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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years

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Good Girl - George Weasley

Title: Good Girl Pairing: George x female!slytherin!Reader Summary: George has been the reader’s enemy since their first year at Hogwarts together and now, in their final year the universe keeps throwing them together in ways that make the reader question why she ever hated George in the first place. Warnings: NSFW!! Slight Dom!george, begging, slight orgasm denial, thigh riding, oral (Male and female receiving), throat fucking, fingering, masturbation, unprotected sex A/N: The summary is shit but it’s an enemies to lovers slow burn. Seriously this is 22k words I lost control. This is for @those-born-to-fight who wanted some enemies to lovers with a Slytherin reader! There’s two different ~spicy~ scenes and the tiniest touch of angst towards the end. Feedback is always welcome, and requests are open!

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“God, do they ever just shut up?” Y/N grumbles, getting up to slam the door to her compartment closed. Adrian and Marcus laugh at her, but immediately stop when she glares at them, not wanting to face the consequences of annoying Y/N further.

There are very few things that Y/N outright hates. The list of things that mildly annoy her is quite long, but she reserves the word hate for only those special things that make her want to rip her hair out at the mere mention of them. Fred and George Weasley happen to be at the top of that list.

Like most students, Y/N had been enamored by the twins and their antics at first. Despite the fact that many of their practical jokes were aimed at members of her house and Snape, she found them quite funny. She had even thought about befriending the twins, the rivalry between their houses be damned. But after finding herself on the receiving end of a few too many Weasley practical jokes, she had begun to loathe them.

“I don’t know why you let them get under your skin,” Daphne comments, her tone dry and dull. Despite the fact that her eyes haven’t left the copy of Witch Weekly she’s flipping through, Y/N knows she’s been watching her fidget as the Weasley twins got rowdier and rowdier from their compartment down the hall.

“Because they’re, they’re,” Y/N pauses, trying to find the words to describe just how vile the Weasley Twins make her feel. “There isn’t even a word in the English dictionary that perfectly describes how insufferable they are.” She flips Adrian and Marcus off as they laugh at her frustration.

Daphne rolls her eyes and finally puts her magazine down. “You’re so dramatic, Y/N. Just drown them out like everyone else does. Take me, for example. I haven’t heard a thing either of them has said since third year.”

“That’s because they leave you alone, Daph,” Marcus drawls, coming to Y/N’s defense. This isn’t the first time the four of them have had this conversation and it surely will not be the last. “It’s kind of hard to ignore them when they send bludgers at you hard enough to knock your head off of your shoulders.”

“It’s pretty easy to knock someone’s head off of their shoulders when there isn’t anything in it, Marcus,” Daphne teases, pushing his shoulder lightly.

Adrian pretends to throw up at their behavior, causing Marcus to hit him over the head while Y/N laughs. Adrian ends up hitting Marcus back, and the boys hit at each other for a few moments while Daphne rolls her eyes and Y/N eggs them on.

“The contents of Marcus’s head aside,” Adrian says as he plops down next to Y/N, his breathing heavy from wresting Marcus to the ground. “He’s got a point, Daph. You’ve never actually been the victim of a Weasley prank. So, frankly your opinion doesn’t matter.”

Daphne flips Adrian off and picks her magazine up again. “I’m just saying. There are better things for Y/N to focus her attention on than those stupid Weasleys.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’d like to see you ignore them after they charm your shampoo to turn your hair neon yellow. It didn’t go back to normal for weeks!” Adrian laughs at the memory, and Y/N punches him in the thigh. “Watch yourself, Pucey or I’m gonna put yellow dye in your shampoo.”

“Trying to get in the shower with me, are you?” Adrian teases, throwing his arm over Y/N’s shoulder.

“In your dreams,” Y/N responds, picking up the book she had discarded after a particularly loud shout came from one of the Weasley twins.

She can feel Adrian chuckle as she leans into his side. “I’ll see you there.”

Y/N had almost forgotten about the Weasley twins entirely until she feels something hit her in the back of the head during dinner. She picks a piece of mashed potato out of her hair as she turns around, her eyes like daggers as she searches for the culprit. Of course, Fred and George are laughing to themselves, each of them waving at her as they make eye contact.

“Nice to see your hair back to normal, Y/N!” One of them, Fred she thinks, shouts at her.

“Yeah, I reckon if your hair had been yellow any longer you’d have to join Hufflepuff,” the other teases, causing the Gryffindors around them to laugh.

Y/N goes to stand up so she can knock the grins off of their faces, but Adrian puts his hands on her shoulders and forces her to sit back down. “It’s not worth it,” he hisses into her ear. “Not in front of all of the professors. Be smart about your revenge.”

Y/N glares at Adrian, but she relaxes, nonetheless. As much as she hates to admit it, Adrian is right. It’s only the first day back, she doesn’t need to go and get detention and lose Slytherin a bunch of points. Not yet at least.

“Hey Marcus, do me a favor and knock them off their brooms first chance you get.”

“You’re awfully cheery this morning,” Y/N comments to Daphne as they head up the stairs towards the Great Hall.

“What isn’t there to be cheery about? It’s the first day of the school year. Our last school year,” Daphne responds dreamily.

Y/N snorts in laughter, rolling her eyes at her best friend. “Ah yes. The hardest year of school yet, that certainly is something to be happy about.”

“Oh NEWTS? Who cares about those,” Daphne says casually as they enter the Great Hall and head towards the Slytherin table. “You don’t need good grades in school to be a good wife and mother.”

Y/N scoffs, choosing not to say anything. Unlike Daphne and most of the other girls in her house, she plans on actually having a career of her own. It is common for pureblood families to marry off their daughters to the sons of other pureblood families and often times the mark of a good pureblood girl wasn’t her brain, but her ability to stay silent, look pretty and boss around a house elf.

Thankfully, Y/N’s parents hadn’t raised her with the same values. They didn’t believe in the same archaic things most pureblood families did, and they had raised Y/N to have loftier ambitions than to be someone’s wife and a mother. Y/N’s father always joked that she had inherited her mother’s smart mouth, so it would be impossible for them to marry her off anyway.

“Just because you don’t care about your grades doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t. Right, guys?” Y/N asks as they sit down, looking for both Marcus and Adrian to back her up.

“Are you guys on this again?” Adrian asks, rolling his eyes. Much like Y/N’s hatred of the Weasley twins, Daphne failing to take school seriously was a frequent topic of conversation in their friend group.

“No need to get your panties in a twist, Pucey,” Y/N teases as she grabs some toast. “Daph is free to sit back and spend her last year of school doing nothing, but I on the other hand plan on actually doing good on my NEWTS. So, feel free to slack off with her, or study with me, I don’t really care.”

Marcus chuckles at Y/N’s attitude. “Damn, Y/N tell us how you really feel.”

Y/N chucks a piece of toast at Marcus’s head before she reaches for her bag. “Oh, I almost forgot, I’ve got all of your schedules.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small stack of papers, handing their designated paper to each friend.

“Wow, slacking on your Head Girl duties already and it’s only the first day of term,” Adrian teases with an easy smile.

Y/N flicks his ear. “You’re just jealous that you didn’t make Head Boy.”

Adrian rolls his eyes as he scans over the piece of paper. “Me? An administrative stick in the mud? I don’t think so.”

“Nah mate, you just were looking forward to spending hours alone with Y/N,” Marcus teases, causing both Y/N and Adrian to throw pieces of muffin at him.

“Moving on,” Daphne drawls, clearly tired of their antics. “What’s everyone got first lesson? I’ve got divination.”

When both Marcus and Adrian announce they have Arithmancy, Y/N frowns. “Guess I’ll be heading to Potions alone then.”

As Y/N heads down to Potions after breakfast she can feel her mood sinking. Potions is one of her favorite classes, and not just because Snape tends to favor Slytherins. She finds the art of Potions fascinating, and each lesson always tests the bounds of her knowledge. But class is always more enjoyable with her friends around.

Her mood only worsens as the Weasley Twins fall into step beside her, one on each side.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here, Georgie?” the twin on the left, who is obviously Fred, says playfully.

“Looks like little Y/N is heading to potions, Freddie,” George responds, lightly knocking into her shoulder.

Y/N stumbles on the step despite the light touch. Both Fred and George have a good six inches on her, and their time as beaters on the Gryffindor team has obviously left them both toned and muscular.

“And without her little gang of friends, what a shock,” Fred adds with a laugh as Y/N finds her balance.

“Friends? What friends?,” George teases.

When they reach the bottom of the stairs, Y/N glares at each of them. “You two dimwits are in NEWT level potions? Snape must have lowered his standards.”

“Oh Y/N how you wound us,” George gasps, clutching his chest.

Y/N rolls her eyes as they enter the Potions classroom, determined not to let the twins bother her. Daphne did have a point on the train yesterday, there were other things she needed to focus on besides the twins and their stupid games.

She takes her usual seat at the front of the classroom, expecting the twins to slink to the back of the class, far away from Snape’s prying eyes. Her fist automatically clenches when they slide into the seats directly behind her, her nostrils flaring.

This year certainly is going to be the hardest yet, and not just because of the rigorous coursework, Y/N thinks to herself as Snape begins class.

“You look, how do I put this nicely.” Marcus pauses. “Flustered.”

Y/N glares at him as she flops down next to Daphne. Potions had been an absolute disaster. She could hardly focus on her Memory Potion, too busy picking out the Jobberknoll Feathers the Weasley Twins kept putting in her hair. She had managed to make something barely acceptable, and Snape’s disappointment was evident.

“Screw off, Marcus. I just spent an hour dealing with Dimwit 1 and Dimwit 2 standing behind me doing everything in their power to piss me off. So, unless you wanna end up with your head in one of those pots and dragon dung fertilizer up to your ears, shut your mouth.”

Daphne laughs at Y/N’s outburst. “I told you just to ignore them, Y/N. Although dragon dung fertilizer up to the ears does sound like the perfect revenge plan. Not that I’m condoning letting someone, or someones, get under your skin so badly that you need revenge,” she pauses, winking at Y/N. “But if I were I think that would be the way to go.”

Before Y/N can get too lost in the thought of burying Fred and George in Dragon Dung Professor Sprout is entering the Greenhouse and starting class. But she definitely pushes the idea to the back of her mind for future consideration.

“I’m going to fling myself off the top of the astronomy tower,” Y/N announces as she collapses next to Daphne in the common room. After her short break from the Weasley Twins in Herbology, Y/N had to suffer through a double transfiguration and a charms lesson with them both sitting too close for comfort.

“Could you at least wait until it’s closer to the end of term? We could probably get an extra week off at the Christmas holiday,” Adrian says, not even bothering to look up from the Quidditch playbook in his lap.

Y/N groans, putting her head in her hands. “I need better friends, none of you are sympathetic of my suffering.”

“If you need sympathy go hang out with some Hufflepuffs,” Daphne tells her, throwing her arm around Y/N’s shoulder. “What did the twins do this time?”

Instead of answering Y/N reaches for her bag and pulls out her charms book, handing it over to Daphne. “Go ahead. Try and open it.”

Daphne gives her a look as she cautiously takes it from her hands. She shares a look with Marcus and Adrian, who were finally intrigued enough to pay attention, before she slowly opens it. As soon as it falls open there’s a whizzing noise followed by loud pops as a mini firework show starts to go off. Daphne squeals and quickly shuts the book, her eyes wide.

“What in the hell was that?” she asks, tossing it back to Y/N.

“Whatever it was it was kinda cool. Open it again,” Marcus says with a laugh.

Y/N glares at him and shoves the book back in her bag. “Fred and George did something to it, obviously. It scared the shit out of me when I opened it in class. Flitwick took 30 points! 20 for the interruption it caused and 10 for the curse word I yelled.”

Adrian and Marcus erupt in a fit of hysterics as they imagine the scene it must have caused, and Y/N gets up so she can beat both of them with a pillow. They both pick up their own pillows to retaliate, and the three of them spend the next several minutes hitting each other. It only ends when a spare pillow ends up flying over and smacking Pansy Parkinson in the back of the head, causing all four of them to collapse in fits of laughter.

Y/N is the first to calm down, wiping a few stray tears from her eyes. “Oh, that was absolutely incredible. Just what I needed.” As the rest of her friends pull themselves together Y/N grabs her bag. “Come on, let’s go to dinner. I wanna catch Dimwit 1 and Dimwit 2 so I can make them fix my stupid book.”

When the four of them arrive at the Great Hall Daphne, Marcus and Adrian head towards the Slytherin table, while Y/N makes a beeline towards the Gryffindor table. “Oi! Weasley!” When three red heads whip around to look at Y/N she sighs. Only one of the twins is sitting at the table, and it’s a 50/50 chance she gets it right, so she decides to just take a guess at which one it is. “George!”

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” George asks as Y/N reaches the table.

She smiles to herself, proud that she had gotten it right. Y/N had never taken the time to learn the differences between the two, but now that she’s examining George she can tell that his eyes are softer, like there’s some reservation behind them. She takes out her charms textbook and places it on the table in front of him.

“Fix it,” she demands.

“Fix what?” he asks coyly, a mischievous smile on his face.

Y/N clenches her fist and takes a deep breath, trying to keep her composure. “Don’t play stupid, Weasley. Just fix my book.”

George laughs. “Who said I’m playing stupid? You’re the one that called me a dimwit earlier, and you’re right. I am a dimwit.”

Their exchange has caught the attention of the Gryffindors sitting around them, and they’re all watching Y/N intently, smiles playing at the corners of their mouths.

“Look, your stupid little prank has already served its purpose. It scared me and I lost Slytherin some points. Just fix the damn thing, will you?” Y/N is starting to get desperate, but she doesn’t let it show. She keeps her expression blank, not wanting George to know how truly bothered she is.

“I don’t know. Maybe I would be more inclined to fix it if you asked me nicely, Y/N,” his tone is teasing, so much so it almost sounds condescending. The students sitting around them laugh lightly, waiting to see what Y/N does next.

Y/N grits her teeth, weighing her options in her head. She could stand here and nicely ask George to fix her book, or she could walk away and send an owl home to have her parents send her a new one. And even though she is tempted to just take the easy way out, she’ll be damned if she lets a Weasley twin get one over on her.

She takes a deep breath and plasters a sickeningly sweet, fake smile on her face. “George, would you please fix my Charms book?”

A look of surprise quickly crosses George’s face, before he replaces it with an easy smile. “Of course, Y/N. Thank you so much for being a good girl and asking nicely.” The Gryffindor table is basically in full on hysterics by now, and Y/N can feel her cheeks heating up. As soon as George has pressed his wand to her book and muttered the countercharm she snatches it off the table.

“Thanks so much, George,” she forces out, before she turns to head over to the Slytherin table. “Fucking prick.”

She sits down between Adrian and Draco Malfoy with a huff, already trying to figure out what her revenge will be. The conversation she’d had with Marcus and Daphne in Herbology pops back into her head and a wicked smile forms on her face.

“Why couldn’t you get Daphne to do this? It’s freezing out here,” Adrian whispers as he shivers.

Y/N rolls her eyes as they tiptoe through the greenhouse. “And you lot call me dramatic.” They both freeze in place when they hear a creek, but when no other noise comes they continue on. “Daphne Greengrass, awake past 10 pm? Ms. Beauty sleep is a nightmare if she doesn’t get a full 8 hours, you know that.”

When they reach the container Professor Sprout keeps the Dragon Dung fertilizer in she turns to Adrian, giving him a mischievous grin. “Besides, you know you’d regret it if you didn’t come with me. Now quick, hand me the bags.”

After they get the required materials from the Greenhouse, she and Adrian quietly sneak back in the castle and head up towards the Owlery. It takes them longer than anticipated, since they have to keep ducking behind statues and into classrooms to avoid Filch and Mrs. Norris, but eventually they make it. They both sigh in relief when they return to the common room 30 minutes later, the final part of Y/N’s plan in place for the morning.

“You kind of amaze me, you know that?” Adrian says with a laugh as they both head towards the staircases that lead to their dorms.

Y/N chuckles and shakes her head. “You’re only nice to me so you don’t end up on the end of one of my revenge plans.”

The next morning Y/N is up bright and early, her body practically vibrating with excitement. Despite the fact that the Weasley Twins have been pulling pranks on her since first year, this is the first time she’s decided to retaliate.

She could deal with most of their antics. Locking her in the toilets, charming her shampoo, hitting her with snowballs and every other little trick or joke they pulled, Y/N could just grin and bear it. But having to stand in the middle of the Great Hall and practically beg George to fix her book was her tipping point. She can practically still hear him calling her a good girl and it causes a shiver to run down her spine. After today Fred and George will certain think twice about messing with her.

“Hurry up!” she urges her friends as she races to the top of the stairs. The owl post will be arriving in a few minutes, and there is no way she’s missing the big show. Adrian picks up his pace to meet her, but Daphne and Marcus continue up the stairs slowly, caught up in conversation. “You lot are hopeless.”

Y/N practically skips into the Great Hall and after sitting down where she knows she’ll have the perfect view of what’s about to happen she rubs her hands together. Daphne and Marcus give her a confused look as they sit down across from her and Adrian, who thankfully shares her excitement.

“What has gotten into you, Y/N, you look like you’re about to jump out of your skin,” Daphne comments, sounding slightly concerned that her friend may have gone mad.

As the first few owls start to fly in, Y/N grins and gestures towards the Gryffindor table. “Shush, shush. Just look over there and you’ll find out.”

Y/N holds her breath as two familiar owls fly in, each of them holding a package. They soar towards the Gryffindor table, and instead of gracefully dropping their parcels in front of their recipients they drop them a few moments early. The brown paper bags explode as they hit Fred and George at the same time, Dragon Dung Fertilizer pouring down their heads and onto their shoulders and laps.

The entire Great Hall is silent for a moment, before nearly every student bursts into laughter. The most noise comes from the Slytherin table, and Y/N’s chest swells with pride. Adrian pats her on the back as Daphne and Marcus turn back to congratulate her on a prank well done.

Y/N can’t stop looking at the Twins, and her breath catches in her throat when they return her gaze. She sends them both a wink and a wave, giggles still falling from her lips.

“You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?” George asks Y/N as he and his brother slide into the seats behind her and Daphne in Defense Against the Dark Arts that afternoon. She hasn’t seen either of them since they left the Great Hall to get cleaned up, but at lunch Astoria informed her that Ginny Weasley had told her that both boys were quite annoyed.

Y/N laughs but doesn’t turn around to look at either of them. “Nice to see you boys managed to clean up.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N,” Fred says, leaning forward in his seat to ensure Y/N hears him.

She rolls her eyes, but still doesn’t look back at them. “What? You can’t take what you dish out? I thought you two were tougher than that.” Daphne nudges Y/N, gesturing to the front of the classroom where Professor Umbridge is now standing, clearly telling her to knock it off with the twins.

“Oh, it’s on. You have no idea what you’ve started,” George whispers at her. She imagines that he’s trying to sound threatening, but she can hear the smile in his voice.

As Professor Umbridge starts rambling on about her expectations, Y/N turns to face the twins. “Bring it on, bitch.”

“No magic? No practical lessons? She was joking, right?” Y/N rambles as they head towards the Great Hall for dinner. They’ve all just come from a dreadful Defense Against the Dark Arts class, where Professor Umbridge had made it very clear that they’d be spending the year doing nothing but reading from their textbooks.

Daphne rolls her eyes. “Frankly I don’t see what the big deal is. She’s not wrong, our Defense Against the Dark Arts classes have been all over the place. I think it’s a good thing that we’re finally going to have some structure and unity.”

Y/N groans, looking to Adrian and Marcus for support. She frowns when they both refuse to meet her gaze. “That’s because you don’t care about doing good on your NEWTS. You don’t need an O on your exams to marry Marcus or whoever your parents have picked out for you to be with after graduation,” she spits.

Before Daphne has the chance to pick her jaw up off of the ground and respond, Y/N is turning around and heading away from her friends, needing to be alone.

“Are you alright?”

Y/N picks her head up from where she had buried it in her arms, surprised to see Ginny Weasley standing in front of her. She nods as she uncurls her body, stretching it out slightly. She had taken refuge on a random bench in one of the corridors and after sitting on the stone for a few hours her body has begun to ache. She moves down the bench a little and gestures for Ginny to take a seat.

While the Weasley Twins are Y/N’s least favorite people in the world, she actually doesn’t mind their siblings. She had gotten to know Percy quite well, since they had been Prefects together for a year before he had become Head Boy, and he had helped her out on quite a few transfiguration assignments during her OWL year. All she knows about Ron are the things Draco has said, but she doubts that anything that comes from his mouth is true. She’s never had a conversation with Ginny, but Daphne’s younger sister Astoria is quite friendly with her, so if she’s willing to befriend a Slytherin she’s alright in Y/N’s book.

“You seemed pretty angry earlier, before dinner. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Y/N fidgets with her school robes as her cheeks flush, she had been hoping that no one had witnessed her outburst. She had heard too often that Slytherins were mean and evil, so she always did her best to contain her emotions around others, not wanting to perpetuate the stereotype even further.

“You saw that then?” When Ginny nods she sighs. “It’s just been a frustrating few days and I love my friends, but they don’t always get it. That stupid Umbridge is really going to screw me over this year and I can’t fail now. Not when I’ve spent the last seven years working my ass off.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N that sounds awful. There’s going to be this, thing. A meeting or whatever. Next weekend during the first Hogsmeade trip,” Ginny pauses so she can tuck a piece of parchment into her hand. “Stop by, it might be, uh helpful to you.” With a warm smile and a pat on the shoulder Ginny leaves Y/N alone.

With a heavy sigh Y/N starts to head to the common room. She uncurls the piece of paper Ginny had handed her, fearful that this might be some elaborate set up for one of her brother’s tricks.

Hogshead Inn, 12 pm, is all the paper reads in neat handwriting that Y/N doesn’t recognize. She shoves the piece of parchment into her pocket as she reaches the dungeons, trying to decide whether or not to go.

The rest of the week and the next pass by slowly much to Y/N’s dismay. Things between her, Marcus and Adrian returned to somewhat normal, but Daphne is still refusing to speak to her. No matter how many times Y/N apologized Daphne just kept ignoring her. The fact that the Weasley Twins were lurking behind every corner just pushed Y/N closer to the edge, so by the time Saturday arrived Y/N didn’t care if the note Ginny had slipped her the previous week was the bait for an elaborate prank. She just needed some sort of human interaction.

Due to her and Daphne’s still strained relationship and the first Slytherin Quidditch practice of the school year, Y/N is all alone as she heads to Hogsmeade. Normally she’d not even bother going if her friends didn’t accompany her, but her lack of company makes it easier for her to slip down the forgotten path that leads to the Hogshead Inn.

She looks the dim building up and down as she approaches, grimacing at its appearance. Adrian and Marcus had tried to convince her and Daphne to enter the pub with them during one of their first trips to the little village on the outskirts of Hogwarts, but the girls had overpowered them, and dragged them into Honeydukes instead.

She pauses briefly at the entrance, trying to prepare for the things that could be waiting for her on the other side. She enters through the door slowly, her eyes widening in surprise at the scene she’s met with. It certainly is not what she had expected. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger are sitting in front of the unlit fireplace, with more than a dozen chairs facing them. Some are empty, while others are taken up by students that Y/N vaguely recognizes. Ginny gives her a wave when they make eye contact, motioning for her to take a seat.

Y/N sits down in a seat towards the back and fidgets with the sleeves of her jumper. She’s relaxed slightly since she entered, this clearly wasn’t some elaborate prank set up by Fred and George, but she’s still unsure of what she just walked in to.

“What are you doing here?” Comes a voice from behind her, causing Y/N’s shoulders to tense up. She turns around only to be met with Fred and George.

“Come to spy on us, Head Girl? Want to get all of our secrets and then run off to the greaseball you call Head of House to tattle on us?” Fred sneers as he and George push past her to take the seats in front of her.

