abelbai000

[abelbai000]

touching din | din djarin

Summary: The three times that Din bends his own rules and engages in physical touch. 

his primary love languages are acts of service and physical touch. i will die on this hill. i started this one just to indulge in the thoughts of touching his lovely face. it’s been in the works for a while and although i know it’s far from perfect, i’m glad that it finally gets to see the light of day! warnings: bad language, potential incoherence? idk i’m very tired but i hope you like it tags: plenty of fluff, plenty of indulgent, sfw touching, and then a good handful of angst. rollercoaster central. this takes place over a period of time, so part of it comes after finding out grogu’s name, which is why he’s referred to as many things! word count: 4650 written by: archie support me on ko-fi!

The travelling between planets would’ve been excruciating if not for your life partner and your adoptive child. The three of you made rather an unorthodox family. A runaway from Corellia, a Mandalorian and a… a sweet ball of green. An unorthodox family, indeed, but loving.

The Child chirped and bubbled away on your lap, apparently having a conversation with you while you sat in the pilot seat. You listened attentively, made agreeing noises at all the right moments, the lights of hyperspace travel filling the cabin with slow flashes. He really was so cute. You’d tell him it often, and you’d tell him that Din thought so too, even if he’d never say it. That much was obvious.

It was in the way he carried him, the way he protected him. The occasional pat to his head, or the quiet rub to his long ears as he slept. He wasn’t the type to openly say it, but it was clear, and that was what counted.

The Child reached out to the knob atop the gearstick, fingers wiggling.

“Baby, no. We have to always ask Din about the ship, hm?” You bounced him gently on your knee in an effort to ease the sad coos- but there was no need. A gloved hand reached around you, exposed fingertips closing on the ball. It was unscrewed and placed into the waiting green hands, content whirs and chatters soon filling the air.

The warmth in your chest grew into a smile as you dropped your head back, peering up at the helmeted man that stood just out of sight. “That’s a yes, then?”

A nod. “That’s a yes.”

Keep reading

[abelbai000]

Significant

Summary: Din has been calling you riduur for months. You finally find out what it means, and get a little more than you bargained for.

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader

Word Count: ~5.1k

Warnings: pining, absolute FOOLS in love, bit of grumpy x sunshine, lil angsty, possibly incorrect lore, fluff, lots of Mando'a (translations for the Mando'a at the end)

A/N: Happy Mandalorian Eve!! This is based on a short drabble I wrote, which you can find here! It's not necessary to read it first, though of course I recommend it! The reader and Din have been traveling together for a long time, and after removing his armor in front of the reader for the first time began calling them riduur.

“Riduur.” 

It may as well be your name, the way you turn at the sound of that word. 

“Din,” you return, adjusting the child’s little sleeve which had fallen down past his hand.

“Are you ready?” He asks as he tilts his head to the side. 

You smile and turn back to Grogu. “Dad’s impatient today, isn’t he?” The child coos up at you, lifting tiny arms, ready to be picked up. “Yeah, he is.”

“I’m not impatient,” Din grumbles lowly.

You raise a brow at that and lift Grogu into your arms. “You’re always impatient, Mando.” His head jerks to the side at your assessment.

You have to bite back a laugh. In truth, he is incredibly patient. Most of the time, and especially when it came to you and Grogu. The only time you’ve seen him truly lose his temper was with the Jawas, and really, that couldn’t be helped. 

The child reaches for Din when you turn back to him, and the Mandalorian immediately holds out his arms to take him from you. You deposit the little green baby there before grabbing your shawl. “Yes, we’re ready,” you finally answer. 

The baby gets tucked into the pouch at Din’s hip, before he descends the ship’s ramp out into the desert air that awaits you. 

You roll your eyes gently. 

Not impatient, but not entirely patient either. 

You follow, wrapping the light material around your shoulders. 

It’s subtle, but he does wait for you, his pace slower than if he were alone. His right elbow ticks out a fraction, and you smile before cupping your hand there. He would never ask you to take his arm, still the offer is usually there if he can accommodate it. 

He relaxes a little when you fit your hand against his bicep. “Supplies only,” he reminds you, ever practical. 

“Supplies only,” you agree. “Unless I see something for Grogu.” 

“The child is becoming spoiled,” he complains lightly. “We won’t have enough room in the ship soon.” 

You shrug and tighten your grip on his arm. You like the way he says we. So, you return with, “That’s just because our child deserves the best.” 

Din’s spine straightens a fraction and his shoulders tilt back. 

He’s somehow both stoic and incredibly bad at hiding his emotions. You can tell, just by the slope of his shoulders or the exact angle of the helmet or the precise way he stands or walks, exactly what and how he’s feeling. 

Or, maybe you’ve just spent too much time around him. 

Maybe, you just know him too well. 

And right now, he’s swollen with pride. Though you don’t know if it's because you’ve complimented the way he takes care of the child or if it were something else. Something in the way you said our.  

It’s not long before you reach the market, and Din sighs as soon as it comes into view. It’s much larger than the ones you normally frequent, a riot of color and sound that you both know you won’t be able to resist. The town seems to be in the midst of some kind of festival. 

The smell of fried food greets you before you’ve even breached the perimeter of the town, and your mouth waters. Something better than rations awaited you there. 

Din is single minded though, and you know he’ll immediately make for the most boring of the stalls and shops. 

Supplies only, after all, is what you’d come for. 

“Mando,” you remove your hand from his arm and he immediately halts at the loss of your touch and turns to you. “I’m going to go look around.” 

He stares at you, helmet tilting down. He doesn’t like telling you no, and knows it wouldn’t matter if he did anyways. But, he worries and so it takes a moment for him to reply. “Don’t go far,” he advises. “Do you have a comlink?”

“Yes.” 

“A weapon?” 

You pretend to search your person, “Hm, what’s that again?” 

“Riduur,” he reprimands your teasing. 

That word makes the inside of your skin light up pleasantly. Riduur. If only you knew what it meant. 

You’ve started to assume it means something similar to cyare or cyar'ika. But he’d had no problem telling you what those words meant. Darling and sweetheart and beloved. He’d had no problem telling you he was calling you beloved. 

But he no longer calls you cyare or cyar'ika. Since the first time he’d called you riduur, the day he removed his armor in front of you for the first time, he’d solely begun calling you riduur. 

Even your name is becoming a rarity from his lips. 

“Udesii! Yes,” you cross your arms. “You know I took care of myself for a very long time without you and nothing ever happened. I’ll be okay.” 

Din doesn’t answer, just sighs and gives a curt nod and marches off towards a shop selling medical supplies. 

The dramatics of it all makes you giggle. You like teasing him, especially because he thinks he hides how flustered you make him well. 

Although you enjoy traveling with the Mandalorian, alone time has become a complete rarity. You were always with Din, or watching your little green menace.

You eat your way through a couple of different stalls selling food, bundling up second and third servings to keep for Din and Grogu. 

Din wouldn’t think to get anything beyond rations. Both you and the child like a little more variety, where Din treats the act of eating like a maintenance routine. 

You drift past stalls hawking trinkets and jewelry, fending off the sellers as you crunch something sweet and sour you’d picked up at the last food stall, not entirely sure what it is.  

Textiles are next, bolts of cloth you run your fingers over but mourn not being able to afford. Still, it's nice to browse, nice to feel normal. The Mandalorian isn’t hunting someone for once, and you aren’t trapped in the interior of the ship, stale recycled dry air burning your nostrils. 

A little supply stop has become a little welcome relief. It’s giving you the chance to stretch your legs, to explore. 

Still, your mind drifts back to Din, the way he calls you something he would not name to you.

You’ve searched before, in other markets, on other worlds, for the answer to your question. What does that word mean and why won’t Din tell you? 

You’d tried to convince him once or twice, with gentle words whispered in his ear, when the helmet was off and your hands were pressed against his skin, the contours of his face still a mystery to you. 

Once, you’d felt the skin of his cheeks go hot beneath your hands when you told him he used his tongue so prettily, couldn’t he use it to tell you what riduur meant? 

He’d mumbled something else in Mando’a but had not explained himself. 

You can understand most of that he says now, but because he’s the only other speaker, you have to rely on him to tell you what new words and phrases mean.

Because the Mandalorians are such an insular people, you never come across any other speakers you could ask. There are no dictionaries to Basic that you could download and peruse. 

It’s frustrating, especially since the word seems to be laden with something heavy. Din says it with reverence, with a softness that doesn't cut through the rest of his words. His voice is softer when he speaks Mando’a anyways, but that word is held with a reverence on his tongue, like it’s precious. 

The only other time you had heard him use that tone was when he once called Grogu ad’ika, which meant child. 

You’ve almost given up on knowing, resigned to that fact that you may never know and he may never tell you.

Whatever it means, you’re sure it's important. You just don’t know why.

The market is loud, boisterous and colorful. Music floats through the air, shouts and laughter. 

It’s nice, it makes you smile and you wish you’d taken the child with you because you’re sure he’d have much more fun with you than with Din picking out rolls of bandage and rations and pulse rifle cartridges if he can find someone that has some. 

You stop suddenly in your tracks when you hear a conversation in a language you immediately recognize, the familiar syllables cutting through the afternoon chatter. 

You spin and find two men in robes speaking gently to each other in Mando’a. Before you can stop yourself, your feet have already carried you to their table where they sit sipping cups of caf. 

“Su cuy'gar,” you greet. They both look surprised, glancing at each other and then back at you. “Sorry to bother you. You speak Mando’a?” 

One smiles, “Yes. Of the few outsiders that do, I think.” 

“Were you foundlings?” It’s the only way, you think, that they could have learned it. 

“Once,” the older of the two says. “This one learned it at a university.” 

You can’t help the curiosity that burns through you, “At a university? Really?” 

“Only the very barest basics. From a woman being courted by a Mandalorian,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand. “That was a long time ago. Really I learned from him.” He gestures between himself and the other man. 

You shake yourself, “I’ve just never met another aruetii that does.” Let alone two of them, you think dizzily. Two outsiders who spoke Mando’a. 

“And how did you learn?” 

“My…” you trail off. 

Your what? You aren’t sure what exactly Din is to you, or what you are to him. You never have been. He treats you like you’re more precious than beskar, yet everything between you remains undefined. 

“My traveling companion. He’s a Mandalorian.” You swallow, “I wonder if you could tell me if you know what a certain word means? It’s one I’ve been curious about.” You don’t want to tell them that you’re seeking it out because it's something he calls you. That feels too private, too close to the chest. “He said it once and I’ve been trying to figure it out ever since.” 

“Why don’t you ask him?” 

“It would wound my pride. He’s already taught me so much. He overestimates my fluency.” 

They laugh and the man who was once a foundling says, “Yes, ask us then.” 

“Riduur,” you say, carefully pronouncing it so they don’t mistake it for another word. “Riduur,” you repeat with more confidence. 

The men glance at each other, brows raised. “Well, it has several meanings,” the more grizzled of the two says, “But I suppose it's all the same in the end. Spouse would be the most overarching translation. Partner, wife, and husband all work too.” 

For a moment, you can’t breathe, you’re sure your heart has come to a leaping halt in your chest. “Truly? Riduur?” You say it again, just to make sure. They laugh and nod and you decide to have your meltdown away from their table. “Well, thank you for clearing that up. Sorry again to bother you.” 

You turn away from them, a roaring in your ears. Your heart stutters in your chest. Riduur. He’s been calling you his partner, his spouse, for months? That word so softly spoken to you - to tease you, to call for you, whispered to you in the dark, said over and over, more than your own name. It meant partner, spouse, wife, husband?

Something inside you lights up with pride. The shape of it is warm, firm in the clasp of your lungs. Riduur. It’s a living, breathing kind of word, one that takes up space inside you. One you’re proud to bear the weight of, the title of. 

Spouse, you think, doesn’t carry the same gravitas as riduur. There’s something heavier and deeper in the word that a translation couldn’t really carry over into Basic. 

You start back down the road, smiling to yourself, but only make it several paces when Din steps up beside you silently from between two stalls. “Dank farrik,” you gasp, stumbling back. “Where did you come from? You scared me.” 

He doesn’t answer you, doesn’t even tilt his head towards you. You may as well have not spoken at all. 

“Mando?” 

Still, he doesn’t answer you. 

You raise a brow but don’t say anything else as he herds you gently out of the market, desert dust swirling around your calves. Eventually, when you reach the edge of the town, he asks, “Did you find everything you need?” His voice is flat, rough. 

“Yes, I got some food for you and Grogu to try. A little feast for you tonight, since it won’t hold.”

He merely grunts and you frown. “Is something wrong?” You glance over your shoulder. “Did something happen? Are we being followed?”

You glance around his legs at the baby, still securely in the brown canvas bag, who’s peering up at both of you with anxious eyes, big ears drooping. 

“No.” He answers curtly. 

The walk back to the ship is silent, and tense, and you aren’t sure why. 

It’s only when you’re in the safety of the mouth of the ship’s ramp, with the baby in your arms, that your irritation spills over. “Are you upset with me? I didn’t wander. I stayed close and had a weapon and -,” 

Din’s hands go to his hips, helm tilting at an angle as he regards you. His voice is agitated when he finally speaks. You expect him to tell you that you wandered too far, that he commed you and you hadn’t picked it up, that you’d unknowingly wandered into danger. And you expect to have to tell him once again that it's all fine, that you are fine, that you’d traveled without him for years and things always turned out alright. 

Instead, he says, “You should not call yourself an aruetii. That is not what you are.” 

For a moment, it doesn’t register with you what he’s talking about, that he’d clearly overheard your conversation with the Mando’a speakers, likely eavesdropped on it. 

All you are, for a few seconds, is confused. “But…I am an aruetii. I am not a Mandalorian.”

Din’s shoulders go stiff at your words. “That does not make you an outsider. You…you are far from an outsider,” he growls and suddenly spins away from you, his footfalls heavy and loud when he stomps across the hull.

He climbs the ladder to the cockpit and disappears, leaving both you and the baby alone, still standing on the ramp up to the ship. “He’s angry with me,” you say in disbelief, glancing down at the child in your arms, not really understanding why. “We’ll let him cool off,” you decide, bouncing the child against your waist. “Hungry?” 

The baby coos and you smile, worry biting into you as you settle with him in the mouth of the ship. The sun is setting on the sand, the air warm, casting red shadows over the world. There’s nothing around you but sand in any direction you glance, aside from the town from which you’d come on the horizon. 

In the distance, fireworks from the town explode in the sky. You point them out to Grogu, gently feeding him bites of food that you’d gotten at the market. He makes a sound that you suppose is a giggle, big eyes focused on the colors dissipating in the sky. He holds a tiny hand up, like he’d like it to fly to him. 

You curl a hand over his. “None of that,” you say with a laugh. “Those are meant for the stars, not you.” 

He goes back to eating, already distracted. 

A weight settles over your chest.

If Din heard you call yourself aruetii then he knows that you now know what riduur means. 

Maybe that was the true source of his irritation, that you’d gone behind his back to figure out what it meant when he clearly hadn’t wanted you to know.

You rub the tip of Grogu’s ear between your fingers and sigh. 

Any warm feelings you’d had are gone. 

Riduur. 

He’s been calling you that for months. But he hadn’t wanted you to know that he was calling you his partner. For some reason it stings. 

The Mandalorian is not cruel, not the type to play with another’s feelings. But, nonetheless, it feels like he might have been. Teasing you in a way you couldn’t begin to guess at. Or, like he could pretend without actually attaching himself to you, and you’d be none the wiser. 

You shake those thoughts away, listening to the music echoing over the sands. 

When Grogu falls asleep and the sun is just disappearing behind the horizon, you secure the ramp of the ship and carry the baby up into the cockpit. 

Din sits silently in the pilot’s chair, and doesn’t look at you as you tuck the child into the floating pod. 

You fidget with his blanket, not sure what to say. 

“I’m sorry,” he breaks the silence first. “Ni ceta.” 

“Din,” you perch next to him in the co-pilot’s seat. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gone poking around where I don’t belong. I’m sorry.” 

His head tilts toward you, the visor impenetrable. You swallow when he doesn’t answer, an inexplicable lump forming in the back of your throat. “Don’t belong?” 

“I shouldn’t have asked them what riduur meant. You didn’t want me to know.” 

Din stands and holds out a hand to you. You take it carefully and let him pull you to your feet. “That is not why I-,” he stops. “Do you really not know?” 

“Know what?” 

“I should have been…honest about the name I’ve given you.” He tilts his head and releases your hands. “I’m upset because-,” the Mandalorian pauses and seems to consider his next words for a long moment. Finally, he sighs and simply repeats, “You’re not an aruetii. By definition you can’t be.”

You stare at him for a long moment, before shaking your head. “I don’t understand.” 

He huffs, helm ticking to the side again. “Would you call Grogu an outsider?” 

“Of course not,” you answer, horrified. “No.” 

“And why is that? He’s not a Mandalorian either.” 

You don’t have to think about it, shaking your head before he’s even finished speaking. “He’s your child.” 

Din steps forward, close to you, but doesn’t say anything. “Our child,” he corrects eventually. “I am upset because you don’t seem to know you are a part of our clan. Even after knowing what I’ve been calling you. Riduur, ner riduur, for months. You still don’t know.”

Oh. Oh. 

“Osi'kyr,” you murmur softly. “How could I know that, Din?” 

He stands silent and still before you, so still you aren’t sure he’s breathing. “I thought it was clear,” he says stiffly. “I thought it was clear I was courting you.”

Something pleasantly warm settles in among your heart and lungs. “Maybe you should explain your customs to me more thoroughly,” you joke lightly. 

He doesn’t laugh, shoulders tense, hands curled in anxious fists. 

“So why not tell me what the word means?” It seems a bit past courting to you, to call someone riduur. It seems to you he’s already chosen you. 

He shifts from foot to foot, the movement somehow laden with vulnerability and worry. “If you did not…want the same - I’m not sure I could bear that.” 

You stare at him, not entirely sure what to say to that. “So, what,” you start, “you expected me to one day just realize you considered me your-,”

“I would have told you,” he interrupts quickly. “One day.” 

“Told me-,” 

“What riduur means,” he corrects. “And asked if you’d like to be that.” Din takes your hands again, “Just know that you are part of this clan, whatever your answer is.” His voice is so sincere, it breaks your heart a little. “Whether you want to be attached to me or not, you have a place in this clan. You are not an aruetii.”

You tilt your head at the same time he does, the nonverbal cues you both habit in reflecting between you. “I’m just a bit confused. Was that your idea of a proposal?” You smile so he knows you’re teasing him. 

Din gives a long suffering sigh. “Mandalorians do not propose.” 

“Oh. So what do you do then?” You lift a brow, sliding your hands to his wrists so you can work on tugging one glove off at a time. 

“We make an agreement,” he says, not trying to stop you. His voice is hoarse. “We make vows.”

You don’t look up, tucking the gloves in your belt before tracing your fingers along the veins in his wrists, the lines of his palms. “Oh. And did you make vows to me that I wasn’t aware of?” 

You’re still joking, but Din takes your words to heart. He shakes one hand loose from yours and presses it beneath your jaw, tipping your head gently back. “I did. I make vows to you everyday.” 

All the air seems to get sucked out of the ship. You gape at him, mouth opening and closing without any sound coming out as you struggle to find words. He chuckles, low and breathy beneath the helmet. You imagine he must be smiling. “Now you see how you make me feel. Like I can’t breathe.”

You finally manage to take a breath, lifting your chin away from his fingers, threads of embarrassment beating under your skin at his teasing. “You could have told me, you know.” 

“It was too large a risk. I wouldn’t risk you.”

Maybe you should hesitate in your next words. 

But you don’t. 

You’ve never been surer in something. 

“Din,” you step close to him. “I would take those vows.” 

“They…they are heavy vows. Not meant to be taken lightly. They’re bonding vows.”

He thinks you don’t get it, that you still don’t understand. “I understand what kind of vows they are. What are the vows?” You step even closer, the heat of his body seeping into yours. 

He smells like sun, like spices from the market and oil on beskar. It makes you dizzy, the usual scent of him is much cooler. Evergreen and pine. 

