wide wedding rings

Butterflies - Fred Weasley

Requested by anonymous. This is one of my first Fred fics in so long!!

Your apartment door swung open with a creak, as you walked into the dimly lit kitchen. You placed your grocery bags down on the counter before sitting down on one of the stools. Fred was most likely still in the shop, considering that you could hear some of the firecrackers going off underneath. 

Fred and you had plans to get dinner after work, so you decided to finish up some of your paperwork before you had to go. Grabbing your briefcase, you opened it up to finish some of your files. Working in the ministry meant that you always had at least something to do, and today it was filling in information about magical creatures that had been recently discovered. 

The door creaked open again and Fred and George both walked in. Fred came over to kiss you, and then George kissed your forehead.

“Hello, darling,” Fred said, sitting next to you, touching your knee softly. You smiled at him and then looked back at George. 

“What’s going on?”

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said, spinning you back to face him. 

“Yeah?” He nodded and looked behind you at George. When you turned around, George was smiling too. “Are you pregnant?” you asked. They both laughed.

“No,” Fred said. “You aren’t either, are you?” 

“No, baby,” you said, shaking your head. Fred let out a sigh, and George walked over so you could face them both.

“Okay, so you know we’ve been working a lot of overtime lately, and that’s because we’ve been working on a new product.”

“Ooh,” you said, scooting a little closer to him. 

“Actually we’ve been working on two,” George said. “But I don’t think you’d be interested in a taffy that makes you talk in a different dialect based on what flavor you choose.”

“You made that?”

“Yes, but we’ll try it later. I don’t want you to be talking to me in a German accent all night.” You laughed and touched his knee. 

“Okay, so what did you make?”

“A product that I based off of you.”

“Of me?” you asked, looking between the two boys to make sure they weren’t joking. Both of their faces remained serious, so you went back to focusing on Fred. 

“Yes, well, you know how I’m crazy about you,” he said, smiling at you widely.

“Yes, the wedding ring on my finger gave some clue to that.” 

“Right,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “Well, I’m crazy about you, and I wanted to create a product that made people feel how I feel when I’m around you.” You smiled and leaned in to kiss him. 

“Hey, I came up with the product, too,” George said. You looked up at him and waved him over, before kissing his cheek. 

“Okay, so show me what it is,” you said. Fred nodded and reached into his pocket, pulling out a little purple vial. He handed it to you, and you read the name on the bottle. 

“Butterfly juice?”

“The name is still in the making,” he said, blushing ever so slightly. You touched his cheek softly, and then look down at the vial again.

“So what does it do?”

“It gives you butterflies in your stomach,” George said. You giggled and looked at Fred.

“You are a nerd,” you said. He laughed and ran his hand through his hair nervously again. “Can I take some?”

“You’re not pregnant right?” George asked. You rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“No, we’ve covered that.”

“Then take it,” Fred said. You nodded and took a drink of the vial. It tickled as it slid down your throat, and you could feel it the second it hit your stomach. When it did, it felt like actual butterflies were flying around. It made you laugh, and you felt a little nervous, but mostly happy. 

“Oh my god,” you said. 

“How does it feel? Like the real thing?”

“Yes,” you said, touching your stomach. “Is this really how I make you feel? Even now?”

“Of course,” he said. You smiled and pulled him in for another kiss. 

“I love you,” you said. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he held onto your waist, pulling you into his lap. “George-”

“I love you, too,” he said, touching your shoulder. 

“Actually,” you said, pulling away from Fred for a minute. “I was gonna ask you to leave so I could make out with your brother.” 

“Yeah, beat it, Georgie,” Fred said, situating you better onto his lap, holding your ass. You winked at George as he walked towards the door, before going back to kiss the more handsome twin. (At least in your opinion.)

“You think we should bring some of this butterfly stuff into our room?” you asked, wagging your eyebrows at him. He smiled and picked you up, grabbing the little vial. 

“Most definitely,” he said, kissing you again.

“We’re not going to dinner, are we?”

“No, not yet.” You beamed and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him as he carried you back to your bedroom.

“You’re the most amazing husband. Thank you for the butterfly juice, even if it has a terrible name.” He laughed as he laid you down on the bed.

“You’re welcome. Don’t worry we’ll work on the name. Essence of Y/N? ” he asked, kissing you quickly. “Y/N juice?”

“Shut up,” you said, smacking his arm. “Those are all awful.”

“I know, you’re right.”

“Just kiss me.”

“Sounds good,” he said with a smile, bringing his lips back to yours.

anonymous asked:

More Vietnam AU pleeeeeease I need to know what's happening! *folds hands and makes puppy dog eyes*

Vietnam AU

Claire idly tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as she waited for the traffic signal – hanging limply from an overhead wire, swaying gently in the warm breeze, a sparrow jauntily perched on top – to turn green.