Y/N rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “Clearly I’m here for the same reasons you are, moron. If I was spying on you why would I just be sitting here out in the open?”

Truly, Y/N has no idea what she’s doing there, Ginny had been extremely vague. All she knows is that this meeting will somehow make dealing with Umbridge better, and after the awful start to term she’s had Y/N is willing to do anything at this point.

Before either Fred or George can respond, Hermione is urging everyone to take a seat so they can begin.

45 minutes later Y/N is standing behind Fred and George, waiting her turn to sign the paper that will make her an official member of Dumbledore’s Army. Y/N was skeptical at first about getting involved in whatever Harry and Hermione had cooked up. But as Harry talked more, about needing real, practical knowledge Y/N couldn’t help but agree. She had always been so focused on school and her future career that she never even considered what lay waiting for them outside of Hogwarts’ protective walls.

Y/N hadn’t known Cedric well. A conversation or two during Prefect duties, idle pleasantries in the hall, but that was it. But she had spent much of her summer vacation thinking about him, and about what Dumbledore had said about his death. While her friends and many of her housemates thought Dumbledore was an old crack pot, Y/N trusted and believed him. Her parents did as well, and they had talked about the first wizarding war with her over dinner on several different occasions.

As she listened to Harry talk about what he had seen and what he has already dealt with, Y/N knew that she needed to be a part of whatever he was planning. Being able to get some practice with actual defensive magic would surely help her when it came to end of the year exams, but if they truly were getting ready for another war, it may just help save her life.

As she heads back towards school, she can’t help but think about a conversation she’d had with her father not too long before the school year started again. He had reminded her that she had been placed in Slytherin house because of her ambitions in life, and her willingness to do whatever it takes to get there. Before he had kissed her goodnight he told her that it wasn’t always what you know, but who you know and that the people she surrounded herself with was just as important as focusing on her studies.

At first she had scoffed at his thinly veiled digs at her friends. Y/N has been friends with Marcus, Daphne and Adrian since first year, and she had never felt the need to expand her circle. Her parents were quite familiar with the families her friends came from, and the values they held. She knew that her parents didn’t exactly like her friends but were still supportive of Y/N and the relationship she formed with them.

But now, after seeing how badly the Daily Prophet was slandering both Dumbledore and Harry and hearing directly from Harry what he’d been through, Y/N understands what her father was saying. The Greengrass’ and Flint’s had been suspected Death Eaters all those years ago and its likely members of Adrian’s family had ties to Voldemort as well. Her father had been encouraging her to seek out new friendships to try and protect her from the Dark Arts that seemed very attractive to members of Slytherin house.

She’s so lost in thought that she doesn’t hear the Weasley Twins coming up behind her until they’re knocking into her shoulders as they pass by. She flips them off behind their backs, trying to ignore their chuckling.

“I can’t believe I just signed up to spend even more time with those twats,” she mumbles to herself as the castle comes into view. While she doesn’t mind having Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny on her side, she plans on staying as far away from the Weasley Twins as possible.

That night at dinner Y/N is listening to Adrian and Marcus bicker over what drills to run during their next practice when her mouth starts to tingle. Her eyes widen when she takes another sip of pumpkin juice and the sensation only gets worse. Adrian and Marcus give her a concerned look as she begins to fidget and from the corner of her eye Y/N can see that Daphne is watching as well.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Adrian asks as Y/N slaps her hands over her mouth.

Except she can’t respond. Her tongue has started to swell in her mouth so much so that it’s trying to force its way past her lips. It feels like it weighs a ton and as the pain increases she has no choice but to let it slowly seep out of her mouth.

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” she hears George shout from the Gryffindor table, causing groups of students to look over at her. She’s desperately trying to contain her growing tongue as she gets up to head to the Hospital Wing.

“Cat got your tongue?” she can hear Fred call behind her, nearly drowned out by the peeling laughter coming from the Great Hall.

When she gets back to the common room that night, Y/N is expecting it to be empty. But when she’s barely closed the door behind her a mess of black curls takes over her vision and arms wrap around her tightly.

“Oh, thank Merlin you’re alright. I thought you would have been back ages ago. What happened?” Daphne asks as she lets go. She leads Y/N over to a set of couches in the corner, where Adrian and Marcus are waiting for them.

Adrian pulls her down next to him and Daphne sits so close to Y/N on the other side that she’s practically in her lap. “Would you all stop fussing? I’m fine, honest,” she says with a reassuring laugh. While Y/N is fine, she can’t help but lean into Adrian’s side, feeling relieved that things are back to normal between the four of them.

“Let me guess, Weasley Twin revenge?” Marcus asks.

Y/N nods, smiling when Daphne curses them under her breath. “A creation they like to call Ton-Tongue Toffees. They must have managed to get it into my goblet or something, so it melted into my pumpkin juice. It took ages to get the swelling to go down but Madam Pomfrey managed it. I’ve just spent the last 45 minutes listening to Snape try and get the maximum punishment for them.”

Y/N knows that not many people like Snape, that it’s really only Slytherins that appreciate him. It’s no secret that he favors his house almost unfairly so, but she doesn’t really mind it when he’s advocating for them. The twins had technically poisoned her, which is something Snape had pointed out when McGonagall suggested only taking points away from the boys for a “harmless” prank. Snape had managed to negotiate on Y/N’s behalf, and the boys will now be serving a week’s detention with Snape.

“So, what are you gonna do to get back at them?” Daphne asks, causing all three of them to give her a look. “What?”

“What happened to all that crap about just ignoring them?” Marcus teases.

Daphne rolls her eyes. “To hell with all that. They want a prank war? Well then let’s show them what being a Slytherin is all about.”

By the time Monday morning rolls around Y/N is in such a good mood that she practically skips down the stairs to Potions. The fake Galleon Ginny had slipped her during lunch yesterday had burned red this morning, letting Y/N know that the DA’s first official meeting would be taking place this Thursday. So not only was she going to get some real defensive magic training, but after the Twin’s prank on Saturday evening her and Daphne were able to properly make up and she had her friends back.

She bites her lip as the twins fall in step beside her once again, determined not to let their presence ruin her mood.

“How’s your tongue feeling this morning?” Fred asks from her right side.

“Any bloating? Tingling? Lasting side effects?” George teases from her left side.

Y/N shakes her head and chuckles. “It’s okay boys, go ahead and make your jokes. I want you to remember how good you feel now, because once I’ve gotten you back you’ll wish you’d never messed with me.”

She can hear them both laugh as they enter the Potions class and take their respective seats. “Really? Already planning your next late-night trip into the greenhouses?” George muses.

Y/N turns in her seat so she can look each of them in the eyes. “Oh, you poor, sweet, boys,” she mocks. “When I’m done with you the dragon dung fertilizer you took to the head will seem like a shower of rose petals.” She gives them a sly wink, and turns back around, their shocked expressions still dancing around in her brain.

“So, you figured out what you’re going to do them, then?” Daphne asks excitedly after Y/N has finished recounting her conversation with Fred and George to her and Marcus in Herbology. Professor Sprout has tasked them with dissecting Shrivelfigs, so the three of them can talk freely. Even though her and her friends had spent most of Sunday trying to concoct the perfect revenge plan they had come up with nothing that was quite right.

“I guess you could say that.” When Marcus and Daphne give her questioning looks she giggles. “I’m not going to actually do anything to them.” When they both still look confused she rolls her eyes. “I’m just going to let them think that something big is coming. That way they’re always on edge when I’m around, always looking over their shoulders, waiting for some huge prank to befall them. It’ll drive them bonkers trying to figure out when and where it’s gonna happen.”

Marcus gives Y/N a look of appreciation. “Damn, that’s pretty brilliant, Y/N.”

Y/N bows at his praise, causing Daphne to chuckle. “What they got this morning is just a taste of what I have planned for tonight.”

Y/N sneaks out of the common room that night, not too long after dinner. She knows that Fred and George will be serving detention with Snape and that it’s the perfect opportunity to mess with them.

When she reaches the Potions classroom she pauses just outside the door to ensure that Snape isn’t actually still in the room with the boys. When all she can hear is the clatter of cauldrons and Fred and George’s soft voices, she decides to go for it.

“Excuse me, Professor?” Y/N asks innocently as she enters the classroom. “Oh, boys! What a treat, seeing you down in our ends this late at night.” Y/N walks further into the classroom and she can’t help but smile as the twins start to fidget.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Fred asks, eyeing her warily.

She puts the most innocent look on her face as she can, blinking up at the two of them. “I’m looking for Professor Snape. Is he around?”

“No, he left us alone quite a bit ago,” George responds. Y/N can tell he’s trying to hide how nervous he sounds. Fred seems like the one to never back down, so Y/N switches her tactic slightly. She starts to walk closer to George and she has to bite her lip to keep the smile off her face as he tries to subtly move away from her.

“That’s a shame. I have a question I need to ask him.” Y/N leans against the table, moving that much closer to George. “Did he say when he was going to be back?”

“He didn’t,” Fred answers, making direct eye contact with Y/N. She returns his gaze, not backing down until he looks away from her.

Feeling accomplished Y/N smacks the table with her palm and stands back up. “Well I guess I’ll leave you boys to it.” She heads towards the door. “Have fun.” With one final wink she’s out the door, laughing to herself as she goes.

Before Y/N knows it, Thursday has already arrived. She tries her best to contain her excitement, but as the first DA meeting approaches it’s getting harder and harder. She feels bad for not telling her friends about what she’s involved in, but she knows it’s for the better. They certainly wouldn’t approve of the unofficial club, and she doesn’t want to chance that they’ll blow the whole operation in to Umbridge.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Y/N says with a wave as she heads to leave the common room. She told the others she had some Head Girl duties to take care of so they wouldn’t try and come with her when she left.

As she heads towards the room of requirement Y/N takes the time to glance over her shoulder every once in a while to make sure no one is following her. She had been the only Slytherin in attendance at the Hogshead Inn, and she doesn’t need to be trusted even less by bringing unwanted guests with her.

When she finally enters the room of requirement it’s a bit crowded, but she can tell that not everyone has arrived yet. Ginny waves at Y/N, motioning for her to come and join her and Hermione. She’s silently thankful for her invitation so she doesn’t have to stand there by herself and goes to join the two girls.

“Hey, Ginny. Granger,” she greets them both with an awkward wave. She doesn’t know much about Hermione, again, having only heard about her from Draco. She’s had to interact with her a few times due to Hermione being a prefect, but for some odd reason she trusts Ginny, so she figures that Hermione is alright to hang out with.

“Y/N I’m really glad you decided to join. Not only is it probably helpful to have the Head Girl on our side, it’s also really nice to have some house diversity,” Hermione says with a genuine smile.

Y/N can feel her cheeks start to heat up, so she clears her throat, giving her a moment to regain her composure. “Thanks, Hermione. I never really understood it, all of the house rivalry mumbo jumbo. I’m just supposed to automatically hate you because some hat put you in one house over another? Seems silly to me.”

She hears someone scoff behind her, and she turns to see George standing behind her, his arms crossed over his chest. “What? Got a problem, Weasley?”

“That’s real big talk considering the fact that you’ve had some grudge against me and Fred since first year, Y/N,” he says, looking at her curiously.

“I don’t hate you and Fred because you’re Gryffindors,” she explains with an eye roll. “I hate you because you’re ungodly annoying.” She bites her lip, allowing herself to look him up and down. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and Y/N can’t deny that his arms look downright filthy. She had never truly looked at George, he was quieter than Fred, so he didn’t quite capture her attention like his brother had. But now that he’s standing over her, she can’t deny that he’s attractive. He is most certainly her mortal enemy, but he’s an attractive enemy at least.

“If anything, you and Fred are the ones who started our rivalry,” she continues a moment later when her eyes meet his again. “You locked me in the girl’s bathroom with Moaning Myrtle for three hours on the second day of school, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” George says with a laugh. “Forgot about that.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, turning her attention to Harry as he starts the meeting. He decides to start with something basic but effective, disarming. Y/N could disarm any witch or wizard in her sleep, but not everyone there is at the same skill level, so she’s willing to get some practice in.

They start to break up into pairs and Y/N looks around, trying to find someone, anyone to work with. Of course, George is with Fred, Ginny is already working with a Ravenclaw Y/N thinks is named Luna, and Hermione is with Ron. She ends up locking eyes with Neville Longbottom and she motions for him to come join her.

“I’ll work with you Neville.”

He gives her an appreciative smile, and as he crosses the room George nudges him. “Watch out for her Neville. You never know what she might be up to, this could all be a big ploy to take out the entire Gryffindor house.”

Y/N flips him off, giving Neville a warm smile. “Just ignore him, he’s an idiot.” They both take their stance, wands at the ready. She has heard Draco and his cronies make fun of Neville for hours on end, so she’s not really expecting much to happen.

When Neville waves his wand and shouts Expelliarmus, his own wand flies out of his hand and clatters to the floor at Y/N’s feet. His cheeks turn a bright red, and Y/N can practically feel how embarrassed he is. He looks at her expectantly, like he’s waiting for her to laugh and say something rude.

She sends him a smile and grabs his wand. “That was a really good try, Neville. The first time I tried to disarm someone I nearly blinded Professor Quirrell when my wand shot out of my hand and flew across the room,” she reassures him with a laugh. When Neville laughs too she hands him his wand back. “Here, try moving your wand like this.” She shows him the proper wand movement before she takes her place again. “Ready?”

Two hours later when Y/N is heading back towards the Slytherin common room, she feels accomplished. Neville had managed to get her wand to wiggle in her grip by the end of it, and she could tell he was proud of himself.

Y/N is thinking about all the homework she has to do tonight when someone falls into step beside her. “Alright, give it up, what’s your deal?”

She looks up at George before she examines the rest of the hallway. “Where’s your brother? I thought you two did everything together.”

“He’s down in the kitchens getting food, not that it’s any of your business,” he adds quickly. “And stop dodging the question. What’s your deal?”

She rolls her eyes and stops walking. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” George turns to face her, crossing his arms over his chest. She mirrors his stance, looking up at him.

“Don’t play stupid. You know what I’m talking about.”

Y/N sighs, rolling her eyes again. “So, what because I’m a Slytherin I can’t participate in clandestine clubs? Your sister is the one who invited me to that meeting, so go and ask her why she did it. All I did was show up. I liked what Harry said and since Umbridge isn’t doing anything to help us with NEWTS I signed up. That’s it.”

George doesn’t respond immediately, instead he studies Y/N’s face, trying to see if she’s lying. He goes to say something when someone interrupts them.

“Mr. Weasley! Ms. Y/L/N!” They both jump as Professor McGonagall comes down the hall towards them. “What are you two doing out past curfew?” Y/N and George look to each other with a worried glance, not entirely sure what to say. “Never mind the reason, you shouldn’t be out of your common rooms at this hour. I’ll have 15 points from each of your houses and I’ll see you both in detention tomorrow evening!”

Y/N gives George one last glare before she stalks all the way back to her common room.

“What exactly were you doing standing in a hallway with George Weasley past curfew anyway?” Daphne asks Y/N the next day at lunch.

Daphne had just finished explaining the evening she had planned out for them when Y/N informed her that she’d be stuck in detention with George for the beginning portion of their girl’s night.

Y/N shrugs, trying to act casual. “I finished up my Head Girl stuff and was going back to the common room when I saw him sneaking around. I followed him, figuring I could catch him doing something. I confronted him and McGonagall saw us and gave us detention.”

“Maybe that was his plan all along, maybe he was trying to get you in trouble,” Daphne suggests.

“Yeah but he got in trouble too, Daph,” Y/N reminds her with a laugh.

The other girl shrugs, taking a bite of her Yorkshire pudding. “I didn’t say it was a smart plan.” Marcus and Adrian arrive then, taking their respective seats next to the girls.

“Who didn’t have a smart plan?” Marcus asks as he starts to pile food on his plate.

“George Weasley,” Y/N answers, batting away Adrian’s hand as he tries to steal her roll. “I caught him sneaking around one of the hallways after curfew and McGonagall rolled up on us and gave us detention.”

“Detention? On a Friday night? What about our hot date?” Adrian teases, making another attempt at stealing her roll.

Y/N flips him off and lets him have it. “The only hot date you’re going to have tonight is your right hand.”

Y/N groans as she picks up another teapot to clean. Her and George have been serving their detention in complete silence for twenty minutes and her brain feels like it’s going to mush. “Is detention always this boring?” she asks, not really expecting George to respond.

“No. But mostly because I’m usually with Fred, not you,” George replies dully.

“Oh, how you wound me, George,” she responds, mocking the tone he had used with her on the first day of term.

They work together in silence for a few minutes before George puts down the teapot he had been scrubbing and tosses his rag to the side. “So, I asked Ginny,” he says, turning to look at Y/N.

Y/N gives him a look as she turns to face him as well, discarding what she had been doing. “Asked Ginny what?”

George rolls his eyes at her, clearly annoyed that Y/N had forgotten the conversation they had in the hall the previous night. “Why she told you about the meeting at the Hogshead, about Dumbledore’s Army.”

“Oh,” she responds softly. When she had said that to George last night she hadn’t expected him to actually ask, she was just trying to get him to leave her alone. “And what did she say?” George gives her a look, causing Y/N to roll her eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me. You’re the one that brought it up.”

George chuckles at her frustration. “Aw come on, I’m just kidding.” He pauses. “She said that Astoria Greengrass talks about you a ton, about how you’re different than other Slytherins. She said something about how you got into a fight with your friends, and she decided that if she talked to you and you were cool enough, she would invite you.”

“So, I’ve got the Ginny Weasley stamp of approval? I’m honored,” she says with a laugh, her surprise evident in her tone. “Does that make me alright then? Since I’m different than other Slytherins? Whatever that means.”

George shrugs his shoulders. “I think I know what she means.” When Y/N raises an eyebrow at him he continues. “Oh, come on don’t act like you don’t know it. You’re nice.”

Y/N scoffs, lightly shoving his arm. “Slytherins being mean is just a stereotype, George. Tons of the people in my house are nice. Daphne is nice, and so are Marcus and Adrian.”

“Cut the crap, Y/N,” he chides. “Daphne, Marcus and Adrian are nice to you and the other members of your house because you all share that in common. But you’re nice to, well most people honestly. Everyone even, except maybe me and Fred. But we aren’t nice to you either, so I understand it.”

Y/N opens her mouth to respond, but George puts his hand up to stop her. “Take yesterday, for example. I saw you, with Neville. The way you made him feel better about his failure, how you encouraged him and helped him improve. Daphne or Marcus or any other Slytherin wouldn’t have done that. They’d have laughed in his face and you know it.”

“I guess you’re right,” she admits softly, a slight blush on her cheeks from George’s kind words.

“So, you’re so worried about your NEWTs that you’re willing to spend hours practicing a spell you mastered in 2nd year? Thought you were top of our class?” he teases.

Y/N plays with her fingers and fidgets in her seat. She knows the question is innocent, but it feels like George can see right into her soul. That’s he looking at all her worst fears. “I am, yeah. I need at least an Exceeds Expectations on my defense against the dark arts NEWT to be a Healer and I’ve already worked so hard, I can’t screw it up now, not when I’m this close.”

George is silent for a moment and he turns in his chair so he’s fully facing Y/N. When she does the same he speaks. “I didn’t know you want to be a healer.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Weasley. What is it you said? I’m not nice to you and you’re not nice to me. It’s always been that way.”

“Yeah I guess so,” he admits. “I never imagined you as a Healer, if I’m honest. But I think you’ll be amazing at it.”

Y/N blushes and looks down. “Thanks, I appreciate it. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be, since I was a little kid. I used to pretend to Heal my dolls all the time. My parents even gave me a muggle doctors coat for Christmas once, I wore it like, every day,” she reminisces with a laugh.

George laughs along with her. “I fear that I may have seriously misjudged you, Y/N.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, lightly shoving his shoulder.

George blushes and Y/N finds it endearing. “I figured you and your family were like the other pureblood Slytherin dynasties. That you cared about your grades to make you a more appealing bride or something.”

Y/N nods in understanding. “Yeah I don’t blame you on that one. That’s what most people think. My parents were raised like that and they hated it. All the stupid rules, the lack of freedom. They’re lucky, they were able to find genuine love with each other. And they’re still so in love, it’s actually pretty sickening,” she says with a laugh. “But they agreed that when they had kids they wouldn’t raise them like that. That they’d let them think for themselves, find their own way in life. It’s been so hard, not to send an owl to my dad and tell him all about Dumbledore’s Army.”

“Really? He’d approve of it?” he asks, unable to help how surprised he sounds.

“Oh yeah,” she confirms with a laugh. “He was so angry all summer, with what the Daily Prophet is saying about Harry and Dumbledore. He even not so subtly suggested that I expand my horizons, make some friendships and connections with people from other houses. I think he’d be really excited about what Harry’s doing.”

“That’s actually really cool. I guess I definitely misjudged you then.”

They both get back to work then, but Y/N doesn’t feel as awkward anymore. She’s never bothered to have an actual conversation with either of the Weasley Twins, and she is quite surprised to find that she actually really enjoyed it.

When Y/N and George leave the transfiguration classroom a few hours later she’s exhausted and silently thanks Merlin that she is a Witch, because cleaning the muggle way is dreadful. Despite the late hour Y/N is surprised to see that the hallway isn’t empty. Adrian and Fred are leaning up against the wall across from the transfiguration classroom a few feet apart, glaring at each other.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asks with a soft laugh, altering both boys of their arrival.

“I wanted to make sure George was alright. You’ve been spouting about your grand revenge plan all week, I wanted to make sure you didn’t try and pull anything while you two were alone,” Fred answers, finally looking away from Adrian so he can glare at Y/N.

Y/N rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t talking to you, Weasley. I don’t care why you’re here.” When Fred flips her off she returns the gesture.

“To answer your question,” Adrian starts as he walks towards her. “I came to accompany you back to the common room. A gentleman never lets a lady walk alone at night.”

“Well then where’s this gentleman?” she teases, looking around the hallway.

Before Adrian can respond Fred laughs. “Yeah, I don’t see a lady either.” George’s laughter joins his brothers and Y/N flips them off again.

When Adrian starts to move closer to Fred, Y/N grabs his arm and pulls him into her chest. “Not here, Adrian,” she whispers. “McGonagall is right in there,” she reminds him, gesturing towards the open classroom door with her head.

“You are so lucky, weasel,” Adrian practically growls at him. Y/N wraps her arms around Adrian’s waist and starts to pull him down the hall away from Fred and George. Adrian glares at them one last time before he turns forward and wraps his arm around her shoulder. “You should have let me hit him. One good hit would have been worth a month’s detention.”

“Not this close to quidditch season it’s not. Smack a few good bludgers at him instead,” Y/N pauses and she looks up at Adrian with her best puppy dog eyes. “Piggyback ride? Please?”

Adrian sighs heavily but crouches down in front of Y/N, nonetheless. She squeals in delight, climbing onto her friend’s back. Adrian grips her thighs tightly as he stands. “Ready?” Once he feels Y/N nod he sets off towards the common room. “You’re lucky I love you, brat.”

When Fred and George slide into their seats behind Y/N in Potions on Monday morning they don’t say a word. When she saw them enter the room she had tensed up, just waiting for whatever snarky comment they were bound to make. So, when they take their seats without a word, Y/N can’t help but turn around to look at them.

“What’s wrong with you two?” When neither of them responds, Y/N waves her hand in front of their faces. “Hello? Earth to Nitwit 1 and Nitwit 2.” She expected her insult to get them to at least look at her, but both of their focus is on the blackboard in the front of the room. She huffs in annoyance. “Whatever be pricks. I don’t care.” She turns back around and crosses her arms, trying to convince herself that she in fact doesn’t care that they’re ignoring her.