The cockpit is dark, the very last dregs of light on the horizon gone. The contours of the helm are shadowed, the flicker of lights from the control panels reflecting in blinking lights over the visor. 

There is no hesitation in his voice when he finally speaks. 

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” 

You mouth the words, doing your best to translate them. 

But he’s spoken too quickly, and you only understand part of it. He waits for you to ask for him to translate, giving you a moment to attempt it instead of immediately telling you. 

“I only understand part…We are one together and-,”

“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors,” he says easily. “We are - we are all of those things already. I have kept the promise I made.” 

Your throat is dry, and you can’t think about how that’s true. “We’re raising warriors?” You attempt a joke. 

“Would you not call the child a warrior?”

“I would,” you agree. “I would also still take those vows, now knowing their meaning.”

There’s a long pause in which you can feel the Mandalorian’s stare. His gaze is intense, assessing, hot against your skin. You patiently look back, waiting. “You don’t have to.”

“You think I don’t want to.” 

He huffs, “I…don’t want you to believe you have to make vows to me. You are a part of our clan no matter what.” 

“Would you still call me riduur?”

“If you allowed it,” he takes a breath. “Yes.” 

The lip of the helm drifts up and you can sense he’s no longer looking at you, embarrassed. “Din.” His head snaps back down. “I know I am not an outsider.” You wait for him to digest those words. “I know this is my clan now. I still would like to make these vows to you.” 

He reaches up and presses his palms to either side of your jaw, the crown of the helmet pressing softly against your forehead for just a moment when he dips his head. “If you’re sure, repeat after me. We’ll say them together.” 

“Elek,” you agree. 

“Mhi solus tome,” he starts, reverence and disbelief lodged in his voice. 

In the distance, more fireworks explode in the sky. The colors reflect in the glass of the ship’s front window, sparking over the reflective helmet. “Mhi solus tome,” you say slowly, careful to pronounce each word exactly right. 

You’d never imagined yourself as someone who would get married, and certainly not like this. 

But that was before you knew Din. And all this feels to you is right. It’s both sudden and not. 

This was meant to happen. All your years with the Mandalorian lead towards this. 

You repeat the rest of the vows after him, slow and deliberate. 

When the final syllable rolls off your tongue, a muted kind of joy overcomes you. You’ve been a part of it for a long time, but you feel it now, the belonging to a clan and people. 

Din releases you and leans back. His chest rises and falls quickly. 

You close your eyes and reach for the edge of his helmet. 

You want to kiss him at the very least. 

But when your fingers skim over the release, he captures your wrists in one hand. You let go and Din reaches up with his opposite hand to take it off himself. 

You expect him to kiss you right away, but he doesn’t. You can only feel the lingering touch of his gaze. 

“Open your eyes.” 

“What? No-,” you begin to protest. 

“Yes. You can now, riduur.” The word rumbles out of him proudly, heavy in his mouth. 

You tilt your head and frown. “Are you-,” 

“This is the Way.” His voice warbles, just a little. 

“Are you sure?” You get the entire question out this time. 

Now it’s his turn to tease you. “No,” he says dryly. “I’ll change my mind after you open your eyes.” 

“Ha ha,” you deadpan. “You’re very funny.” 

“Open them.” 

You think you might be more nervous than him to see his face. You honestly never thought you would get to, and you had long ago made peace with that. It didn’t matter to you what he looked like, you knew his heart and that was more than enough. 

You’ve tried to picture him before, from tracing your fingers over his face, but the image is only half formed and without detail. It felt wrong, somehow, too, to try to picture the face of someone who deliberately hid it. 

 Slowly, you peek your eyes open at him. Whatever you had pictured is nothing compared to the man you find yourself gazing at. 

A sense of vertigo sweeps through you, because it's almost like looking at a stranger. 

You have to resist the urge, for just a moment, to tear yourself away from him. 

His hair is darker in color than you thought it would be, but just as feathery and lightly curled as you imagined. Din’s eyes are dark, a deep brown that you’d like to spend lifetimes memorizing, falling inside. You were right too, from your explorations of his face with your hands, about the shape of his nose, his mustache, the patchy beard. You’d pictured his eyes all wrong, the shape of jaw.

One thing you couldn’t have guessed at is the naked expressiveness in his eyes. 

It makes sense though, he’s spent a lifetime without the need to school his features into anything other than exactly what he was feeling. 

You wonder how many times he’s looked at you with such longing, and you never knew. 

He says your name, a question mark tagged onto the end of it, his voice wrecked and strange without the modulator muffling his voice. 

The sound of his voice rips the upside down feeling away. It’s his voice, it’s him. Not some handsome stranger. 

Your eyes flit up from where your gaze had lingered on his lips, the pink shape of his mouth against golden skin. “I was right.” 

He frowns, eyes soft and worried. It shocks you again, just how open his emotions read in his eyes. “About what?” 

“I knew you were pretty. You are pretty,” you tease, pressing yourself against him, the hard contours of him biting into you. You fist your hands into the fabric at his sides. “Mesh’la.” 

Din frowns at you. “I told you that means beautiful, didn’t I?” His voice is playful and doesn’t match his expression. 

You nod and don’t answer, reaching up to cup your hand against his cheek. Din’s arm settles easily around your waist, dragging you closer, the weight of his helm in his hand heavy against your hip. Normally, you’d let him close the distance between you but you can’t quite manage to let him now, gazing instead at the planes of his face. “Mesh’la,” you tell him. “Ner riduur.” 

“That’s my line.” 

“Not anymore,” you tease. “Husband.”

You tip your chin into his and wait for him to meet you there. 

He gives a slight smile before leaning into you. “Not husband. Riduur.” 

“Right,” you agree, because really, it isn’t quite the same. It can’t be. “Ner riduur.” 

The kiss lingers long on your lips. He’s savoring you, a warm passion that doesn’t quite extend into heat. Din’s tongue meets yours briefly, the groan it tugs from his mouth sending flashes of lightning all the way down to your toes. 

The fireworks outside are no rival for the feelings clawing up the back of your throat. 

You want to tell him you love him, but you think he already knows. 

He breaks away to set his helmet down. When he turns back to you, his hands roam over you, free in their movement, tugging at the band of your trousers. 

You can’t stop staring at him, suddenly overwhelmed, drinking in the sight of him, the naked expression of him, everything he’s thinking spread over his face like a well loved language. 

All you’d wanted was to know the name he gifted you, instead - this. 

You map your hand over his face, tracing the divot between his brows, the curve of one sharp cheekbone. “I never thought I would see your face,” you whisper. 

Those soft, vulnerable eyes meet yours, arm wrapping around you again, as his bare forehead presses to yours, “And I always knew you would.” 

Thank you for reading! Please let me know your thoughts!

If you want more of Din and his riduur, Significant-verse drabbles can be found here!

Translations:

Riduur - spouse, partner, wife, husband

Ner riduur - my spouse, partner, wife, husband

Cyare - beloved

Cyar'ika - darling, sweetheart

Udesii - Relax, take it easy

Ad’ika - little one, baby

Su cuy'gar - Hello

Aruetii - outsider, foreigner, traitor

Ni ceta - an apology, rare

Osi'kyr - exclamation of surprise

Elek - yes

Mesh’la - beautiful

[abelbai000]

Glad You’re Home (TASM! Peter Parker x fem!reader)

Summary: You’ve known Miles Morales for years. You knew high school would be an interesting time for him. What you didn’t know was that would involve him becoming Spider-Man’s protégé. Nor did you know it would involve him bringing an injured Spider-Man to your apartment one night for you to take care of.

Warnings: Fluff, descriptions of injuries, hint of angst, mild sexual innuendos and lots of flirting. Reader also has a nickname. Set after No Way Home. Reader and Peter are in their 20s (post college).

Notes: I haven’t written in literal years, but couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Shoutout to @lipstickbisous​ for inspiring me to write the fluff you want to see in the world. 5.5K words later and here we are. 

Part two is up! As is part three!

You were beginning to prep dinner when you got his text.

MM: Hey, you home?

Yeah. Why?

MM: Need your help. Be outside in 5.

Keep reading

[abelbai000]

Hello! Could I request an obi wan x reader x anakin fic where the reader is a force sensitive Jedi? They have to go undercover for a mission and ani and obi are awestruck/distracted by reader in flattering clothes (that aren’t Jedi robes) and it makes them both realize their feelings :) feel free to make it a lemon if you want

Little Red Dress

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader x Anakin Skywalker

Warnings: Jealousy, Reader in Alluring Clothing, Brothel Setting, Some Life-Threatening Danger, Light Violence, Creepy(ish) Fella, Soft Smut (Minors DNI), all characters are over 18, Anakin Threatening Murder TM (why am I even surprised 😂), light banter, fluff, alcohol is around, boys being worried, HEAVY FLIRTING.

Song Inspo: Red Dress — MAGIC!

A/n: This took me way too long to get to lol 💀 Absolutely love this request idea which made it so fun to write. Wasn’t sure which gender you wanted for the reader so I made them female-identifying. This is my first request and short (lol) fic so please let me know your thoughts! Hope you enjoy :)

Words: 8.1k

She was built like a dream — Joseph Heller

Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker were… uncomfortable.

Not because Master Yoda himself had tasked the three of you with this urgent mission to the Outer Rim. Nor was it due to the cloudy, dark, and incessantly rainy atmosphere that was Morlana One’s Leisure Zone— its backstreets dotted by the occasional lifeless streetlight that just barely reflected off the puddles below, paving the two Jedi a glimmering path toward the local brothel.

No. It wasn’t any of that at all.

Instead, they felt a foreign existence within their own bodies, with each nearing step toward the club’s shadowy entrance, on account of the perplexing, and frankly alien, wears that sheened their limbs.

Of course, they never had any styling choice in the matter. Not for an assignment like this, where the elimination of Jedi symbols was expected.

Because this was a mission that required a gentler, more covert hand.

Because this was a mission that had you all undercover.

Nearly 72 hours ago, unknown assailants had broken into one of the Jedi Temple’s artifact rooms. From the emergency cache, they’d stolen seven Kyber crystals, which were always held at the ready in case a Jedi needed a temporary saber after damaging or misplacing their own.

A facility Anakin took advantage of too many times to count.

But, on this occasion, the Order could only count themselves lucky that The Chosen One had again somehow lost his lightsaber during a short mission to the Coruscant Underworld, requiring him to report to that very same artifacts chamber for a replacement before he could continue his search down into the planet’s murky depths. By chance, the chestnut-haired Jedi had arrived just in time to witness that the usually locked, ornate wooden door was notably ajar. And, with further investigation, that the krystals’ storage chest had been ransacked.

With Council Member Master Kenobi assigned to the inquiry, he quickly learned from a few trustworthy sources, including his old friend Dex, that the crystals were flown off-world to be sold at auction. To a seedy establishment in the Morlani System, no less. All with an undetectability and swiftness that duped not only the inter-District and planetary departure security systems, but the Jedi Temple’s once-thought-impregnable apparatus as well.

Evidently, Master Yoda had found that this operation met a sophistication not often seen among the ranks of disparate pirates or common thieves. It was why, after Kenobi came to him with this information, the Grand Master decided that the bearded man and Jedi Knight who discovered the robbery would be assigned to retrieve these precious artifacts. Placing an emphasis on the need to arrive undercover, lest this sordid enterprise catch wind of a group of creeping, saber-wielding Jedi.

They just couldn’t risk it.

Any action like that would certainly force this gang to race underground once again, crystals in tow, before the Jedi had a chance to recover them.

So, the Council supplied Obi-Wan and Anakin with clothes of the region’s elite, aiming to disguise them both as potential buyers.

Kenobi, a black dress uniform with gold, reflective embellishments suffocating his suit jacket while fueling his growing desire to remain hidden within the shadows as it converted his torso into a glinting beacon under the passing lights. And Skywalker, a simpler, but equally sophisticated gray suit atop a pearly white button-down that screamed conformity louder than Anakin could voice his displeasure.

Still, leaving the crystals’ fate up to whether this gang would accept Republic Credits was a game of pure chance. That, and the notion of buying back stolen, sacred property was never the Jedi way.

That’s where you came in.

A Jedi whose Force-sensitivity was so saturated, that you had the ability to viscerally sense Kyber crystals from parsecs away. And a talent that, in Master Yoda’s opinion, made you the perfect addition to the team.

Well, that and the open secret that the three of you had long ago become an unofficial squadron already. Considering the countless missions you’ve traipsed through together for most of your Jedi, and even Padawan, years, it was a wonder that Master Yoda felt the need to specifically mention your name either way. Even on missions in which the rag-tag trio were slingshotted to opposite poles of the galaxy, you’d always found a way back to each other.

That, or the Force itself had a dire motivation to keep those momentary separations brief.

Perhaps that’s why the two men, in addition to their clothing-related distractions, had sparking nerves heightened by another, salient factor.

That you weren’t by their side.

Given your skill set, it was clear from the beginning your cover needed to be quite different from theirs. So, twenty hours before the auction was set to start, while Obi-Wan and Anakin prepared their disguises, you slipped out. Leaving for the brothel on your own since you all agreed that the only way to secure your cover as an establishment employee was by actually applying to become one.

It was the only surefire way to explore the back rooms without tipping the sellers off. The only option the three of you had to find the crystals’ exact location. And to ensure that when chaos did reign, the artifacts wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire.

Still, neither man particularly enjoyed this arrangement.

“You remembered to bring it, correct?” Obi-Wan voiced, glancing at Anakin’s pensively taught brows beside him as the brothel’s neon purple sign gently flickered into view, encouraging him to once again tug at his neckline’s taught clasp around his throat.

“Of course!” The younger Jedi acknowledged. “I was the one telling her that she should’ve had it in the first place.”

In spite of the underlying weariness still thrumming at his chest, Kenobi couldn’t help but raise an amused brow at his former Padawan.

“You? Lecturing Y/n about leaving her lightsaber behind? I seem to recall that it was your inability to keep track of your own that landed us in this predicament in the first place.”

Anakin scoffed, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And I seem to remember Master Nu saying that the raid on the artifacts room wouldn’t have been discovered for weeks if it weren’t for me.”

Still, the chestnut-haired Jedi sighed, yanking down the tails of his gray suit jacket that just barely fit his longer form while he continued.

“Besides, it was no mistake. She didn’t take her lightsaber intentionally.”

Kenobi shook his head knowingly. Partly due to his former Padawan’s somewhat warped perspective of the situation, but mostly because he too was not completely on board with the notion of you being undercover and completely unarmed. Though, no matter how much he desired to do so, Obi-Wan had trouble denying that, like always, your reasoning stood sound.

A reminder that subconsciously made his heart flutter.

“You know, Anakin, that she couldn’t have feasibly hidden it away. It’s safer for her that we hold onto it for now. She will have it when she needs it.”

And that’s why, no matter his outward assurances, Kenobi seemed to have an inability to take his own advice. Perhaps too it was Anakin’s own anxieties that were infecting the Force.

But no leakage from his signature could truly reflect the hate Skywalker felt for this plan. He had shot down its premise the whole journey here, but in the end, it was no use. Anakin understood that once you put your mind to something, especially in the name of protecting the community you held so dear, there was nothing anyone in the Galaxy could do to stand in your way.

And he really did treasure you for that.

“I know,” Skywalker grumbled, pivoting to avoid a stumbling Bith with a curved bottle in hand, brown liquid sloshing out to land just beside his black dress shoe as he walked by. “But I still don’t like it.”

Evidently, no matter their confidence in your ability to take care of yourself, the two men remained deeply troubled by the fact that you were still far enough away as to be immune from their protection.

But that would soon change.

“Alright,” Kenobi slowed just beside the establishment’s greasy, revolving door to address the younger man as they neared their arrival.

“We will need to remain in one place so that Y/n can find us. She needs to know where we are at all times to deliver the signal. The zone’s blueprints suggest that the center bar will have the best vantage point. So that’s where we’ll go. Oh—“

Obi-Wan lifted a warning brow at the younger man.

“And don’t stray.”

Anakin rolled his eyes, lips pursing in an attempt to keep his face neutral.

“I don’t stray, Master.”

—

If you had your portable chronometer on your person, you would’ve checked it by now.

About fifteen minutes, you’d been waiting a handful of meters from the brothel’s storage room, disguised by the far corner tables nestled within the establishment’s shadowy edges. Marking it the perfect locale for distant observers of the night’s entertainment— or idly spying Jedi. Fifteen minutes since Krissa, a now fellow employee, shuffled into that very same room to collect a few crates of Fizzbrew for the opening bar. Nearly twenty hours after you’d secured employment as what the owner lovingly called a “Friendly Dancer.”

Luckily, it was during that same interview that you’d caught the colorful, Force-illuminated trail, leading your attuned senses to this secured back room, like a bloodhound to its prey.

Or a Jedi to her Kyber crystals.

Yet, despite your carefully chosen cover, both assumed identity and dark corner camouflage, you still had a nagging feeling that your specially selected ‘employee uniform’ wasn’t doing you any furtive favors.

Besides the strikingly crimson, skin-gripping short dress that clad your hips, the black, shimmering fishnet stockings and translucent platform heels were sure to draw some unwanted attention during a time in which invisibility was your best friend.

But you had no choice. If you had any hope of maintaining your cover and completing your mission, you had to work with what you were given.

So, for now, one of these rusted-over, ash stools would need to serve their purpose— concealing you from the trickling in throng’s broad perspectives as you kept a peripheral lock on that steel door’s sturdy frame. One by one, hungry bidders with puffy, expensive coats and sparkling wears thickened the atmosphere, all while you hoped Krissa would quicken her exit via the locked door so that you could slip in.

It was moments like these that you’d wished you had your lightsaber. At least then, you could’ve cut through the heavy, metal barrier all on your own.

But, alas, this was a mission of stealth. And you’d be damned to put either Obi-Wan or Anakin in danger because of your impatience.

Causing you to, once more, question their absence.

“Boys, boys. Where are you boys…” you hummed lowly to yourself.

Glancing toward the billowing crowd, you grew remiss at their absence. It was easy to recall how both Jedi were particularly against your decision to immerse yourself into this environment, alone and unarmed. So much so, that you assumed they would’ve arrived by now. An observation that forced you to consider how this mission was sure to sour quick were you required to act without backup.

You shook that thought out of your mind almost as immediately as it arrived.

Obi-Wan and Anakin would always appear when you needed them most.

And you adored them for that.

That, among the litany of elements that drew you into their lives in the first place.

Your first mission together was but a sapling in the times you were to share. Memories, little moments, and fleeting glances recently coalesced into the singular realization that you’d fallen in love with two of the most powerful Jedi the Galaxy has to offer.

But they were just that. Jedi.

And so were you.

So no matter your unquestionable feelings for the men, there was nothing you could do. Putting aside that you doubted any emotional reciprocation, you were sure too that they’d never break the Jedi code for you.

And that left you to again drag yourself back from those innermost thoughts to focus on the situation at hand. Specifically, your conclusion that any dearth left in Obi-Wan and Anakin’s wake would mean nothing of consequence if you couldn’t get into that storage room.

Luckily, there was no need to wait much longer.

Krissa shoved open the door, using her back to thrust it the rest of the way with a crate of clinking, dark green bottles swirling in her arms. Fluttering lilac dress flowing by her legs as her eyes landed on your surveilling form.

Kriff.

“Hey!” She scream whispered, brows stitched in reprimand while she leaned toward you. “You’re gonna get fired before you’ve even had a chance to work if you keep hiding from paying customers.”

You smiled sheepishly, playing into her assumption as you ‘stumbled’ to your feet.

“I’m so sorry,” you mouthed, ambling toward the older woman while lifting a hand to ripple through the force floating by her eyes.

You spoke lowly.

“You want me to help you bring out those crates.”

“I want you to help me bring out these crates,” she parroted in a glazed-over daze, arm catching the steel door just before it shut to allow you entry.

You nodded to her thankfully, even though she had no choice in the matter, before pushing your way past the chilly aperture, entering the stuffy storage room while the door slammed shut behind you.

Speedily, you surveyed the cramped compartment, stacked and spread to the ceiling with a strange concoction of alcohol-filled crates, charcoal cargo containers, and draped artifacts that evinced the basement of a museum far more than a brothel’s back room.