Saturday morning. Not too early, but not too late.

She hadn’t slept. Agonizing over what to wear, what to say. What to want.

And what *did* she want? To be Jamie’s…love interest again? Or simply to bring him news that she was well?

It didn’t matter anymore. If the motel’s kind receptionist was to be believed, this was the final turn-off before Beauly Boulevard – the only access road to the vast Fraser estate.

Once Dr. Beaton had told her about the long and illustrious Fraser history in Boone, suddenly she saw the name everywhere. In the handprinted tag attached to a skein of yarn in the small gift shop near her motel (“Would you believe that the wool is grown right here in town, on the big old Fraser farm?”); in the mom-and-pop hardware store (“We still call it Fraser’s even though they sold off the business right after the war”); even in the name of the town’s small library (“Fraser Memorial – yes, *those* Frasers. The money was donated way back in the 1800s in memory of the Frasers who had died in the War Between the States, and the Revolution, and even back to some old war in Scotland before they all came over and settled in the mountains”).

It was a grand name – a proud name. And the kind people in the village usually followed up their anecdote with a comment or two about the current Frasers. She had learned that Jamie had a sister – Jenny – who was married with a few children of her own. That Jenny and her husband ran the farm, even though Jamie owned it – had inherited it after their father died about five years back. That Jamie was a war hero, of course. But quiet about it – never wanted to draw too much attention to himself. Which was a shame, because he was *such* an eligible bachelor…

Claire jolted as the truck behind her gently tapped on its horn. Blinking harshly, she looked up at the signal – green – and pulled her car forward.

Just as the receptionist had said, Beauly Boulevard was the first right after the intersection. She turned onto the unpaved road, slid her sweaty palms further down the steering wheel, and breathed.

Gravel crunched as the car gently climbed a steep hill. All of a sudden she was in the middle of a forest – surrounded by greens and browns and pine branches and an overwhelming stillness.


The road curved around to the left, and the grand old manor house came into view.

Three stories. Beautiful tall white columns. Black shutters. A porch scattered with empty rocking chairs.


One more gate – stone, with “Fraser 1768” and a coat of arms carved into one side. Claire squinted out her window to read the motto.

*Je suis prest.*

She swallowed, pulled the car into an empty spot beside a worn but well-kept pickup truck, and cut the engine.

I am ready. But ready for what?

Claire grit her teeth, reached to the passenger seat for her purse, and stepped out of the car.

It was an old house, to be sure – and had clearly been added on to over the years. But the additions were tasteful. The house wasn’t overpowering – even though the family who built it and still lived in it commanded great power and respect.

And then a child laughed somewhere inside – and the house became a home.

Her home?

Softly, quickly Claire climbed the steps and pushed the doorbell.

Somewhere inside, footsteps pounded and doors slammed.

Suddenly self-conscious, Claire patted her hair and straightened the collar of her coat. Too late now.

The door flung open, revealing a small, dark-haired woman clad in jeans and an apron. An infant slept snug against her chest.

The woman stood back a bit, hands on her hips. Impatient.

“How may I help you?”

Claire’s heart had floated out of her body. She had rehearsed these words so many times – and now it didn’t matter one bit.

“My name is Claire Beauchamp. I’m looking for Jamie Fraser.”

The woman openly eyed Claire up and down. Appraising. “Jamie’s up at the barn just now. Is he expecting you? You’re not from around here.”

Claire slid her sweaty hands into her pockets. Lint stuck like glue to her fingers. “No – no he’s not. I – I served with Jamie in Viet Nam. I’m visiting the area this week and thought I’d stop by.”

“Did you, now? He doesn’t speak much about it.” The baby fussed, and she lay one soothing hand against its back. Her wide, practical wedding ring flashed in the late morning sunlight.

Claire held her ground, meeting the woman’s gaze. Not challenging her – but proving herself. Proving her worth. “I treated him when he was injured. At the Chu Lai field hospital.”

For the briefest of moments, the most extraordinary look came across the woman’s face – but then it was gone. And Claire wasn’t even sure that it had truly happened.

“Well then. He’s at the horse barn, looking at the harnesses. Do you want me to take you, Ms. Beauchamp?”

“No – no, thank you.” It was Claire’s voice, but someone else had to be speaking. “Can you just please tell me how to get there?”

“Of course – it’s just up the hill, around the rear on the right side. You can’t miss it.”

Claire nodded and pasted a thin smile on her lips. “Thank you – ”

“Oh! How rude of me. I’m Jenny Murray – Jamie’s sister. This is my youngest, Maggie. And let me be the first to welcome you to Fraser’s Ridge – and Lallybroch.”