“Will you stop staring at them? It’s weird,” Marcus scolds Y/N that night at dinner, kicking her shin under the table to get her attention.

Y/N kicks him back, finally tearing her attention away from Fred and George. “They’re planning something,” she insists.

Daphne rolls her eyes and throws a carrot at Y/N. “First you complain that they’re always loud and bothering you and now you’re complaining that they aren’t bothering you. Will you just give it a rest? Be thankful that they’ve finally decided to leave you alone.”

Y/N sticks her tongue out at Daphne before she takes a bite out of the carrot she had thrown at her. She knows Daphne is right, but she can’t help but be bothered that Fred and George aren’t even trying to annoy her. As much as she hates to admit it, she misses their antics. Y/N had really enjoyed George’s company during their detention and part of her had hoped that maybe their newfound acquaintanceship would have carried over once they were no longer the only people in the room.

So, she had found herself quite disappointed that he hadn’t said a word to her all day. He hadn’t even looked at her. Y/N thought she had felt his gaze on her during Charms, but when she turned around to check he was focused on Flitwick.

“Daph is right,” Adrian whispers in her ear, bringing her thoughts back to the present. “They’re finally leaving you alone, you should be happy.”

Y/N shrugs her shoulders, her gaze falling upon Fred and George once again. “I am happy,” she lies. “I just know them too well. They’re planning something big. They’re trying to throw me off.” She flips her friends off when they all groan.

“What makes you think they’re planning something?” Marcus asks. “Did something happen between you and George during detention? You didn’t say too much about it.”

Y/N bites her lip. She hadn’t said much to her friends about her detention when her and Adrian arrived back in the common room that night, just that it was mind numbingly boring. She didn’t want them to know that she had not only had a conversation with George Weasley, but she had actually enjoyed it.

“No, nothing happened. We sat there cleaning teapots for hours, McGonagall came back and she let us go,” she says with a shrug, trying to seem casual. “He didn’t even say two words to me.”

“Exactly, so chill out. Enjoy the peace,” Daphne says.

When Y/N finally collapses in her bed that night she can’t seem to fall asleep despite how tired she is. She tosses and turns, her mind wandering to George and why she’s so bothered by the sudden lack of attention she’s getting from him. Her stomach lurches, realization hitting her like a ton of bricks.

I have a crush on George Weasley.

Y/N spends the rest of the week avoiding both Weasley Twins. She sits as far away from them as possible, refuses to look at them and even goes as far as to hide in an empty classroom when she sees them heading towards her one afternoon. Y/N is determined to extinguish whatever positive feelings she has towards George. She’s spent the past seven years hating his guts, and she is not about to let herself reverse all of that over some stupid crush. Unfortunately for Y/N, on Saturday morning her fake Galleon burns red, letting her know that there will be another DA meeting that night.

Which is why she’s currently heading towards the Room of Requirement, her stomach a pit of dread and despair. “Get it together, Y/N,” she mutters to herself. Y/N is standing just outside the room of requirement and she takes a deep breath to calm herself down.

Y/N pulls the door open and goes to head in, but she runs smack into the chest of someone trying to leave. An involuntary squeal leaves her lips as her body tenses up, preparing itself to hit the ground. Except she doesn’t even fall. A pair of strong arms wrap around her waist and she’s pulled into the other person’s chest.

“Woah there. Watch where you’re going.”

Y/N doesn’t have to look up to know that George Weasley is holding her in his arms. She can feel her cheeks heat up and she pushes away from him, needing to get away from him as fast as possible. “I could say the same to you, Weasley,” she sneers.

Even though her tone is crude Y/N can feel her heart fluttering in her chest and her skin is tingling from his touch. She looks up at his face, letting her eyes linger on his lips for just a second. She tries not to think about what it would feel like for him to grip her waist as they kissed.

“No need to be so feisty, Y/N,” George teases, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts.

She rolls her eyes and steps aside so George can leave, Fred following close behind him. “Maybe if you weren’t trying to mow me down I wouldn’t need to be,” she responds, watching as Fred flips her off behind his back.

She watches them walk away for a moment before heading into the room of requirement. Her palms are sweaty even from that small interaction with George and Y/N tries to subtly wipe them off on her skirt as she joins Ginny, Hermione and Ron in the back of the room.

“Where are they off to?” she asks after they’ve been talking for a few minutes, not wanting to seem too interested in George’s movements.

“Filch has been sniffing around for Umbridge, she knows Harry is up to something. So, Fred and George are going to slip him something that’ll put him out of commission for few hours,” Hermione explains.

Y/N nods. Hermione had made a few complaints to both Y/N and Miles, a Ravenclaw in her year that was Head Boy, that Fred and George had been spending their free time making an array of joke products and then testing them out on first years. “Despite the fact that I have been the victim of a Weasley product, I can’t say I feel bad for Filch.”

Once Fred and George slip back into the room of requirement and give Harry a thumbs up, he starts the meeting. They’re going to continue working on disarming, and Y/N immediately searches for Neville in the crowd. Neville certainly isn’t the most talented wizard, but Y/N can tell that he’s full of determination and she likes working with him. When Harry sets them off to work Neville joins her.

“You better watch out, Y/N, I’ve been practicing,” Neville says with a laugh as they take their stances.

“Alright then, Longbottom, let’s see what you’ve got.”

When Y/N leaves the Room of Requirement later that night, she can still hear Neville chattering to his friends happily as they head back to Gryffindor tower. It had taken him most of the meeting, but Neville had finally managed to get her wand to fly out of her hand. She was extremely happy for him as the other members of the DA came around to congratulate him, and not just because George had pressed up against her back as he patted Neville on the shoulder.

“Sneaking away without saying Goodbye, Y/N? I’m hurt,” George scolds teasingly as he comes up behind her.

She rolls her eyes, trying to contain her excitement. “Oh, so you’re speaking to me again?” she says as he falls into step next to her. He’s standing so close that their arms almost brush, and Y/N swallows down the butterflies that come up her throat.

“Aw, did little Y/N miss me?” George teases, shoving her shoulder.

“No,” Y/N responds far too quickly, trying not to get flustered from the contact. “Just surprised that you managed to go a whole week without annoying me that’s all.”

“Uh huh. Sure, whatever you say.”

She bites her lip, trying to contain her glee. Cut it out, she scolds herself. George Weasley is nothing more than an annoying git, you do not like him.

“Why are you following me, anyway? Last I checked Gryffindor’s common room is in the other direction,” she questions as they head down towards the Great Hall.

Y/N watches George shrug out of the corner of her eye. His face is blank, but Y/N can tell that he’s nervous. “Making sure you’re not getting up to anything is all.”

“Or you’re distracting me while your brother sets up some kind of trap,” she responds.

Suddenly she feels George’s hand wrap around her wrist and he’s pulling her into a nearby broom closet. As he slams the door shut behind them Y/N can’t help but notice just how close they are. Her back is pressed up against the wall and George is standing only a few inches away, his hands on either side of her head.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Y/N demands, hoping that her voice doesn’t shake. George is towering over her, and Y/N can see the muscles on his forearms bulging in her peripheral vision. It is taking every ounce of willpower in her body to stay still.

George leans down as he chuckles and his warm breath tickles Y/N’s cheeks, causing a shiver to run down her spine. “I think what you mean to say is thank you because I just saved your ass from serving another detention with McGonagall.”

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “McGonagall? I didn’t see-.“ Y/N’s sentence is cut short as George places his hand over her mouth to silence her. Her breathing involuntarily speeds up and she hopes that George can’t feel the blush on her cheeks. Y/N can hear footsteps approaching the broom closet and she closes her eyes in fear of being caught in such a compromising position with George.

Thankfully the footsteps disappear just as quicky as they had come and Y/N sighs in relief when George takes his hand away. “Thank you,” she mutters. Y/N can still feel the imprint of his hand on her mouth and it makes her stomach feel queasy.

“You’re welcome,” George says, sounding pleased with himself. “We should probably stay here for a moment or two longer, just to make sure she’s gone.”

Y/N nods, her head tilting back so she can look at George’s face. She examines his features closely, trying to commit them to memory. After her realization earlier in the week she had spent every moment trying not to think about George, but now that they’re standing there so close he’s the only thing she can think about.

George clears his throat suddenly, breaking Y/N from her thoughts. “We’re uh, we’re probably good to go.”

“Yeah,” she agrees softly, trying not to let the disappointment she feels seep into her voice.

George lingers a moment longer, before he pulls away and slowly opens the door to their hiding spot. Y/N watches as he checks the hallway and follows him out when the coast is clear.

“Well um. Thanks for that,” she stutters, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’ll see you around, I guess.” Y/N starts to walk away, but she pauses when George follows behind her. She turns to look at him. “What are you doing?”

“You might still be up to something. I should follow you, just to make sure,” he responds confidently.

Y/N rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anymore, not wanting her giddiness to become noticeable. They walk side by side silently with Y/N glancing at George every few steps. As they reach the landing Y/N goes to turn down the corridor that will lead her down into the dungeons when she runs smack into someone for the second time that night. Except this time, it’s much less enjoyable.

“Professor Umbridge! I am so sorry,” Y/N apologizes as she fixes her balance. She may hate the woman, but she’ll be nice to her if it’ll get her out of a detention.

“Oh Ms. Y/L/N it is quite alright,” she practically squeaks while smiling at Y/N. Y/N imagines it’s meant to seem sweet, but it looks more like an evil grin. Umbridge’s eyes suddenly narrow as she looks past Y/N at George. “Mr. Weasley! Out in the corridors past curfew again I see. That’ll be detention with me, Monday and Tuesday evening.”

Y/N can hear George sputter behind her, and she turns around, cringing at the angry look on his face. “What about Y/N?” he asks angrily. “She’s out past curfew as well!”

Umbridge tuts, moving past Y/N as she heads back towards her office. “Yes, but Ms. Y/L/N is Head Girl I’m sure she has a good reason for being out in the halls.” Umbridge puts her hand up to stop George from responding. “Now that is enough out of you, Mr. Weasley. I suggest you head back to your common room before I make your detention a whole week.”

They both watch as Umbridge walks away and when Y/N turns to look at George, he’s already watching her. “I’m really sorry about that, George,” she says quietly.

George scoffs. “Yeah whatever.” He stalks off then, and it takes everything in Y/N to not follow behind him.

As Y/N enters the common room her plan is to stalk off to her dorm and get in bed as quick as possible. She’s gone through a whirlwind of emotions over the past few hours and all she wants to do is fall asleep, so she doesn’t have to feel any of them. All of that changes however, since when Y/N finally steps into the common room there is music blaring and people are everywhere.

Y/N makes eye contact with Adrian across the crowd and he clumsily waves her over. She slowly makes her way through the crowd. The air is heavy and hot from all of the people and it smells of firewhiskey. When she finally reaches Adrian, he stumbles over his own feet as he pulls her closer and she notices Marcus is seated on the couch with Daphne sprawled out across his lap; all of her friends are clearly very, very drunk.

“Y/N! You made it!” Daphne yells happily when she notices Y/N’s arrival. She wobbles as she gets out of Marcus’ lap and practically falls into Y/N, giving her a tight hug.

“Someone’s having a good time,” Y/N says with a laugh. Drunk Daphne is one of Y/N’s favorite things, and it’s rare that she gets to see it. Daphne is always prim and proper. She never has a hair out of place and she rarely lets herself goof off with her friends; she’s always their voice of reason. So, when she lets loose, she really goes for it, and it always leaves Y/N in hysterics.

“Where’ve you been? Party started ages ago,” Marcus says slowly, his words slurring together. He grabs Daphne’s hands and tries to pull her into his lap, but they’re both so drunk that they end up falling over, and Daphne somehow ends up on the ground with Marcus on top of her.

Y/N and Adrian burst out in laughter, with Adrian leaning on Y/N for support. His drink sloshes in his hand, and Y/N takes it from him to avoid it spilling everywhere. She eyes his glass warily, trying to decide if she wants to join her friends in drunk land. Her plan had been to sleep away her emotions but drinking them away will work just as well.

“I guess I have some catching up to do then.” Y/N downs the entire glass in one go, her warm bed long forgotten.

A few hours and far too many glasses of Firewhiskey later the party has died down and Y/N is slumped over in the corner of the common room, cradled in a large pile of pillows that Adrian had assembled for her. Daphne and Marcus had disappeared several minutes ago, probably to make out somewhere and once they had Adrian moved from the nearby couch to join Y/N. He’s laying on his back, head in Y/N’s lap as he listens to her complain about George Weasley.

“He’s just so annoying,” she drawls, her words coming out fairly jumbled. Y/N has said the same sentence at least five times in the past 10 minutes, but she’s too drunk to remember or care. She’s been rambling on about George and every mildly annoying this he’s done since the moment they’ve met and she’s having a hard time remembering what she’s already mentioned. “And his face, don’t even get me started on his face.”

When Adrian groans she smacks him on the forehead. “Can’t you talk about something else,” he murmurs. “Anything else, please.”

Y/N smacks him on the forehead again before starting to run her fingers through his hair. It’s his only weakness and she’s hoping it’ll keep him quiet. “There is nothing else to talk about,” she says, her tone condescending. “It’s empty up here, no thoughts,” she giggles, hitting herself lightly in the head with her free hand. “No thoughts, just George Weasley and his face. His pretty, pretty face. And oh god his lips. They look so damn soft. D’you think their soft?”

Adrian hums, not really paying attention to the words coming out of Y/N’s mouth. She’d started to lightly scratch his scalp as she talked, and any ability he had to comprehend the English language disappeared. “Yeah sure, whatever.”

Y/N sighs dreamily, thinking about what it would be like to kiss George. “Bet he’s really good at it,” she muses. “And his hands,” she adds a moment later, practically moaning. “They’re so big and strong. He’s got good fingers too. Bet he knows how to use them.” Y/N rubs her thighs together involuntarily as she feels herself starting to get turned on. Y/N’s eyes start to close as the copious amount of alcohol she drank starts to catch up with her. “You wanna know something funny? I don’t hate George Weasley anymore.”

“Is that so?” Adrian mumbles, starting to drift off as well.

“Mhm,” she hums. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.”

The next morning Y/N is awake far earlier than she’d like to be. Adrian’s elbow was digging into her back, and she tried to ignore it for as long as possible, but eventually she just gave up and pulled herself off of the floor.

Her head is pounding, she feels groggy and she desperately wants to crawl into her bed. But her stomach grumbles loudly and so instead of dragging her body down the staircase that would lead to her dorm, she drags herself towards the portrait hole, still in the clothes she had on yesterday.

When Y/N finally makes it to the Great Hall she practically crawls over to the Slytherin table and plops down in the first open seat. Thankfully it’s still early, so not many people are around and it’s fairly quiet. She starts to grab random food, not really caring what it is. She’s cursing herself for challenging Adrian to a drinking contest as she goes to grab the pitcher of orange juice, but a large hand beats her to it.

“George?” she asks in surprise when she looks up.

He doesn’t say anything as he fills her goblet up for her. He takes a seat across from her and fills his own goblet before he starts to pile eggs on his plate. “Yes?” he answers casually, as if he eats breakfast with Y/N every morning.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N watches George as he begins to eat, her eyes searching his face for some kind of hint of what he’s up to. George shrugs as a light laugh tumbles from his mouth.

“Eating breakfast?” he asks, gesturing to his plate like it’s obvious. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Y/N rolls her eyes playfully, watching as he grabs an apple. She watches as his fingers wrap around it and she practically drools. A tingle runs down her spine as she imagines his fingers wrapping around something else.

“Obviously I can see that you’re eating,” she says a moment later when her thoughts become PG. “I meant what are you doing sitting here. With me. At the Slytherin table.”

George smirks at her. “Why? Do I make you nervous?” His lips wrap around the apple as he takes a bite, and Y/N has to take a bite of her muffin to stop herself from moaning right there in the middle of the Great Hall.

George’s hair is ruffled from sleep, and he looks cozy in the homemade jumper he’s wearing. His eyes are soft, and his lips look even softer. Y/N is dreaming about what it would feel like to lean across the table and kiss him, when she realizes that he asked her a question.

“Not at all,” she says, her voice shaking. “It just isn’t like you, that’s all. Besides last night when you left it seemed like you were angry at me,” she trails off, her voice soft. She looks down at her plate to avoid his gaze.

“I’m sorry about that, Y/N,” George admits sheepishly. Y/N’s skin tingles when he nudges her leg with his foot under the table. She looks up to meet his gaze, instantly returning his warm smile. “It’s not your fault Umbridge is a toad.”

Y/N laughs, completely entranced by George. “I should have said something. Made up an excuse for you.” She worries her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, waving away her apology. They both just look at each other, the food on their plates long forgotten. Y/N lets her gaze wander to George’s lips again as she thinks about kissing him. She starts to involuntarily inch closer and to her surprise, George starts doing the same thing.

“Uh, Y/N?”

Y/N and George jump apart, startled by the sudden intrusion. Y/N looks over to see Astoria standing next to her, clearly surprised by what she had just witnessed. Y/N feels her cheeks heating up, and she fidgets in her seat.

“Hey, Astoria. What’s up?” Y/N asks, trying to sound casual, like her best friend’s little sister didn’t just catch her about to kiss George in the middle of the Great Hall.

“Daphne is asking for you. She’s throwing up in the dorm bathroom.”

Y/N rolls her eyes with a huff. “Of course, she is, poor girl can’t handle her alcohol.” She stands suddenly, nodding awkwardly at George. “Weasley,” she says curtly. She gives a wayward glance to Astoria before she heads for the exit, trying to walk as quickly as possible without looking like she’s running away.

“And you don’t remember anything?” Y/N questions Adrian as they head up to breakfast on Monday morning. After she fled the Great Hall yesterday morning she’d spent the rest of the day with Daphne going between the bathroom in their dorm and her bed, with Astoria sneaking in food for them. As she sat holding Daphne’s hair back Y/N had a chance to replay the events of Saturday night, and all of the things she had said to Adrian about George became clear to her. She was panicking all night, hoping that he didn’t remember any of what she had said.

Adrian nods. “Not a thing. Last thing I remember is you challenging me to a drinking contest. Everything after that is completely blank. Probably due to the 10 shots we took,” he says with a laugh. “I was so confused when I woke up in the common room.”

Y/N breathes a sigh of relief. She’s barely come to terms with the fact that George Weasley is no longer her mortal enemy, but someone she truly cares deeply for, so she is definitely not ready to share that with her friends.

“Why do you care so much? You confess your love for me or something?” Adrian asks as they enter the Great Hall.

Y/N lets her eyes scan the Gryffindor table, a pink blush forming on her cheeks when she spots George. He looks prim and proper in his school robes and his hair is neat. She bites her lip, imagining what it would be like to fuss up his hair with her hands with their bodies pressed together so tightly that their uniforms wrinkled. When George suddenly makes eye contact with her she looks away, bringing her attention back to Adrian.

“Nothing like that,” she insists, shoving him playfully. “I was just rambling on and on. I sounded like an idiot, most of it didn’t even make sense.”

“What didn’t make sense?” Daphne asks as Y/N and Adrian sit across from her and Marcus.

“The things I rambled on about in Adrian’s ear on Saturday after you two disappeared,” Y/N says with a laugh. She reaches for the orange juice, a small smile appearing on her lips as it reminds her of George.

“Aw you were rambley drunk? How cute. I’m sad I missed it,” Marcus teases.

Y/N throws a grape at him. “If you weren’t so busy sucking face with Daphne, you could have witnessed it.” Marcus and Daphne both blush at that, causing Adrian and Y/N to laugh. “I don’t know why you’re laughing, Pucey. You were cuddly drunk. I ran my hand through your hair, and you were practically mewling.”

Adrian blushes and bats at Y/N’s hand as she pinches his cheek. “Thank god I don’t remember that then.”

Unlike last week, Y/N spends most of her time on Monday and Tuesday trying to get close to George. She heads to meals a tad earlier than her friends, hoping that he’ll join her briefly. She gets to class early, hoping that he may arrive on his own and they can talk. But every time she tries she either doesn’t happen to run into him or he’s too busy messing around with Fred to notice her presence.

“Oof. Sorry,” Y/N grunts as she runs into someone. One of the Ravenclaw Prefects is sick, so Y/N volunteered to spend most of her Tuesday night patrolling the halls of the castle. Patrolling was one of her favorite duties as a Prefect, since it gave her time to just be by herself and think. She had let her mind wander to George, and she was in the middle of quite the raunchy daydream.

“What are you doing? Trying to mow me down?” the person asks with a chuckle.

“George, hey,” she greets airily. Y/N takes a step back so she can look up at him, a dopey smile on her face. “What are you doing out here? Kinda late, innit?”

“Maybe I’m here to see you,” he responds, causing Y/N to look away and blush. “I was serving my detention with Umbridge,” he reminds her, gesturing towards the corridor he had just come down.

She glances at her watch before looking back to him. “And she just let you out now? What did she have you do, polish all those weird cat plates?”

George chuckles. “Writing lines, actually.”

“Must have been enough to fill a book with how late it is,” she jokes as they start to walk together. George fidgets beside her, and she gives him a look. “You alright?”

George hums and absentmindedly brings a hand up to run through his hair. Y/N’s eyes widen when she notices the back of his hand is bleeding, and she grabs it before he has a chance to hide it. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he mumbles, trying to pull his hand away.

Y/N tightens her grip, too focused on his injury to think about how perfect his hand feels in hers. “What is this, George? How did this happen?”

George sighs. “Umbridge had me use her special quill to write my lines.”

Y/N ghosts her finger over the wound, giving George an apologetic look when he winces. As she examines the wound she can make out what is it, the wound in his hand spells out ‘I must not break the rules’ in his messy handwriting. A sudden wave of rage washes over Y/N and she releases George’s hand so she can stomp towards Umbridge’s office.

“Y/N what are you doing?” George asks as he follows, though he’s pretty sure he knows that answer.

“I’m going to go give that toad a piece of my mind. That’s how she punishes people. Torture? That’s mental.”

George catches up to her quickly, and he wraps his fingers around her wrist, pulling her into his chest. He wraps his arms around her shoulders, holding her tightly against him. She breathes in his scent, wanting to just melt into his embrace. But she resists the urge and struggles against it, desperately trying to get out.

“Let me go, George,” she grumbles, wiggling in his grip.

“Absolutely not, Y/N. What good is yelling at her going to do? All that’s going to do is get you in detention as well and I’m not going to let you do that to yourself.”

Y/N wiggles against his grip for a few more moments before she gives up, her anger deflating. She relaxes in George’s arms and buries her face in his chest. She feels lightheaded as she takes slow, deep breaths, enjoying being this close to George. They stand like that for a few minutes, just enjoying being in each other’s presence, only breaking apart when they hear the door to Umbridge’s office open.

“Shit,” George whispers. He releases Y/N from his grip so he can grab her hand, intertwining their fingers. “Quick, follow me.” George leads them down the hallway and through a few different corridors before he stops in front of a tapestry.

“What are you doing?” she asks as the sound of footsteps echoes through the empty space.

George shushes her, and Y/N watches in amazement as he taps his wand to the tapestry, and it swings to the side, revealing a hole in the wall.

“Woah, this is so cool,” she comments as George pulls her in behind him. The tapestry immediately closes behind them, and George waves his wand so the torches that line the walls light up. “How do you know about this place?”

George shrugs, leaning up against the wall. “Fred and I have explored the entire castle. There isn’t a secret passageway or hidden corridor that we haven’t found.”

They stand there in silence while Y/N looks around the small passageway. She can feel George’s eyes on her and she’s doing everything she can to not return his gaze. Her body feels like it’s on fire, the feeling of George’s grip on her shoulders still fresh in her mind.