But you didn’t really give it a second thought. If you didn’t want to get caught, then there was no time to ponder aesthetics.

Quickly, as your eyes fluttered closed, you allowed the Force to thicken your blood, treating your body and mind like a living, breathing compass in its guide to connect you with your True North—

The seven missing Kyber crystals.

With vision consumed by blackness, you dodged each precariously placed box and every outstretched figurine that threatened to obstruct your path as your senses drew you a detailed map toward the back wall. Almost like a pulsing beacon, you felt the heat of your connection to the sacred artifacts deepen, warming your more-than-usually exposed skin. Intensifying with each, deliberate step. Until it reached a fiery blaze so extravagant that one stride further would’ve certainly lit you alight.

You opened your eyes.

“Hey!” A deep voice called from behind you, triggering your heels to spin around toward the sudden sound, and away from the loosely sealed cargo container whose subtle, yet familiar, blue shine confirmed your senses.

Swiftly, you absorbed the older man’s ruffly peppered beard and chilled brown eyes as his head poked past the slightly ajar steel door, barely masked snarl contorting his lips.

“I don’t pay you to ogle the merchandise! Get out there and mingle,” he continued, jutting a thumb to the club’s main room to his rear.

You leapt to your feet, making a mental note of the crystals’ location while scurrying toward the owner who seemed to have somehow grown at least one more gray hair since your interview with him.

“Sorry, sir,” you mumbled, twisting to get by his form against the door and entering onto the main floor before turning back toward him. “Won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” he huffed, swiveling to catch the shutting door with his foot before leaning down to retrieve something from behind it.

Still, his muffled voice echoed beyond the subsequent shuffling.

“You’re assisting tonight, and I want high bids. So get out there and make them like you.”

You nodded complacently, already prepared to whip around and follow his orders until the older gentleman reemerged with another case of green bottles cradled under his arm.

“And here,” he shoved the crate, obliging you to catch it somewhat unexpectedly with opened palms.

“Take this to the bar.”

—

“I don’t like this…” Anakin droned during his casual stroll toward Obi-Wan’s side, a glass of orange fizzy liquid held inconspicuously before his lips.

Kenobi was leaning against the bar, his cup of whatever was on tap cradled between his fingers yet clearly untouched. Instead, the subtly troubled Jedi’s attentive eyes continued their periodic scan of the barely lit brothel. Flitting past the pockets of gold-illuminated tabled alcoves and dark blue paneling, his eyes weaved through the voluminous throng. One that featured intimately quiet mumblings among extravagantly suited clientele and gorgeously draped employees.

It wasn’t hard for him to surmise the highest paying customers from the number of brothel workers who’d hang from their arms, clearly on the job.

Smiling at each of their glances. Laughing at every joke…

Kenobi wasn’t daft.

He clearly understood the expectations a club like this had for its staff. At the least, for those who mingled with the bidders before the show. He’d only hoped that with whatever position you’d acquired for your cover at this establishment, it wasn’t pressing you to do much of the same.

And no matter how illogical it sounded in his mind, he still didn’t want to see that.

Moreover, it seemed to be a thought that equally disturbed Anakin, as his gentle thrums of anxious musing stained the Force, gradually amplifying since both Jedi had yet to locate you.

The younger Jedi had always been protective of you, Obi-Wan excused, unbeknownst that Skywalker was making much of the same defense. Though for the chestnut-haired Jedi, it was more the self-justification that he was a protective person in general. And that this was nothing more than only that.

Just Anakin being Anakin.

“I’m confident she’ll turn up soon, Anakin.”

The younger man expressly sighed, permitting a brief beat to pass as a spring of laughter ricocheted by his ears from a nearby dancer. Waiting for it to die down with bated breath before angling to respond.

“What if she didn’t get the job? She might be trying to find a different way in right now.”

Obi-Wan had no need for reaching out to the Force in order to confidently answer that inquiry.

“She succeeded. Trust me, I’d know otherwise.” He hummed, raising his glass to just barely grace his lips, but never daring to take a sip and weaken his awareness. “However, should they not show soon, I am considering they may have been apprehended.”

Similarly, Anakin vehemently shook his head. He even permitted a wry chuckle to escape past those formerly parched lips before confidently responding to the Jedi Master’s statement.

“No way. If Y/n got caught, she’d send us a signal the second she felt us near.”

Skywalker’s confident air faltered.

“Well,” he shrugged nervously. “Assuming she’s not injured.”

Obi-Wan shot his former Padawan a disapproving glare.

Until his attention was suddenly grasped by a warm, comforting hand sliding across his shoulder.

“Is this what you boys do when I’m not around? Theorize about my potential failings?”

The two men spun toward you, catching the playful smirk consuming your features before their eyes were tugged down like an anchor to trail your stunningly sheathed body, almost as if it was the first time they’d ever laid eyes upon you.

It would be an understatement to state that absorbing this captivating sight had coerced their jaws into forgetting their primary function.

The low-cut style of your short, curving red dress. The fishnet stockings that stretched down your thighs and softly clasped your high-heeled feet. The sparkling, green gemmed earrings that perfectly brought out your plump, red lipstick and long lashes. And, most noticeably, your loose, flowing hair that they’d only ever seen tied back for battle, now resting lushly across your bare shoulders like a still-life statue.

It wasn’t a side of you either men had the pleasure of observing before. And, if given the chance, they’d challenge whichever entity had so long sealed this wonderful sight from their burning eyes to a duel.

One that such an unjust creature was sure to regret.

It was a kind of fairy tale notion that both men pondered instantly once they felt a bubbling heat swarm their countenance when faced by your visual power.

So much so, that Anakin couldn’t help but break the brief lull as his suddenly dried mouth reached down his throat for an audible, and undoubtedly embarrassing, cough as he scratched his nose to try to hide himself.

Obi-Wan wasn’t coping much better. The Master Negotiator had lost all concept of Basic, its vocabulary, grammar, and everything in between as his mind was only filled with your enticing image, your pleasantly exposed skin, and the touch of your fingers to his body.

Until it was too soon gone.

Your hand fell thoughtlessly to your side, head cocking with lifted brows before speaking.

“You can close your mouths. It was just a joke.”

But it was Kenobi who first gathered the confidence to respond.

“Um, you look—“

“Lemme guess. Ravishing? The night’s main treat?” You relayed sarcastically while heaving down a large crate of clinking bottles atop the bar, one that both men only just now noticed before you whipped back toward the still stunned Jedi, drawing their gaze center.

“I’ll have it known that the distance between the storage room and the bar is a mere fifteen-second walk and I’ve already heard it all—“

“…like an angel,” Anakin muttered, not even himself realizing that he’d said that aloud.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly as you felt your heart skip a beat, sending an unexpected tingle to the root of your gut before sheepishly smiling at the deepening flush of the chestnut-haired man.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, tensely eyed his former Padawan.

“Okay, that one’s new,” you admitted, gaze trailing away to conceal your unpreparedness for such an unexpectedly sweet comment.

Ironically, it was at that moment that your wandering stare settling beyond Anakin’s shoulder abruptly caught a familiar, peppered beard. Accompanied by terse, beady eyes that scowled at you from a far wall with the intensity of a lodestar.

You had a decision to make.

But, really, was there a choice at all?

Obi-Wan would catch on, you thought.

Though, no matter how well Kenobi did understand the requirements of your cover, he still certainly wasn’t expecting you to, in a millisecond, swiftly stride toward his bewildered form to wrap your warm arms around his neck.

Immediately, despite the quickening of his thrumming heart latching onto his Adam’s apple, Obi-Wan raised his usually firm hands to gently clasp at your forearms, being sure to send you a questioning glance as he smoothly played along.

But under all that, and although he was still unsure why, deep down Kenobi secretly hoped that such a quizzical gesture hadn’t encouraged you to subsequently pull away. For some reason, he despised the thought of influencing you to forgo remaining this close to him.

So close, that he could feel the tickle of your breath across his chin.

Thankfully, though, his innermost prayer seemed to have been answered.

“Sorry,” you whispered, conveying an outwardly flirting expression of perked lips and a tilted head.

There were very few people in the Galaxy capable of reading the subtle apologetic shine of your eyes that deeply stared into his. An invisible utterance that remained firm while you briefly freed one hand to beckon over a confounded, and secretly peeved, Anakin who stood just behind his former Master, before you grasped his loose hand and tugged him forward with a terribly fake laugh.

Soon, you rested the younger Jedi’s arm on your lower back, securing its nervously flaccid form around your waist while Skywalker’s face transformed into a brand new shade of crimson once he discovered the dress’s open back.

A clearly readable reaction that deepened Kenobi’s hesitation with his former Padawan’s proximity to you. And while his mind struggled to connect the dots on why he continued to experience these strange bouts of discomfort, too distracted to truly pin down these sensations, Kenobi still felt fueled by Anakin’s expression to nudge you a little closer into his own chest.

If that was even possible.

Paying no mind to the sudden action, you addressed both men, giving a particular glance to Anakin who seemed to be the most caught off-guard of the two of them.

“The brothel’s owner made it very clear that if I don’t ’mingle’ with the customers, trouble will come my way.”

And that made the former slave’s blood boil.

“I’ll kill him.”

“No, you won’t,” you punctuated, temporarily removing your other arm from Obi-Wan to privately rest on Anakin’s balmy cheeks, caressing them down to draw his eyes to your level as he too struggled to fight off the festering heart attack that threatened to crack his rib, and deepened the sudden feeling of emptiness in Kenobi’s chest. “Because we have one mission here, and it’s to retrieve those stolen crystals. And I’m not losing my chance to snatch them away due to your needless protectiveness. I’m quite capable on my own.”

“What do you mean?” Kenobi inquired, taking this opportunity to regain some realm of confidence before snaking his arms around your waist and tugging you toward him with a roughness that would easily read as greedy to anyone who happened to be looking that way.

Still, the unexpected suddenness of his movement set the nerves in your face on fire. No matter, you played into the act, falling into his chest with fingers gripping onto the lapels of his oddly sparkly jacket.

“Um,” you swallowed, regathering your thoughts with a blink. “I’m assisting tonight. Meaning that I’ll be showcasing each item while they’re bid upon.”

You hummed to yourself while considering this new stroke of luck. A sudden vibration against Obi-Wan’s chest that you hadn’t realized sent a fresh, nervous chill down his arms as he held your mystifying figure, encouraging subtly wandering eyes to drink in the sight once more while his unsteady heart began to churn his innermost thoughts.

It was in that same moment that Anakin first caught onto his former Master’s charade, having finally glimpsed an equal measure of voraciousness within his distracted, blue orbs. Something that stoked Anakin’s frustration that began anew with each moment Kenobi drew you closer to himself.

“I say we don’t waste the credits,” you commented, refocusing both Jedi’s attention. “The minute I have the crystals in hand, I’ll send you a signal, and we’ll dash out of here.”

Obi-Wan leaned into you, forehead mere centimeters from yours as a spoke lowly. And for some reason, you thought, with noticeably erratic breath.

“That’s extremely risky.”

“Well, you have my lightsaber. Don’t you?” You challenged with a lift of your lips.

Suddenly, a trail of warm fingers raked up into your hair, sending quite an unexpected chill down your back once they clutched around a bunch and somewhat needily rotated your head toward Anakin’s expectant face. Yanking your body more forcefully before soon feeling his strong arm catch your side.

“I have it,” he spoke lowly.

And in spite of how desperately he tried to keep his eyes connected with yours, he couldn’t help that split second in which they sparsely flitted toward your perfectly tinted lips.

An action you apparently missed for your focus on the mission at hand.

But a gesture that contorted Obi-Wan’s lips into a perpetual frown as his mind caught up with his frothing feelings.

“Good,” you expressed. “Then I’ll have it when it’s needed.”

While your eyes remained focused and thoughtful, half a mind on playing up your cover with the other half on those crystals, Anakin had trouble keeping his eyes from once more wandering downwards.

The feel of your red-draped body against his, the closeness of your bared upper chest and noticeable cleavage, the sparkle of your eyes that comparably made your bright earrings look like clumps of coal.

Though not fully, Anakin was beginning to understand what was going on in his chest to draw his signature into such a volatile temper. Mostly because he couldn’t help himself when one hand released from your soft hair to trail down your exposed back, the other palm brushing upwards from your flank to meet the other side as he briefly traced the outline of your shoulder blades.

All of which sent a lightning bolt of cold heat right up to your head and down toward your sensitively tingling toes before he inched you toward him with the press of his fingertips while he whispered.

“Obi-Wan is right. I don’t think we should take the risk. But just in case you need it…”

Slowly, he retrieved a hand, raking it over your shoulder and feeling every inch of your arm while his mind cleared. The chestnut-haired man’s swelling eyes traced the enticing experience until he reached your hand. And with feigned gravitas clouding his features, he carefully guided your hand beneath his suit jacket, dragging it just along his warm back until you felt a cold metal resting beside his tailbone.

“…you know where it is.”

What was happening?

That was the main question you were asking yourself.

Were both Obi-Wan and Anakin just really amazing actors when the moment required it? You’d certainly never seen such a talent from either of them before. Yet the sudden naturalness, the near familiarity with which each Jedi pulled and held you close? The intimate touches and long glances while this secret meeting proceeded?

You weren’t sure what changed between twenty hours ago and now. Yet, in your core, you knew a part of your brain didn’t want it to stop.

No.

You were a Jedi. You were all Jedi. Committed to a code.

You must’ve been reading this wrong. Feelings that you knew you’d long held for the men had once again clouded your judgment.

Meanwhile, the growing tension between the two Jedi had heightened to a noticeable degree. But with your mind focused seemingly on other matters, it was only just to each other.

“You? Not wanting to be reckless?” You stated, attempting to suffocate your rushing nerves with a confident smirk. “Are you sure I’m speaking with Anakin Skywalker or do we have an imposter in our midsts?” You chuckled. “Oh, and agreeing with Obi-Wan?” You added, raising a brow.

This time, it was Master Kenobi who felt a fire erupt through his veins while his thoughts solidified.

It was you.

You who were making him feel such a way.

Ever and always.

On every mission and in each universal moment, it was you who made the Jedi Master take pause as his heart skipped a beat in your presence.

Master Kenobi was even more firm in this belief: that he was quite finished with watching Anakin cradle you in his arms for any longer. That, and the growing desire fueled by this new angle permitting Obi-Wan to graze over your open back’s supple skin with his eyes, drained him of all his decades-long self-control in an instant.

He needed to do something about that

Reaching a warm hand to the closest corner of your waistline, and with a little nudge from the Force on the other side, Obi-Wan tugged you right into his arms.

You felt the imperceptible, tiny scratches of his sequined suit jacket and the heat barely underneath sprawl across your back while his palms meandered up your sides and down each arm, soon folding them across you as he enveloped you against himself.

This time, you truly couldn’t help the light, crimson blush that bloomed across your cheeks. Especially when Kenobi chose this opportune time to gradually lean into your shoulder, chin dipping so that his lips hung mere centimeters from your attentive ear before whispering a warning with a tone warmer than you were used to hearing from the Master Negotiator.

Especially in the middle of a mission.

“You should listen to him.”

Still, despite feeling the ravenous desire to take a calming breath and smooth your hammering heartbeat, you held firm, responding to his inquiry with an overpowering confidence that usually settled any score when the three of you were having a disagreement.

At the same time, having just noticed the brothel owner’s decision to push off his far wall perch to approach, you decided to also strike a grin, raising a flirtatious brow over your shoulder at Obi-Wan’s unreadably dark eyes while you spoke, maintaining your cover.

“No. The plan stands. Trust me, there’s no need to worry.”

But, unexpectedly for you, witnessing your visually claimed figure in Obi-Wan’s arms barking out orders all while clad in that tiny red dress ignited a fierce burning passion in Anakin to challenge you back as he too decided to make his thoughts known.

Through his words and with his hands.

Taking one powerful stride to stand directly before your toes, the younger man just barely graced your bottom lip to seize your chin, lifting it upwards and twisting you to meet his wanting, blue gaze. Compelling your bright, widening eyes to wonder once more whether the lines between fiction and reality were beginning to blur.

Your breath hitched.

“Gentlemen!” The owner exclaimed, sliding next to Obi-Wan and Anakin to place a performative pat on both their shoulders. “I’m glad you’re enjoying one of our new hires, but I’m afraid that I’ll need to borrow her for the rest of the auction. We are about to begin.”

Wordlessly, both Jedi released their respective grips on you, sharing between themselves an unamused glance above your head while you ambled toward the owner. Never breaking your own, painfully forged smile.

But that seemed to be enough to convince the quite older owner that all was set to begin, as he swiftly turned on his heel toward the brothel’s far podium, motioning for you to follow his trail.

You promptly obliged, yet not before sending one quick, yet quiet, last word with a twist of your head toward the Jedi who begrudgingly stayed behind with crossed arms or a clenched beard.

“Wait for my signal.”

—

“I’m not stupid, you know,” Anakin commented idling by Kenobi’s side.

The two men continued their observations of the auction since it began half an hour ago, their eyes rarely drifting away from the rather cramped, rickety stage while you traveled from side to side, displaying each item with deliciously attractive poise. Presently, you were exhibiting an old, handheld marble statue modeled after a female Twi’lek. And although other patrons regarded the item with interest, the two Jedi meant to be watching your back for any danger had their minds on other matters.

Anakin couldn’t keep his eyes off your sensually pacing legs, while Obi-Wan could barely remain still with your elegant, tightly wrapped hips moving to and fro.

“I hear 2,000 credits! 2,000 credits. Do I hear 2,100?”

Master Kenobi readjusted his shoulders somewhat uncomfortably. “I know. I don’t believe I’ve said otherwise.”

“Don’t play dumb. I know you want Y/n.”

The bearded Jedi whipped his head from the stage as he addressed the seemingly jealous, younger man. And for the first time in a very long time, Obi-Wan began to feel those same, envious emotions with equal strength, like he’d caught some psychic disease from the blue-eyed Jedi’s glance alone.

“2,100! Do I hear 2,200? 2,200 folks, for this ancient artifact of an unknown Ryloth civilization!”

“And?” He acknowledged nonchalantly, taking an assertive stance while he found comfort in the memory of you in his arms. “And what if I do?”

Anakin’s lips formed a thin line, the image of your parted, shocked lips when he caught your dressed figure perfuming his thoughts. “Then you wouldn’t be alone.”

“I’ve noticed,” Kenobi stated sarcastically before raising a rather annoyed brow.

“Going once! Going twice!”

“What are you gonna do?” Anakin mumbled.

Skywalker had to ask the question. Even though he’d already confirmed in his mind that no matter what, no matter if Master Kenobi felt the same, that he’d give you the chance of knowing that there was more than one.

Obi-Wan answered simply. “I’m planning on telling her.”

“Sold! To the fellow in the orange top hat on the right!”

Because through the older Jedi’s musings, Kenobi was arriving at a similar conclusion. That if you in any way felt the same, he’d at least give you a choice.

“I assume you’ll be doing the same?” He continued.

“Yes.” Anakin sighed, eyes returning to the stage just as you remerged with an old, raggedy yet sealed box held tightly in your hands. “And what if she can’t decide?”

Obi-Wan followed the young Jedi’s line of sight, subconsciously licking his lips as the fabric of your tight, red dress pulsed his blood and slackened his jaw.

“Then we do what we must…”

The bearded Jedi swallowed.

Hard.

“…we help her.”

A rallying spark flung through the Force, filling both Jedi’s senses as they were wrenched from the momentary, visual distraction that was your ravishingly dressed person.

There was no way to deny it. Your pointed expression? Your readied stance?

The signal had just been fired.

Reaching for their respective lightsabers hung inconspicuously at the belt, both Jedi swiftly whipped their weapons out into the open, igniting a collective blue glow that provided enough of a shockingly, eye-catching distraction for you to leap from the stage, box in hand, without much recourse.

Then came the blasters.

As if emerging like shadows from the establishment’s dark corners, a sporadic group of armed men dressed like well-to-do pirates began their determined assault. Coloring the air with orange beams while the crowd scattered, hurried screams and the groans of abruptly shuffling furniture echoing off the walls.