Claire gratefully shook Jenny’s extended hand, and nodded, and quietly walked down the steps and around the back of the house.

Just a few more steps.

Her feet weren’t touching the ground.

This couldn’t be real.

So many outbuildings – all old, but all well-maintained. Constructed of solid, honest stone with just the barest hints of modern upgrades.

The barn wasn’t as big as she thought it would be – but then again, what use did a modern farm have for horses, anyway?

Moss coated the damp stones of the barn, where the doors stood open. Claire padded over and into the old building, footsteps silent on the carpet of leaves and wood chips.

It wasn’t just one large room, but rather one main room with a series of smaller chambers branching out – old stalls, undoubtedly. Quiet. Peaceful – just like the rest of this place.

A rack to one side held various accoutrements associated with horses: saddles, bridles, bits. Old posters were tacked up on the opposite wall – even folded and yellowed with age, she could tell that they were for equestrian shows.

The door to the back stall was open. Claire slipped past the other stalls – to her surprise, full of horses – and followed the sound of a hammer.

Finally, finally she arrived at the back stall. Bent over a saddle mounted on a wooden block, his back turned to her, was Jamie.

“Is that you, Jenny?” he asked, not turning around. He was dressed in jeans and a simple button-down, and had a tool of some kind in his hand, with which he was doing something to the leather of the saddle. “Took you long enough. Did you get the – ”

“It isn’t Jenny,” Claire said. Her voice was higher than usual. “It’s me. Claire.”

He straightened up very slowly. His hair was longer than the last time she’d seen him – the ends brushed his shoulders, but he didn’t choose to wear it up.

Then he turned around – and they stared at each other, not speaking.

cangellygaming  asked:

I just really need some secretly married ironfalcon and the team finding out from some random reason like noticing a ring on Tony's and Sam's finger and they've been married for like 20 years or something

I got a similar prompt about secretly married IronFalcon, which I filled here, but I’m gonna write one for you too!

It was Steve who noticed the ring first.

Sam and Tony had agreed that just outright telling the team would be no fun at all, and they decided to drop hints here and there to see who would catch up on them first.

So far no one had even looked their way with suspicion, and while Tony was really tired to pretend to just be friends with Sam now that they finally lived in the same house, he also found it hilarious that his team mates were so dense.

Steve had stared at the chain around his neck for almost an hour before he said something and Tony had been ready to shove the ring into his face.

“What are you wearing?” Steve asked him finally, sandwich halfway to his mouth but now forgotten. “I have never seen you wear jewelry.”

“What?” Tony pretended to be surprised by Steve’s question and then fumbled with the chain around his neck. “Oh, you mean this? It’s just a ring, no big deal,” he told Steve and had to suppress a laugh when Steve’s eyes went wide as he saw the very gold, very obvious wedding ring.

“You….is this….a wedding ring?” he asked and the sandwich was lowered back onto the plate.

“Mh? Yeah, course it is,” Tony said with a shrug and put the ring back under his shirt. It wouldn’t do to get scratches on it.

“So a family heirloom?” Steve further inquired and Tony had to work hard to keep his face straight.

“Exactly,” he told Steve, not mentioning that it had been Sam’s mothers’ ring instead of his own.

“Why are you wearing it around your neck?” Steve questioned and Tony smiled at him.

“Wouldn’t want to scratch it or for it to get caught on something down in the workshop. I need my hands. The neck is the only place I can wear it without wearing it down.”

“Why would you even want to wear a family heirloom ?” Steve seemed confused. “Shouldn’t it be, I don’t know, kept safe until you want to give it to someone?”

“Someone wanted to give it to me, so that’s why it technically should be on my hand,” Tony told Steve just as he took a sip from his mug and to Tony’s endless amusement he promptly choked on it.

Before Steve got his breath back and could further ask about the ring, Tony walked away, incredibly smug about how this went.

When Tony entered their suite, Sam could immediately tell that something was up.

“What happened?” he asked Tony with a kiss to the temple and Tony melted into his husband.

“Steve noticed the ring,” he answered and Sam chuckled.

“Yeah? What did you say?”

“I implied that it was given to me. I wonder how long it will take them to figure it out now.”

“Hopefully not long at all,” Sam said and held up his hand. His wedding ring shone brightly on his finger and Tony would never get tired of the beautiful contrast the gold made on his skin.

“You’re helping them,” Tony accused and Sam shrugged.

“I am so tired of not being able to kiss you or hold you or tell you I love you.”

“We can always still just tell them,” Tony reminded him, because he felt the same way. He couldn’t wait for the day they could finally cuddle during movie night.