“You know if you want to spend time alone with me all you have to do is ask,” she teases a moment later, finally looking at George. She’s leaning on the wall opposite him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She starts to fiddle with a stray string on the bottom hem of her skirt, needing to keep her hands busy to avoid wrapping them around George’s tie to pull him close. “You don’t have to keep pulling me into dark rooms.”

George looks Y/N up and down, a smirk forming on his face. “Is that so? After you practically ran away from me at breakfast on Sunday I didn’t think you’d want to be alone with me.” He sounds confident, but Y/N can tell that there’s an underlying tinge of insecurity in his voice.

Y/N frowns and pushes away from the wall so she can take a small step towards him. “I tried to catch you alone all day yesterday and today,” she says softly. “But every time I tried you were with your stupid brother.”

“Well every time I tried to catch you alone you were with your stupid friends,” he says with a chuckle, copying her frustrated tone. George takes a small step towards her, so there’s only a few feet between them.

“I’m sorry, by the way. For running away from you the other day. Astoria startled me and I panicked,” she pauses, taking another small step forward. They’re standing so close that Y/N can smell him, and her brain goes fuzzy. “I should have stayed,” she admits quietly.

George licks his lips as he takes a final small step forward. They’re now only a few centimeters apart, and he grips Y/N’s hip softly. “What would have happened?” His eyes flick down to Y/N’s lips before meeting hers again. “If you had stayed, what would have happened?”

Y/N can feel her heart pounding in her chest, and her face is warm. “I. I would have.”

But she doesn’t get to finish her sentence. George leans down and presses their lips together, kissing her sweetly as his other hand comes up to rest on her neck. Y/N feels lightheaded as her lips start to move with George’s, her arms winding around his neck. George backs them up as he deepens the kiss, pressing Y/N up against the wall. She moans as her back hits the hard stone, allowing George to lick into her mouth.

“I would have done that,” she finishes once George pulls away, her breathing heavy.

George chuckles before kissing her again briefly. “You sound so fucking hot when you moan,” he teases, kissing her again as her cheeks flush pink.

Y/N returns his kiss eagerly, letting her fingers tangle in the hair at the base of his neck as both his hands come to rest on her hips. Her brain is in overdrive, trying to process everything that’s happening. She wants to commit it all to memory, in case this is the only time it happens. She’s thinking about how good of a kisser he is, and how perfectly their mouths fit together when George pulls away.

“Bet you would sound even hotter moaning my name,” he whispers in her ear, before he starts to trail kisses down Y/N’s neck.

A soft whine leaves Y/N’s lips as she tilts her head back, giving George more room to kiss. She tugs his hair and the groan he lets out against her neck goes right to her core and arousal starts to blossom in her stomach. His grip on her hips tightens as he begins to suck a mark into her neck. “George,” she moans, her eyes fluttering closed.

Y/N can feel George smirk into her neck before he pulls away and reconnects their lips. He pushes their bodies together tighter, shoving her legs apart with one of his own. She instinctively grinds down against it to get relief from her aching pussy, causing both of them to moan lowly.

“Holy fuck, Y/N,” George growls as he breaks their kiss. He looks over her as she continues to grind against his thigh, in awe of how beautiful she is. Her face is flushed red, her lips are swollen from his kisses and breathy moans are falling from her mouth as her hips move back and forth.

Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth to try and contain the noises that are creeping up her throat as she works towards her climax. Her hips move sloppily, giving her clit the perfect amount of friction against George’s muscular thigh. “Fuck,” she breathes and opens her eyes so she can gaze into his, a moan falling from her lips when she sees how dark his eyes are.

George kisses her for a brief moment, his cock starting to harden in his trousers. He craves the feeling of her lips, but the noises coming from her mouth are too intoxicating to cut off. “You look so pretty, darling, getting yourself off on my thigh.”

George’s words only turn Y/N on more and she starts to move her hips faster, desperate for her release. “George,” she moans, tugging on his hair again. “Please, please, George,” she begs.

George presses kisses to Y/N’s jaw as his grip on her hips tightens. He pulls her down harder against his thigh and smirks when she whines loudly. “What do you want darling? Hm?”

“I’m so close,” she gasps. “Please, George. Can I,” her words turn into a moan as George forces her down harder against this thigh again. Y/N can feel her climax approaching and her body feels like it’s on fire. “Please, let me come, George. Please,” she begs breathily.

George’s cock twitches in his trousers and he groans as he realizes what Y/N is begging him for. Permission. “Go on darling, come for me.”

George’s voice is husky, and as soon as the words leave his mouth Y/N’s hips stutter as she reaches her climax, George’s name falling from her mouth. She tugs his hair lightly as she comes, pleasure washing over her like a wave. George rubs her hips and presses open mouthed kisses to her jaw and neck as her hips start to slow down.

“Oh my god,” Y/N pants, resting her forehead against George’s shoulder. Her legs feel like jelly and a moan falls from her mouth when she shifts on George’s thigh and her sensitive clit rubs against her panties.

George laughs lightly and brings a hand up to stroke Y/N’s hair. “That was so fucking hot,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her temple. He removes his leg from between hers but keeps a tight grip on her hip to make sure she’s steady. “Like really fucking hot, Y/N. Holy shit.”

Y/N buries her face in George’s neck, pressing a few light kisses to his skin. “No, it was embarrassing,” she mumbles. She’d never felt the need to ask for permission to come with any of the other people she’d been intimate with, but there was something about George. Y/N felt comfortable with him, she felt safe enough to let her walls down; to be completely vulnerable to him.

“Hey, look at me,” he says softly. George waits for Y/N to pick her head up and look up at him before he continues. “You will never have anything to be embarrassed about with me. Ever.”

Instead of responding, Y/N kisses him desperately and reaches down to palm his hardening erection through his trousers. George groans into the kiss, his hips automatically rolling to meet her movements. Her lips start to kiss across his jaw and down George’s neck, nibbling lightly.

Y/N pauses her kissing so she can lean up and whisper into George’s ear. “Your turn,” she teases. George curses softly as she removes her hand from his crotch, and she places a quick kiss on his lips before she pushes him away slightly. Y/N slowly sinks down to her knees and starts to work at the button of George’s trousers.

“God you are gorgeous,” he says dreamily as he tangles his fingers in her hair.

Y/N can feel the blush creeping up her face as she undoes George’s trousers. She looks up at him as she pulls his trousers and boxers down together just enough to free his cock. Y/N slowly wraps her hand around the base of his cock, a smirk forming on her face when he groans.

George’s grip on her hair tightens as Y/N begins to slowly stroke him. “Merlin that feels good,” George moans, causing Y/N to increase her pace.

She leans forward and takes him into her mouth, her hand continuing to stroke what she can’t fit in her mouth. George is quite well endowed, and Y/N rubs her thighs together as she starts to bob her head, imaging what he’d feel like inside her.

“Such a good girl. Sucking my cock so well,” George praises. His breathing starts to get heavier as Y/N’s tongue starts to swirl around his sensitive head and when she looks up at him he has to look away to avoid coming right then and there. Y/N looks absolutely sinful with her lips wrapped around his cock, and George is sure that image will be imprinted in his brain forever.

George’s grunts echo throughout the passageway as Y/N starts to move faster, wanting George to fill her mouth with his release. She takes him down even further, gagging slightly when the tip of his cock hits the back of her throat. George uses the grip he has on Y/N’s hair to help guide her head, his hips starting to slowly meet her movement.

Y/N hums in approval and pulls her head off of his cock for a moment to catch her breath. She strokes him with her hand for a moment, her thumb circling his sensitive head. “Fuck my mouth George, please,” she begs, before swallowing him down again.

“Such a dirty girl aren’t you Y/N?” he teases as he wraps his hand in her hair, gripping it tightly. “Such a slut for my cock already, hm?” He lets out a groan as he starts to move her head on his cock, his hips meeting each stroke. “Fuck, darling. Your mouth feels amazing,” he moans, starting to fuck her mouth faster. “Good girl,” he praises as she gags around him.

Y/N can’t help but slip her hand under her skirt and into her panties, letting her index and middle finger toy with her clit. George’s cock is heavy against her tongue and his dirty words are sending shivers down her spine and into her core. She’s still sensitive from her previous orgasm, and she moans around George’s cock as drool drips down her chin. She starts to work her clit faster, her second orgasm quickly approaching.

“Getting close, darling,” he grunts. “Gonna shoot my load right into your pretty little mouth.” George watches as Y/N squirms, a wicked grin forming on his mouth. “Are you touching yourself darling?” A shiver runs down his spine and he slams his cock into the back of her throat harder when she hums around him. “Such a dirty little girl you are, Y/N.” His tone is patronizing, and it only turns Y/N on more. “Love having my cock in your mouth that much, hm?”

Y/N whines around his cock, her hips moving in time with her finger’s movements on her clit. She brings her free hand up under her shirt and bra so she can massage her breast, her fingers pinching her nipple. Her climax is building rapidly, and Y/N looks up at George her eyes full of arousal and desperation.

George bites his lip as he looks down at Y/N, knowing exactly what she needs. His strokes become shallow as his own orgasm approaches, a low moan falling from his lips. “Go on, darling. Be a good girl and come for me.”

Y/N’s whole-body shakes as she comes, her second orgasm even stronger than the first. Her lips clamp down around George’ cock even tighter, bringing him to his climax as well. He pulls her hair as he empties himself into Y/N’s mouth, her name spilling from his mouth in hard pants. She continues to toy with her clit lightly as aftershocks of pleasure continue to roll through her body.

George loosens his grip on her hair as he slowly pulls out, his mouth running dry as saliva and some of his cum dribble down Y/N’s chin. He watches as she swallows his release, his cock twitching at the sight. He tucks his cock back into his trousers, wincing as the head brushes up against the fabric. Y/N looks up at him as she wipes the drool from her chin, looking far too innocent after what just happened. Her lips are red and swollen, almost begging for him to kiss her.

He releases her hair and helps Y/N to her feet. His arms wrap around her waist and he brings their lips together. They kiss slowly and messily, both of them too tired to care. George licks into her mouth, not caring that he can taste himself on her tongue. They stand there kissing for a few minutes, only breaking apart when the need for air becomes too much.

“You think the coast is clear?” Y/N asks with a giggle, her voice hoarse.

George chuckles and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I certainly hope so, because I’m absolutely knackered and if I have to spend another minute in here with you after what just happened I’m not going to be able to control myself.”

Wednesday morning arrives far too quickly for Y/N’s liking. She had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, but when Daphne starts to shake her awake it feels like she hadn’t even slept at all.

“Five more minutes, mum, “ she groans. Her throat feels raw and Y/N can’t help but blush as the memories of last night run through her mind. She had wanted to confess everything to George as they snuck out of the passageway, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. As they stepped out into the empty hallway the haze of sexual tension around them broke, and when George headed off back to his dorm with nothing more than a wink and a kiss on the cheek Y/N’s stomach sank.

Y/N had felt nothing but pure joy after her and George’s activities and her heart felt as if it would beat out of her chest. She knew that she was in love with him, and after he had been so tender with her she was sure that he returned her feelings. But after he left her behind so quickly, she couldn’t help but think it had all been in her head.

“Five more minutes will turn to 10, which will turn into you missing breakfast. And you know how you get when you’re hungry, so get your ass out of bed,” Daphne scolds lightly.

Y/N groans but rolls out of bed, her heart heavy and her knees aching.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Daphne whispers to Y/N as they enter the Great Hall, gesturing towards Fred and George.

Y/N allows herself to look quickly, her heart rate increasing as her eyes pass over George. Memories of last night swim to the surface, and she swallows hard, willing them away. The twins have their heads together and they’re talking feverishly, clearly up to something. “Dunno really,” she answers, tearing her gaze away. “Probably planning their next prank or something.” Y/N and Daphne sit down with Adrian and Marcus and she grabs some toast, not really feeling up to eating.

“So, what are you gonna do?” Daphne asks as they start to eat.

Y/N gives her a look. “What am I gonna do about what?”

Daphne rolls her eyes. “Come one, it’s been what, two weeks since the twins have done something to you? They’ve gotta be over there cooking up some grand scheme against you.”

Y/N goes to respond, but she suddenly feels sick as George’s actions over the past few days start to make sense. He wasn’t in love with her, he was trying to embarrass her? Use her? Get information on her for him and Fred to use against her? She wasn’t exactly sure, but her heart sinks into her stomach. Whatever it was it couldn’t be good.

“I think I’m gonna head to Potions early,” she says suddenly, standing up. Adrian, Marcus and Daphne give her a look.

“You haven’t even eaten anything,” Adrian says, trying to pull her back down.

She bats his hand away and gathers her bag. “I’m not really that hungry. I’ll see you guys later.”

Without another word she’s heading out of the Great Hall, her friends and George all casting her back worried glances.

Y/N spends all day ignoring George despite his efforts to get her to pay attention to him. He spends all of Potions throwing rolled up pieces of parchment at her back, he tries to pull faces at her all during lunch and he spends most of charms slipping her notes. It had taken all of her willpower not to let him break her down. She’s so desperately in love with him that she’s almost willing to let him break her heart just so she can be close to him again.

“Finally, I’ve been looking for you all evening.”

Y/N doesn’t look up from her Herbology assignment as George takes a seat across from her. Her friends had been giving her worried glances all day, so after a quick dinner she tucked herself away in a corner of the library to avoid the confrontation she’s sure she’d get in the common room. She had figured she’d be safe from George as well, since Y/N is sure she’s never seen him, or Fred enter the library in the seven years they’ve been at school.

“What’s going on with you?” George asks softly when she doesn’t say anything. He’d been looking forward to seeing Y/N in the morning, and after her weird behavior at breakfast he had tried everything to get her attention.

Y/N glances at George quickly before she turns back to her assignment. “I could say the same to you,” she says coldly. When George doesn’t say anything Y/N sighs and puts her quill down, finally looking at George fully. “What were you and Fred talking about this morning? During breakfast.”

George taps his fingers against the table, his eyes starting deeply into Y/N’s. “He was asking me why I got back from my detention so late last night.” His cheeks are flushed pink and Y/N bites her lip to keep from smiling.

“What did you tell him? Did you tell him how easy I was? How desperate I was for you? How I touched myself? That I asked you for permission to finish?” she sneers, suddenly filled with rage.

George’s jaw practically drops to the table, his eyes widening in shock. “What? Why would I say any of that to him?” George asks, watching as Y/N starts to gather up her things.

“Because last night was just some big joke to you, wasn’t it?” she asks, as if the answer is obvious. “You don’t have feelings for me, you were just trying to get me into bed so you could have blackmail material or something. And I fell for it. Because I’m a big dumb idiot who is too in love to realize when she’s being played.”

Before George can even process what Y/N has just said she’s gone, tears streaming down her face and her heart broken in her chest.

“What’s wrong Y/N?” Daphne asks, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

She isn’t completely surprised that Daphne had come to find her. When Y/N returned from the library, she was full on crying. She had ignored her friend’s attempts to talk to her and stormed right to her dorm room so she could crawl into her bed and sob. Daphne starts to stroke her hair, and Y/N wipes away some of her tears.

“I’m in love with George Weasley,” Y/N mumbles into her pillow.

Daphne’s hand pauses. “Come again?”

“I’m in love with George Weasley,” Y/N huffs, turning over so she’s facing Daphne. Her whole-body tenses, waiting for Daphne to laugh or make some kind of snide comment. But it doesn’t happen. Instead Daphne starts to stroke her hair again as she wipes away some of her tears.

“Honestly that’d make me cry as well,” she says with a laugh, trying to get Y/N to smile. When it works and Y/N cracks a small smile Daphne continues. “So, what happened? Did he say something rude? Because if he did I swear to you I’ll have Adrian and Marcus break into Gryffindor tower and beat him up.”

Y/N can’t help but let out a quiet laugh. She sits up in bed, wiping away the last few tears. “I ran into him last night when I was doing my rounds. And Umbridge almost caught us so we ran and hid in this weird secret passageway and um,” she pauses, swallowing thickly. “We kissed. And fooled around a little. Or a lot.”

“And that’s why you’re crying? Was it bad? Did you fake your orgasm?” Daphne teases.

Y/N rolls her eyes as a blush starts to form on her cheeks. “No, that’s not it. It was quite enjoyable I’ll have you know,” she says playfully, shoving Daphne’s shoulder lightly. “It was what happened afterward.”

“He said something stupid, didn’t he? My offer still stands, I will have Adrian and Marcus go beat him up,” Daphne says her tone serious.

“He didn’t really say anything,” Y/N explains, choosing to ignore Daphne’s threats for now. “But you said it yourself this morning at breakfast. He was talking with Fred, probably planning some prank on me.” Y/N pauses to swallow the lump in her throat and blink away the tears that threaten to spill down her cheeks. “It was all probably just some prank or set up or blackmail or something. I mean why would he wanna be with me,” she says lamely, looking down at her hands.

Daphne scoffs and puts her finger under Y/N’s chin, forcing her to return her gaze. “If George Weasley doesn’t want to be with you then he is a big fat idiot. Y/N you are amazing. And beautiful and smart and way too nice for your own good. You may have questionable taste in men, but I’ve been snogging Marcus since third year so I’m not really one to judge.”

Y/N laughs and pulls Daphne into a hug. Her heart still aches for George, but she feels a tiny bit better knowing that she has Daphne on her side.

Despite the fact that Y/N has been ignoring George all day, she finds herself heading to the Room of Requirement on Wednesday evening for a DA meeting. There are nervous butterflies in her stomach as she approaches but she doesn’t turn back. The DA is one of the only good things she’s had going on this year, and she’ll be damned if she lets George Weasley ruin that for her. Y/N had felt his eyes on her all day, and she hates to admit that it made her feel lightheaded.

She stops outside of the room of requirement to collect herself. Y/N takes a few deep breaths, trying to clear the thoughts of George from her mind. She’s semi-successful and she holds her head high as she throws the door open and steps inside.

“What the fuck?” she says, her eyes wandering around the room as the door shuts behind her. Y/N had certainly not been expecting the scene around her when she walked in. The room is dimly lit, with most of the lighting coming from candles that are floating around the room. There’s no furniture or practice dummies in sight, and the only other person in the room is George. He’s standing smack in the middle of the room watching her, a small smile on his face.

“I couldn’t think of any other way to get you alone,” he says after a moment, reaching a hand out towards Y/N. “So, I had Hermione send an alert out to your Galleon and hoped that you would show up.”

Y/N walks further into the room cautiously, still unsure as to what exactly is going on. She stands a few feet away from George, resisting the urge to take his hand and fall into his chest. “Okay but why?.” She pauses, her eyes scanning the room again. “If this is some kind of elaborate set up and Fred is about to jump out of somewhere I swear to Merlin George I will kill you.”

George chuckles and shakes his head, taking a step towards Y/N. When she doesn’t flinch, he takes another one. “I promise you; Y/N. Fred is nowhere near here.” He bites his lip, looking at Y/N closely. “This is just me, desperately trying to fix whatever mess I got us into.” When she doesn’t say anything George continues, needing to fill the awkward silence of the room. “Tuesday night was incredible. Best night of my life, hands down. I thought, I thought things would be different with us, afterwards. But then you didn’t even look at me all day yesterday and last night in the library that stuff you said,” he cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I clearly did something wrong, but I’ve spent the past 24 hours thinking about everything I did, and I can’t seem to figure it out.”

“You didn’t say anything,” she says quietly after she lets George’s words soak in. When George raises his eyebrow in confusion she sighs. “On Tuesday, after everything that happened,” she clears her throat, trying to will the blush on her cheeks away. “When we were leaving you didn’t say anything. You just kind of left. I thought that it was just a one-time thing, that it didn’t mean the same to you as it did to me,” she admits quietly.

Y/N lets her eyes wander around the room, needing to look anywhere except for George’s face. Y/N likes to keep walls up around herself. She makes exceptions for her friends and her parents, the people she loves, but she keeps them up around others. She doesn’t like to show weakness, she doesn’t want to give people the opportunity to hurt her. On Tuesday Y/N had let all of those walls crumble to the ground the second George had kissed her and it felt incredible. She felt like she could truly be herself around him, and as much as she wishes she could build those walls up around her again it’s too late. Y/N has no choice but to stand here in this room and let George in.

“And then I just got all in my head,” she continues a moment later, finally letting herself look at George. Her heart is fluttering, and she can’t help but notice how good he looks. “When I went to breakfast that morning and you were whispering with Fred it looked like you guys were plotting something, like a prank or something. And it made me think that Tuesday was just some stupid prank. That you were gonna use the things I said against me, to embarrass me or something,” she mutters.

“Darling,” George starts, taking the last few steps to close the distance between them. He cups her cheek with one hand while the other reaches for one of hers. Y/N lets him grab her hand, and he intertwines their fingers. “I should have said something that night. There was so many things I wanted to say. But I didn’t want to overwhelm you. After that night we spent in detention I started to feel differently towards you. I knew you felt something too, but I wasn’t sure if you had realized it yet or not. So, when we left the passageway that night I wanted to give you time, to process everything.”

“I feel like such an idiot,” Y/N admits with a small smile. “I should have just said something instead of letting myself overthink it. I don’t like letting people in. But for some reason when I’m around you I can’t help but let you in. That night in detention I told you things not even Daphne knows. And then Tuesday, some of the things I said, I did,” she cuts herself off, a shiver running down her spine. “I’ve never let anyone see that side of me before and yet a few kisses from you had me blubbering like an idiot.”

“Blubbering like a wicked sexy idiot, darling,” George teases with a chuckle. He leans down and kisses her briefly. “I’m sorry, for not being clearer with my intentions.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but there’s a warm smile on her face. “And what are those intentions?”

Her eyes flutter closed as George kisses her deeply, both of his hands landing on her bum, giving it a tight squeeze. She moans into the kiss and lets George’s tongue in to explore her mouth. She wraps her arms around George’s neck and pulls him flush to her body. George pulls away suddenly, with Y/N trying to chase his mouth.

George chuckles when she pouts at him. “To answer your question, darling. First, I’m going to fuck you into the mattress over there like the dirty little girl you are.” George pauses, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s lips as a shiver runs down her spine. “And then I’m going to hold you close and whisper how much I love you into your ear.”

Y/N pulls George’s face down and presses their lips together hotly, kissing him desperately. She jumps up, her legs wrapping around his waist and his hands gripping her bum tightly. George carries her over to the bed that had appeared at some point in the past few minutes and throws her down on it. He loosens his tie and throws it off over his head and starts to work on the buttons of his shirt. Y/N watches his fingers move, practically drooling as his pale chest becomes more and more exposed to her.

“What are you waiting for? Permission,” George teases, his voice gravelly and his eyes dark. “Get naked,” he demands a moment later when she still doesn’t move. “Let me see all of you.”

George’s voice causes goosebumps to appear all over Y/N’s body and her core starts to ache. She can already feel herself getting wet, and the way George is looking at her as she rids herself of her clothes is only making it worse.

In a matter of moments, they’re both naked, and Y/N can feel her skin flushing under George’s gaze. He’s standing by the edge of the bed, slowly stroking himself as his eyes run over her naked body. Her body is aching for his touch, and she squirms under his intense gaze. “Please, George,” she moans, one of her hands coming up to toy with her breasts.

In an instant George is on top of her, kissing her messily as his hands touch every inch of skin they can. He bats away the hand that’s palming her breast so he can take over, his fingers starting to toy with her sensitive nipple. Y/N moans into George’s mouth, arching her back to press herself up into him harder. George practically growls at her actions and his other hand grabs her left thigh, forcing her legs apart.

“What do you want, darling?” he asks hotly, his lips trailing kisses down her neck. “My fingers?” He releases her thigh and starts to ghost his fingers up her it towards her folds. “My mouth?” He latches onto her neck and starts to lightly suck, causing a sinful whine to leave her lips.

Y/N tangles her fingers in George’s hair, tugging lightly as she squirms under his touch. “Both, please,” she begs, her breath coming out in hard pants. George’s fingers have finally reached her core, and his index finger has started to slowly circle her clit.