You bolted for the Jedi, triggering both to somersault toward you while they attempted to block any bolt that you nearly failed to dodge before landing at either flank. Thankfully, that provided the chance to fling a searching arm beneath Anakin’s suit jacket, grasping your saber from its warm habitat before yanking it out into the open to launch its green luminescence.

“Go!” Obi-Wan cried, deflecting another round of bolts from your rear while the two men encircled you like a living, breathing barrier.

“We’ll hold them off!” Anakin agreed, flinging a badly aimed bolt toward a now broken and sparking light fixture above before facing you. “Get back to the ship!”

You glanced at both men, making clear your uncertainty and reluctance through the Force as, even with your aid, the gentle perspires of their efforts became noticeable.

But it was their turn to stay firm.

“Now! We’ll be right behind you!” Obi-Wan strictly assured.

So, with the box of crystals secured tightly beneath one arm and your saber effectively defending against the coming onslaught with the other, you decided to, for once, follow the boys’ instructions as you bolted for the exit, and out the brothel’s door.

And, with their hearts already racing, both Jedi had to do their best not to focus on your distracting wears as they paved a path to race after you.

—

Leaping through the red and white Nu-class shuttle’s rear hatch the instant it opened wide enough to do so was enough to coerce out an instant sigh of relief as your feet landed on the metal floor, drawing you deeper into the bird’s belly. Naturally, after regaining some bearings in the familiarity of the ship, you felt secure enough to set the relatively sturdy box of Kyber crystals atop a nearby ledge before turning to assess the situation behind you.

You already sensed that Anakin and Obi-Wan had stuck close to your heels during the entire escape, sabers twirling with elegant control against any threatening phaser until you strayed far enough beyond the brothel’s preview to lose any potential tails. So you weren’t surprised to find both men maintaining a similarly brisk pace while speeding up the ramp seconds after your arrival. Sabers long ago clipped back at their sides with Obi-Wan leading the way, leaving Skywalker in charge of closing the now slowly rising hatch.

What you weren’t expecting, however, was that the overpowering determination emanating from the bearded Jedi’s face had not in the least bit lessened since he entered the craft. Quickly, yet smoothly, he shed his gaudy suit jacket, tossing it unceremoniously to the side as he subsisted his approach.

In fact, the slight narrowing of those blue eyes, an expression you’d only seen in the occasional sparring session, remained forwardly focused. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was charging right for you, an action itself that compelled you to perplexedly speak while his brown boots closed that ever-shrinking distance.

“What are you—“

Warm lips smashed against yours, moving hungrily yet delicately while Obi-Wan’s sturdy arms snaked around your waist to gently tug you into himself.

Your heart nearly stopped, and from the tingling, tiny explosions erupting at each and every nerve ending alone, you felt yourself fall into the momentum, arms raising with the certainty of a choreographed dance to cradle Obi-Wan’s head and run your fingers through his soft, auburn locks.

Whether consciously or not, his grip on you tightened, straining your breath before you had the unavoidable need to be even closer to him. You intensified the kiss, drawing his plump, reddened lips into slow and steady locks, only for them to release with the duration of a clap before you both deeply met each other again with needy swiftness.

It felt like hours, but it had been mere seconds since the instant his body met yours. Still, the two of you reluctantly pulled away from each other. Mostly to catch much-needed breaths from the pure, unadulterated shock of it all.

Master Kenobi held you still as your gaze graced over his flushed features, including that slightly tussled hair and darkened eyes that diverted from their usual bright sparkle. Especially when they flitted from your surprised orbs, to your plump lips, and back again.

But no matter this pleasing diversion, still, out of the corner of your eye, you were forced to notice Anakin— standing in the far corner in quiet observation, and chillingly reminding you of where you were and what important rules both you and his former Master had certainly just broken in his presence.

What made it all worse, though, was that for the life of you, you could not read the younger man’s expression. Apparently, he had just stood there, arms crossed once the shuttle door was secured and simply… watched? Impassively?

No, that couldn’t be right.

Then, he pushed off the wall.

Anakin’s arms fell to the side as he gradually approached you both, brows tightening into what looked like a slightly angrier cross that ran your brain into overdrive. You were still having trouble discerning his emotions through the Force, but could only make an educated guess that he was beyond frustrated that the two beings closest to him had just broken the Jedi Code.

And, also because, he didn’t seem to have any particular reaction to what Obi-Wan did, making you sadly doubt that he’d ever feel the same way you’d always felt for the chestnut-haired man and his former Master.

So, no matter how right it felt, how much you wanted it, you knew that it was time for some damage control.

“Obi-Wan…” you took a deep, shaky breath, nerves still firing at every end while your stare stood firmly on Obi-Wan’s wanting expression, Anakin nearing your side.

You loosely exhaled.

“Where did that—“

Hot moisture met your neck, Anakin’s wet lips attacking its side and extracting a startled gasp from your lungs as your eyes fluttered closed. Greedily, he cupped your throat to softy tug you toward him, draining your arms into a state of perpetual pliability from the pleasant heat filling your chest.

They slid, soon falling from Obi-Wan’s body entirely before you angled toward the younger Jedi and shakily twisted them around his shoulders for support. Another weak sigh escaped past your lips once you felt Anakin’s teeth graze across a sensitive spot as the weakening kisses continued, an action which only seemed to encourage the younger Jedi considering he returned to that spot with more fervor, sucking it dry until your jaw slackened.

Still, no matter how dazed your mind had become in this last minute of chaos, you just couldn’t believe this was happening.

It had to be a mistake, right? Was something else wrong?

Something must have happened.

Regathering your senses, you quickly pulled away from Anakin, feeling the resistance of your initial jerk snap Anakin from his equally influenced status as he quickly tried to give you space.

“Are you ok??” He asked rapidly, eyes seeping wide-eyed worry and flickers of guilt while Obi-Wan, who was initially calmly analyzing the show, too shifted to share a similarly concerned expression.

“Yes, of course,” you aired, still slightly out of breath as you stared confoundedly at the two men. “I’m fine Anakin, but what is going on? This is coming out of nowhere.” You shook your head. “Were the two of you drugged or something?”

“In a sense, I suppose we were,” Obi-Wan answered nonchalantly.

You raised a brow.

“Y/n,” Anakin uttered, drawing your eyes toward his. “Obi-Wan and I realized something back there during the mission. Something it looks like we both kinda knew for a while but didn’t really understand until now.”

Master Kenobi’s eyes raked across your figure once more while he spoke. “I saw you there, we saw you, truly, for the first time. And I lost my breath.”

You melted at his words.

“All I saw was pure beauty and you, and I couldn’t tell the difference,” Anakin spoke disjointedly, nearly making you giggle. “And I knew that seeing you like this, in this way, I couldn’t wait any longer. We couldn’t wait. We needed to tell you.”

“Tell me?” You asked breathily, preparing yourself for whatever was to come next.

“That we desire you,” Obi-Wan barely whispered, fluttering your stomach. “That you are more important to us than ancient statutes. And we determined that you must know so that you may decide if you wish it.”

You shuttered, worries of the Code fading into nothingness while the two men before you consumed your senses. “Decide?”

Anakin stared at you, a pleading glint in his eyes as he spoke gently.

“Which one of us you want back.”

Your still heavy breaths punctuated the otherwise quiet air. Characteristic of the thoughts rattling against your buzzed skull before a throaty mutter made its way past your teeth.

“I can’t…”

You watched while their faces deflated at your words.

“We understand, Y/n,” Obi-Wan spoke, a subtle sadness drooping his tone. “It’s quite alright—“

“No,” you corrected quickly. “No, I can’t decide.”

Anakin’s brows quirked at this, head tilting as curiosity subdued his brief listlessness.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

You sighed heavily, eyes drifting to the floor with an unaccustomed quiver. “I mean, I can’t decide because… because…”

You bit your lip.

“I want you both.”

Raising your head, you carefully observed the two men, bodies as still as statues while their swollen eyes held firmly on your figure. Anakin nurturing a steadily expanding, devious grin while he quietly flexed a fist, and Obi-Wan, faintly flicking his tongue across his top lip in an effort to carefully drink in your figure.

A pleasant chill ran down your spine.

“Is that alright?” You whispered.

Anakin chuckled incredulously, cueing Obi-Wan to respond to that inquiry.

“Darling,” he murmured, insatiable eyes sucking you barren as the nickname sent a new round of tingles down your legs. “That stretches far beyond ‘alright.’”

“How do you want us?” Anakin posed, tone nearing a growl.

Unfiltered, you spoke your mind.

“As close as possible.”

And the Jedi obliged.

________________________________________________________________

Should I do a part 2 at some point? Let me know :)

[abelbai000]

marauders boys p links!!

marauders version of this!!

as stated previously, don’t open in public, and be aware- you’re responsible for your own media consumption with the knowledge that these are all twitter links!!

handcuffs + doggy w sirius <3

mornings w siri <3

study sesh w siri <3

road trip w jamie <3

overstim w siri <3

being needy + empty dorm w rem <3

pre full moons w rem <3

fingering w jamie <3

wishing jamie good luck before quidditch <3

party bathroom w siri <3

empty dorm w siri <3

skin to skin w jamie <3

face sitting w rem <3

post quidditch win w jamie <3

rem pre full moon <3

empty common room w jamie <3

rem has u from behind <3

[abelbai000]

summertime at the burrow

A/N: i want to be an honorary weasley please im literally begging. notice me molly weasley

Pairings: Best Friend!Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Fred finally invites his best friend home over summer holiday. Neither of you expected it to go so well. 3.7k words.

Warnings: fluff, best friends to lovers, ungodly amount of shenanigans, friendly bullying/teasing, mud wrestling, kissing, (friendly) violence, pet names (trouble, snookums, sugarplum, sweetheart), cursing, borderline frog abuse

"Good morning, trouble."

You hop into the seat next to him that he’d been saving for you. In fact, he’d been saving it for you since the first time you plopped down beside him after the sorting hat declared your house first year. You laughed when he shook your hand. He thought you had the cutest smile. Then you teased him for his devilish charm and he called you catty, and you’ve been teasing each other ever since.

"Are you packed and ready?” He sounds more worried than that time he nearly shattered his collar bone during a vicious Quidditch scrimmage. “We're leaving bright and early tomorrow. Mum says she's preparing a hearty lunch for our guests." Fred scarfs down the rest of his breakfast and turns to look at you to find you're looking back at him in bewilderment.

"Somebody's excited," you tease, ruffling his fiery locks and glancing over at George with a grin.

"If you think this is bad, you should see him before winter holidays," George huffs.

“I have.”

Fred rolls his eyes at you and you jab him in the side.

"Where are the lot of you off to?" Lee perks up from across the table, setting his plate down and wiggling his way between Alicia and Angelina.

"I finally got my honorary invite to the Weasley burrow this summer," you chirp, wrapping your arm over Fred's shoulders and leaning him into your side.

Lee cocks a brow and smirks at a suddenly and uncharacteristically shy Fred. "Well, it's about time! You've only been dating for—"

You shake your head. "No, not dating, Lee. I swear we've been over this—"

"Oh, we've been over it plenty. I just choose to ignore wicked witches when they lie—!"

You practically leap across the table with your teeth gritted to grab for his robes when you're stopped by the laughing twins holding you back from tearing into him. "Lee Jordan, you take that back right now, or so help me your mother will wonder why your hair's gone purple!"

"I'm not going to apologize for being lied to!"

"Let me at him! I'm trying to defend my honor here!"

"Miss—young lady!”—McGonagall appears behind you, sending you into shock and barreling back onto the bench—“Settle down! You're frightening the first years, and we typically prefer they come back in the fall."

"Apologies, professor, I was simply trying to have a friendly discussion with my classmate," you say, gesturing to Lee who smiles begrudgingly.

"Right, well, from now on, let's have our discussions from across the furniture, not on top of it." She wanders away, and you turn to stick your tongue out at Lee who is doubled-over and cackling at your being caught.

“I hope you know, we’re going to receive the same third-degree from my dear mother,” Fred mumbles in your ear. His heart races when you turn to him, a playful glint in your eye. You blink sweetly and rest your hand on his knee when he tucks his arm around your lower back. “But don’t worry, sugarplum, it’s never too late to try.”

He winks. Your eyes go wide, and you shove at his shoulder with a chuckle disguised by a scoff.

“Scabbers not the only rat in the Weasley family, I see.”

“That is exactly what I’m talking about, there’s no way you two are just friends—”

A slice of ham sticks to Lee’s cheek with a cold, wet slap as you eye him from across the table.

“Don’t listen to him, snookums, he just doesn’t understand our complicated arrangement,” Fred says, nudging your cheek with his nose and holding back laughter.

“Gross,” George mutters, grinning before he’s met with the same lunchmeat backhand his friend so rudely received. “Suppose I could’ve predicted that one.”

…

You wipe the sweat from your brow, slinging your carry-on over your shoulder before bending down to pick up your trunk. You’re trailing behind most of the rest of the group, just a few steps behind the twins while their younger siblings charge ahead through the field with Harry and Hermione. Fred checks in with you every couple of meters, making sure you don’t need any serious medical attention.

Once the twins breach the front door, you take a seat outside on your trunk, fanning yourself with your hand and throwing your head back. Then you hear:

“Fred, you better get out there and help that poor girl with her things!”

“Sorry, mum!”

You chuckle when he appears in the doorway moments later, winded as ever, hair plastered to his forehead, and still grinning wildly as he jogs over.

“What’s a lovely young lady like yourself doing outside all alone on such an unbearably hot afternoon?”

“Sweating like swine.”

“Ravishing,” he teases, shooing you off the suitcase, “head inside, mum’s absolutely itching to meet you.”

So you do. You can see her welcoming her children and their friends alike, and it fills you with the warmth of fresh gingerbread and the nerves of a teenage boy during school dance season.

“My dear!” she coos, arms outstretched even though a thin year of sweat coats every inch of your body, even though you’ve been wearing these clothes for a day, and even though you’re breathing heavy like a dog. She’s got her arms outstretched like you’re family.

“I’ve heard so much about you from Fred, and, goodness, you’re even prettier than he said you’d be!” —She gasps when he walks through the door, hauling your trunk in tow—“Don’t tell him I told you.”

“It’s been five minutes and you two are already sharing secrets about me. Only seven more days, Freddie,” he mumbles, setting the trunk down with a thud.

“Oh, well! It’s wonderful to finally meet you, dear, Ginny will show you to your room and lunch will be ready once you’re all settled!”

“Thank you, Mrs Weasley—”

“Oh, none of that, call me Molly.”

Your brows knit when she smiles at you so gently before making her way back to the kitchen.

“Thank you, Molly!”

Fred hops up from where he’d been relaxing on an armchair, clapping you on the arm with a reassuring smile.

“Everything processing alright up there?”

You nod.

“Peachy. Now give me a smile, you’re scaring me.”

You squint at him and pinch his arm, simpering when he hisses and swats your dry-gulching fingers away.

“That’ll do!”

“We’re up this way,” Ginny chirps as she rushes by and tugs you by the hand up the stairs.

Fred watches after you, rubbing his arm with a mean look on his face just before his playful resentment fades and his affections settle into the apples of his cheeks. This is going to be a long seven days.

…

Fred had never invited anyone to stay at the burrow. He preferred the company of his close family and whoever his mother deemed Weasley-enough herself. But he’d been saving this invitation. It stewed in the back of his mind for years before he mustered up the courage to offer it to you.

Ridiculous. That’s how it sounded in his head: ridiculous. If he wanted to ask you, he should have done it at the first chance. That’s what Fred would do. But he could never bring himself to get the words out whenever he swore to himself today would be the day. Because you’d just look at him with those damned doe eyes—you’d test his boundaries and make him all gushy inside—and it was like he was suddenly turned to a tongue-tied and pathetic halfwit.

And now here you are. An unofficial part of his family. But nevertheless a part of it. You’d found the annual Weasley strawberry-picking trip to be wonderful despite Fred pulling cheap pranks on you and the fact that it was basically sweltering outside. When you returned, you all spread out in the family room with bowls of the dewy berries in each of your laps. Everyone claimed a seat while you and Fred were forced to share the hardwood floor. You ended up tossing the small fruits into each other’s mouths with your legs laid across his thighs.

At one point, he lands one of the berries down your blouse. Almost immediately, he starts to laugh, clutching his chest while you gawk at him.

“You better start running, trouble.”

He gulps and scampers to his feet before scurrying out the front door. You take off after him, shouting curses into the wind when he rounds a corner.

You follow his footsteps but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“I swear, if I ever get my hands on you—”

He grabs your waist from behind you, dipping down to whisper in your ear. “You can put your hands on me whenever you’d like, sugarplum—”

“Merlin’s Beard, Fred! You scared the shit out of me!”

You jolt away, and he thinks you look genuinely angry this time. But he smiles and your features soften. Then you’re after him again, bounding into the tall grass with an uproar of laughter.

…

You spend the next few days of your vacation trying to beat Ron at chess then deciding it may be better if you and Harry team up to try and beat Ron at chess. You also take Ginny and Hermione shopping while the gaggle of boys trail behind the three of you grumbling and whining about missing their beloved Quidditch game.

You offer to help Molly with every meal, and she only accepts once you convince her your desserts are a crowd favorite back home. She’s proud to say she’s impressed, and she grows even prouder when you admit you adore big families like hers and see at least two kids of your own in your future.

Arthur takes a liking to you after you listen to him rave about the kind of items muggles use day-to-day and how fascinating their modern technology has become in recent years. He’s thrilled to find you actually take interest in his tinkering and collections and whatnot.

But most of all, you spend your time at the burrow with Fred. He steals you away after meals and keeps you up late to teach you his favorite charms. One overcurious evening finds you two perched together on the bathroom floor whispering and giggling while you brush a bold smokey-eye onto his eyelids. Let’s just say dinner that night was nothing short of hilarious: a look that Fred will never live down.

On the fifth morning, you jostle him awake. He whines about the sun not even being up yet while you drag him down the steps and shove your socked feet into an extra pair of rubber boots.

“What’s the bucket for?” he whispers, traipsing down the path along the side of the house when you stop dead in your tracks.

“Shh!” You press your gloved finger to his lips. A chorus of croaks erupts from the marsh beside the house. Nothing out of the ordinary for Fred, in fact that sound had often soothed him to sleep. But there’s a dangerous glint in your eye that tells him you’re on a mission.

“Can’t we do this when the sun is up? It’s cold and I’m tired—”

“The faster we catch ‘em, the faster we can go back to bed,” you whisper as your boot sinks into the edge of the muddy body of water. He sighs and sinks in next to you with his hands on his hips.

“I can’t believe you’ve convinced me to do this. You’re lucky you’re so pretty or you’d never get away with anything.”

You purse your lips and wade a little further out, looking out at the cooly rippling water beneath the sliver of sunrise.

“Yes, I would,” you say, quietly but so matter-of-fact he’s inclined to believe you.

Just then you spring into action, shoveling a small frog into your bucket with a victorious grunt. A few minutes later, he shuffled over to you and lowers his cupped palms into your bucket: three more frogs settle down into the center with a wet plop. You beam up at him, and it’s worth the early morning trouble to see you so happy and have you so close.

“So what do you plan on doing with these poor creatures once we’re done?”

You sit on the bank of the waterbed, sighing and setting the bucket beside you. He watches you from the water while you examine the small blob of darkness in the center of your palm. The bottom of the bucket is lined with croaking frogs, and the sun is well above the horizon, dousing the sky in soft pink and warm rose.

“I’m going to let them go.”

He lets out a sharp breath, hands falling to his sides, leaving streaks of mud down his tee shirt.

“You’re joking.”

You look up at him. You’re not joking.

“No,” he huffs. “You did not drag me out of my nice, warm bed to catch a million slimy frogs in the freezing cold dark just to let them go again.”

“Oh, but I did.” You’re crazy, he thinks. You’re crazy and it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. Doesn’t make you any less crazy, though it might make him much less sane.

You set the frog down in the grass and leave the bucket tipped over. The small creatures immediately flood out from the splotchy tin opening into the newborn daylight and the crisp morning air. You stand and wipe your hands against each other a few times, scrunching your nose and finally meeting his eyes again.

“What’s wrong, trouble? Cat got your tongue?”

You grin.