“Now that would be just boring,” Sam protested and Tony smiled. While it was pure agony to keep their hands to themselves, it was also too much fun to lead the others on.

“Besides, I’m guessing it won’t take them long now. Steve definitely went to Natasha with this, so Clint knows as well now. They should figure it out soon enough.”

“I hope so,” Tony mumbled and leaned in to kiss Sam. He couldn’t wait to do that in the common kitchen as well.

As it turned out, their team mates were denser than they had thought. After Steve noticed the ring around Tony’s neck it took them almost five days before Clint noticed the ring on Sam’s finger.

“Dude,” he suddenly said during dinner and his eyes were wide. “Is that a wedding ring?” There was disbelieve in his voice and Tony tried his hardest to keep his face vaguely interested.

“What does it look like to you?” Sam asked back instead of giving a straight answer and Tony pressed his lips together.

“It looks very much like a wedding ring to me,” Clint said and Sam shrugged.

“Then I guess that’s what it is.” Sam dug back into his food, seemingly done with this topic but Clint obviously wasn’t.

“No, no, nonononono. You can’t just drop that and then get back to acting like nothing happened! You’re married and you didn’t tell us?!”

“I actually thought you would figure it out a lot sooner, to be honest,” Sam smoothly replied and looked at his ring. “I’ve been wearing this for the past week.”

Clint gaped at him and even Steve was staring wide eyed at him.

“You’re married and you never thought to tell me? This whole Hydra fiasco could have endangered your wife!”

“My spouse can take care of themselves,” Sam replied to that and now Natasha looked up.

“Your spouse, huh,” she thoughtfully said and her eyes slid over to Tony for a second. “So I’m guessing it’s not a wife then.”

“You’re guessing correctly,” Sam told her and Tony was about to yell at them because how difficult could it be to connect the dots now.

“You’re married to a man? How did that happen without us noticing?” Steve asked and Sam smiled at him.

“It didn’t. I’ve been married for twenty years.”

Steve’s fork clattered to the ground. “And you didn’t think to mention it?” he asked yet again and now Tony had enough.

“Jesus Christ, guys,” he started and like she had only waited for that Natasha shifted her concentration to him.

“So, Tony, didn’t you say it wasn’t your heirloom you’re wearing around the neck?” she smoothly asked and Tony grinned at her.

“That I did.”

Clint’s mouth fell open. “No way.”

“Yes way,” Tony childishly and reveled in the disbelieve he saw on Clint’s and Steve’s face.

“You two are married and you never thought to bring it up?” Clint eventually yelled and Steve only blinked at that while Natasha was looking way too happy about all of this.

“We decided to let you come to the conclusion,” Tony told her and Sam nodded his encouragement.

They looked at each other and then simultaneously reached out to take the other’s hand.

Clint stared in horror at them. “You’re disgusting, I can already tell. How the hell did we not notice this?”

“That’s a question we have been asking ourselves for the past month,” Sam said and smiled at them.

“I hope you won’t have a problem with that.”

“Twenty years,” Steve mumbled and sounded awed. “You’ve been married for twenty years and still manage to look at each other like that.”

“What can I say, it’s true love,” Tony happily said and leaned over the table to kiss Sam.

“Okay, rules here, we need rules, no kissing during eating,” Clint chimed in and Tony chuckled against Sam’s lips.

“Don’t think we can do that,” Sam said once they separated again. “We have to make up for two months of lost time.”

“Oh god. I’m leaving,” Clint said and stood up. “No offense, I’m happy for you, but I’m leaving. Steve, Natasha, my kitchen is well stocked.”

“Jep, I’m coming as well,” Steve rushed out and hurried to get up. “Like he said, really happy you guys have each other but…there’s only so much I want to see.”

“We didn’t even do anything yet,” Tony yelled at their retreating backs and slapped Sam when his hands found their way under Tony’s shirt.

Natasha was the last one to get up and she didn’t seem to be in a hurry at all.

She made her way around the table and stopped next to Tony.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” she said and pressed a kiss to Tony’s head before she turned to Sam. “I’m also glad you’re happy, but he’s my favourite. So hurt him and we’ll have a problem.”

“Twenty years, Nat. We’re long past that phase.”

“Good,” she said with a smile and then left them as well.

As soon as she was gone, Tony slid into Sam’s lap.

“That went better than expected,” he said and nibbled at Sam’s neck.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked with a smile in his voice and pushed his hands further under Tony’s shirt.

“Making up for lost time,” Tony whispered and Sam shuddered under him.

“I like the way you think,” he told Tony who grinned.

“That’s why I’m the genius in this marriage.”

“We’ll see how much of that will be left once I’m done with you,” Sam lowly told him and now it was Tony’s time to shudder. They should have told the team a long time ago if it got him this now.

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