“Both, hm? What a needy little girl you’re being, Y/N,” he chides, his mouth continuing to trail kisses down her neck and over her chest. “But how can I say no? Not when you’re being such a good girl and asking so nicely.”

Y/N moans. George’s thumb has started to rub soft circles on her clit while his mouth wraps around her breast, sucking her nipple lightly. When George had called her a good girl at the beginning of term it had filled her with rage, but now as he slowly pushes his index finger inside of her tight walls she thinks she could come just from him calling her that alone.

“Fuck, George,” she whines, clenching around his finger as he curls it inside of her. She can feel his smirk as he kisses down her stomach. Her hips start to move off of the bed as he starts to slowly fuck her with his finger. His free hand flies to her hip and pins it down against the bed.

“Don’t be so impatient, darling. I’m going to take my time with you,” he scolds. He pulls his finger out slowly, and when he pushes it back in another has joined it, causing Y/N to gasp. “You sound so pretty, darling. Such pretty noises,” he praises.

George moves down the bed as his lips ghost over her hip so he can position himself better for what’s about to happen. He stops his movements on her pussy suddenly, causing Y/N to whine at the loss. He grabs her thighs and pushes them farther apart, so she’s spread open for him. “Such a pretty pussy you have, darling,” he groans, his eyes gazing over her dripping folds. Y/N tries to shut her legs, but George’s grip tightens on her thighs, keeping them open. “Don’t be shy, darling,” he teases.

Y/N is writhing in George’s grasp, one hand is toying with her nipples while the other grips the bed sheets. “George, please,” she begs again, needing him to touch her. George chuckles and suddenly his mouth is on her, lightly sucking on her clit. “Oh fuck,” she shouts, her hand leaving her breast to tangle in George’s hair.

George’s tongue starts to tease Y/N’s clit, wrapping around the bud slowly before pulling away and coming to lightly flick at it. He wraps his arm around her left thigh as she begins to move her hips, forcing her back down against the bed. “Gonna need to get some rope to tie you up, keep you nice and open for me,” he murmurs before putting his mouth back on her aching core.

“Holy fuck, George,” Y/N moans as he suddenly plunges two fingers into her heat. She can’t help the sounds that are coming out of her mouth as George pleasures her, images of George tying her up floating in her mind. George hums in laughter as his fingers curl and brush up against Y/N’s sweet spot, causing her to moan again.

Y/N can feel her orgasm approaching, can feel the arousal building in her stomach. She wiggles her hips, trying to move away from George, and a squeal falls from her mouth when he pulls her even closer to his face. She grips his hair tightly and her toes curl as her orgasm approaches. Y/N yanks the sheets hard, her mouth opening and shutting unable to form a coherent thought due to George’s relentless pleasure.

“George please,” she sobs, her eyes screwing shut from the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through her body. Her legs are shaking as George licks at her core, his fingers hitting the spot inside her that drives her crazy with every thrust. “I need you. I need you to, George, please,” she begs. She’s teetering on the edge of her release, just needing that one final push that only George can provide.

“Need me to what, darling?” he asks coyly as he pulls his face away from her pussy. His thumb takes over the assault on her clit his tongue had been doing before, starting to rub it in hard circles.

“Please,” she begs again, tears starting to leak out the side of her eyes. Y/N has never been this turned on in her life. Her body is trembling, her need for release overwhelming every part of her.

George presses a few kisses to the hot skin on the inside of her thigh to hide his smile. Y/N looks absolutely ethereal as she wriggles in his grasp, begging him to let her come. Her hair is splayed out on the pillow behind her, and her neck looks like it’s begging to be bit. Her whole body is flushed, and a sheen of sweat has appeared over her skin.

“You are absolutely gorgeous, Y/N,” he compliments as he situates himself on top of her again. He leans on his forearm and presses their lips together briefly. “Such a good girl, darling. Go on be a good girl, come for me.”

George kisses her again as she comes, groaning as her walls tighten around his fingers. Y/N’s whole-body shakes as she comes, and George continues to slowly rub her clit as she comes down from her high. With one final curl of his fingers he removes them from her heat.

“You are a goddess,” he murmurs against her lips before he pulls away.

Y/N opens her eyes, smiling up at George. “And you’re a bloody fucking tease.”

George laughs and rolls onto his back, his arm winding around Y/N’s waist to pull her on top of him. Y/N giggles in delight, pressing their lips together in a heated kiss. She lets her hand trail along his chest as they kiss, pausing as she reaches his groin. “Now see if I really was a good girl,” she mocks her fingertips dancing on the skin just above the base of his cock. “I’d touch you but.” She sighs and brings her hand back up to rest on George’s chest. “I’m feeling kinda naughty.”

“Bold tactic for a girl who was just begging me to let her come a few seconds ago,” George responds playfully, leaning up to press their lips together again. Y/N squeals when George pulls her fully on top of him so she’s straddling his waist. “I know I said I was gonna fuck you into the mattress but,” he says with a sigh when he breaks their kiss. “I don’t know if naughty girls deserve my cock.”

Despite the fact that she had just come a few seconds ago, Y/N’s pussy is aching again. She pouts down at George, rolling her hips. A satisfied smirk appears on her face when he groans. “What if I promise to be a good girl?”

George rolls them over so she’s underneath him. “I think I can make an exception.” Y/N laughs as George kisses her and winds her legs around his waist. George lines himself up with her entrance, breaking their kiss so he can look at her. “Ready?” When Y/N nods George pushes his hips forward and slowly enters Y/N.

“Oh my god, George,” she gasps as her hands come up to grip his shoulders. George doesn’t stop until his hips are flush against Y/N’s bum.

“Fucking hell you’re tight, Y/N,” he groans, burying his face in her neck. He lets out another groan as Y/N’s walls clench around him.

“Fuck me George, please,” she demands, squeezing his shoulders.

George chuckles into her neck and pulls out of her halfway before he slams back in, starting to slowly fuck her. “Since you asked so nicely,” he teases, pressing an open mouth kiss to her jaw.

For a few minutes all the noise that can be heard is Y/N and George’s combined moans as well as skin slapping on skin. George grabs Y/N’s leg and throws it over his shoulder so he can fuck into her deeper and the head of his cock is now rubbing her sweet spot with every thrust.

“Oh fuck,” Y/N moans, scratching her nails down George’s back. “Feels so good, George. ‘M already close.”

“Fuck me too,” he growls, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “You feel so fucking good, darling.” He presses a few kisses into the skin below her ear. “Go on, darling. Come for me when you’re ready. Didn’t even need to touch your little clit, did I? Such a good girl, coming from just my cock.”

George’s words tip Y/N over the edge and she throws her head back, George’s name falling from her mouth. Her walls tighten and twitch around George, causing him to reach his climax as well. He empties himself inside of Y/N, his hips slowly rolling into her to help them both come down from their highs.

Once George’s cock has stopped twitching and Y/N’s breathing starts to slow down, George carefully pulls out of her and collapses on the bed next to her. George opens up his arm and Y/N rolls into his side, burying her face in the crook of his neck. She peppers soft kisses to the sweaty skin as George starts to rub her back.

“It’s not fair, you know,” George says as Y/N trails a few kisses up his neck and across his jaw.

Y/N pecks his lips softly. “What’s not fair?” she asks with a chuckle.

George pouts at her and she kisses him briefly again. “Every time we get intimate you get to come twice, and I only get to come once. That’s totally not fair.”

Y/N laughs and buries her face in George’s neck again. “Well maybe if you were a good boy I’d let you come more than once,” she teases.

George’s fingers dig into Y/N’s side as he holds her in place, tickling her mercilessly. Y/N shrieks with laughter, desperately trying to wiggle away from George’s grasp. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she laughs, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. George tickles her for another moment before he stops, one of his hands resting on the small of Y/N’s back and the other grabs hers.

“I love you,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Y/N looks up at him and presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I love you too.”

The next morning as Y/N drags George over to the Slytherin table for breakfast she can hear Ginny shouting at Ron.

“I told you, you absolute numpty! You owe me a Galleon!”

#George weasley #george weasley smut #George Weasley imagine #George Weasley fic #george weasley x reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #george weasley x y/n #george weasley fanfic #George Weasley fanfiction #gw #golden

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juniorgman187 · 3 years

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Any Day Now (Reid Fic)

A/N: Plz imagine being impregnated by season 10 Spencer Reid. WHEWW CHILE

Summary: Reader’s pregnancy finally takes its toll on her, leaving both Spencer and Reader to navigate through rough waters from miles away. Category: Fluff, Soft-soft-soft angst, One-Shot Pairing: (POV)Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Content Warning: Pregnancy Word Count: 3.2k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

At first, it was nothing I couldn’t handle.

Multiplied mood swings? Understandable, her hormones were everywhere.

An ever-changing appetite? Great, at least now it wasn’t such a hassle for her to decide where to eat.

A suddenly much tighter FBI vest? Well, that’s what the adjustable velcro straps were for.

Again, nothing that I hadn’t already planned for. Even before I delved into parenting books galore, I had a pretty good general idea of what to expect. Not only because of JJ’s earlier pregnancy or Kate’s recent one, but more so because of my extensive knowledge of the human anatomy. This made riding the storm of (y/n)’s pregnancy easier ... until it didn’t.

It was somewhere in her 35th week that things finally got the best of her.

There was a linear increase of events that suggested things were taking a turn for the worse, so I slightly anticipated a steep decline to occur at any moment. For instance, soon after (y/n) started showing, I began to lose count of how many times I had to insert my hand between her seatbelt and her bump to create a gap just big enough so that the belt wouldn’t have such a suffocating restriction on her. Nor could I fully account for all the hours of sleep she’d lost tossing and turning, just trying to find a comfortable position where she wouldn’t be crushed by her own weight. And I certainly couldn’t remember, not even with my eidetic memory, how many times she’s almost walked out of the house completely barefoot after getting frustrated with her inability to put shoes on by herself.

In some sad way, I knew she wished to regain some normalcy in her life. Not that she regretted motherhood, but that she wished she didn’t have to experience so many small inconveniences that summed up to something larger than the life she was helping come into fruition.

She just wanted to drink coffee again without running the risk of a miscarriage. She wanted to climb up a flight of stairs without getting winded by the first few steps. She wanted to put on a tight shirt without looking exceptionally overweight. And most of all, she just wanted to keep working.

If she had to go to hell and back to stay in the BAU while pregnant, then to hell and back she went.

My wife, as stubborn as ever, had made me - and the entire team - promise not to baby her as soon as we revealed that we were expecting.

“I don’t want any of that ‘but you’re pregnant’ crap, got it?” She narrowed her eyes darkly at all of us, pointing an accusatory finger. “Anything you can do, I can do pregnant.”

And from that day on, she did what she vowed to do, what I knew she could do. She still chased after unsubs, shot all the bad guys, arrested the felons, but eventually - inevitably - it wore down on her.

The easiest effect I could identify was her drowsiness. It used to take her a while to fall asleep on the jet, and sometimes, she’d stay awake the entire flight. But after the grueling hours she’d endured during her pregnancy, we would barely board the plane before she knocked out. I think falling asleep in the seats gave her the comfort she couldn’t find lying horizontally in a bed. No one said anything, though, because she’d already made it explicitly clear that she didn’t want us to pay her any special treatment, which I understood. Nobody likes to be pitied, but after today’s incident, this went far beyond pity.

It was just plain concern.

“The doctor said I’ll be fine.” She grumbled, waving me away with a flick of her hand. However, seeing as she was currently lying in a hospital bed, donning a gown that only partially hid from me all the wires and pads that stuck to her body to monitor her health and relay it to the machines - she wasn’t fine. And I needed her to know that I wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was the team. (I didn’t tell her this because she would’ve quite literally took my head off, but they were all out there in the waiting room instead of working on the case).

“Emphasis on the future tense ‘will.’ You will be fine, but right now, you’re not.” I prepared myself to deliver the news I knew she didn’t want to hear. My voice became significantly quieter, reaching such a low decibel I wasn’t sure she’d even hear it, but maybe that was by design. She didn’t want to hear it as much as I hated to say it. “Maybe you should consider going on maternity leave now.”

Immediately, my wife shook her head with the biggest pout I’d ever seen. I could see it in the way her lip quivered that she was about to cry, no doubt because of the hormones, but especially because this job was her last piece of normality. She clung to it because it was all she had left to remind herself that she was still, in some capacity, the woman she was before.

“Spencer, please.” She begged, as if I could do anything. “I’m not ready to leave yet.”

I pursed my lips and looked away for a second to hide my own emotions. Seeing her cry was never easy, but being the cause for it made this even harder. I felt the formation of a lump in my throat and the pricking of tears in my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I croaked. “But I can’t let you keep risking your health,” I explained, neglecting to voice the final part of that sentence. ‘Or our baby’s.’ But I didn’t say that. How could I? It would’ve only guilted her further.

“Your blood pressure’s getting higher,” I explained, keeping my eyes steady on hers, not letting them stray to the machine that she clearly didn’t know how to read. But with one glance at the numbers, I already knew they weren’t good. I didn’t lead on just how bad they were, though. “You fainted today, and if you’d landed even a little bit differently, you would’ve ended up with a lot more than just a few scratches on your stomach.” That was the extent of my guilt-tripping. It didn’t feel right coming out of my mouth, but it was the only way I knew she would understand the severity of the situation.

“You were already planning on going on maternity leave next week, what’s a few days earlier?” I asked, briefly referring back to her obstetrician’s recommendation of not flying after her 36th week.

We both agreed that after week 36, she’d take her leave of absence since she couldn’t join us on the jet anyway. It was our ‘compromise.’ If she insisted on still going in the field, then she had to listen to the doctor’s orders and not fly for the last month.

“Spencer,” She whispered again, this time with tears running down her cheeks at the bat of her eyes. With the pad of my thumb, I gently wiped them away, wishing I’d never caused them to be there in the first place. “I can’t do this anymore.”

She never let on how difficult things had become for her. She never said it’s too much (and it must be too much some of the time). So when she finally admitted the burden her pregnancy had created, I could already sense its arrival. So without a second wasted, I pulled the guest chair right up next to her bed and sat in it while reaching for her hand. Despite the presence of the pulse oximetry on her index finger, I still took her hand between both of my own, not minding the gap that the device created.

“You are the strongest woman I know. There aren’t many pregnant women out there who can do what you’ve done these past eight months. They wouldn’t even think of it.” We shared a brief laugh, which lightened the atmosphere enough to encourage me to continue. “You are bearing our child, (y/n). Nobody else gets to do that. Not me. Not another girl. Just you. It’s only you who can truly give for our baby right now and you’re -you’re my girl ... and right now, I need you to take care of our girl, okay?”

She nodded rapidly with still glistening eyes. For the first time, that day, she stopped thinking her job was as an agent and started knowing her job was as a mother.

And a damn good one at that.

_ _ _

If there was anything I’d learned over the past years, it was that I should never expect my wife to follow the rules. Today was no exception.

She should’ve been in bed right now, taking it easy, but instead, she was standing right beside the jet, saying goodbye to each and every one of us before we boarded.

This would be our first flight without her.

“You take care, mama, okay?” Morgan told her, kissing her cheek before waving goodbye.

“I’m gonna miss you so much.” Kate sighed, engulfing (y/n) in a hug that I knew couldn’t have been comfortable with each of their bumps in the way, but they relished in it anyway. If I didn’t know any better, it looked like Kate was about to cry. Maybe that’s because their dynamic was different than any other. Their simultaneous pregnancies meant that they knew one another’s struggles far better than any of us could, so granted, it would be hard for Kate and (y/n) to be away from each other. They’d been in this journey together after all, in a way I couldn’t have been.

“Oh,” JJ sighed happily, taking (y/n) in her arms and swaying gently from side to side. “You are going to be the best mother ever.”

“Said the best mother ever.” (Y/n) remarked, laughing bittersweetly. It was something in her smile that let me know it was just for show.

Then, in one of the rarest moments of history, Hotch hugged (y/n), earning a slightly more real smile from her.

“Get some rest. You deserve it.” He whispered.

Not even a second after they pulled away did Rossi wait to take (y/n)’s face in his hands and plant two kisses, one on either cheek.

“If you need anything, you call us.” He ordered, mimicking a drill sergeant.

And though, I wasn’t ready, I found myself making my way to her, getting ready for one of the hardest goodbyes.

She wrapped her arms around my torso and let her head press against my heart. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do this without you.”

For the first time that night, she wasn’t faking a smile or putting on a face. I knew when she was saying goodbye that she was only laughing and grinning for everyone else, but underneath it all, she was experiencing a great sadness that no one else could understand. Everyone was just as excited as we were for this baby, if for no other reason than I was finally going to have a family of my own. That I’d finally found the people who were going to be there for me forever. And maybe it was that knowledge, the knowledge of how happy this baby made others, was the reason she never let it show just how hard it was for her. Otherwise, it’d ruin the fantasy. And so she wore happiness like a mask to hide the profound pain that would’ve wounded our spirits.

“Hey, I’m not leaving you forever,” I whispered somberly, hugging her a little tighter. “And if anything happens, I’m just a phone call away.” As much as I tried to believe my words, neither of us could find the truth in it. Even I knew I wasn’t just a phone call away. I’d be miles and miles and miles away from two of the best things that have ever happened from me.

She inhaled sharply and pulled away from me, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the hope that I hadn’t already seen them. “I should probably let you go now.” She laughed lightly.

Our bodies parted, but I had yet to let go of her hand. I shook it up and down gently as I told her, “I love you.”

She shook my hand back in just the same manner. “We love you, too.”

A smile crept onto my face after the immediate realization of what she meant.

My girls.

At last, when I walked up the steps to the jet, I finally let go of her hand at the last moment possible, and even after we released hands, our arms stayed outstretched for a passing second as the distance between them got further and further. With the warmth of her hand leaving mine vacantly cold, I watched as she replaced it on the very top of her stomach, as if to say, “We’ll be okay.”

_ _ _

“Reid?”

I refocused my vision to Morgan who was calling my name. From the look on his face, I realized he probably tried to get my attention multiple times before this.

“Sorry, what did you say?” I shook my head to clear my mind, but it didn’t work. A part of me was still in another world, lingering in thought.

My mind would never shut up about her, but it seemed like today, it was firing all these things at me at 2x speed. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact event that I felt guilty for, but really - take your pick. It could’ve been anything, it could’ve been everything.

It could’ve been the fact that I was here and she wasn’t. It could’ve been the fact that in those last moments I saw her, I realized just how strong she was being this entire time, and how I was asking her to be even stronger, as if the weight of the world wasn’t enough. It could’ve been the realization that she was struggling this entire time, but never asked for help, thinking that she’d be a burden - the very thing she made us promise not to let her be. That is the reason after all, that she told us not to let her pregnancy be an excuse for anything. Because if she didn’t contribute anything, then she’d be holding us back - she’d be dead weight. I knew that, and yet, what did I do?

Nothing. I walked away and boarded that fucking jet like a brainless idiot.

I should’ve stayed with her.

Morgan’s eyes turned to slits while he tossed the manila folder onto the table, seemingly setting it aside so it wouldn’t be a distraction from his question. “What’s going on, man?”

I shrugged, pretending not to know exactly what he was talking about. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just zoned out, that’s all.”

Clearly exasperated, he said, “Come on, man. Don’t do that. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Whether it was defeat or a sweet surrender, I tucked my hands in my pockets and let my head hang low, eyes glued to the ground. Unexpectedly, I was sniffling and wiping my nose before I could register that tears were already coming. “I’m just worried about her.”

It felt stupid to admit, especially considering I saw her only 8 hours, 37 minutes, and 12 seconds ago. But the absence of her and our baby was growing more and more apparent with every passing moment I spent in this office without her. Usually, she would be here to keep me company, bothering me while I located the comfort zone - not that she ever really did bother me. I quite liked her presence.

Sometimes, when I was left alone, the room would get too quiet, and it’d just be me and my thoughts. And maybe she knew how scared of my own mind I was when it wandered, so she never let me be alone with it - never let the room get too quiet. She would talk and talk and talk, and I could never get tired of listening. Her voice was like white noise. If she was here, things would be as they always were. I would be standing at the map, and she’d no doubt be sitting in a chair, rubbing gentle circles around her protruding stomach as I felt her watching me intently.

“Found it.” I would say, drawing a big red circle around the zone.

To which she would say, “You’re a genius.”

Sure, I’ve been called ‘genius’ a million times before, but it never felt the same as when she said it.

Morgan could see the invisible pain in my chest, and he pulled me in by my shoulder to wrap his arm around me. It might not have looked like it, but it was the most reassuring hug he could’ve given me. I can’t explain it, but it felt like (y/n)’s warmth and love had possessed his body and he was radiating it now.

“I know it’s scary, man, and honestly, we all wish we could be with her right now. But trust me when I tell you she’s not alone.” He treaded carefully with his words, and I could tell there was something he wasn’t saying but that wanted me to figure out.

I didn’t even have to verbalize my question because soon enough, when Morgan pulled back, his phone began to ring.

“It’s Garcia.” He told me, though he didn’t answer the call, which was weird enough. But then he gestured to the computer on the table, and so I half-heartedly watched as the screen changed from the blue background to a video call with Garcia.

And who else would be sitting beside her but my wife?

“Look who I’ve got with me!” Garcia squealed, clapping her hands together excitedly.

“You’re supposed to be on bedrest.” I playfully scolded her.

“I was! I was, I promise. But after I said goodbye to you guys, I went home and got four hours of sleep, and then I went to my doctors appointment, but then when I was driving home, I thought why would I go back there when I’ve got everything I need right here?” She motioned around Garcia’s lair, even lifting up a hospital-go bag that Penelope no doubt compiled just for her. If there was anyone I trusted to take good care of her, it was Garcia.

Like I said before, I learned to expect (y/n) not to follow the rules. So naturally, she found a way to still work even on maternity leave.

At this point, the rest of the team neatly filed into the room, erupting in cheers of excitement at the sight of (y/n) in the bat cave.

“Is everything okay?” JJ worriedly asked.

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine! Baby looks good, my blood pressure’s getting better, so we’re doing okay.” She smiled proudly, and so did I. That was her first appointment on her own, and though it couldn’t have been easy, especially this late in her term, she did it anyway. Because that’s my girl.

“When are you due, again?” Kate asked (y/n), earning an enthusiastic, “Doctor says if she’s on time, New Year’s Eve!”

It never failed to make me smile whenever she brought up her due date. She was always excited to proclaim that our daughter might be brought into the world at the exact time we brought in the new year.

“But if I’m early, it could be any day now.” She explained.

Here’s where I had to cut in. “Hopefully not any day now! I don’t wanna miss it.”

“You won’t!” She promised through a wide grin.

Something else you should know about my girl? She always keeps her promises.

And on January 1, at exactly 12:00 - just as promised - I had the privilege of watching (y/n) deliver a healthy 6 pound and 9 ounce baby girl.

The weight of my whole world.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Can you tell I love it when someone says “my girl”? I think that’s my favorite pet name ever.

taglist: @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny

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#spencer reid #spencer reid pregnant #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #juniorgman187 #any day now

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

prompt request! “I’ve never been anyone’s anything.” “You’re everything to me.” - with Frankie 🥺

I hope you enjoy! I am so soft for Frankie!

Frankie x Fem!Reader

No Warnings

»»————-　♡　————-««

This was the hardest, no scratch that, worst time of the year.

It wasn't that you hated the holidays, no they weren't so bad themselves, it was just...everything else.

It was hard to constantly smile and be happy when you were single and alone during the holidays. Again. Year after painstaking year.

The whole single thing wasn't the worst part either, it was just...the fact that everything seemed to remind you of that seemingly the world was coupled up while you were by yourself. That and the fact that every family member in the world seemed to ask the same questions every year at your holiday gatherings.