“You know, one of these days, I’m going to say ‘no’ to you, and it’ll be a rude awakening.”

Fred walks past you like he’s really mad. Like it was an uncrossable line and you treated it like the tape at the end of a marathon. He’s hulking back towards the house when you grab his wrist to get his attention.

“What?”

But you don’t look sad. You don’t look pitiful or hurt. You look like you’re scheming, and it drives him crazy. As if he could ever say ‘no’ to you.

“You think I’m pretty,” you coo, batting your lashes just to get on his nerves. His breath hitches, and he feels warm despite the nipping cold of the morning.

“Unrelated.”

You drop his hand and cross your arms over your chest with a pout. He continues leisurely toward the burrow, tossing his gloves to the ground with a huff of hot air.

“Fred?” you call. And you sound worried, so he’s compelled to whip around. But when he does, he’s met with a rude awakening.

It was a misstep. A silly mistake, the wrong footing. Easily avoidable, and yet he didn’t avoid it. So he’s ass-first into a mud puddle with you shrieking in laughter about a meter away.

“You’re awful,” he grumbles, both hands propping him up and seeping into the thick mud as seconds tick by.

“I’m sorry! Freddie, I’m so sorry,” you cackle, taking a few steps toward him with tears of joy in your eyes. “But you should have seen your face!”

“Help me up,” he says, shaking his head and wiping his hand down his pajama pants before holding it outstretched to you. You grab it and tug enough to leverage him out of the muck. But he doesn’t budge. And in that moment, your eyes are filled with fear. Then, with one jolt, you topple down into the mud right beside him.

“Fred!”

“An eye for an eye, sugarplum.”

You push yourself up onto your hands to find your entire front is caked in mud, the mess narrowly avoiding your chin and above.

“You’re going to pay for that.”

“Oh, bring it on,” Fred teases.

You smirk just before a handful of mud is smeared across his chest by your slippery glove.

“Your move, trouble.”

He shakes his head and chuckles, looking down at the abstract art work fondly. But not quite fondly enough to hold himself back. His fingers dig into the puddle determinedly just before patting the top of your head with it like a stray dog. You squint your eyes closed and groan before peeking one eye open and coating his cheek in mud.

You make it to your feet and Fred hurls a ball of mud at your ass but he misses and it lands in the grass in front of you. You bolt around the back of the house, but he hurls a hunk towards your shoulder blade. You yelp and shout at him:

“You’re supposed to be a gentleman!”

“I’ll show you a gentleman, sweetheart,” he hollers it just before he catches up to you. You squeal and nearly slip on a slick patch of grass, but before you can leap out of his reach, he grabs your upper arm and presses you against the tree just behind your back.

“That’s not playing fair, Freddie, I’ve got nowhere to run,” you say, breathlessly grasping at the edge of his shirt with a tired smile. He chuckles and plants one palm against the bark beside your head, bringing the other hand to cup the side of your neck.

“You don’t need to run anywhere,” he mumbles, “just stay here.” The dried mud on the pad of his thumb draws a swipe of dirt down your cheek. Your fingers curl around his wrist and your lips part sweetly when he leans in.

“Time to come inside, you two! Breakfast is ready!”

Your eyes go wide when he leans his forehead against the tree with a grumbled curse.

“I suppose I am quite peckish!” you chirp, dragging him along behind you all the way to the front door. You leave your boots and gloves outside and brush some of the dried dirt from your pajamas.

You sit across from him at breakfast and catch him stealing glances at you every so often. With a mouth full of food, you wink at him with a dirt-smeared face and almost make him spit out his juice when you kick him under the table. George teases the two of you about wrestling in the mud while Molly scolds Fred about tracking it into the house.

…

Before long, you’re facing the final night of your stay. You’d been dreading the end since the beginning, and now that it’s here, you’re heartbroken. It’s been nothing but fun and you’ve never felt so wonderfully vulnerable with so many people around.

But the thing you’ll miss most is Fred. He could sense you pulling away the last couple of days. Trying to shield yourself from the impact of reality. No matter how hard he tried to cheer you up, he knew nothing could stop you thinking about how much packing up and leaving would hurt.

With your things splayed out across the floor of your temporary room, you had started packing hours ago but kept finding ways to distract yourself and avoid the idea of leaving altogether.

“Need any help?” Fred knocks on the doorframe, leaned against it and wearing the blue jumper you once told him he looked best in. You smile up at him from the floor.

“No,” you huff, “but some company would be nice.”

He perks up and shuffles around your belongings to plant himself on the edge of the bed. You had made the bed up nicely, tucked the duvet and set the pillows out nicely. He told you you didn’t have to, but you did it anyways.

After a few minutes of folding and refolding the same shirt, you stand from the floor and join him on the bed. He’s leaned back onto his elbows when he nudges your foot with his. You nudge him back but don’t turn to look at him. So he sits up and bumps you with his shoulder.

“I’m going to miss you,” he says, fussing with the edge of your shorts to distract himself, “Being here, I mean. As a part of our family.”

You smile down at his fiddling fingertips and inch closer, looking at him with this half-sad, half-happy look that has him confused and hopeless and head over heels and confused.

“I had a really, really nice time,” you whisper, leaning your head onto his shoulder and letting your eyes drift closed.

“So…”

You chuckle and smile to yourself, “So…?”

You sit up when the floor rattles a little, a thudding coming from the room below you. Then George shouts.

“Get it over with already!”

You both look at each other and giggle. Fred leans back again and you watch him tilt his head back and let out a sigh. His chest rises and falls beneath that damned blue sweater, and you trace your fingertips over his knuckles. He lifts his head and smiles cheekily at you, like he knows what’s going on inside your head. Like he has any idea. And for once, you think he might be pretty close.

You practically tackle him to the bed, smiling against his mouth when he cradles your face in one hand and rests the other on your waist where your shirt had ridden up from the ruckus.

You pepper soft kisses over his blushing face, leaving faintly glossy lip prints on his cheeks and nose and forehead and a stray one on the column of his neck. He goes slack against the bed, satisfied and content and happy all because of you. But still, he lazily opens his eyes and grins mischievously and says:

“Took you long enough.”

You smack your hand against his chest just hard enough to warn him.

“Oh, you’re trouble, Weasley.”

He cups your hand against his warm chest and his smile ebbs from mischief to something not as easily recognized. Something that makes him shy and pink thanks to the girl who likes the freckles across the bridge of his nose in the summer and his hands even when they’re covered in mud. Love that makes him much less sane for the girl who might just be crazy for loving him back.

And all of it makes him hold your hand and lean up to kiss you one more time.

masterlist

[abelbai000]

They Kiss You To Escape

Preference

Characters: Tenth Doctor, Eleventh Doctor, Jack Harkness, Rory Williams

Warnings:

