity to live on base. You hadn’t thought much of Fred’s position during peacetime.

Fred was a doting and loving husband. He worked long hours, but you never much minded. You were able to work part-time as a registered nurse, picking up hours as needed, although you and Fred were able to manage on his salary.  In fact, it all seemed like the perfect career path. Fred would continue to move up ranks, and eventually, you would be able to settle down with a decent military retirement fund. Everything was going as it should -  that was until September 11th, 2001.

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