Who are you seeing?

When are you settling down and getting married?

When are you going to have children?

The whole lot of it was enough to exhaust you, mentally, spiritually, and physically and often maybe you contemplate avoiding you any holiday gathering all together. Yet you still managed to drag yourself to them and get through it all, plastering on a fake smile as you politely answered their questions. Your answers were always short and to the point, but you still remained polite...despite the fact that you wished the ground would swallow you up whole.

Maybe this year you would just skip everything. But then you'd have to answer as to why you weren't with the family. Shit.

It was a catch-22.

But there was another idea that quickly crossed your mind. It wasn't the best, you probably should have just let it go, but something inside you was just nagging at you and telling you to do it.

Before you knew it, your phone was in hand and you had dialed Frankie's number. Sometimes you were beyond thankful for your best friend.

"Hey bee," he answered after a few rings, his voice immediately soft and gentle, causing your heart to settle and a sense of peace wash over you.

"Hi Frankie," immediately a sense of unease and nerves washed over you as you realized just exactly what you were asking of him. You closed your eyes and let out a soft sigh and decided to just do it. It was now or never, "can I ask you for a favor? Kind of a big one..."

"Shoot," you could hear a note of concern in his voice as he came to the conclusion that something was up, "is everything okay?"

"Yeah," you swallowed the lump in your throat, "I just...will you come with me to my family's holiday party next weekend?"

"Of course," he laughed lightly; it was a weird thing of you to ask him or completely out of the blue, he would often go with you to family things.

"Umm, there's a catch," you blurted, "I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend."

"Oh. Oh?" a stunned silence met you on the other end.

"Yeah," you feigned a laugh, hoping he wouldn't suddenly back out, "its just that...I don't know if I can handle another year of everyone asking me why I'm single and whatnot. They already know you and love you so it would be easy."

"Okay," he answered after a few awkward, tense beats of pause, "yeah, we can...we can definitely do that."

"Thank you so much, Frankie," you let out a sigh of relief, "I owe you big time. I love you so much!"

"Yeah...just let text me all the details later," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "umm, I have to go now. I'll talk to you later."

"Sounds good," you already felt so much better, "talk to you soon!"

»»————-　♡　————-««

By the time your family Christmas party rolled around, you were feeling an odd mixture of emotions. Happy, because you wouldn't be alone and your best friend would be by your side. Relieved that you could dodge the annoying questions from your family. And yet, you were also feeling a sense of...nerves?

As you prepared to go, taking a long hot shower and indulging in some self care an odd sense washed over you. Slipping on the pretty dress you'd picked out, hoping Frankie would like it too, you suddenly found yourself nervous realizing that he was the cause of your nerves. Although only posing as your boyfriend for the night, part of you couldn't help but wonder would it be like if he really was your boyfriend. You wished he was; you wished you could call him yours. But no; he was just your handsome friend that you were hopelessly in love with.

Bummer.

As you finished doing your hair and make up to just how you liked it, a knock came at your door before Frankie opened it and announced himself.

"In here!" you called out to him as you listened to his heavy footfalls, taking a deep breath to steady and remind yourself that was just your best friend. Nothing more and nothing less.

But as you sat finished putting in your earrings, you heard the creak of the floor followed by a small, "wow."

"Hi Frankie," you turned and offered him a smile before almost losing whatever bit of cool you had at the sight of him. He was handsome as ever, dressed in a well fitting pair of pants and button up, his dark curls styled elegantly and not hidden under his signature hat for once. He was perfection.

"Wow yourself, Frankie," you beamed at him, "you look wonderful - handsome."

"This?" a tinge of pink flushed his cheeks as he tried to play off your compliment, "its nothing much...but thank you."

"I'll just be a minute and then we can go," you went to back to the mirror and studied yourself, making sure you looked exactly how you wanted. It was hard to keep your eyes off of Frankie; he looked so handsome and sweet it was almost hard to define the line between remembering he was a friend and wanting nothing more than to have him. Instead you tried to focus on your reflection, "thanks again for doing this Frankie. I owe you big time, maybe dinner and movie marathon this weekend? I'll even let you pick the movies."

"Yeah," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "that sounds good. Umm...can I ask you something?"

"Anything, you know that."

"Why me? Why do you even need a fake boyfriend to bring? You've gone alone or with me as friends..." his question made your heart stop as you looked up and met his eyes in the mirror. He looked just as confused as you felt.

"Firstly, why not you? You're my best friend, and we both know you're a total catch," you turned around and held out your hand as if to say obviously, "and I dunno. I just can't handle another year of being ambushed with questions about why I'm single and how I'll end up as a spinster. I'd just like it to be different for one year...to feel like I actually mean something to someone. Even if it just for a night."

"What do you mean?" an offended and upset look crossed his features as he put his hands on your shoulders and turned you to face him. You said too much. Too damn much and now you felt like a fool that was just about to cry, "do you have any clue how much you mean to me? And so many others?"

"I know, obviously you're my best friend," you feigned a weak laugh as you tried to work your way around this conversation, "I lo- care about you too. Tremendously. But I mean...I've been never been anyone's anything. I've never had someone love and care for me, its always been a boyfriend or so here and there but nothing real. And I know its stupid to be so upset about it, but for just one night I want to feel like maybe I could be that for someone. Maybe one day I will...I dunno, Frankie. I probably sound like an idiot. Either way...I just...thank you."

Before you could move away or do anything, Frankie gently, ever so tenderly, reached up and wiped away the tears that had rolled down your cheeks. You allowed your gaze to meet his and found yourself staring at wide, nervous eyes.

"I can't believe you think that about yourself little bee," he whispered quietly, "you are everything to me. Everything."

"Frankie-"

"Listen, please, just let me say what I have too or I'm afraid I never will," he slid his hands down your arms and let himself inhale and exhale deeply. There was a best of silence before he steadied himself, "I am so in love with you. I have been for a long time...I just never...I couldn't bring myself to say it. But I have never just thought of you a friend."

"You don't have to-"

"I mean it," he insisted as he took your hand and pulled you closed to him, "I wish I would have told you a long time ago. But I couldn't just listen to you say these things when they're not true."

"Frankie..." you paused as you looked at your entwined hands, contemplating your next action. You brought your other hand to his cheek, gently touching his skin. There was a moment of hesitation before you decided to dive right in and kiss him.

It was a slow, sweet thing as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled your frame against his. A hand was around your waist and the other cradled the back of your head as you carded a hand through his dark locks. It was like there was no learning curve, no trying, just like it was meant to be. When you pulled apart, both of you reluctantly, you couldn't help the megawatt grin that was on your face. The matching one on Frankie's face was enough to send butterflies fluttering in your belly.

"I umm...I love you, Frankie," you stated the obvious as the two of you laughed, "I guess that's kind of obvious, huh?"

"I like hearing it," he admitted as you felt a flush of warmth run over your face, "why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Why didn't you?"

"Nervous," you both admitted at the same time. You shook your head, wishing you hadn't been such a fool for so long. But before you could lament anything, Frankie quickly captured your lips for another kiss, this one almost shy, but still saccharine.

"You better stop because I could get used to that," you teased as he just grinned.

"I will kiss you every day then," he promised, "and then some."

"I'd like that," you agreed, "I'd like that a lot."

"You're not the only one," he reached for your jacket and helped you put it on, "but we better go before we're late. You know how your mom gets."

"Is it bad I don't want to go? Can we just stay here instead?"

"Don't you want to go and introduce everyone to your boyfriend?" he said with another gentle peck, "I'm sure they're dying to know who it is."

"Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?" you agreed as you helped straighten his shirt, "are you free after? Tonight?"

"For you? Always, mi vida," he promised as he kissed the top of your head, "now let's go and have fun. Everything else can wait for later."

"Hey Frankie?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you," you whispered softly as he seemed to melt at your words.

"I love you too, bee. Always and forever."

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #i love him so much #soft hours start now and end never 🥺

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thesunicarusfellfor · 3 years

Text

Regeneration Potion (Plat!C!Tommyinnit x Witch!F!Reader)

TW: Mentions of Dream's actions during Tommy's exile INCLUDING his un alive moment. YES I KNOW TUBBO CAN HAVE MORE THAN ONE FRIEND. SHUSH. PLOT.

Reader wears a dress most of the time. Also Tommy is around 17 (I forgot his canon age sorry)

I might make this a series!

☆Tommy P.O.V☆

His hotel was taken over.. His house was practically empty.. He was stared at everywhere he went.. His best friend replaced him instantly without much of a second thought.. His brother was dead, his other brother probably wanted to spill his guts for switching sides... He had... Nothing...

He had died for God's sake! Sure, he didn't expect people to immediately bawl their eyes out at the news, but he didn't expect to be brushed off so damn quick! He didn't expect the person he betrayed his brother for to replace him so quickly! He didn't... he... Was... Tubbo really his friend? He exiled him without checking up on him... He... He moved on so.. quick..

Standing over the giant crater once known as L'manberg, now covered with a thick sheet of glass... He wrapped his arms around himself and gave a sigh. In the distance, he could see Ranboo and Tubbo running around, most likely gathering materials for Sam Nook...

Gritting his teeth tightly, he felt a familiar burning behind his eyes before he stood up from a pile of dirt he claimed as a temporary chair. It took all of his power not to scream in emotional agony as he stormed away from the sight of his old best friend with someone else who he claimed as his new bestfriend.

Don't turn back...

With a few iron ingots and a low durability netherite sword to his name, Tommy walked as quickly as he could away from the memories. The sacrifices. The pain. The lonely feeling...

He had easily walked for a few hours, trying his hardest to find an area completely secluded from everything and everyone.

If they moved on once... They can move on twice..

He wanted to hold on.. He wanted to keep every little memory and object that he found comforting... But now... Everything he looked at caused a sharp pain to jolt through his heart...

He glanced up at the biome around him, only to frown slightly. It was a Dark Forest... But there was many problems..

He knew there were some large mushrooms, but he had never seen massive flowers bigger than a mansion! Everything... Felt weird... Somethings were incredibly varied in sizes! He spun around in awe as he stared at the different sized flowers and mushrooms scattered around him. Then... fear struck into his heart again...

Wilbur... He told him a story about a forest far to the north of L'manberg... Trees bigger than the eye could see, mushrooms taller than a house or smaller than a fingernail, flowers being anywhere from a millimeter tall to miles high into the air, all because of the land was protected by a Witch.

In the story, Wilbur said that only the lost and lonely would find that forest out of desperation to find salvation...

The Forest of the Forgotten...

His lips parted in surprise and he spun around to exit the land, in fear of upsetting the witch... Only to find a silhouette standing against the light a few inches away from him.

A not so manly scream tore from his throat and he hurriedly threw himself backwards, raising his arms above his head as he landed on the ground, "I'm sorry, Dream! I promise not to wander off again! Please don't take my stuff! Please I don't have anything left! Please...! Please!" He begged, tears spilling from his eyes as he scrambled backwards until he hit a tree. Tommy didn't even hear the foot steps wandering closer until a purple light rose into view.

He took a few gasps for air as he slowly lowered his hands. 'Dream's in prison. He's not here. He's not gonna hurt you again..' He carefully rose his gaze, only to see...

A young woman... She looked... Around his age!

She was kneeling on the ground a few feet away from him, just... Watching him. A black pointy hat was balanced on her (h/l) (h/c) hair that was nicely framing her (s/t) face. Her eyes were analyzing his every movement as they surged with purple flames... But they weren't threatening or violent... They were curious but calm..

He stared at her for a solid few seconds before realizing that the soft purple glow was coming from a ball of coloured fire in her hand. Mesmerized by the energy, Tommy hardly noticed when a dull pink glow appeared in his vision, only when the woman made effort to talk, did he notice.

"I... Don't know who Dream is.. But, I'm not here to take your stuff. That's a promise." She smiled softly, and moved her hand that held the pink glow closer to him. It... Was a Regeneration Potion. "Here, you look a little... Uhm... How do I say this nicely... Torn up...?"

Tommy couldn't hold back a frown as he rubbed his eyes free of tears. He forgot that his injuries from Dream hadn't healed yet... And probably wouldn't be healed for a long time. "Thanks... I guess.." He grumbled in an attempt to save whatever dignity he had left.

While he was considered naive, he wasn't stupid. He knew not to trust strangers immediately, so he uncorked the bottle and smelt it as he analyzed the colour to make sure it was really regeneration potion. At first, he wasn't going to drink it, but he quickly remembered that it wasn't like he had anything to lose, so he took a small sip.

It was dangerously sweet, much sweeter than Phil or Techno's potions, but it definitely wasn't awful and it for certain wasn't poison. He rolled his shoulders as he continued to sip at the potion while she stood up.

Dusting her black robe and dark (f/c) dress of any dirt, despite them being already dirty and a bit tattered, the (h/c) woman stood up and continued to clean the dirt off. "It will be getting dark soon... I'm not much of a fighter, so I will not be able to fend for the both of us if need be. Do you have a shelter nearby or would you like to seek refuge with me for the night?"

Did this crazy woman not know the meaning of stranger danger?

☆Your P.O.V☆

No matter how much you threw yourself into your studies, the looming loneliness never seemed to leave you..

Keeping to your daily routine, you begrudgingly lifted yourself out of bed and sat down at your vanity, glaring at your reflection that bared knotted hair and sleepy (e/c) eyes. Your non dominant hand stretched out towards your closet and watched as your irises lit up a bright surging purple, activating your magic. Your dominant hand began to run a brush through your hair while your other hand controlled the magic that was currently being used to sort through the row of clothes in your closet. Once you found an outfit that you deemed adequate, you made a quick gesture with your hand that caused the clothing to float onto your bed.

It didn't take very long to get ready, I mean, come on, you were in a large forest miles away from the closest village! It's not like you were going to be seeing anyone for a few more centuries.

Your house was cozy and rather small, but it housed you and your black cat Salem comfortably. It was nice and quiet where you lived.. Albeit dark and lonely..

The trees often covered the sun and prevented you from knowing what time it was, but you had stopped caring about the date long ago. It never mattered to you anyway.

"Yeah, yeah. Quit meowing. You act like you haven't eaten in a year." You rolled your eyes at the dramatic feline as you prepared your own breakfast first. Salem kept meowing loudly, standing beside her food bowl and swatting it every so often until you used your magic to toss a fish to her. "You done with your whining now? Big baby."

You rolled your eyes as you sat down with your bowl and quickly ate the fruits you had sliced up. Downside to living here, you primarily survived off of fruits and berries because animals rarely wandered into the forest, and if they did, well you kept them for their resources like milk or eggs or wool.

With a small sigh, you got up and washed your bowl, via magic so you didn't have to feel the burning sensation of the water on your skin, as you contemplated what you were going to do today.

Eventually you decided on going to walk through the forest to find more animals or scavenge for more fruits. Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you double checked that it was stocked up with healing and regeneration potions just in case, only to throw your shoes on. Waving good bye to your lazy annoying cat, that you still love regardless, you shut the door and walked down the path.

The silence was normal... But god it was deafening when something stepped on a branch or when one of your chickens decided to give a particularly loud squawk, but it did indeed heighten your senses.

Giving a sigh, you rose your hand and a purple pulse flew from your hand then trailed down your body and travelled through the forest. Your magic didn't detect anything out of the ordinary except for once thing near the entrance.

"Ah.. God.. Please don't be a zombie.. I'm not a fighter.." You whispered under your breath before setting off towards the untouched and overgrown entrance of the forest.

Arriving to the main path, you looked over a little bit to see a tall blond male spinning around in absolute awe of the forest.

He then took a sharp breath and spun around, almost immediately coming face to face with you. The loudest scream you had ever heard left the boy and he quickly stumbled backwards until he fell to the ground and hit a tree, "I'm sorry, Dream! I promise not to wander off again! Please don't take my stuff! Please I don't have anything left! Please...! Please!" He practically cried apologies while he curled into a wall.

'What kind of reaction was that?!' You thought curiously as you kneeled down a few feet in front of him. Assuming that the dark had freaked him out, you summoned a ball of fire and held it out, using the time to study the strange boy. His dirty shirt was ripped and torn in several places, his skin was decorated with mud, soot, cuts, bruises and scars and his cheeks were damp with tears. His breath was turning into gasps as his thin frame shook violently.

"Hey... Are you okay?"

He didn't seem to hear as he began murmuring quietly to himself, rocking back and forth a small bit to calm himself down. After a few moments, he lowered his arms and stared blankly at the magic in your palm.

Seeing the injuries on his pale skin, you dug into your bag and pulled out a glowing pink potion before holding it out to him. He didn't seem to notice it until you cleared your throat. "I... Don't know who Dream is.. But, I'm not here to take your stuff. That's a promise." You smiled as politely as possible, and moved your hand that held the potion closer to him. "Here, you look a little... Uhm... How do I say this nicely... Torn up...?"

The male grumbled a bit under his breath but looked genuinely thankful as he took a small sip of the potion. After deeming it wasn't poisoned, he began to take larger drinks of it.

"It will be getting dark soon... I'm not much of a fighter, so I will not be able to fend for the both of us if need be. Do you have a shelter nearby or would you like to seek refuge with me for the night?"

Honestly... The face he made amused you quite a bit...

#tommyinnit #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit x you #tommy mcyt #tommyinnit mcyt #dreamsmp #tommy dreamsmp #dreamsmp x reader #dsmp x reader #reader insert #x reader

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crescentsteel · 3 years

Text

Keeping a Secret - Part 6

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn wc: 7.1k

Part 5 || Part 7 || masterlist

[a/n]

I’m sorry for the slow update (As you know, I finished my other mini series last week and I was just a ball of exhaustion, until now tbh)

I think we’re halfway along the story now. I think. Lmao.

AO3 link is on the masterlist’s page.

Let me know if you want to be part of the taglist uwu

No one budges - not Tsukishima, not the team, not even you. You scram the insides of your brain, trying your absolute hardest to come up with a panic-stricken solution on how to remedy the carelessness brought by your surge of pride from winning.

You can feel your heart pounding on your chest. Or maybe it's Tsukishima’s against yours. You can’t tell at this point and you don’t bother trying to. You push your cognitive skills to its maximum as you strive to think for a fix for your current predicament.

Luckily, you’re not a university scholar for nothing.

You release Tsukishima and open your arms wide to the next person you lay your eyes on.

“Kyou-kun! Good job,” you manifest the joy on your face as you come up to Kyoutani for the similar hug you just gave Tsukishima.

Like Tsukishima, Kyoutani also stills when you embrace his perspiring body. Kyoutani is not a touchy person, but unlike Tsukishima, you know he’s fond of you. So he doesn’t push you away. Rather, he awkwardly pats you at the back.

“T-thanks,” he says with his low, raspy voice. You beam at him and move on to the next player until you’ve hugged all six on the court.

When you come back to the benches, there’s an organized line of the rest of the Sendai Frogs.

You blink quizzically for a few seconds, wondering why, until you realize that they’re waiting for their turn as well.

“Aww, you guys!” you gush dotingly at how adorable they are. Yet, you can’t indulge them.

“Maybe next time? You need to line up already,” you remind them. They all groan downcastedly, but Coach Mira castigates them immediately.

“What the hell are you all sighing for? You won. Stop dawdling around and fall in line over there, not here!”

The guys snap out of it and do as they’re told. Before Coach Mira joins them, she shoots up an eyebrow at you, probably looking for an explanation for your behavior.

“Sorry, Coach.” You chuckle as you apologize for getting the team a bit sidetracked, but provide no reason why you did so. “Won’t do it again,” you supplement the apology.

She lets it go casually and lines up with the team as well.

Once the match is officially done, you head over to the restroom. You enter one of the cubicles quickly and lock its door, you knock your head on it.

‘What is wrong with you, you dumb bitch!’ you lambaste yourself while staring at tiles with petrified eyes as you replay the scene again.

When you made the deal with Tsukishima, you were confident that there wouldn’t be problems with hiding what you two have. He is one of your athletes first and foremost; that hasn’t slipped out of your mind. Yet for one moment there, you blurred the line that you and Tsukishima had established.

You got cozy with him when you’re not in private--when you’re not supposed to. It was just a hug, but still, it was something when you’ve made the whole Sendai gymnasium your audience.

You’re the one who even assured Tsukishima that no one will know about your set-up. Tough luck, you’re also the first one to mess up.

You bang your head on the cubicle door again. The sound of your frustrated groan echoes through the whole bathroom. After a while, you take a deep breath and unlock the cubicle. You go back out to the halls.

When you turn left to head for the bus, you’re startled at the presence of the blonde that was just in your mind. Tsukishima is there, leaning against the wall next to the door you emerged from.

“Fuck! You scared me,” you exclaim.

“Tell me about it,” he replies with a straight face. Despite the nonchalance, you know there’s meaning behind his short retort.

You scan the area, looking for any other member of the team who might be present. When you see none, you drag Tsukishima outside to a secluded area at the side of the gym. Once there, you check around again just to be sure no one will pass by.

Tsukishima just watches you acting in distress, waiting for whatever it is you’re going to say. Obviously it’s important enough to you that you tugged him all the way here. Once you’re done confirming that the coast is clear, panic sets in your face.

You clutch his jacket and start lamenting. “I’m so stupid, Tsukki! Oh God. They’re gonna find us out. We’re screwed!”

He thought that you were just going to explain and apologize for your slip-up earlier. He was stupefied when you did it. He’d probably be giving you an earful right now had you not resolved your mishap before it became an object of inquiry to the others. Admittedly, he was still planning to scold you a bit. However, seeing you this freaked out about it makes him change his mind..

“I’m so sorry!” you go on as you drive yourself deeper to hysteria.

He can’t understand why you’re having this kind of reaction. You solved the problem. You hugged five huge, sweaty men to make up for it. That was a convincing distraction for testosterone-filled players who just won a match.

“Can you calm down? I do-”

“Maybe we should stop it already,” you suggest strongly, cutting him off as perturbation clearly clouds your judgement.

This throws him off. The idea didn’t cross his mind at all. He was just going to reprehend you to be mindful, not call off the agreement you two made.

He doesn’t mind it anymore - kissing you. Sometimes, they’re more enjoyable than he initially anticipated them to be. Most importantly, they’re harmless. They’re just meaningless kisses born out of what little attraction you two have for each other. No one is getting out of line. You don’t go beyond kissing. You both act like the deal doesn’t exist unless it’s just the two of you in your room.

That’s why he is willing to let your mistake go, apart from the fact that you were successful in covering it up.

But instead of contesting your suggestion, he says, “If you say so.”

Even though he’s accepted that kisses from you are allowable, if you want to back out from it, why the hell should he stop you?

“Right??” you persistently convince him even though he basically said yes already.

“Right,” he presses on as well to satisfy your apparent need for him to agree with you.

His answer effectively calms you down as you let go of his jacket and sigh a breath of relief. You swiftly regain composure and face him with your trademark sassiness. “Awesome,” you say with a reassured smile.

“You go ahead first so Coach won’t ask me to chew your ass for taking too long to get on the bus.”

“And you?”

“I’m the manager. I’m always the last to get on the freaking bus.”

He turns around and walks back to the bus. That’s strange. He thought you love taking advantage of every opportunity there is for you to pick on him. He might be wrong.

He can be sure about one thing though: you really are the manager who looks out for everyone, including him.

Maybe that’s why it bothers you so much. Above all else, you are their manager. So when you acted upon something other than such in the court, you lost your cool.

Oh well.

It’s not as if scrapping the deal off is a loss of any kind. He’s gained some sort of fun from it. That’s that. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Tsukishima knocks for the second time. He wouldn’t have bothered knocking since it’s your scheduled time to meet today, but he also doesn’t want to barge in without your permission. So he knocks again.

Sure enough, it opens this time. Yet, no one’s there to meet him.

“Tsukishima...”