Request: “Good night! I love Doctor Who and I really wanted to send you a request about a preference 😁 10, 11, Jack and Rory having to kiss their crushes to escape/hide from someone, please!” Anon

~~~

Tenth Doctor

The Doctor looked so uncomfortable.

He was pressed into the corner of the conference room, unable to escape the chattering of a persistent woman. She laughed ridiculously, shaking her whole body until she was bumping into him. The Doctor shook her off with a forced smile.

Keep reading

[abelbai000]

Cheaters!

Ballister x Ambrosius ft. Nimona

A/N: Not even an hour after this post hahaha. I just needed some FLUFF with these three! I'm so in love with this movie! (P.S. I only saw the movie and didn't read the comics, just fyi^^ but I'm very interested to indulge more!)

Summary: What Ballister thought was going to be a quiet night alone, ends up being a night full of fun and laughter with the two people he holds dear. (Also on Ao3)

Warnings: Spoilers! Also lots of fluff + tickles.

Word Count: 1610

Home at last. Ballister strode into what was once his upgraded villain lair (haha). Now it had really grown into a home he shared with the people he loved. None of them were there though. Ambrosius... Well yeah, they were both knights, yet Ambrosius really arranged himself a far busier schedule than Ballister had. Which was fine, he liked that Ambrosius was enjoying himself. He liked to take it easier.

Then there was Nimona, who had made some lovely friends. Friends who accepted her for who she was, and who she could have fun with. Ballister smiled. He was so happy for her.

Ballister took off his arm, stretched his other arm and then dropped himself on the couch. No socializing or training times for him. Today? Lazy day! He kicked off his shoes and was just preparing himself mentally for getting up again because there was food in the fridge and he really would like to have some, when the door opened.

"Ho! You're back early?" Ballister said when Ambrosius came in. Ambrosius laughed charmingly and shook his head.

"I suddenly remembered Nimona had plans today so I thought we could also..." He stopped talking, his eyes scanning the room really quick and especially checking out Ballister's arm that was on the table.

"Oh yeah, I took it off," Ballister said. "I'm tired."

Mischief suddenly flashed in his lover's eyes and before Ballister could make a move, the blond approached him with terrifying speed.

"Wah- Ambrosius you'd better not be thinking what I think you're thinkingaahahaaa!" Ballister cried out dramatically when Ambrosius dragged him back towards the couch after his brief attempt at escaping.

"Tell me, what was I thinking hmm?" Ambrosius said in seductive voice that sent pleasant shivers down Ballister's spine, but Ambrosius was also already tickling him so yes, the answer was already here.

"Tihihickling mehehe! No fahahair - my ahaharm!" Ballister cackled as Ambrosius easily pinned his one arm above his head and tickled his underarm, ribs and sides mercilessly with the other.

"Oh come on Bal, we both know you don't stand much more chance with both arms," he teased. So mean! Ballister kicked his legs and threw his head back, laughing uncontrollably.

"Y-you're suhuhuch a cheheater-ahahaha!" he howled. Ambrosius merely snickered and released his arm so he could claw at his ribs, fingers wiggling mercilessly as well and boy he was in such a big mood, Ballister could understand why he came home early!

"If you want me to be a cheater, I can cheat~" Ambrosius said, catching Ballister's arm again which was flailing hysterically. Trapping his arm again, he used his other hand to tickle his stomach with some very playful pokes, causing Ballister to let out the most uncharming cackles.

Luckily these were the kind of cackles that Ambrosius really liked to hear, and the sweet smile on his face was just so beautiful and angelic. Ballister would say it was worth getting tickled to death for.

"Ohoho-ahahalright cohohome on! Gihihive mehehe a breheheak!" Ambrosius finally stopped tickling him, and whew it had probably only been five minutes or less, but surely felt like Ballister had fought a three-day long war or something. He was getting too old for this. He caught his breath and let out a whiny noise.

"Such - a - cheater," he panted, his chest heaving with each breath. Ambrosius grinned and leaned in to kiss his lips.

"But I am your cheater. Did you have dinner yet?"

"Not yet. I was thinking of pizza."

"The leftovers in the fridge? Please no. I'll make us some dinner after I wash up, alright?"

"Alright." They shared one more kiss, and Ambrosius got up. Pfffff. Ballister was still gasping for air. Tickle attacks; nothing new really. Ambrosius really liked to pounce on him, but most of the times he would at least do it when Ballister had both his arms. Sometimes, just rarely, he would grab his chance and tickle him back. He smiled at the thought.

Tickling Ambrosius was just... something he should earn every now and then. It'd take more effort than getting out of bed. Or convincing Nimona to stop using metaphors that involved killing people - still a habit.

"Look who's back!"

Ballister jolted when, just when he thought about her, he could hear Nimona's voice for real, and there she was.

"Nimona? Already?" he asked, surprised.

"Why? Disappointed?" she asked with a smug smile.

"No! I mean... I thought you...." Ballister wasn't sure what happened. She looked a little sad.

"It's fine! I'm fine. I know I haven't had many friends before, but I know that sometimes, plans change," she said. Ahh. Ballister hoped she could have fun next time then. Nimona was just on her way to the fridge to take out the pizza leftovers Ballister had almost taken, when he thought of an idea.

"Nimona. Would you like to help me out with something?" he asked as he got up and attached his prosthetic arm again, ready for business.

"Eh.... yeah? Depends on what, though?"

"We're gonna have some fun," Ballister whispered, and he winked at her.

A few moments later Ambrosius came back, looking all cute, refreshed and also: ready to get tickled to death.

"I'm back! Was that Nimona's voice I heard? I thought she'd be - !!!" Ambrosius gulped when the gorilla version of Nimona stood before him, smirking at him.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi..." Ambrosius said back, and he immediately started running, the clever little shit. But he wasn't fast enough. Nimona already grabbed him and pinned him against her huge body.

"Boss, go!" she yelled. Ballister came striding towards his lover and put on his best villain-laugh.

"Muhahaha. Ambrosius, now it's my turn to be the cheater," he announced, and he immediately began to wiggle his fingers against his sides.

"AHh! AHaha- Bahahal! No fahahair! Nimonahahah lehehet me go!" he laughed, kicking his legs and shaking his head, but Nimona held him tightly and she laughed.

"Today, someone's going to die laughing," she joked.

"Baaahahaal! Nohoho!" Ambrosius was always beautiful, always gorgeous. But whenever he laughed like this, ah, it was almost as if it was unnatural. Ballister was secretly a little jealous too: how could someone laugh so hysterically and remain so very beautiful?

"Heehehehee! Okahahahay! You gohohot mehehe! You gohohooot mehehee!" Ambrosius roared, but Ballister shook his head.

"You weren't exactly merficul when you did it to me. You can handle just a little more of this," he said.

"Oh boss, boss, may I?" Nimona asked, and Ballister only noticed now that she'd been holding back. He shrugged.

"Oh sure," he said, to which Nimona simply let go of one of Ambrosius' arms so she could tickle his tummy.

"Tickle tickle tickle!" she sang, and Ambrosius squeaked in the most adorable way.

"Wahahaha! Nohoho!" Meanwhile Ballister crawled towards his feet, still bare now that he was all washed up and ready to go into relax-mode. He snickered and tickled his sole with one finger first, just testing and reminding them how ticklish his feet were.

Ambrosius reacted to the slight tickle with a loud funny bark, and Ballister then wrapped his arm around his ankles and began to full-on tickle his feet.

"You guhuhuys! No fahahahair! AHahhaahaa!" Ambrosius laughed loudly.

"What do you say Nimona? He's had enough?" Ballister asked.

"What are you talking about? Of course not!" she replied, now using both her hands to tickle him as well. Even with both arms free to move, it wasn't as if Ambrosius could go anywhere now that they were tickle attacking him together.

"BAhahah! Bal! HAhaah Nimonahaha I surrendeheher!" he laughed dramatically.

"He surrenders," Ballister said matter-of-factly.

"Hmhm, I heard," Nimona said. She transformed back into her human self, and Ballister thought that was going to be the end of their attack, but she landed on Ambrosius' stomach and continued to poke him merrily with her fingers.

"Just a little more," she said with the most devilish grin.

"Heeheheee! Plehehease!" he laughed adorably. Ballister finally started feeling bad for poor Ambrosius, even though he started it, so he got up, took Nimona under her arms (and tickled her armpits slightly) and lifted her off his exhausted lover.

"Heehehee!" she squealed, and she quickly transformed into a cat and sped away, hiding somewhere. Ballister held his hand out to Ambrosius and helped him sit up.

"So how was that? From one cheater to another?" he asked. "I've considered asking Nimona to help me with that for a while now, but I thought it'd be petty. Now I'm thinking: what was I waiting for?"

They both laughed. "Yeah, you really got me there," Ambrosius said, still wheezing and giggling sweetly. Ballister smiled and kissed him.

"Good. Well, I'm glad you cheated first. I don't get to hear that beautiful laugh of yours enough," Ballister said, poking Ambrosius' stomach and making him giggle again.

"Heheh. Well, I'm happy you're happy."

Ballister looked over his shoulder at Nimona who sat on the couch, human again, and smirking at them.

"Don't look at me, I'm not here," she teased. Ballister laughed.

"Well, since you both spoiled me so much. Would you like me to cook you dinner?" Ambrosius asked. Both Ballister and Nimona cheered.

"Yeaaaah!"

"And if we're all here anyway, how about we play some games? Since you're both cheaters, I'll cheat too," Nimona said.

Ballister and Ambrosius both started laughing. "A game sounds good!"

While Ballister thought at first it was going to be a sleepy, lazy night with just himself, he couldn't be happier to be home with the two people he loved. He didn't want it to be over anytime soon!

[abelbai000]

Tomarrymort Intermediate Pack — 16 Longfic Recs

As a follow-up to the Tomarrymort starter pack rec list, I put together a list of Intermediate Reads that are best enjoyed with a bit of context about the ship. If you’ve been reading Tomarrymort for a while, or have read everything in the starter pack, this next set of recs is for you. 

These recs feature a sampling of different authors than the first list, with an emphasis on underrated fic that I think deserve more recognition (hard to define, but for the most part, I tried to find fics with fewer than 2000 kudos). So I hope that even for the readers who’ve been reading Tomarrymort for a long time, there’s something new in here to discover.

This is Part 2 of a 3-part series (see here for Part 1, and Part 3 will be an Advanced reading list that will feature works of a more challenging nature). In the meantime, please enjoy these additional 1.8 million words of wonderful Tomarrymort fic.

*

Tomarrymort Intermediate Recs

aurora polaris by @aglassroseneverfades (E, 136k, WIP)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Harry wakes up one day with no memory of his past, upon which he’s greeted by a handsome, doting older man named Gaunt who claims that he and Harry have been in a relationship together for years.  Why I rec it: A haunting psychological horror where the truth slowly creeps up on Harry that his domestic life with his devoted partner Gaunt is not as idyllic as it initially appears. The twisting, unhinged depths of Voldemort’s obsession in this fic are so beautifully portrayed. There were chills that ran down my spine as Harry starts to get his memories back and the mystery of what happened starts to unravel. I love the pacing in this fic — there’s no one big reveal; it’s a slowly unfolding sequence that gets delightfully darker and more fucked-up as the fic progresses.

dawn of a death of a dream by @cindle-writes (E, 66k, WIP)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Tom Riddle appears in London the morning of Voldemort’s defeat, with the last thing he remembers from 1944, and quickly realizes that Harry Potter is the key to all the answers that he’s looking for.  Why I rec it: A light-hearted take on the identity porn trope, full of playful banter and delightfully charged chemistry between Harry and Tom. It’s usually Harry who’s thrown back through time, so it’s fun to see Tom scramble to figure out what’s going on when he’s pulled forward into Harry’s time. It’s also fun to see Harry try every avenue to prove that this mysterious new Tom is the Tom Riddle, even as he ends up hitting dead ends, and subsequently falls so deep into his obsessive tendencies that he refuses to let Tom out of his sight.

My Lord, Master, My Soul by FletchleyRose (E, 69k, complete)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Voldemort captures Harry after the final battle and decides to break him — not with torture, but with pleasure and softness. Why I rec it: The soft, creepy non-con in here is so memorable and excellent! Voldemort takes a different approach to breaking in his horcrux than what we usually see, and this particular approach leads to such delicious and hot smut scenes between them wherein Harry utterly succumbs to all the softly pleasurable attentions. I can never get enough of darkly twisted captive Harry stories and all the ways that Voldemort keeps Harry isolated and utterly reliant on him. I gasped out loud at the part where Voldemort made it so that Harry can only speak Parseltongue — this exactly the kind of fucked-up content that is so perfect and fitting for this ship.

(never) let me go by @perhaps-sunlight (M, 28k, complete)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Harry returns to Hogwarts after the war for eighth year, and he’s the only person in the castle who can see and talk to the ghost of Tom Riddle.  Why I rec it: This fic completely destroyed me. The story unfolds in such a poignant and haunting way — it feels like the most natural thing for Harry to feel such a strong connection with Tom and fall in love with him as the year progresses. The angst in here is so delicately layered and beautifully portrayed — Harry’s feelings are muddled with a growing hope that Tom doesn’t have to move on to the afterlife and the desperation that he feels when he realizes they’re running out of time — such that the emotional beats will end up resonating for a long time after you’ve finished reading this fic.

One Year In Every Ten by @saintsenara (E, 124k, WIP)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If a series of gruesome murders 10 years after the war has Harry and the rest of the Aurors completely stumped, and Harry figures out how to bring Voldemort back from beyond the Veil in exchange for his help in solving the murders.  Why I rec it: This is a spectacular and richly layered murder mystery featuring incredibly complex character dynamics and gorgeously lavish prose. I am blown away at the sophistication of the storytelling here — we get to delve into Voldemort’s past and so many hidden layers of his character, as well as how Harry has been handling the ‘picture-perfect’ life he’s always wanted after the war (in short: not well) — and in between, following all the clues and disparate threads of a mysterious serial killer case that could be its own standalone casefic! One of the most impressively sweeping pieces of writing I’ve seen in this ship, and there isn’t an element of this fic that I don’t absolutely adore.

Perfect Places by @skaelds (NR, 72k, complete)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Voldemort dies in the Final Battle, and then wakes up in a strange house with no one but Harry Potter for company, and there is no way for either of them to get out. Why I rec it: I absolutely love the trapped-in-a-room trope, and how Voldemort and Harry have to work out their differences if they want to have any hope of getting out. I adore that the entire fic is told from Voldemort POV — his arrogance and his malevolence and his rage and the utter force of his emotions are so palpable. The emotional journey in this fic is so intense from beginning to end, as they eventually come around to an understanding about each other and figure out a way out.

Promises, Promises (part 1) / Dreams in the Dark (part 2) by @mosiva (E, 72k, complete)

Setting: Time-Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry is accidentally thrown back in time to Tom’s 6th year, and then suffers a bout of amnesia from a memory-loss spell and can’t remember anything about Tom Riddle or why he spent all semester trying to avoid him.  Why I rec it: A brilliant fast burn featuring amnesia trope and tons of delicious dubcon. Tom is at his manipulative peak here, as he tries every underhanded technique to first figure out exactly what is going on with that new transfer student Harry Evans, and then when he’s figured it out, doing everything he can to keep Harry within his grasp. I cannot say enough about how hot the smut is throughout this 2-part series — so many layers of dubcon and manipulation that blew me away at every turn.

Sunspots by @crowcrowcrowthing (E, 249k, WIP)

Setting: Alternate Universe Premise: If Harry grows up in the muggle world without realizing he has magic, but he suspects there’s a bigger world out there because he’s had recurring dreams featuring Tom’s horcruxes his entire life.  Why I rec it: One of the most unique takes on a book 1 rewrite that I’ve ever seen. First of all, the characters are aged up to college-age, and since Hogwarts starts at 18 here rather than at 11, there’s a lot of character dynamics that are possible to explore with older characters that aren’t possible with 11-year-olds. Secondly, Harry has access to each of Tom’s horcruxes through a magical dreamscape dimension he can access in his sleep, and he has unique and distinct relationships with each of them, including (the main) Voldemort, so there’s a lot of fascinating and multi-faceted Harry and Tom dynamics. Also, the descriptions of magic in this fic are just stunning; it’s clear that a lot of thought went into the magical worldbuilding here that makes you feel as excited and awestruck by the concept of magic as reading the Harry Potter books for the first time.

Tender Reigns Our Night by @noumena-writes (M, 69k, WIP)

Setting: Time-Travel (1940s)  Premise: If Harry is sent back to the 1940s, just after Tom Riddle has graduated from Hogwarts, on a mission to stop Tom becoming Voldemort and imperiling the world of magic. Why I rec it: I love the mutually obsessive chemistry here as Harry and Tom quickly fall into each other’s thrall as their relationship heats up. The writing style is so poetic and beautiful, and I find myself rereading many sentences over again just to fully absorb the impact and beauty of @noumena-writes’ words. Even as Harry becomes increasingly entwined with Tom, he’s never blind to who Tom is, and he’s able to strike back with just as much viciousness — their relationship dynamics are so very intense and suspenseful, and the latest plot twist had me completely floored.

The Incantation of the Oak-Priest by @relic--crown (T, 223k, complete)

Setting: Alternate Universe Premise: If Harry and Tom are pulled into an alternate reality where Voldemort never existed and Harry’s parents are still alive.  Why I rec it: The richness of the magical worldbuilding in this fic blew me away — there’s a whole system of magic explored here that goes deeper and is far more brilliant and sweeping than what is covered in canon. The relationship between Harry and Tom develops in such an organic, lovely way, and it was fascinating to see all the changes in this parallel universe where Harry’s parents live and what Harry’s life could have been like, were there no Voldemort. Also, the plot! This fic was so intricately plotted that it felt like reading multiple books with a complex, epic plot spanning fifth through seventh years at Hogwarts, ending in a grand showdown like in the original book series, but with a surprising twist.

The Sense of Self by SpitFire97 (E, 87k, complete)

Setting: Time-Travel Fix-It Premise: If Harry and Voldemort find themselves trapped in a strange cycle of reincarnations where they visit different points in time in Voldemort’s past.  Why I rec it: A very cool take on a time-travel fix-it. Instead of traveling back to a fixed point in time, Harry and Voldemort are thrown back to various points of Voldemort’s past and relive life through certain people significant to shaping Voldemort into who he eventually becomes. The time travel theory in here is amongst the most complex that I’ve encountered — I love the concept that time is a river where multiple timelines and divergent events end up converging, rather than branching off and creating a bunch of alternate universes. I also love how organically the growing relationship between Voldemort and Harry unfolds as they progress through each cycle and gradually start to develop trust in one another and care and attraction for each other.

These steep woods and lofty cliffs by Rimeme (M, 76k, complete)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 6 Premise: If Harry runs away to America after Sirius’s death and disguises himself in the Muggle world for many years before getting discovered by MACUSA and offered a job with the magical government. Years later, he is recruited back to Britain to work for the Ministry, under none other than Undersecretary Thomas Gaunt himself.  Why I rec it: A thoroughly enjoyable read from beginning to end — I devoured this fic in one sitting. Harry makes an extremely rational decision here — why not run off from the war if Voldemort is trying to kill everyone you love? But then, when he comes back undercover 15 years later, things don’t quite seem to add up. Britain doesn’t seem like it’s been taken over by a genocidal Dark Lord, but there’s something nefarious simmering under the surface. Voldemort as a very rational Undersecretary Thomas Gaunt is a delight here, with his seemingly very reasonable focus on progressing wizarding society. It was fun to follow along as Harry slowly starts to put the pieces together, and I love how relentlessly Voldemort pursues and seduces Harry in this fic, until he's utterly unable to resist his attraction to a Voldemort who seems to have turned over a new leaf.

These Violent Delights by @heirofdragons (M, 55k, WIP)

Setting: Time Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry, Ron, and Hermione accidentally find themselves thrown back in time to the late 1940s, four years after Tom has graduated Hogwarts and is working at Borgin and Burkes.  Why I rec it: A highly entertaining time travel fic with Harry stumbling back in time to find Tom Riddle in the full dregs of his Retail Hell years post-Hogwarts. Their chemistry is delightfully charming as they prod at each other and do everything to get under each other’s skin (including attempted murder), while growing undeniably attracted to each other. They simply can’t stay away from each other, despite Harry knowing who Tom turns out to be, and Tom knowing that Harry is the one who destroys all his Horcruxes and ends up defeating him in the future.

Three Turns Should Do It by @vdoshu (M, 284k, WIP)

Setting: Time Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry gets thrown back in time after an accident with the Time Turner in 3rd year, and ends up as a disembodied voice in Tom’s head from the time that Tom is 11. Why I rec it: I absolutely love Tom growing up alongside Harry who is a kind of caretaker presence in his mind, helping make his days a little bit less lonely and helping him navigate the unfortunate circumstances he’s thrown in. This is probably the most extensively researched WW2 era story I’ve ever read; at times I felt like I was learning more detailed history about everyday life during WW2 than I’ve ever read out of a history book. This fic does an amazing job of fleshing out the pivotal events of Tom’s Hogwarts years and showcasing Tom’s humanity, and the bond of mutual trust and love that he and Harry build over the years is so beautifully portrayed. It also does a great job of exploring the question of predestination and whether anyone has the power to change the fate that lies in store for them.

Til Death Do Us Part by @duplicitywrites (M, 117k, complete)

Setting: Voldemort Wins AU Premise: If Harry gets captured by Voldemort and held as his captive, in a world where Voldemort had won the war sometime before Harry was born, and Harry has been fighting against Voldemort his entire adult life. Why I rec it: The emotions that this fic evokes are so moving and heartfelt. The evolution from Harry as Voldemort’s prisoner to Harry as Voldemort’s trusted advisor unfolds in such a beautiful, unrushed way. Harry is in his early 30s when he’s captured, so he’s older than what we typically see in fics where he’s Voldemort’s prisoner, and his maturity and composure really shine through as he starts working together with Voldemort and trying to exert his influence to improve the fate of the wizarding world. He eventually breaks through Voldemort’s shell, and helps Voldemort to grow in so many ways as the story progresses — particularly in his understanding of love and acceptance of death as a part of life.

With a resolute heart by Act_Naturally (M, 84k, WIP)

Setting: Same-Age AU Premise: If Harry and Tom attend Hogwarts together and are selected as Hogwarts Champions for an AU version of the Triwizard Tournament that is structured more like the Hunger Games tournament.  Why I rec it: This is a skillfully-written generation mashup featuring an incredibly suspenseful and high-intrigue setting. There’s a dark overhang of dread and anxiety that permeates every character interaction and training session, as we’re informed that most of the champions (8 from each of the 3 schools) will not make it out of the Tournament alive. Yet the chemistry between Harry and Tom builds and builds despite the life-or-death stakes — Harry is immediately attracted to Tom, and Tom admires Harry’s resourcefulness — even while they each realize they may be the death of the other.

*

[abelbai000]

Tom: My future partner must be cunning ,ambitious, intelligent, successful and organized.

Harry: *falls through the ceiling from the future and proceeds to put a wand to his throat and threaten him*

Tom: That one. I want that one.

[abelbai000]

── 𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓔𝔁𝓪𝓬𝓽 𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 ──

Pansy Parkinson x Reader — Blaise Zabini x Reader — Mattheo Riddle x Reader — Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary ▻ The aftermath and the times each of them has a quick fuck with you.

Warning/s ▻ (EXPLICIT 14+) This whole is a BONUS PART. and it's basically SMUT like the whole thing is smut. Breeding as usual, unprotected sex (please use protection) cunnilingus. Fwb relationships. Voyeurism. Exhibition? Maybe? Yes. This shit is fucking disgusting.

Word Count ▻ 4.5k+

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍɪɴɪ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ | ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ

Your eyes fluttered open and you were met with the sight of the morning sun apparent through the glass windows, you yawned - stretching your limbs to let loose.

You'll admit last night was fun, but you felt genuinely drained.

The evident tang musk scent of sex still roaming around the air and the remnants from earlier still intact inside your cunt.

You moved your legs and felt the wet - sticky substance that had drip down from your cunt which was still filled with Blaise' cock.

Cockwarming - only to be given to one's who deserves it and Blaise did - just like how Mattheo did.

You were situated in between Blaise and Pansy and Mattheo was behind her - in the same position of you and Blaise.

You groaned, never liking the aftermath - or should you say the consequences of not washing right after it.

You tried escaping Blaise' vice grip and without full success, Blaise absentmindedly pulled you closer to him by your waist in his sleep.

Twisting your head around to look at his peaceful form - you didn't want to disturb him, but you need to wash and so you started patting his cheeks to wake him up from his slumber.

He hummed, his eyebrows furrowing and his face distort in confusion as he squint his eyes to stare back at you.

"I'm just gonna wash and I think you need too." You murmured.

He pulled his semi hard cock coated with his and Mattheo's cum out and hissed.

You, in return instantly got up - wanting to get rid of the unsettling feeling - but your legs didn't cooperate as it kept trembling the moment your feet touched the cold tiles.