His eyes drop further down to where your voice came from. You’re on your knees, your head faced down on the floor, and your arm reaching on the doorknob where your hand is latched onto.

What is it this time? What kind of antic will you throw his way? He waits for you to do something unearthly again, readying himself for anything you might surprise him with.

But nothing. You just stay where you are while he stands still.

You groan weakly and ask, “Did you not get my text?”

He slouches down and gets on your level, still not discarding the thought that you have a trick up your sleeve, and you’re waiting to spring it on him.

“What text?” He didn’t check his phone on the way here so he doesn’t know.

You lift your chin to face him while he anticipates your big reveal -- your comedic idea of the day -- but it doesn’t come. What greets him are your squinted eyes, almost beet red cheeks, and pale lips.

“Not today,” you struggle to say which comes out raspy and frail.

He instantly reaches for your forehead to confirm his speculation. His eyes widen with worry when his palm touches your skin. Even without a thermometer, he can confidently conclude that you’re sick. Not just sick, you’re burning with fever.

He looks behind you and sees your laptop open with a mug filled with brown streaks of fried liquid he can only assume to be coffee.

“Jesus Christ,” he hisses. You really won’t fucking stop at nothing even if you’re literally sick already.

He peels your hand off from the doorknob. He scoops your legs and waist with ease and stands up.

“H-Hey,” you protest. You’re gravely debilitated so you do not move at all aside from a hand feebly clutching his shirt for support. He kicks the door close and walks over to your bed.

“Do you have a fucking death wish, y/n?”

Even with his harsh tone, he’s extra careful to duck down from your top bunk because he’s too big for the damn thing. If he’s not mindful, he’ll surely bump his bed on the metal frame.

He delicately lies you down on your bed as he manages to sit beside you without hurting himself.

Your eyes are closed and your whole face screams of discomfort. Your mouth opens as you scuffle the words to come out.

“Go home. You’ll get...sick too. Game soon,” you whisper hoarsely.

As usual, you’re still thinking about the team. Is it always everything else before yourself? Don’t you really know how to take a fucking break? It’s an eyesore. Watching you slowly but surely deteriorate yourself is more taxing than handling your childish nonsense.

He’d love to give you an earful of his thoughts about your pressing behavior, but it’s not what you need to hear at the moment. “Who should I call to be here?” he asks instead.

You force your eyelids to open and look at him. “No one. I can take care of…,” you trail off as your eyes begin to flutter close again.

He can’t decide if it’s funny or foolish that you think you can take care of yourself when you can’t even finish your sentence. “Right,” he says, unable to help himself from sounding sarcastic despite your situation. It’s just so stupid how this easily could be avoided if you didn’t push yourself too hard.

He’s in no way responsible for you. He should just walk out like you said. You did this to yourself. There’s no reason for him to stay there.

Yet, he puts down his bag and takes off his jacket.

“Do you have a medicine kit?”

His question is no longer heard. You’re already passed out. He stands up and starts looking around your room for anything that resembles a first aid kit. If you do have one, you didn’t place it where someone can easily see it.

He sighs as he’s left with no choice but to go out and buy the stuff you need. He can’t possibly go through your things. It feels like an invasion of your privacy.

When he comes back from the pharmacy, he’s expecting that you’d ease up even a bit since you finally stopped working. But when he sits beside you again, he can see the same worrisome distraught wrinkling your pretty face.

Alt hough he doesn’t want to disturb you, he has to. He needs to feed you, get you to take medicine, wipe you with cool compress, chang e your clothes, then tuck you back in bed. After that, he still needs to stay to make sure your stubborn ass won’t get back to working once you feel a tiny bit better.

He feels all his facial muscles droop down at the amount of chores he needs to do for you. He really shouldn’t bother. He can just turn a blind eye and go home, leave you alone since you brought this upon yourself.

But there he is, tending to your needs for no substantive reason other than him being a decent person. Well, he’s already taken the first step, so screw it.

He can still work on his own uni requirements while he watches over you anyways.

Although you resisted a bit at first, your own lack of strength makes you give in to his attempt to cater to your sickly needs. The feeding and the medicine was an easy task. You were practically a lifeless doll and just went with whatever he tells you to do.

Now that he’s in your bathroom with a small basin of cool water and a small towel hanging on his shoulder, he contemplates on how to proceed with the next step: a sponge bath. He should just hand you the towel along with a new set of clothes, leave the room, then come back after a few minutes.

Because he is not doing it.

He won’t be undressing you and wiping your naked body. Just no. You should gather whatever energy you have left because you’ll be doing that all on your own.

He dips the towel in the basin and squeezes the excess water out of it. He puts the moist towel in a container and goes back to your bed.

“Hey, sit up for a bit.”

You groan softly, but does as you’re told. He puts the small plastic case with the towel on your bed and helps you get up. “I’ll get you a new set of clothes, then wipe yourself down,” he instructs you.

You let out one short hum of approval, so he goes to your drawers. He pulls the first shirt and bottoms he sees. As long as you have your blanket, it should be fine if you’re not wearing thick clothing.

When he turns around, he finds you holding the wet towel to your shoulder, completely still as you rest against the wall by your bed. You fell asleep with the towel soaking up your shirt.

“Crap,” he curses as he rushes back to you.

He places your fresh clothes to the side and hurriedly removes the towel off of you. He’s about to shake you back to consciousness but aborts his plan as soon as he touches your other shoulder.

You look like you really want to do it yourself as well. Even now, he can see minute movements from your fingers as if you’re still trying to follow his directions earlier.

Goddamn it. It’s really up to him now, isn’t it?

He glances at you one last time, thinking of another way out. If you hadn’t gotten your shirt wet, he would have ditched the sponge bath idea already. Now he’s left with no choice but to proceed with it.

Whatever. It’s just a human body for Christ’s sake. He shouldn’t be as alarmed as he currently is. He’s seen a female human body before. Yours should be no different.

He takes a deep breath and gently tugs up the shirt you’re wearing.

‘They’re just mammary glands,’ he repeats in his head but makes sure his eyes never land anywhere near the blob lump of fat on your chest.

He gets to work, brushing the cool towel starting on the sides of your face, then down to your neck. You must only be half-asleep because you lift your chin up a bit to allow him access to the column of your neck. He keeps his eyes on it as his hand travels down a bit further.

He spreads the coolness of the towel on your chest, but as soon as he feels a particular softness, drags his hands back up. With his hand still on your chest, he feels the pace of your breathing quicken a bit. When shoots his eyes up to your face, you’re already looking at him with dazed eyes and slightly agape mouth.

Beautiful. Too fucking beautiful for his liking.

It’s ridiculous. People are supposed to look like shit when they’re sick, not inviting.

A certain delicate temptation kicks in, urging him to back away a bit to reward himself with a quick sweep of your semi naked figure.

‘No,’ he grounds himself.

He’s not that barbaric. He’s not doing this so he has an excuse to ogle at you.

So why is he doing this?

With the turbulent thoughts reigning in his mind, he unknowingly squeezes the moist towel he’s holding against your skin.

The cool water drenching from his palm distracts him from his pondering. Reflex makes him look at his hand and involuntarily follows the slow trickle of water down the supple mount of flesh he’s been meaning to avoid looking at this whole time.

He realizes he’s been staring, but he’s too enthralled to stop. He lets his eyes wander further down, still watching how the droplet glides to your stomach. It gets absorbed by the fabric as it reaches down the waistband of your shorts.

The absence of the water he’s been trailing with his eyes snaps him out of his trance.

What the fuck is he doing?

He quickly moves on to your arms, patting your skin aggressively and haphazardly so he can finally get this cumbersome chore over with.

When you recover from this, he’s going to barrage you with a litany of fulmination on your self-destructive habits.

He’s supposed to wipe your thighs and legs too, but the idea is already tossed away as his train of thought is antagonizingly twisted today.

As fast as he can, he puts on the shirt he got for you. He was being gentle previously, but his priority at present is to cover up your exposed body away from his sight.

When he successfully clothes you, he gently lays you down again. He pulls the blanket to your shoulders and looks at your overall state.

You look a bit better now so he goes to your study table. He tidies up your stuff and puts them aside for him to set down his own.

Finally, he can get his shit done while he waits for your fever to go down.

He’s halfway through his elective course when he hears you whimper. He ignores it the first two times, but he hears it again louder the third time, he concludes something is wrong.

When he gets to your bed, you’re shivering frantically even with your blanket covering your whole body. He quickly searches for another one and piles it over the one you already have.

It only lessens your trembling but it’s still there. Your pretty face is still ruffled with unease. He touches your arm and finds out that you’re shaking way worse than you look.

In just seconds, he slips inside the blankets and draws you in to provide you the body heat you might need. You desperately cling onto him, pressing your body to share what he silently offered. Your fingers that are clutching the back of his shirt are quivering. You sink your face on his chest with agitation, badly in need for an additional source of warmth.

His displeasure towards your self-negligence dwindles when he feels your trembling body against his. Yes, this might be your fault, but he’s certain you hate this more than he does. Not only are you in pain, but you probably see this as a waste of your valuable time. You brought this upon yourself, but you don’t deserve it.

He encases his arm on your waist and tugs you even closer. He lowers his body a bit and gently nestles your face on his neck so you can feel the direct warmth of his skin on your cheeks.

Within a few minutes, you begin to relax within his embrace. The tremors become less and less until your fingers on his shirt loosen up.

You faintly pull back to look at him. “Sorry, Tsukki,” you mumble groggily with forlorn eyes.

“Shut up,” he utters without any trace of hostility as he cups the back of your head and buries your face on his neck again.

Your grip on him slackens but you don’t let go. You ease into him with your breathing getting even and your heart beating softly against his chest. When your chills completely fade away, he’s left with nothing but the softness of your body within the confines of his touch.

He becomes more aware of your bodies tangled against each other now that you’re completely still. The plumpness of your breasts are pinned on him. Your ample lips are grazing his neck. His pinky and ring fingers are hovering just below your spine, almost touching the curve of your behind.

To make things worse, you begin letting out small moans of succor which he can hear only because you’re too close.

He should be immune to this. He’s already had his fair share of kisses with you and sometimes, it involves a lot of touching. However, it is never as intimate as this. The furthest you two have gone was when he slipped a hand underneath your shirt before your friend barged in.

Before today, he had never seen your bare body. He had never held you to the point that almost your every curve melds with his. He has never thought about what it’d be like to do more than just making out. Only now when you’re not even doing so.

He considers himself a level-headed person driven by logic and rationality, but for crying out loud, your thigh is nudging on his crotch as if challenging his self-control.

As much as he wants to keep himself in check, his own body betrays him when his dick starts to nudge back at your right thigh.

‘Breathe in, breathe out,’ he reminds himself repeatedly to calm himself down.

“Hmmm,” you snuggle even more on his neck, your moist lips tracing his skin before you press it on him as you relax even further.

Fuck.

The shameful tent in his pants is becoming painful on his jeans as his imagination runs wild. How will you sound if it's the other way around, if it's his lips that’s traveling on your neck? How will you react if it’s his palms kneading the supple flesh pressed against his chest right now? Would you blush a deeper shade of red than the one you’re wearing if he slams his…

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He can’t decide who is more sick: you or him, who’s lusting over you despite your situation. His plan to chastise you for your own inattentiveness for your own health is back in action. He’ll make sure it's ingrained into that irresponsible, beautiful head of yours.

To distract himself from his inane fantasies, he forces himself to recall the scientific names of all the reptile species he’s aware of. And when he’s exhausted his mental list, he moves on to whatever animal species he can think of until he dozes off with you.

You haven’t opened your eyes yet, but as you regain consciousness, you can tell that you had an amazing nap. For the first time, you reap the benefits of a power nap. It feels like you slept for a complete eight hours or even more. You no longer feel sick. You celebrate the after effects of the nap, stretching your legs before you get up.

You look out your window and see that the light is still a dark shade of blue so you still have the whole evening to finish what you need to do.

When you turn your glance to your table, Tsukishima’s seated on the floor with his laptop in front of him.

Why is Tsukishima here? You texted him and called off your meeting today.

Something’s off.

You don’t really remember going to bed. You just remember doing one of your subjects when you heard someone knock.

“Tsukishima,” you call his attention urgently.

He turns to you, but you can’t see his eyes from the light reflecting on his glasses from his screen. “What time is it?”

He looks back to his laptop. “It’s 5 am.”

What?!

You didn’t take a nap. You fucking slept. A more horrid realization comes to you when you remember what happened before you did. You passed out and Tsukishima fixed you up.

Shit! He’s been telling you all the time to stop overworking yourself and he had to be there and clean up the mess you did to yourself.

You panic when he sits beside you. You sit properly, hands on your lap, pressed lips, eyes on the floor as you prepare yourself for a long, tedious arduous lecture from the blonde.

“Hey.”

You slowly turn towards him, anticipating the slew of curses about to unroll from him.

“Y-yes?”

You keep your eyes leveled on his chest, embarrassed of yourself for burdening him with your unwell ass.

Instead of speaking, he inserts a thermometer in your mouth, causing you to shoot your gaze up to him. Neither of you say anything and just hold each other’s stare until the thermometer beeps.

He takes it out of your mouth and checks your temperature.

“You’re okay now,” he announces, then starts getting ready to leave. “Don’t bother coming to training later or else I’ll tell Coach that I caught you extremely sick,” he threatens nonchalantly.

Your mind is running laps on how to process everything all at once, but you decide to deal with the most pressing one.

“Uhhhh..”

He glances at you, silently waiting for what you’re going to say, but you only gape at him as well.

What were you going to say again? Shit, you actually can’t remember what it is.

He disregards your quietness and proceeds to your door. “You should just stay in. One day of missing classes won’t cost you your scholarship,” he says before he closes the door behind him.

“Wait.”

He’s gone. It’s only then you remember you wanted to say thanks.

When you come back to the gym two days after, everyone expresses their worry about you. You assure them that you’re completely fine now. Even with the love and concern you are showered with, your eyes scan for someone who isn’t among the players in front of you.

There he is, dribbling the ball and is about to do a jump serve. Just before he tosses the ball in the air, he looks at your direction.

“Y/n?” Kogane’s voice pulls you back to them.

“What was that?” you ask because you didn’t hear whatever they were saying.

“He was asking if you’re really okay now,” Eiji says.

You nod enthusiastically. “So stop wasting your training time on me and practice instead,” you say with cheerful authority that they’re very pleased to hear again.

Once the crowd disperses, you spring your way to the middle blocker who didn’t welcome you back.

“Hello!” you greet him sprightly.

“What?” he asks with a bored tone.

You step closer to him for the next thing you’re going to say is for his ears only. “I really appreciate what you did the other day.”

Tsukishima sees the earnest, grateful expression on your face, but what grips his attention is how refreshed you look. You look brighter than you usually do.

He was almost sure that you were going to ignore what he said about going absent on both in classes and in here, but you seem to have taken his advice with how well-rested you are.

But most of all, he didn’t expect you’d bring it up during your working hours. Neither of you talks about what happens in private when you’re the ‘Sendai Frogs’ manager,’ not his classmate, or occasional kiss-buddy .

“I don’t,” he responds vacuously to your thankful sentiment. It was a very tough night for him. When he woke up, his erection was still raging through his pants. As undignified as it was, he got himself off in your comfort room just to ease the unbearable sexual tension that was still there in the morning.

As usual, you don’t take offense from his sour remark. You chuckle whole-heartedly and pat him hard on his shoulders. “Of course you don’t,” you say mirthfully before you walk over to Coach Mira.

It was a very tough night you made him endure, but he’s relieved to see you back on your feet.

The team is going to the fourth match of the regular rounds. Three more after this and you get the chance to have a game from the bottom two teams from Division 1.

As you and the team march towards the court, you hear someone call Tsukishima.

“Tsukki!”

You look at whoever it is and stop when you see Kotarou Bokuto, the wing spiker of MSBY Jackals, crazy energy on court, super clean line shot.

He’s waving energetically at Tsukishima while the latter just nods at him. You grab Tsukki by his shirt and stop him from advancing any further.

“You guys go ahead. We’ll be there in a sec,” you tell Kogane who’s the person in front of you. He nods at you then walks off with the rest of the team.

“Why did we stop?” Tsukishima asks with a frown.

“How do you know Bokuto?” you ask.

“I used to train with him during high school,” he says like it’s nothing because to him it really is not a big deal. Bokuto and Kuroo practically coerced him to join their free practices when he already wanted to call it a day. Training with them was a drag - a drag that pushed him to become a better blocker.

Among the four of them who regularly practiced in the third gym, it was him and Bokuto who went professional. Even if the wing spiker is in a higher division, he still sees Bokuto as the same person who told him it only takes one hit to be hooked on the sport. Bokuto just got better at it.

Other than that, he still seems like the silly guy Tsukishima knows him to be.

“Can you introduce me?” you say as you try to hide the zeal in your eyes, but horribly failing to do so.

“Shouldn’t I go warm up?” he counters instead of responding to your question.

“I promise to be very nice to you in the three succeeding training days. Introduce me, please, ” you beseech graciously at him, insistent on meeting the athlete.

“Make it five days,” he tests to see your conviction.

But you easily agree, “Deal!”

Seeing that you won’t let this go easily, he thinks it would be better to just give you what you want.

You both walk over to where Bokuto is. Beside him is another part of the third gym, Kuroo, who’s now the official promoter of the Volleyball Association.

“Hey hey hey, Tsukki!”

“Hey,” the lack of enthusiasm in his response totally contrasts Bokuto’s. “This is-“

“Hi!! I’m Y/n, Tsukishima’s manager,” you cut him off which makes him jolt. Why even bother asking him to introduce when you’re more than capable of doing it yourself?

You grab Bokuto’s hand and shake it vigorously. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you,” you dramatically state, your eyes twinkling with idolatry.

Bokuto, as expected, is exceedingly glad from the adoration. He uses his two hands to shake yours and reciprocate the same energy you gave him.

“I’m such a huge fan. Personally, you’re my favorite player from Division 1. I don’t care what others say. That chest bump. Flawless save!” you drag on, endlessly showering the spiker with compliments which Bokuto is totally eating up.

He’s egging you up even more by constantly nodding, laughing, and agreeing in everything you’re saying.

Meanwhile, Kuroo and Tsukishima are just standing there watching the whole exchange.

“I’m sorry if this is a stretch, but can I hug you?” you ask almost like a tame puppy.

He’s been disregarding the entire conversation, but really? A hug? Have you no shame? Not that he cares but should you be ogling at another athlete when you’re wearing the uniform of Sendai Frogs?

Great. Go worship a big brawny dude from Division 1 minutes before your own team’s game. How thoughtless.

He imagined it would be a civil hug but then you open your arms to Bokuto and envelop him in the warmest hug he’s ever seen you give. His eyes drop to Bokuto’s limbs which are ensnared around your waist as the spiker hauls you closer to his body.

How imprudent. It was a mistake bringing you to Bokuto. You should have known it’s unwise to mix up your personal agenda with your work. You should have known that it was better if you just ignored Bokuto and made him warm up, than make him introduce you to your favorite player.

What is wrong with you?

Kuroo’s attention slips from you to Tsukishima’s change of demeanor. Tsukishima is usually unbothered, but as soon as you embraced Bokuto, Tsukishima’s mood became sour. It is an amusing sight to watch.

He never thought Tsukishima would associate himself with an individual as lively as you. But who could blame him?

He, himself, has just been watching since you fanned the ego of his old buddy. You have not graced him even a glance since you approached them. Your eyes were all set on Bokuto. You’re probably not aware that another presence is also there.

So he’ll make you be aware.

“Ehem,” he clears his throat to grab your attention, which works as you shift your gaze from Bokuto to him. “Hello,” he flashes you the best smile he has, but has no effect whatsoever at you.

The difference in treatment is drastic. While you revere Bokuto with adoration, you regard him like a nuisance. It’s not that palpable, but it’s there. You look at him like he’s an obligation to deal with.

Your smile is rehearsed and so is the cheerful “Hi” that you give him.

“Kuroo Tetsurou,” he introduces as he offers his hand. You take without hesitation, firmly gripping his extended hand for a brisk, professional handshake.

“Y/n, manager of the Sendai Frogs,” you respond in an amicable, yet refined manner. He gets his business card from his pocket and hands it to you.

“So, Miss Manager, how are the Frogs doing?” he asks to strike up a conversation.

You scrutinize his business card for a quick while then pockets it. “I believe as their manager, I, myself, represent the team more than my words can. So what do you say, Mr. Promoter?” The professionalism chips off and reveals a real slice of you - sly and mischievous, as you compose your stature and put a hand on your hip, accentuating your curves.

He crosses his arms as he eyes you from head to toe without any reservation, then back up again.

“I say the Sendai Frogs are looking hot this season,” he says with his own grin that’s just as devious as yours.

“There’s your answer then,” you give him a wink that almost makes his heart flutter.

‘Geez, lady. Take it easy on unsuspecting men,’ he thinks to himself but easily recovers as his grin spreads out.

“Oy, we should be getting back,” Tsukishima says, breaking Kuroo’s trance towards you. You snap out of it as well, agreeing with Tsukishima as you give the blonde a nod.

“It’s so nice to really meet you, Bokuto,” you tell Bokuto before turning around. Even though you’re treating Kuroo as if he doesn’t exist, he can’t help but be intrigued even more by you.

“Bye, y/n,” he says a bit loudly for you to hear since you’re already a few steps away from them.

You’re about to look back but Tsukishima puts a hand on your shoulders and starts talking to you. Kuroo would have disregarded it, but he doesn’t miss the quick glare Tsukishima throws at Kuroo and Bokuto. What’s even more eye-catching is how Tsukishima’s hand travels down a bit on your back.

You don’t take notice of it though. It might because you’re preoccupied or because you genuinely don’t mind. But for Tsukishima to do so, it’s a different story altogether.

“Hey Bokuto, did you see that?” he turns to his friend.

“Uh huh. She’s so pretty!” Bokuto squawks out, obviously not catching what Kuroo did. Kuroo just lets it go since it wouldn’t really do much even if he tries to explain. He looks back at you and agrees with Bokuto instead.

“Yeah, very pretty.”

Even though you’re the one who broke off the deal, you still feel the urge to kiss Tsukishima at times. He does too. You notice the way he glances at you briefly then returns to his work as soon you catch him.

It’s not awkward. There’s none of the tension-filled air, probably because you’re both aware that the impulse is there. You just silently agreed to dismiss it.

It’s all good though. It’s for the best. You don’t want another slip-up like the one from the Jaguars’ match. What’s weird is that even though you’re no longer making out, it feels like nothing has changed.

You still sit beside him. He still lets you lean on him. He still lets out nasty side comments but he’s not as rancorous as they used to be.

“You’re spacing out again,” he points out.

“That’s cause I’m done, Tsukishima,” you counter immediately while still gazing at your window across you. “Anyways, I’m gonna nap,” you announce.

He stops typing and looks at you. That’s weird. He’s always the one strenuously suggesting that you take a break when you’re feeling tired. What gives?

“Are you sick?” A bubble of unwarranted concern rises within him from your sudden inclination to take a nap.

“Oh, no. But I’m going to a party later so I need to recharge a bit.” You head to your bed and start straightening out the crumpled bedsheets.

Party? Are you out of your fucking mind? You could rest instead, make the most out of the night by catching up on sleep. But you’d rather attend a pointless party? Here he thought you were being thoughtful of your own health.

Not to mention, there might be perverts getting their hands all over you again. Obviously you can protect yourself, but wouldn’t you prefer not having one ogling and harassing you?

“Mind enlightening me how a vomit-smelling gathering is of any benefit to you?”

“Mind enlightening why it’s any of your business?” you retort instantly.

“It’s not,” he responds just as swiftly. “I’m just curious because I honestly don’t get it,” he says calmly. If you want to go to the damned party, then by all means. He really doesn’t care what you do with your free time.