Blaise stood up to try and help you, but it was no use as his legs immediately gave out - it was worse than yours.

"Stay. I'll bring you a towel and a bucket of water." You insists, pushing him back on the bed.

You walked yourself to the loo and washed yourself - took your time to wash off the make up that you forgot you had put on.

The bucket of water is so fucking heavy that you have to drag it over the floor back to where they were, along with three other towels for them to help themselves.

"Here." Giving out the towels "the empty bucket is where the dirty water goes."

Pansy was still sleeping, she didn't even feel Mattheo pull out of her - you sat beside her naked form and began whispering her name repeatedly whilst brushing her hair back.

She yawned - her first view is you and - you're still naked, making her look away.

"No, its fine." You cradled her jaw before tilting her chin upward to give her a peck on her chaffed lips "I'll clean you up."

"No, let me draw you a bath to relax your muscles - that sound good?" You finally decide.

She hummed in response as you stood up to draw her a warm bath - later on, you went back to carry her to the tub.

You eventually convinced the others to let them put their weight on you so they, too can have a warm bath - you thanked whoever room this is as the tub was big enough for the four of you to fit in.

There, Pansy's back was on you as you massage her thighs.

"Can this be - not a one night thing?" Blaise questioned, his eyes not even close to be meeting yours - his hands fiddling under the water.

Pansy looked up at you, wiggling her eyebrows to tease you and for also agreeing with Blaise.

"Yeah, why not?"

You eventually went back to sleep with only your underwear on and cuddled each other in any possible way.

***

All four of you woke up from the loud knocking on the door, making you rush to wear your clothes from last night which were scattered all over the room - making it hard for you to find which is which.

And the person behind the door was Percy fucking Weasley with his usual grumpy face.

You went limping down the stairs, each of them holding onto you for support and all four of you acted as if nothing unusual happened.

***

Theo somehow found out about it - and admitted that he also wanted to join in, but not before getting mad and scolded the four of you about why he wasn't there last night.

The four of you argued with him about it - that he was already with a girl - well, that made him shut up because you, in fact have a point.

***

You spent your 'resting month' going to the great hall to eat breakfast, lunch and dinner with them, down the black lake to relax, the dorms to sleep, sometimes the common room when its not loud and crowded, the kitchens to talk to the elves, the astronomy tower to stargaze and one of them pulling you aside to do something.

You heard that Draco spent his month back at their Manor and you still hadn't told Narcissa as you try to avoid - refuse to go back on that stupid fucking memory.

She sent you letters with her own owl - asking why you hadn't send her letters - even a "hi" or "hello" these past months and after contemplating on it, you finally send her one back to answer those questions.

But with no honesty. All of the things you wrote on that piece of parchment was a lie - you made sure to not bring up other names other than yourself.

But of course, rumors spread fast - she probably knows by now.

***

The Common Room, one of the places you love to relax in, study and have all the peace you want, but only if no one is occuppying it.

That often happens, when you don't feel any sign of sleepiness or just need some time to redeem yourself while everyone is in their own dorms resting.

Now, its that kind of time.

Laying on your back on the biggest couch, you stared at the ceiling, enjoying the sounds of fire crackling.

You hummed to a random tune that came up your mind and you suddenly stop when you heard footsteps.

Looking up you saw Mattheo with his eyes wide and a lipped tight smile, but you simply waved him over the couch to sit beside you.

"I was trying to sneak out and stay here by myself for a little while - guess not." He muttered as he sat down facing you.

"I can go if you want?"

"No, stay. I guess having a company is better?"

"Is that a question?"

"No - nevermind. I shouldn't have said it like that."

"I know what you meant either way, what were your plans anyway?" You chuckled as he reposition himself to stare into the fire in front of you.

"Nothing. Just wanted to be alone and free?"

—

"I think I should go no-"

"No -" He interjects but instantly stops himself from doing so.

"Yes?"

"Nothing, sorry - yes you should go."

You shook your head, cradled his cheek and pull his face close to yours to give him a single peck.

You stayed like that, face to face with him - you're so close that his hot breath brush against your face - you watched as he opens his eyes and realise you only gave him a peck and not a lingered snog - you waited until he began chasing for your lips and he did.

Your lips finally met into a desperate kiss and you felt the warmness of his face on yours, in the process of the snogging he managed to have you on his lap, his hands on your hips and your arms around his neck.

"You're in for a midnight fuck, aren't you?"

He hummed against your lips and pulled you closer by your waist, emitting a groan from you as you felt his hard on on your clothed heat.

"Oh, for fuck sake Mattheo please let's just get on with it and strip our clothes."

He agreed and let you stand up to strip your clothes as he did his part while still sitting.

You looked up when you heard him groan and you were met with a sheepish smile -

His boxers was already so wet with pre-cum, you didn't mind it and position yourself back on his lap to pull him in for another snog.

Taking himself in hand, he slid his tip on your slit to feel how wet you are and to also spread your arousal all over your pussy and tap his tip on your puffy clit.

Without a warning, you took his cock in your own hand and slowly sat down resulting him to slide inside you easily because of how wet you are.

"Shit." He gritted, "Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Doing things without a warning."

"Your words Mattheo."

"Oh, I love you for remembering that."

"You can do anything you want to me."

"Anything?"

"Yes, anything."

He helped you move by your waist but you slapped his hands in return, making him place his hands on his side and sit straight.

You rode him, hips rolling back and forth on his thighs and his cock buried balls deep, making him groan while trying to fight the urge not to touch you.

You saw how he forced to keep his hands to himself so you helped him - you took his hands on yours to place it on your mounds and gave it a squeeze, encouraging him to go on.

"Oh, fuck yeah -" you sighed as he leaned in to take a nipple in his mouth and began suckling as if he's thirsty for milk.

You grabbed the back of his head and pushed him more further to your tit, the vibration of his moans going to your sensitive nipples, giving you pleasure.

"I'm close." He tried muttering out, but it was useless as it sounded muffled.

You understood him either way and began picking up your pace, he released your tit with a pop and hid his face on your shoulder where he began sucking, enough to leave a mark.

He came with a loud grunt, you instantly tried standing up, but he pulled you back muttering "Stay. I love being warm."

His body going limp - skin to skin, sharing both your warmth to each other, he rests his cheek above your nipple that he's sucked raw and he listens intently to the subtle thrum of your heartbeat.

Although, you felt so full and sticky you stayed as he sighed, and visibly enjoying the close proximity of your company.

Footsteps. "Oh, shit." You scrambled to find your abandoned clothes scattered around the couch.

***

9 in the morning, you're in the bathroom watching the reflection of yourself in the mirror as you dry your hair with a towel.

Blaise came in - you almost forgot the three of them slept in your dorm.

"Hi, I need to pee." He greeted, his morning voice rough.

"Yes, feel free to."

He pulled his boxers down just enough to free his cock and peed - it didn't bother him that you were looking at him while he's doing his business.

"Do you need something?" He finally asks, as your gaze on him gets heated.

"Actually, yes - perhaps a morning bathroom fuck?" you replied, looking at him on the mirror and observe as he looks back at you, his lips turning into a sly smirk.

He put his length back in, went beside you to wash his hands "That's exactly why I came in here - I was hoping you'll still be naked, but it's still worth it that you asked."

You chuckled, facing him - he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you against him.

"Just don't be too loud. You'll wake the others up." He quickly advised.

You rolled your eyes at his cockiness "Tell yourself that Blaise."

His mouth parted in a fake offense, but he instantly broke character when you began reaching for his lips as if you're about to kiss him before suddenly veering to the side to skim your mouth against his cheek "Just fuck me already Blaise."

You pulled away from his ears to shoot him an innocent smile.

His other hand that wasn't holding onto your waist, took a fistful of your hair and squeezed it to pull you in and you groaned against his lips from the sting - he chuckled before your lips met in a lustful kiss to which you responded immediately.

He made you face the mirror as he went behind you - still kissing you, resulting with you tilting your head to the side to reach him.

He sneaked his hand up the lock - that you made on the towel to make it not fall - and took it off, making the towel fall off your body.

He hummed in content as his hand continue to explore your body until it rests on your mounds - massaging it.

—

Sat on the counter as he is on his knees eating you out. Constantly replacing his tongue with his fingers to get a view of your face contorted in pleasure.

He finds pleasure in pleasuring people and he is pleased that you are responsive to him.

"Blaise." You let out and then he’s pushing his face between your legs. He eats you like that - sloppy and frantic.

Your crammed full with his fingers and his tongue until he’s ripped an orgasm or two from you.

—

He bends you over the sink. His pupils are dark as he meets your gaze on the mirorr. He finally pushed his cock inside you.

His hips snapping against your ass with the inexorable sound of sweat-slick flesh meeting flesh.

It happened repeatedly. Again and again.

And you let out a loud groan from your chest as he hits that spot inside you.

His hand grasps the nape of your neck like a collar. He used it to anchor you - to hold you still as he continues to ram into your pussy - filling you up.

He tugs your head back so he can kiss you in a slow pace - taking his time feeling the vibration of your moans on his hand and lips as his thrust do the opposite.

You reached a hand up to get a hold a fistful of his hair and squeeze it as you finished with a final groan.

***

You knocked three times and you hear her giddy footsteps - she was so excited to have a girl's night out with you - in her dorm.

She had been giddy all month, ever since Dumbledore announce the 'break', she immediately invited you to have a girl's night out with her every Saturday - to bring back the old times.

She opened the door and squealed, grabbing - snatching your hand to pull you in her dorm.

You made a weird noise, but she didn't even glance at you because of how excited she was.

She invited you to sit on the floor with all the things you might need scattered around you in a neat way and a mirror for the both of you to share "What do you suppose we should do first?"

"Hmm, what about you choose?" You suggested, egging her to go on as she looks like she's about to explode from having too many ideas in her head.

"Can you put my make up on?"

You nodded and proceeded to maneuver over her stuff and you found a natural colored lipstick, a shade that will match her lips perfectly - the lipstick you applied on her lips when you first had your girl's night out.

You opened it and smelled the scent that reminds you of her, you were interrupted with her clearing her throat.

Turning to look at her "I kept going over the shop to refill it with the same one - The owner of the shop told me that I'm the only one who kept buying that kind and so she has to remake a small batch just for me."

"After all these times, you kept it and refill it?"

"Well, I'm not one to let go of memories. I'm not good at that."

You scoffed, "Me neither." You pull out the exact same lipstick out of your pocket that had been hooked in a key chain.

"The Lady told me the exact same thing."

When your friendship developed into a very close one, you decided to give each other - for some reason - lipsticks, different shades and different flavors but both reminds the pair of you the same memories.

Signalling her to some closer, she scooched over just enough for you to hold her cheek on your left hand while the other applied the tint on her lips.

Your mouth parted while in the making of it which made her look at your parted mouth, her eyes switching to your focused eyes, lingering on your lips and back again.

You caught all of that but continued.

—

She's on your lap as you stayed on the floor, your hands on her hips, her lips latched on your throat even after how many times you told her to kiss you on your lips instead.

She suckled hard, attempting to leave as many marks she can. You hissed as she looks at you with a smile "Your neck, now smells like the flavor of my lipstick."

Standing up, she gave you a hand to help you stand up yourself and lead her to her bed.

"Should we strip first?"

"Yes, that would be great."

You both stripped each other and took the time to check each other out, touch each other's mounds and give each other quick pecks.

—

Laying on her back, she whined as you shoved two of your fingers and it sled perfectly right in.

"Shh, you have to keep your moans down." She in response, covered her mouth with her right hand as the other grip the silky sheets that's about to be dirty and wet.

You pushed yourself by your elbows to carry your weight and lean up into her "I didn't say to stop, just enough for me to hear."

Now, you're balancing yourself on your knees the other hand still stroking her walls while the other slowly taking her hand off her mouth and encouraging her to go on and moan in your ears.

And that's what you call music to your ears.

You finger her ruthlessly, making her pussy wetter and the crude sound of sucking noises with each thrust.

Her hips buck against your hand and your head fully falls on her shoulder as she kept moaning profanities under her breath - just for you to hear. That alone emits a groan from you.

Broken groans coming out of you as you fill her up - jamming your fingers inside her to the knuckle.

"I'm gonna cum. Please make me come."

You wanted to try something and you took your chance, you twists your fingers up and rub the patch behind her clit.

She gasp softly - elegantly. She looked so beautiful - her eyes clamp down shut and her mouth parted as she let out the beautiful noises that you caused.

It was getting hard for you to thrust in as she was clamping down on your fingers but you continued with the strength that you're left with.

She came, moaning some cuss words as you give her kisses all over her face and she giggled when she felt you try to calm her shivering legs and thighs - and all of that just from a single climax with your fingers.

You shoot her a very proud glance and that changed when she tried making a move by sneaking her hand on your cunt.

"Let's just rest. You need it and if you want we can do it tomorrow." You insisted, as she did as you told - clean her dorm without the use of magic.

You didn't expect her to do it - but oh, she was a girl of promises and challenges.

***

It was midnight, you didn't feel sleepy at all and decided to munch on a quick snack.

The footsteps behind you made you hide on the side, thinking it's a professor.

When you took a quick peak of the dim lighted corridor you saw no one, making you continue walking to the kitchens.

You felt someone watching you, so you walked faster until, that someone covered your mouth with their hands, making you scream against it, but it was muffled.

That person took you to the side and pushed you against a wall and began shushing you.

You stopped fighting against the person, when you recognized the voice - Theo.

"Oh, you're a fucking cunt you know that? You scared me you bloody fucking bastard." You scolded, shoving his hands from your mouth as he just stood there chuckling.

"I'm sorry, it has been 2 weeks and you still think I'm some random bloke who just pulls you aside?"

"Oh, shut up for once Theo. What do you want?"

He didn't mutter another word, instead he offered you a hand, you waited for a second before placing yours on top of it.

With that, he led you through a very familiar way.

You were surprised to see the long way stairs leading up to the astronomy tower as he never was interested in astronomy - or so that's what you've been told.

You arrived, panting - from climbing that much of a stairs.

"What are we doing here?" You, once again attempted to engage a conversation.

He went to the railing to watch the night skies with you "Can't I bring you here to just enjoy the view? Does it really need to have a meaning?"

"Hmm, I never knew you were into astronomy."

"You don't know how much I love this place, y/n/n."

You smiled as he began telling you about his favorite stars and constellations and asked you about the topic too.

—

This is what happened after that sweet and adorable - memorable moment of yours.

You were half stripped - left with your top on and your bottom completely naked, your back arched and your hands on the railing with a tight grip as you tried to hide your noises, not wanting to catch the attention of either Mrs. norris or Filch.

Theo was behind you, his hands forcing you to part your legs to get access to your cunt "Just enjoy the view." He keeps repeating when you tried to close your thighs back together.

—

His back was suddenly against the railing and your cunt is his only view. He hitches your thigh over his shoulder so he can sink further - burying his face as if he could drown in your arousal.

When he parts your folds with his tongue - your fingers knotts into his hair that drape along his scalp, muttering 'fuck' under your breath, whilst still managing to enjoy the view.

He draws the flat of his tongue from the hole of your fluttering pussy to the very top - latching to your puffy clit. He suckles, making you buck into the hard edge of his jaw and chin.

Your orgasm builds and builds - morphing with the throbbing pain that skates across your lower muscles.

Theo's eyes snap to yours - his brow pinched as he concentrates on making you finish.

_

You pulled him up by the collar of his shirt and he greeted you with one of his innocent smile - which was rarely seen - and the evident stain of your juices on his face.

"Leave it,” he says when you were about to wipe the evidence of his successful doings of making you finish with just his mouth.

Your lips finally met and you savor yourself on his tongue, while snogging he went behind you and began stripping himself.

"Like I said -"

You cut him off "Just enjoy the view. Yes, Theo you've been saying that repeatedly - can we just continue because I think you really need it."

You felt his hard cock on your back - he chuckled and put himself in hand to stroke himself against your dripping folds.

He points his tip on your entrance and in a teasing manner he began to sink in - inch by inch and you both gasps.

And there is the filthy squelch of your sex swallowing him whole - sucking him as far as possible until his groin jams up against the plush of your ass. The head of his cock knocking into the tissue buried deep.

He slowly began thrusting for you to adjust.

Too busy receiving pleasure you didn't hear the footsteps that's nearing you - Theo continued to thrust into you - his pace becoming faster and faster everytime you reassure him that it's fine.

Meanwhile, the person entered the Tower - without giving a fuck about the noises - thinking it was just one of his hallucinations, stopped on his track when he saw the scene unfold in front of him.

Theo fucking you from behind and you holding onto the railing for support, muttering something under your breath that are inaudible as he was too far away.

He didn't realize the salty tears that had escaped from his eyes and dripped down his face.

He cried silently, he just realized how you felt that exact night -

He misses the way he was the one to make you finish, the way he was the only one who you'll allow to hear your moans - the times where he'll turn into a putty in your hands. He was hurt, yes. But he can't help and get hard from your moans.

He pulled his length out and began stroking it, slapping his hand against his mouth to muffle his moans and cries - still, tears escaped his eyes.

It's just so fucked up - to watch you getting fucked by another guy and get turned on by it - that he had to masterbate right then and there.

He didn't tell anyone he's coming back, but he did - his mother found out about the affair and needless to say she was disappointed at his son for doing such a thing. Too problematic, he couldn't take it and went back to hogwarts.

"I'm about to fucking finish." You murmured against his lips.

He reached a hand in front of you and began stroking your clit in a perfect pace that makes your legs tremble. “That’s it,” he coaxes.

Giving you last few languid strokes through your high - he panted against your shoulder.

A/n: I LOVE THE FLUFF PANSY I WANT TO REPOST IT BUT WITH JUST THAT ONE... ANYWAYS THOUGHTS?!?! AND AS USUAL IT TOOK LONG FOR ME TO DO AN UPDATE BUT THIS ONE LASTED LONGERRRRR.

ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ, ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ, ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴇᴇᴅʙᴀᴄᴋꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ!!

@maelycious @slvtfor-gingerpubes @lilmissquackson @thehalfbloodedwitch @kimorna @drayslove @blackthunder137 @dracoslittleangel @honeymunson @raajali3 @siriusblackstwin

[abelbai000]

see the kinktober prompts i used here!

day 1: face sitting- anthony bridgerton

day 2: against a wall- newt (tmr)

day 3: exhibitionism- lucius malfoy

day 4: role reversal- aaron hotchner

day 5: uniforms- cheerleader!reader x stepdad!james potter

day 6: food play- sirius black x puppy hybrid!reader

day 7: object insertion- doctor!anthony

day 8: formal wear- guard!remus x princess!reader

day 9: angry sex- haymitch abernathy

day 10: gagging- sheriff hassan

day 11: sleepy sex- thomas (tmr)

day 12: thigh riding- fred weasley

day 13: sensory deprivation- loki laufeyson

day 14: swallowing- finnick odair

day 15: gun play- bucky barnes

day 16: accidental stimulation- peter parker

day 17: pegging- ginny weasley

day 18: sex work/prostitution- fred and george

day 19: impact play- aaron hotchner

day 20: anal- sirius black

day 21: a/b/o- remus lupin

day 22: size difference- remus lupin x fairy!reader

day 23: squirting- benedict bridgerton

day 24: hunter/prey- remus lupin

day 25: titty fucking- ron weasley

day 26: cock ring- poly!marauders

day 27: training- newt (tmr) and puppy hybrid!reader

day 28: whipping- loki laufeyson

day 29: period sex- wanda maximoff

day 30: praise kink- father paul

day 31: piss kink- lucius malfoy

[abelbai000]

Hi! Could I request an Ominis fic where you’re his date for the Yule ball? Absolutely no pressure by the way <3

an: obviously this is my first request for ominis, let alone in general. i hope this is okay and you enjoy. please feel free to send more or any advice to make it more ~Ominis~. thank you for requesting as well <3 wc: 1006 warnings: just fluff and sweetness

When Ominis asked Y/N to accompany him to the Yule Ball, she was taken aback and thrilled at the same time. Despite sharing classes and partnering up in potions and divination, she never considered that Ominis saw her as more than just a fellow student.

As the date of the event approached, Sebastian's teasing of Ominis intensified. Ominis tried to suppress his feelings for Y/N, aware of the endless ribbing he would receive from Sebastian and Anne. However, his crush on Y/N seemed to blossom from nowhere. One day, Y/N walked into class smelling of peppermint and that was when Ominis started to think of her more often.

Anytime he smelt peppermint, he instantly thought of her and what she would be doing. Maybe she was in the library with her friends, or adventuring out into Hogsmeade (he did overhear her gushing about a scarf at Gladrags).

Or maybe it was when her hand brushed against his as they both reached for a glass jar. He recoiled quickly, almost regretting his brash decision. She felt warm against his cool skin. She quickly muttered an apology before continuing with her craft. He noticed how sweet she was to him and patient, especially in rare cases his wand misguided him. 

Y/N admired his soft movements, maybe not soft, but every flick of his wand was executed with care and precision, as if each movement held a critical significance. He was intentional in his actions, avoiding any missteps or sloppiness in his spellwork. He knew she was staring the majority of the time, but he enjoyed being admired by someone. 

Ominis found himself increasingly drawn to Y/N. He couldn't shake the thought of her sweet scent, her smile that lit up the room, and her intelligence that left him in awe. He found himself eagerly anticipating their classes together and the conversations they shared. Sebastian teased Ominis that his cloudy days were clearing up–he didn’t seem so pessimistic anymore, or at least the days where he’d partner beside Y/N. 

Ominis leaned against the stone wall, waiting patiently for Y/N to arrive at the agreed-upon meeting spot. Ominis wore a sleek black ensemble accented with rich emerald green. The sound of students entering the ball echoed around him, filled with excitement and nervous energy. He could hear couples giggling as they linked arms, and the hushed whispers of others discussing the appearance of their fellow students. 

Sebastian stood by his friend's side, offering his support as they waited for Y/N's arrival. Despite his confidence in Y/N's character, he couldn't shake the nagging fear that she might not show up. He had heard rumors of cruel pranks being played on students during the Yule Ball, and he didn't want Ominis to be left standing alone. 

And then, she was there. Sebastian nudged Ominis, "If you could see her right now..."

"Don't even think about it, Sallow," Ominis replied, but Sebastian was already turning him to face her. He watched as she descended the stairs, her dress flowing behind her like a river of silk. The scent of peppermint filled the air, reminding Ominis of the first day he began to see her as more than just a classmate.

Y/N's smile lit up her face as she saw Ominis, and she waved to Sebastian before he gave Ominis a pat on the shoulder and disappeared inside. "You're looking quite handsome," she complimented. "But your tie, it's a bit crooked. Do you mind?" she asked, reaching out to straighten it.

Ominis couldn't help but feel the warmth of her touch, sending shivers down his spine. He felt like he was on cloud nine as she adjusted his tie, and he couldn't help but feel the close proximity between them made his heart race.

"There we go," she said with a grin, and Ominis could only nod in agreement. "Are you ready to go inside?" she asked.

"More than ever," he replied, and they made their way inside, hand in hand. The beginning of the dance was a little awkward, with their hands barely brushing against each other, but it felt intentional to Ominis. As Y/N nervously tapped her foot, he found himself reaching out to comfort her, squeezing her thigh.

Her cheeks flushed at his touch, and Ominis felt a rush of excitement. As more students began to dance, he stood up and held out his hand, inviting her to dance with him. They stepped onto the floor, and Ominis was lost in the moment. He relished the feeling of her hand in his, the texture of her dress, and the occasional squeeze she gave while they danced together. 

“Those dancing classes really helped me. I’m glad I’m not stepping on your feet.” She confessed. 

"I knew it," Ominis said, grinning. "You have such an elegant way of moving and a refined touch in everything you do. I'm not surprised that the dancing classes have helped you ."

He then added, "And don't worry about stepping on my feet. I trust your moves and I'm having a great time with you."

Y/N smiled, feeling a flutter in her stomach at his words. "Thank you, I try my best. I couldn't imagine making a fool of myself on the dance floor." she replied.

Y/N felt her cheeks flush with pride, grateful for the compliment. She smiled back at Ominis, and the two continued to dance, lost in the rhythm of the music and each other's company.

As they twirled on the dance floor, surrounded by the merrymaking of their classmates, they both felt a sense of blissful peace. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them, lost in each other's touch. 

Ominis leaned in, close enough that Y/N could feel his breath on her cheek. "I'm so glad you agreed to come with me tonight," he whispered.

"I'm glad too," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

[abelbai000]

Sebastian Sallow Masterlist

Cry All You Want (fluff)

COMING SOON

Don't Act Like you Care (angst, fluff)

Pretty Bird (angst, smut)

Don't Stop (smut)

Green Suits You (fluff)

[abelbai000]

"You wouldn't Understand."

Pairings: Sebastian Sallow x gn!reader

Summary: Y/n, Sebastian, Anne, and Ominis have been friends since they've been at Hogwarts. When Anne got sick, Y/n offered to stay behind with her. Then one day, Sebastian came to visit them, with a new friend of his in tow.

Warning: Hogwarts Legacy spoilers, Slight gore/violence (duel with a goblin), angst, the Hogwarts legacy mc being a butthead. Not proofread!

Disclaimer: (as most of you know) I do not own any of the characters featured in this story. There will eventually be a second part to this however that won't be until I am able to complete Sebastian's storyline.

Masterlist

Sebastian, Anne, and Y/n have been inseparable from a very young age. All three having grown up in Feldcroft made that fact inevitable. They spent all of their time at Hogwarts together, along with Ominis Gaunt of course. The four of them ate meals together, sat together in class, and spent nearly every night laughing together in the Slytherin common room. 

That all changed when Anne fell ill. 

After Anne was cursed, the pain was far too great for her to keep on attending Hogwarts. She would have to stay home these last few years, away from her friends and away from the magic within the school. Sebastian had immediately volunteered to stay behind with her. Being her twin brother, Sebastian could not imagine going to school without her. But Anne was quick to deny his offer. In his stead, Y/n decided that they would be the one to stay behind with Anne. Neither of the Sallow twins were happy about this arrangement either, but Y/n managed to convince them both with time. They told Anne that as long as the Ministry allowed them to use magic off campus, and professor continued sending assignments by owl, they wouldn’t fall behind. They told Sebastian that he needed time and space in order to research a cure for his sister. Not to mention the fact that Anne would never be completely honest about her state to her brother. Y/n would be his eyes and ears back home, keeping track of Anne and reporting back. 

For a while, this solution worked. All were happy for a time. Sure, Ominis and Sebastion missed their friends at school, but each sent enough owls to compensate for the loss of time they had. Y/n was still learning spells from home, keeping up rather nicely with the rest of the 5th-years all things considered. Sure, their progress would be more proficient from the school, and they couldn’t do everything the same, but it was enough. 

It was an ordinary day when Sebastian had come to surprise his sister, and Y/n of course, with n impromptu visit. Neither expected his arrival, but both were elated upon seeing him. 

Anne had been sitting at the dining room table, reading one of her books as usual while Y/n was reading through their schoolwork behind the hanging  curtains used to separate the bedrooms when he arrived. Y/n heard the front door open, sure, but they simply pictured it had been Anne’s uncle, Solomon, heading outside to finish his work. It wasn’t until Anne gasped with delight that they had turned to find Solomon, still standing in his spot behind them. 

“Sebastian!” Y/n heard Anne announce. Now they were quickly heading into the main foyer of the house as well. “Where did you-”

Before Anne could finish, Y/n took advantage of the small space between the twins and jumped up to give Sebastian the biggest hug they could muster. “Sebastian!” they celebrated as well. “What are you doing here?” 

“I came to see you both,” he said with a smile. “Hogwarts is not the same without you.” 

As Y/n opened their eyes, still hugging the boy in front of them, they noticed another person standing behind. 

“Who’s this?” Anne asked curiously. Y/n stepped back to allow Sebastian space to introduce his new friend. 

“Oh, of course,” Sebastian said, nearly seeming to have forgotten. Whether he had forgotten that the new student was there or that the two hadn’t met them yet, Y/n didn’t know. “Anne, Y/n. This is Jo. The new fifth year I was telling you about.” 

“Hello, Jo,” Anne said with a polite smile. Y/n offered a small wave yet no words left their mouth. 

“How do you do?” Jo replied, returning Anne’s grin. 

“When I told them I was coming to visit they wanted to come with and meet you,” Sebastian continued, nudging Anne slightly as he did so.

“And you as well, Y/n,” Jo finished, still smiling although now it felt more awkward than polite. “Ominis always seems to talk about you both nonstop. Sebastian too.”

“Does he?” Anne chuckled. “Oh how I do miss Ominis. How is he doing?” 

“He’s Ominis,” Sebastian responded, returning Anne’s small laugh. “He’s been a bit perturbed lately.” 

“Oh?” Y/n said, speaking up for the first time since introductions have been made. “Why is that?”

“He’s rather upset that Sebastion has shown me the Undercroft I think.”

“The Undercroft?” Y/n repeated, both their and Anne’s face exhibiting pure shock. “Seb’s shown you the Undercroft?” 

“Just so they would have a space to pracice their spells,” Sebastian defended. “Catching up to five years worth of teachings takes time and space after all.”

“Which I’m sure the professors have more than happy to supply?” Anne asked with a slight tone of sarcasm.  

“You can’t be upset with me, Anne,” Sebastian said, his straight face slowly turning into a slight smirk. “Look what I’ve brought you.” 

Sebastian pulled a small fruit out of seemingly no where as Anne let out a small gasp. 

“Is that what I think it is?” 

It was then that their Unlce Solomon spoke up, snatching the fruit from his hand before Anne could reach it. 

“Hey!” Sebastian protested. 

“We’ve been over this, boy,” he began. “Shrivelfigs cannot reverse a curse, nothing can! The sooner you accept that reality the better.” With that, he pulled out his wand and evaporated the fruit into thin air. 

“But we haven’t tried everything!” Sebastian combatted. 

“There is no cure!” Solomon yelled. “When will you accept that?!” 

“Never! I can never accept that!” 

“Sebastian!” Y/n called as Anne had suddlenly been toppled over by sudden onslaughts of pain. Right as they got his attention, Anne screamed out from the pain. 

“Now look what you’ve done,” Solomon lectured, rushing the Anne’s aid alongside Y/n. Sebastian was at a loss for words for a moment. 

“A-Anne I’m sorry,” he stuttered before Solomon turned to growl at him once more. 

“Leave,” was all he said. Sebastian didn’t put up a fight. Jo followed out right behind him. 

“Sebastian, wait!” Y/n called out, rushing out the door behind them. 

“If you don’t mind, I just need a moment alone,” they heard him say to Jo. Jo stepped aside right away, but Y/n knew better. 

“Seb!” they called again.

“I don’t wish to talk about it, Y/n.” 

“Yes, you do,” they responded simply. “Sebastian Sallow I have known you for well over a decade now, I know when you need to vent.” 

“I shouldn’t have come,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll see you later, Y/n.” 

Y/n watched behind as Sebastian turned to leave, Jo following close behind. Y/n didn’t know how long they were standing there before Anne slowly made her way out the door, placing a hand on their shoulder.

“You should be resting,” Y/n said simply, a longing gaze still following where Sebastian had left. 

“I know,” Anne smiled. “I don’t like them.” 

“Who?” 

“Who do you think?” 

“Yeah,” Y/n sighed. “I don’t like them either.” 

---

It had been weeks since you had last spoken to Sebastian. He had sent you an owl or two since the last he visited Feldcroft, but you’ve heard nothing since. 

“Have you heard anything?” they has asked Anne after a few minutes of silence during dinner.

“From Sebastian?” she confirmed. “No, not since his last owl. I’m a bit worried.” 

“So am I.” 

The pair fell into a pregnant silence once again, neither wanting to express what they both feared. 

“You should tell him,” Anne spoke up after another moment. 

“Tell him what?”

“How you feel.” 

“No!” 

“Why not?” 

Y/n sighed. “The four of us have been friends for as long as I can remember. The three of us even longer. He doesn’t see me in that way.” 

“How would you know that if you don’t say anything?” 

“Because, Anne! I can tell.” The two fell silent again, but this time only for a second. Anne stayed quiet because she knew that Y/n had more to say, her silence was her own way of encouraging them to do so. “It’s just…” Y/n continued. “You say how he was acting around Jo. You saw the way they made his eyes sparkle. He’s never looked at me like that.” 

“He only looks at you like that,” Anne quickly combatted. “I didn’t see that familiar gleam in his eye until you walked in that day. That ‘sparkle’ you saw was not reserved for Jo. It was for you.” 

“I would have seen it before,” Y/n shrugged. “If I was able to notice it then I should have been able to see it if it was there in the past.” 

“But it has been!” she insisted. “Trust me! Every longing glance, every wistful stare, I have had to watch Sebastian give you. You’ve just never seen it because you were too busy giving him the same look.” 

Y/n sat and thought about it for a moment. Anne was right. At least, they hoped she was. And they weren’t going to waste any more time. Without another word, Y/n rushed to their shared bedroom with Anne, rummaging through everything to find a spare piece of parchment. When they found one, they began to write. 

My dearest Sebastian,   they wrote

I’ve spent enough years waiting for the right time to tell you this, but I think the time has come. Seb.. I -

Their writing was cut off by a loud bang coming from outside. Y/n whipped their head up and took their wand out quickly, slowly approaching a window. They half expected to see one of the Feldcroft residents using confringo or bombarda on a nearby training dummy. But what actually awaited them outside was much worse. 

Feldcroft was under attack.

Goblins, aall Ranrok’s followers were storming the village. Solomon could be heard hollering from them outside. It wasn’t until Anne shouted that Y/n sprang into action. 

“Anne!” they called, bursting through the front door of the Sallow’s house. Anne was crouch over near the ground, panting for breath as more goblins began to storm the village. “Where is everyone?” they wondered allowed, seeing no one but themself and the Sallows defending the village.

“Probably hiding in their cellars,” Solomon concluded before raising his voice so they could hear and shouting out, “COWARDS!” 

No matter what the trio did, more goblins seemed to keep coming. Y/n didn’t know what they were after, but they didn’t wish to find out. 

Then, out of no where, Sebastian had arrived with Jo trailing close behind. The two didn’t hesitate before jumping into action, helping the other three defend from the goblins attacking. The battle seemed to never end. 

Y/n and Anne had finished off the last of the goblins surrounding them, stopping for a moment to take a small rest. Before they knew it, another goblin was approaching Anne with his sword raised above his head, Anne didn’t have time to react. Just as Y/n began lifting their wand once again, she heard someone else shout from across the square, “Imperio!” 

They turned to see Sebastian holding his wand out towards the goblin, a sinister look in his eyes that were partially clouded over. 

“Sebastian,” they gasped in slight disbelief, standing up from their crouched position on the ground. Before anything else could be said, everyone watched as the goblin before them brought his own sword to his neck, and sliced it. Y/n’s hands flew to their mouth. Anne gasped from her spot on the ground, her eyes widening in fear. They were each frozen. Sebastian ran to Anne and offered his hand to her to help her up. Anne looked at him in fear, unmoving.

“Boy, what have you done!” Solomon spat in his direction, rushing between he and Anne.

“Saved my sister!” Sebastian combatted. “I-”

“With an unforgivable curse! From that damned book no doubt!” he continued, helping Anne off the ground and ushering her inside. “Your father would be ashamed! You’ve gone too far, Sebastian. Stay away from her. From all of us.” 

As Solomon led Anne inside, Y/n stayed standing where they were, eyes focused unwarily at Sebastian as Jo ran inside, no doubt to defend his actions to his family. 

“Y/n,” he said slowly, almost begging as he approached them. “Please, you have to understand that I-” 

“This isn’t the first you’ve used dark magic, is it?” they asked simply. 

“I would never-” 

“You have to mean it to cast those curses.” 

“I had to protect Anne! Surely you can understand that.” 

“I love Anne as dearly as you do,” they began. “But Seb, she doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want you to lose yourself for her. In the end, none of us win that way.”

“I did what I had to do. To protect her. You would have done the same.”

“There are a hundred other spells you could have used to ‘protect’ her!” Y/n combatted. “All of which have not been labeled as dark, unforgivable magic!” 

“You wouldn’t understand.” 

At this, Y/n scoffed. “Me? I wouldn’t understand? I have been here  every day, Sebastian! While you and Ominis are at school, I’m here. With Anne. I watch her struggle every day and I would give anything to take that away from her. So don’t you dare tell me that I don’t understand.” 

“Y/n!” Sebastian called as they turned away from him, walking back towards their house. Y/n didn’t turn back. They didn’t want him to see the small tears welling up in their eyes. 

Meanwhile, Jo was exploring the Sallow house, trying to comfort Anne and defend Sebastian’s actions to his uncle. While looking around, they found the letter Y/n had begun writing to him. After reading it, Jo looked left and right to see no one was watching and muttered a quiet “Incendio,” under their breath, watching as the small parchment that never got to see the light of day burned to ash. Burned to nothing.

[abelbai000]

melting under blue skies (belting out sunlight)

ominis gaunt x reader (hogwarts legacy)

summary: you really wanna hold ominis' hand. "coincidentally", anne sallow has somehow dragged herself and her brother away from you and ominis during hogsmeade weekend

reader is not hogwarts legacy mc

word count: 2398

beware of spoilers in the comments/tags/reblogs!

"close your mouth, you're staring again!"

you hmmph, turning to anne sallow who giggles before stuffing her mouth again. you both sit in the great hall, waiting for sebastian and ominis to arrive.

"i wasn't staring," you retort, "i was just relieved that they finally arrived. i thought seb was going to make them late for breakfast again."

the boys finally make their way towards you, sebastian seating himself beside his sister and ominis finding his way by your side. you don't miss the smirk anne gives you behind her goblet when you turn red, blushing profusely. "he very nearly did," ominis sighs, although there was no venom in his voice, "it turns out that it was a good idea to send you both to the great hall early instead of leaving you to starve waiting for him in the common room."

you watch him fiddle with his hands, fingers digging into his palms to massage them. oh, you wonder what his hands must feel like.

"well, i don't hear you complaining," sebastian starts to argue, but stops himself, "actually no, you complained about it all this time, wallowing about making y/n wait."

you almost spit out your drink, but mask it as a cough behind your goblet. the idea of ominis complaining that he doesn't want to make you wait surprises you. you subtly turn your head to look at ominis' face, but like always, you cannot gauge his expression, his face blank.

"anyway," anne inhales, excited to change the subject, "any shops you're excited to go to at hogsmeade?"

it's a hogsmeade weekend, and anne is excited to go to visit shops in the neighbouring village. her brother chatters about going to the owl post to send a letter to his uncle solomon about a book he had forgotten.

ominis, as always, is quiet. he prefers to listen, but ever since getting to know you and the sallow twins, he also does not hesitate to chime in here and there. despite his quiet disposition, you certainly think he's become more engaged with sebastian and anne, now offering his opinions, sassing the sallow boy, and speaking his own mind.

you also started to notice how it's almost the opposite for you.

not that he has started ignoring you, no, not like that. recently, he just seems...reserved. when talking to you, he prefers to speak in a lowered voice, almost whispering. he would nudge you with his shoulder before leaning his face in your direction, asking if you stayed up late to finish your transfiguration homework, or if you dread the next potion class with professor sharp. you also remember how stupid you looked one time when you were certain that ominis gave a little chuckle, before asking, "remember how you gushed about that niffler in our beasts class but the little devil actually emptied sebastian's pockets of all the galleons?" like he was trying to make you laugh. when anne wasn't around, he would find you in the common room, helping you tell stories to other students about seeing merpeople in the water, the two of you smiling when the students would wait there for hours for any sign of merpeople swimming about.

oh, and it certainly didn't help that anne knew of your...infatuation with the gaunt boy.

you're not really certain when anne first noticed. you're not even sure when you first noticed it yourself. but you and anne are best friends, "we're sisters!" she'd say, "i know you like the back of my twin brother's own hand!"

her face was both mischievous and sincere when she told you, "y/n, you fancy ominis!"

-

after finishing up in potions, almost as though ominis can see the frown on your lips, he turns to you, "is something wrong?"

you purse your lips, trying to ignore how your heart flutters as you watch him tilt his head in curiosity, and shake your head, "no, it's just...we don't have enough mongrel fur to brew an edurus potion for next class."

ominis hums as he nods, "that shouldn't be a problem, y/n," he reassures you. he fiddles with his hands habitually, and you almost feel bad for taking advantage of his blindness to look at him like he hung the moon. "we can pick those up at j pippin's potions this weekend."

you thought about asking him to hold your hand before, whenever you four were up to no good, sneaking around the palace. you wonder if he would have let you.

"we really should learn that spell to clean up our potions station," anne sighs, "every time garreth brews something, he blows things up instead."

"and it's always us who end up getting splashed," sebastian bemoans.

-

"well, don't you look charming."

you roll your eyes as you watch anne grinning at you through the mirror.

"i look the same as i always was," you tell her.

"hm-mm," she hums at you unconvincingly, "if you only ominis could see you now, am i right?"

"anne!" you cajole her, turning beet red, "stop saying stuff like that!"

"what?" she raises her hands in defense, "i'm just saying you look beautiful, and if i didn't know any better i'd say you were going on a date!"

you ignore her, as well as the butterflies in your stomach at the thought of being on a hogsmeade date with ominis. you heard about couples who go to hogsmeade for dates, going to honeydukes for sweets, steepley and sons for tea and other confectionaries, and snogging in alleyways. but this is not a hogsmeade date, this is just the four of you going to hogsmeade to buy as many candies as you can afford at honeydukes.

turning to your best friend, you frown, "well, what about you? don't tell me you're going to hogsmeade wearing your night clothes!"

anne blinks at you slowly before she shrugs, "i'm not going to hogsmeade unfortunately."

you double take, turning to her in shock, "what do you mean? you were all excited about going to hogsmeade!" she laughs as you gape at her.

"yes, i was excited about it, but i got detention. remember? the duelling?"

you close your eyes in resignation, flashbacks of what happened a few days ago brought you back to when anne and imelda were rough-housing each other and ended up whisking their wands in the hallway--which was not allowed. duelling was only allowed during classes (and in crossed wands duelling club, which you were certain by now was not as inconspicuous as lucan and sebastian insisted).

-

disappointed by the lack of anne on your trip to hogsmeade, you exit the castle and expected to find the boys hanging out by the fountain. many students are situated there today, enjoying the heat of the sun, while droves are also walking to hogsmeade, and some took the opportunity to play quidditch (you can hear imelda reyes all the way from the quidditch pitch). to your surprise, however, the sallow boy was not there to greet you and complain about anne missing hogsmeade weekend, only--

"ominis?"

you were almost certain he could see you, from the way he stood up from the stone bench even before you finished crossing the lawn to greet him. he is expecting you, you gather, but how does he know that you were walking towards him?

"i didn't wait long, if that's what you're concerned about," he starts, the edges of his lips quirking upwards as he fiddles with his hands again. you look at his hands, then his face, trying to admire it like it was the first time you've seen it.

"and-"

"sebastian had detention," he cuts you off, but not in an unpolite manner. you take the time to admire how carefree, relaxed, and comfortable he looks outside of his uniform, "he got caught trying to sneak into the restricted section again."

your pace was slow and relaxed as you stroll outside the castle grounds. lots of students walk the path going to and from hogsmeade, the sounds of laughter in the air. you try to tell your heart not to do backflips at the absence of ominis' wand in his hand, trusting you enough to guide his way.

"what was he doing there this time?"

"i think he was trying to get back at peeves for locking him in the bathroom the other night."

at the sound of your laugh, ominis smiles.

-

you think of three different times when you were sure you realized how much you cared for ominis.

it could have been in your first year, when you sat next to him in charms and he would lose (let you win) summoner's court every single time even though you know that he was good at it (you saw him play against sebastian and leander and won). when you confronted him about it, there was an almost smirk in his otherwise blank face, "i like that whooping sound you make when you win."

it could have been when he told you and the sallows, whom he now call his friends, about his past, his family, and his resentment towards them and the dark arts. you didn't think any less of him and you don't now, and you don't think you ever will, but the look on his face seemed like the world was lifted off his shoulders. he began to smile more, make jokes, pass you some confectionaries and tea while you wait for your next class.

or it could have been that day in hogsmeade-

-

your hands kept brushing against each other.

you want to blame it on the other students-hogsmeade is too crowded!-making you squeeze through people and making sure that ominis is alright. you didn't want to break off the distance between you two (just to make sure he's alright, of course, nothing else). you two are now walking so close together that you can feel his body heat emanating, and you can smell him up close, and you mutter a quick thanks that he cannot see you because of how red you've become.

ominis let you drag him to j pippin's potions to buy those potions supplies--you tell him you can go there last, but he insists, "it's better to get it out of the way now to leave us free time to visit other shops."

leave us free time to visit other shops. yes, right, you have to focus.

the first time your hand brushed his you recoiled in surprise, hurriedly apologizing. you know that some people value their personal spaces, and it's bad enough that you're almost bumping shoulders with him because of the density of students in the village, you didn't want him to think you are also invading his own bubble.

he chuckles at your apology, but says nothing.

-

you bring him to tomes and scrolls next, and lets you toddle here and there looking for books to read. you didn't tell him what you were looking for anything in particular, so it surprises ominis when you skip over in front of him (he can almost hear the giddiness in your footsteps).

"did you find a book you want?"

grinning, you nod, "yes, finally! i had to order this, had to wait weeks! good thing it arrived just when we came here."

ominis feels the package being softly pushed against his chest, you standing in front of him almost expectantly, "what?"

"it's for you," you swallow, "i couldn't get you anything on your birthday, but here it is. belated happy birthday!"

you hold your breath as you watch him process what you said, afraid that he'll refuse it. it had been a special order that you had to wait weeks to get, hence why his gift is a bit delayed. you watch his face, the beauty marks on his forehead, his mouth opening (you hope it's not a refusal of your gift), and you realize that ominis is gaping. he is shocked.

"for me?" he asks, chuckling in disbelief. he finally raises his hands to hold it, fingers grazing against yours ever so softly, but you don't flinch this time, nor do you apologize.

patiently waiting as he runs his fingers on the cover of the book, you wait until he finishes reading it.

"bestiarum magicum?"

you nod, grinning proudly, "in braille! it's one of my favourite books, and this version goes in-depth with descriptions of the magical creatures," when he says nothing, you continue, "you seem to like it when i read it aloud so i thought..."

ominis clears his throat, feeling it becoming tighter. you ordered a braille version of your favourite book, the one he would ask you to read because you enjoy it so much and he enjoys listening to you. "i...thank you," he whispers, now giving you a shy grin, one that makes you blush, "i look forward to reading it."

-

the third time you realized just how much you cared could have been the time you two finally decide to go to the three broomsticks, hungry and eager to rest your feet. the alley is crowded again, and you try to make sure no one bumps into you or ominis, who now carries the book under his arm.

your fingers graze again.

you jolt, moving your hand out of the way and turn to him to apologize, but his head was turned your way, tilted in that same way he does whenever he's curious, and there is a smile on his face.

before you can open your mouth to apologize, you feel it again.

first, the heat.

then his skin.

his fingers touch yours slowly, as if asking for permission.

if ominis can see you, he would see your eyes wide in shock, surprise, cheeks tinted red.

finally, his fingers tangle with you, and his face turns forward, the smile never leaving his face.

he squeezes your hand gently, like saying "is this okay?"

you squeeze back, and shift closer to him that your shoulders touch. "yes, it's okay."

-

inside the three broomsticks, sirona greets you two. "hello kids, go upstairs, there's people waiting for you, i'll bring the butterbeers right up."

you and ominis are both confused, but his hand doesn't leave yours as you guide him up the stairs.

in one of the tables sat the twins, mischievous and victorious smiles on their faces.

-

hp phase is back so much i started rereading my fave fanfics on fanfiction.net lmao

49 hours into the game, 55% progress

[abelbai000]

Flustered

(Gally x Reader)

So this idea popped into my head and I was like “Immediately yes. Immediately yes.” I had to write it asap, it was too cute not to. Enjoy!

Gally’s return had left you more shaken up than anything had in months. You’d been nothing short of stupefied when his mask dropped to the ground and you couldn’t fathom how you had managed to keep your composure and preserve a stoic expression.

Gally was back and he was going to help you.

That was one sentence you hadn’t imagined to ever emerge in your mind, yet somehow, it was reality.

Despite so many conflicting emotions coursing through you, one intercepting another, you could easily spot the one emotion you weren’t feeling. Anger. There wasn’t an ounce of it in you, not towards Gally anyway. You weren’t sure if you were ready to jump into his arms and tackle him in a hug, but you definitely didn’t feel the itch to punch his lights out.

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