“If you’re so worried, Tsukishima, you’re very welcome to come,” you tell him, mockery dripping from your invitation.

“I’d rather not,” he says dryly.

You shrug as you slip under your blanket. “Lock the door when you leave.”

“Unbelievable,” he mutters.

‘Truly unbelievable,’ he tells himself again as the smell of cigarette and alcohol tickles his nostrils while he sits at the bar, mulling over whatever the hell possessed him to come there.

It definitely isn’t because of you.

He’s not looking for you either nor is he worried about you.

It’s worse than he remembers. There are more people than last time and the music is banging on his eardrums.

“Are you getting anything?” the bartender asks him.

Although he absolutely detests alcohol, he feels like punishing himself tonight for lack of better judgment in coming there.

“Your worst drink.”

Even though you slept that afternoon, you still don’t plan on staying out too long for the party. You just wanted to catch up with some uni friends and instead of meeting them all one by one, it would be efficient if you attend this party and meet them all at once.

Although you would prefer if you just slept or watched a documentary, you think it’s necessary for you to be here. You almost don’t have any time to spend with friends. This might be your last chance to do so since it’s almost graduation.

As usual, you avoid drinking since you hate dealing with hangovers. You learned that the hard way when you had to keep up with who’s scoring points in an official match while an invisible hammer pounds your head.

So, despite the endless free shots given to you, you persistently decline. You also did not pay much attention to the dance floor to save your energy.

After a while of talking to everyone you know, you look around to check if you missed anyone. That’s when you catch a glimpse of a familiar blonde slouching by the bar.

‘ No. It’s not possible ,’ you say to yourself but you’re already smiling hard as you saunter to where he is. It’s very unlikely that it’s him but on the rare chance that he is, you’re not going to let it slip by.

He’s facing down his glass which is joined by two empty shot glasses. You lean back with both your elbows on the counter.

“You new here?” you playfully ask. If it’s not who you think it is, you’ll just dance awkwardly to throw him off.

“I actually am,” he says as he encircles the rim of his glass with his index finger. Then he raises his face to turn to you.

When he reveals his face, you confirm that it is indeed Tsukishima, but at the same time, he looks nothing like his usual self.

The tips of his ears up to his neck are burning red while his eyes are dazed like you’ve never seen them before. But that’s not the weirdest thing.

He’s smiling. He’s fucking smiling like a happy idiot.

“Tsukishima?” you ask him for confirmation in any case that it’s just someone who looks extremely like him.

“Hmmm?” he asks with a little bit of a slur that throws you off.

As if you’re not astounded enough by the scene unfolding before you, he grabs you by the waist and lugs you until you’re situated between his thighs.

“Who did you think it was, manager?”

Part 5 || Part 7 || masterlist

taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged)

@ameliaxo @suikrem @akaashisslave @tsumurai @loving-unicorns106 @flairlust @geektastic84 @anaiss97 @berna-dette @just4readingfics @suteorra @xxekitten69xx @simp4tsukkii @music-is-all-i-need @keshinslittlegirl @raspberrysunshinebby @iminlovewhaikyuu @pdiddy11 @lightyagamami @sailorscout1902 @lovershaikyuu @expectonothinfromme @finnydraws @namelessidentity @hqbeesun @yatoatyourservice @mrkozume @suzuyamitsuki @celestialarchiveshq @yongboxerrr @gomenpudding @kutiekoge @fizzfrick @flamingosis @korean-bbq @ihaterainbowsprinkles @red-lint @backtonormalthings @borpcorp @lonelyheartxn

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima smut #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima angst #haikyuu x reader

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cappsikle · 4 years

Text

the comfort of you // fred weasley

Pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

Summary: you have your period and the pain becomes too much to bare, but it’s ok, because you have Fred

Warnings: intense period pain, mentions of jumping off a tower, mentions of blood and bleeding

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: i think you can actually feel my anger through this lmao. being a female sucks, ok? Also I know that the way i’m describing it could be seen as an overkill or something but literally everything i’ve written is basically just what i go through when it’s that time of the month.

tags: @ryeryemilani @weasleysflowr message me if you’d like to be added!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!!

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The minute you woke up, you knew something didn’t feel right. You knew what it was, although you prayed to all those above that you were wrong. Oh, how you wished you were wrong. By the end of the day, your suspicions were later proven correct when you rushed to the bathroom in a panic. It only really went downhill from there.

The next morning, you were about ready to throw yourself right off the astronomy tower. You felt absolutely horrible, you couldn’t even bring yourself to get out of bed. Even though you were practically cursing your own exitance, you were also thankful that its the weekend, so you didn’t have to sit through any of your classes.

After 10 or so minutes, you decided it would probably be a good idea to go down to the great hall for at least something to nibble on, even though the thought of eating made your stomach churn. So, as you hauled yourself out of bed and with minimum effort, you got ready. You then made your way through the common room and down the moving staircases. Whilst walking, you really couldn’t help but question literally everything. Why did you needed to be reminded every month that you weren’t pregnant?? You could do a great job of that yourself without bleeding every single month.

Your frustrations, and your pain, only seemed to grow as you walked through the doors of the great hall. Despite your growing nausea, your spirits were immediately lifted when you spotted Fred, your boyfriend of two years, sitting at the Gryffindor table. You walked as quickly as you could, noticing the empty spot next to him reserved for you, and sat down.

Fred instantly perked up when he noticed your presence besides him, and greeted you, “Mornin’, love! How are we this morning?”

Whilst your mood did lift a tad when you saw him, the constant ache in your stomach and lower areas prevented you from releasing a genuine smile, so instead you scooched closer to Fred and leaned your head on his shoulder, wrapping both your arms around one of his. You just really needed a cuddle right now. Fred chuckled at your slightly odd behaviour and tilted his head, so it was leaning against your own, “not in a talking mood, huh?”

“No.” you shifted as close to him as you could, the small amount of warmth spreading a feeling of comfort you only now realised you were desperately craving. The pain in your abdomen grew stronger, spreading to your lower back. It was like your torso was bring ripped from your bottom half. You scrunched your face up in discomfort and nuzzled your head into Fred’s shoulder, wanting to hide from everyone and everything.

Fred knew that something was wrong the moment you sat down. You weren’t your usual cheery and bubbly self, which concerned him a great deal. Fred frowned slightly at your disgruntled form, reaching the arm that wasn’t being smothered by you, not that he minded, to push a lock of hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear. The gentle action soothed you, and you felt yourself leaning into his touch even more. Fred leaned his head down to stop beside your ear, whispering so that only you could hear him, “You feeling alright, love?”

You shook your head slightly to answer, trying your hardest to hold back the tears. The pain keot getting worse the longer you sat. You couldn’t stomach the thought of eating at this point. You really just wanted to go back to bed and cuddle your boyfriend. Fred’s frown deepened at your verry obvious distressed state, his heart hurting knowing that you weren’t well. “I think it’s a good idea to go back to bed, don’t you think?”

You nodded your head slightly, not bothering to speak. At your nod of approval, Fred took his arm out from yours and wrapped it around your shoulders instead, standing up and walking you out the great hall back to the dormitories. You, on the other hand, wrapped your arms around your abdomen in a weak attempt at easing the pain. Fred leaned down and pressed a light kiss against your temple, reassuring you on the way.

As soon as you reached the common room, you immediately headed to the boy's dorms instead of yours, wanting to be surrounded by all things Fred. You couldn’t describe it, but it was like you constantly needed to be around at least some part of him, even if he wasn’t there with you. Walking up the stairs into the dorm, you practically jumped onto his bed, grabbing on of his pillow and hugging it as close to you as possible. It's not even lunch time, yet you just felt so drained and tired. You could already feel yourself slipping into a sleep-like state just from the comfort of Fred’s bed alone. Fred smiled fondly at you, finding you completely adorable. Fred walked over to his trunk, searching for something he knew you would be grateful for.

He sat on the edge of the bed, once again tucking fallen hair behind your ear as to get a better look at your face. You really were beautiful, in his opinion, the most beautiful person he had ever laid eyes on, in fact. Fred traced his finger across your cheekbone, down to your jaw and down your neck, his heart swelling at the subconscious smile that made its way to your lips. His finger smoothing down your skin caused the best kind of shivers to run through your body, leaving goosebumps on your exposed skin.

You squinted one of your eyes open, a smile still present on your face, and reached up to grasp Fred by the back on his neck, fiddling with the ever-so-soft ginger locks at the base. Your smile grew as you both stared into each other’s eyes, finding nothing but love and adoration for each other. Your pain and discomfort fell to the back of your mind, your focus entirely on the man in front of you.

Eventually, you gently pulled Fred’s head towards your own, bringing his lips just close enough that they weren’t fully touching yet. Your lips brushed against each other gently, your breaths mixing as your heart rate sped up. Tired of the waiting, Fred brought his lips upon yours, slotting together like the last piece of the puzzle. No matter how long the two of you have been together, or how many times you’ve kissed, the butterflies never ceased to make themselves known and cause a ruckus in your stomach. For a moment, just a moment, the two of you got lost in the kiss, and lost in each other.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, as it always feels like time stops the moment your lips meet, but after a while a particularly nasty cramp rolled its way through your body, forcing you to break the kiss and whimper slightly. That brought you back to reality. Fred gave you a sympathetic smile as he stroked your cheek with his thumb.

You closed your eyes again, the warmth of the bed and Fred’s soothing touch lulling you to sleep. However, Fred’s gentle nudge woke you up again, bringing your attention to the jumper he held in his hands. No words needed to be spoken as you sat up, reaching your arms above your head as an indication. Fred then pulled his jumper over your arms and body, reveling in the way it practically swallowed your smaller form whole. Immediately, the feeling of warmth and comfort spread throughout your being, incredibly grateful to have someone as sweet as Fred to take care of you.

As you laid back down and pulled the covers over yourself, Fred slid into the covers with you, ridding himself of his shoes and jacket. Instinctively, Fred laid on his side and brought your body as close to his as he could, one arm laid under your neck around your shoulders whilst the other slid across your waist. You nuzzled your head in the place where his shoulder met his chest, breathing in his scent of chocolate and fireworks.

Fred trailed kisses from your cheek to your ear, whispering sweet nothings in between each one. These were the moments he lived for, where you could both just hold each other until the other felt better, no interruptions, no expectations.

You were the first to break the silence, a yawn slipping by your lips as you said, “you know I love you, right?”

Fred smiled to himself, squeezing you as close as you could physically get and whispered, “yeah, I do. And you know I love you, right?”

You giggled at his remark, the pain and stresses of the day just completely melting away as you felt your conscious slip even deeper,

“Yeah, I do.”

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Damn I really do need a fred to comfort me lol.

Don’t forget to reblog, like and comment! I hope you all have a lovely day or night wherever you are!!

- Mills <3

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #soft fred #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x fem!reader #periods #comfort #harry potter #harry potter imagine #hp #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfic

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bookishofalder · 3 years

Text

Moonlight

Poe Dameron X Fem!Reader

Summary: In which losing a fellow pilot has you falling apart, until your best friend can’t take it anymore and feelings come flooding out.

Warnings: SMUT, this is smut. Soft, fluffy emotions and comforting, brief talk of loss, death, battle, grief, healing. Language, and again, smut. WC-4,951

A/N: Wrote this to make myself feel better after my province announced another emergency lockdown. Big Star Wars fan but I kept things vague as I am no expert. Feedback appreciated ❤️

The nightmare surrounded you, inescapable, your body rigid despite your intense desire to run, flee. The healers had said these would fade over time, but it had been months since you had nearly died in battle against the First Order, and the nightmares still came.

Every damn night you relived the worst day of your life. The day you hadn’t been fast enough.

And then she was gone.

Your oldest friend, taken out by a tie-fighter right in front of you, as you desperately tried to outmaneuver the fucker and save her, your mind screaming at you that you were one of the best pilots in the Resistance, you had to stop them. You just had to.

But you didn’t make it in time.

It didn’t matter that the squadron had blindsided your unit. You were supposed to just be on surveillance, expecting at most a transport ship or the likes to ID and verify passage. When they appeared, it wasn’t even many of them yet they had come out of hyperspace right on top of you, and everything that happened only took minutes.

Six other pilots were out there with you. Four made it back.

“Fuck!” You gasped, shooting up in your bunk as you finally pulled yourself from the nightmare, your body shivering from the cool sweat coating your skin. You leaned over, glancing down at the bunk below-but he wasn’t there.

Poe.

Your best friend, commander and fellow survivor. He would comfort you if you just asked him, you knew that. You never could seem to find the words though. And you weren’t sure of his current whereabouts because he should have been sleeping...which led you to believe he might have ended up in another room tonight. Good for him, you thought.

It was just, something about watching your friend die, then almost joining them in whatever was beyond this life, it had woken you up that day. Slapped you right out of everything you knew and laid your cards on the table for you to face. You had to laugh at yourself, at how ridiculous you were, lying day after day that your feelings were platonic. When at night you’d wait until you were alone in the room, Poe off showering or at the Cantina, and you’d slip your fingers into your heat and think only of him, of your Poe. Always cumming within minutes, hard.

Poe and you had grown together in the Resistance. Though he was a few years older, therefore always technically your superior, he never treated you like anything other than his equal. He taught you to fly, to fight, to survive. And maybe if you hadn’t been so entirely focused on impressing him, on making him proud...maybe you’d have seen the way he looked at you. The way he paid complete attention to you. Or the ardent affection behind every friendly touch. Even the way he would bite his lower lip when, in professional settings, you referred to him by title.

You didn’t notice those things, however. And you’d never be convinced by a friend that he felt anything other than friendly toward you, no, he loved you only as a friend. A man like him, you reasoned, had no business settling down with you when he could have any person he wanted.

And he did, really. You would play wingman for each other all the time, during nights at the cantina. You'd wink at each other from across the room when one of you was making your way out with whoever you deemed worthy. If you both weren’t so stupid, maybe you’d have realized that it was each other you wanted to end the night with, that you each just went along with the other these nights, not wanting to risk such an important friendship and wanting to support one another in getting laid, in having fun.

When you had landed back at base after the surprise attack, two pilots short, you had stumbled out of your x-wing, your eyes leaking thick tears as you desperately searched for his face in the crowd. You’d barely made it down the ladder before he was rushing toward you, sweeping you into his arms and peppering you with sweet kisses and saying everything you needed to hear in those moments. When all you could feel was agony and grief-he knew exactly what to say to keep you off the edge.

That was when you realized how in love with him you were, and it was also when you decided you could never tell him your feelings. Because the idea of losing Poe? It was unbearable; you wouldn’t survive that.

So you locked them back.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you climbed down from your bunk and put on your slippers. It was warm enough on base to not bother with adding layers to your t-shirt and sleep shorts, thankfully. You exited the room, running your fingers through your hair to rid yourself of your bedhead, and pausing to decide where you planned to go.

Turning left, you mindlessly wandered away from your room in search of something to distract yourself.

Poe turned off the shower, steam swirling around him as he stepped out into the change room, grabbing his towel and shaking it through his locks before wrapping it around his body. He enjoyed late night showers, the quiet of the communal fresher helped relax him and clear his mind. It was also the ideal place to masturbate, alone in the tinted glass stall, one hand on the wall as the other twisted over his length, urging out the release he needed to help shake the thoughts of you away, to relax.

He had inadvertently gotten into a routine these last few months, showering late most nights and then making his way back to the bunk he shared with you, ready to comfort you when the nightmares took over. He had shifted his entire schedule just to ensure he was always there to roll you over gently in your bunk, a tactic he discovered early on helped to soothe you. He didn’t think you’d even realized what he had been doing, you never woke up, or if you did you had never said anything to Poe about it.

He hated seeing how the surprise attack changed you, your usually bubbly personality dimmed somewhat, your smile always a little slow. Slight shadows under your eyes gave away your restless nights, and he’d even realized recently that you’d lost some weight-it wasn’t much, but he loved your curves, the healthy glow you carried. He’d had to ask Finn and a few other pilots you were close with to keep an eye on you at meals. Try to get you eating without raising your suspicions.

When the First Order appeared in the middle of a routine patrol, Poe had immediately reacted; shouting instructions to the other five pilots and pulling his ship around to avoid oncoming fire.

His mind had briefly wondered if this would be the end. And then he had seen you, chasing after Sira’s ship and trying to stop the tie fighter. His heart had dropped and he sprang into action, not entirely losing his focus on his entire unit, but honing in on you to make sure nothing happened to you.

He took out the tie-fighter too late, had to watch as your friend died, hear your cries for her in the com. You had spun around and fired ceaselessly onto the onslaught, only pulling back when Poe had switched the coms between you to a private channel and using his hardest voice to order you fall back.

Back on base, you had climbed out of your ship with unsteady legs, eyes searching, and he had run toward you and crashed you into his arms. His thoughts consumed by the reality that he’d almost lost you, and he wouldn’t have ever...fuck, he’d have never told you.

He wanted to tell you after that, every day. To admit his feelings, but it never seemed like the right time. After the funerals and debriefings, your nightmares had started and time blurred together into several months. Months of watching you trying to navigate your grief, your pain. He put his needs aside to care for you, to give you whatever you needed.

Telling you he loved you felt too selfish; you were struggling so much already. He couldn’t add another burden.

He padded softly to the room he had shared with you for several years now, the only real place that felt like home anymore. Stepping inside, he quickly pulled on his pyjama bottoms before glancing at your bed to see if you were dreaming yet, or if he could lay down for a while and wait for the telltale whimpers that preceded the worst of them.

Only, your bed was empty.

He stared for a beat at the tangle of sheets, then cast his eyes around the small room. Flicking on a light, he found no note or indication of why you were gone. Your nightmares must have come early tonight, and you’d gotten out of bed. He knew you weren’t in the fresher as he’d just come from there and would have heard another person.

Dropping his towel, he left the room and turned left, knowing exactly where you would have wandered off to so late at night.

He had always been able to predict you, a skill that you despised in him-it brought out your competitive side in training and simulations. And while you were an excellent pilot, you had yet to truly beat him at his own game. While other pilots aspired to be just like you, you were constantly training to be like Poe. It made him proud to watch you work so hard, so stubbornly, never taking a loss too hard before you jumped back in.

Before the surprise attack, you enjoyed competing against one another in everything, always for fun. Some nights at the Cantina, it would be who could go home for the night with the highest-ranking official in attendance. And while Poe felt like he had to work so hard to push his feelings for you back and focus on whoever he was hitting on, he’d always look over at you and feel like you barely had to try. You were just so beautiful, so bright. Any man lucky enough to be charmed by you was a goner-which was why this was often a bet you would win. It seemed to make you laugh when he would hand over the agreed credits the next day, so he never asked to stop.

Now though, you stayed close to Poe if you ventured out, which was rare. Never leaving with anyone and always leaving first. As if you thought he needed you away from him to find someone-but he hadn’t gone home with anyone for a long time now. He didn’t think you knew that, so he’d always leave not long after you, make a point of making a little noise when he entered your shared room, just so you’d know he was there.

Stepping outside, Poe was happy to feel the warmth of the salty air on his bare skin, the moon high in the sky casting a pink glow over the planet, muting the bright stars. He swiftly made his way down a short path around the residential part of the base, a path that led to a small sandy beach where he knew you’d be. You never could resist the ocean, not on any planet that you ventured to that had them.

Sure enough, a few minutes later he was stepping from the trees and spotted you, standing in your sleep clothes, slippers set on a washed-up log and your feet in the water. He watched you silently, not wanting to disturb your quiet moment. You had your arms crossed around your middle, almost as if you were holding yourself together. His heart thrummed in his chest.

When a small sob escaped you and met his ears, Poe moved forward and cleared his throat. “You sleepwalking, kid?” He kept his voice low, tone playfully affectionate as it wrapped around his teasing nickname for you.

You started, “Maker, Poe!” Hissing as you spun around, eyes wide, a hand shooting up to rest over your heart.

Poe grinned, holding his hands up in defence, “Sorry, there’s not really a good way to announce myself in the middle of the night.”

You frowned, though it didn’t meet your eyes. You took careful steps out of the water to move toward him, “Stars, though, you could have made some noise on the pa-oh!”

You gasped when your foot sunk into the sand awkwardly and you fell forward. Immediately, Poe reached out and caught you, lifting you out of the water with ease and stepping back. Setting you on the dry sand in front of him, he gestured at the water, “Were you planning on a midnight swim?”

A brow quirked up as you looked up at him, “I was going to ask you that since you’re the one who's half-naked.” A small smile on your lips had relief sweeping through Poe. He could see the tears on your cheeks still, but he’d managed to make you smile.

He wanted to give a smart reply, only it was late and he had been worried about you, more worried than he’d admit out loud. He glanced down briefly, his arms now at his sides as you stood a few steps apart on the warm beach, “I got back to the room and you were gone, kid.”

You paused, wiping your face after a moment to rub away the tears. You turned away from Poe to gaze out at the water. “I’m still having nightmares.” You admitted, your frown returning.

“I know, honey.”

You glanced back up at him, brows raised in surprise, “That’s not why you’re always up so late, is it? I haven’t been ruining your sleep?” Of course, he thought, of course, you would worry about him. It was so like you. Always putting everything on your shoulders, blaming yourself.

Poe shook his head, “I stay up so I-“ He looked everywhere but at you, trying to find the words, “So I can try and stop the nightmares for you.”

Your mouth opened and closed wordlessly as you stared at him, absorbing his words. Poe shrugged after a moment as if to say it was no big deal. But saying it out loud had Poe realizing that he had gone to great lengths to care for you, which, from the expression on your face, you had realized as well.

“Poe, you already do so much for me, always have,” You stepped closer to him, head back slightly to meet his eyes, “Don’t let me take your sleep-“

“I can’t sleep knowing you’re suffering,” He interrupted, his voice low but firm. He reached out and wrapped his hand around your shoulder, squeezing gently and you froze under his touch. “You’ve been suffering so much since Sira...and I know it’s hard, it’s awful-but watching you be so hard on yourself and closing yourself off from me-I just, I can’t sleep anyway.” It felt kind of good to confess. You needed to know how much he cared.

Tears had leaked out at his words, falling down your soft cheeks as you attempted to blink them away. A small gasp escaped your lips, and then you launched yourself into his arms, pressing yourself against him and trembling as the heavy sobs broke through. Poe held you, one hand moving slowly over your back as the other slide to your hair, gently holding the back of your head. He let you cry, murmuring soft, sweet nothings as you let out the pain and grief, your hands pressed against his bare chest. He pressed his mouth to the top of your head, his own eyes closing as emotions rippled through him. It hurt him to hear your raw, aching sadness. He wished he could do more, take away the pain, go back in time and change everything that happened.

“Sweet girl, I’m here, sweet girl, pretty girl,” He cooed softly as your sobs began to fade, slowly turning to little hiccups. “Right here, never going anywhere, I promise.”

You pulled back slightly in a sudden movement that caught Poe off guard, his arms tightening around you rather than releasing. Just your head moved back, and you met his eyes with the fiercest gaze he’d ever seen, “I can’t ever lose you, Poe, so you better mean that promise!” Your voice was thick with emotion. You slide your hands up to grab the tops of his shoulders, “Please don’t ever leave me.” It came out as a plea, a soft, desperate plea. His heart was beating wildly in his chest now, as he watched the emotions on your face.

Something had changed. It was different out here in the warm night air, alone and emotional, the walls were slipping away, emboldening Poe.

Poe lowered his head toward you, holding your gaze steady, channelling as much into that look as he could. Your name fell from his lips, “Never. Do you know why?”

It was so intense now, his body pressed to yours, he could feel every curve. You were gripping him as tightly as he held you, suspended momentarily in time as you looked at each other.

Your voice was barely a whisper now, “W-why?” He could see that you already understood. He just needed to say it aloud.

The hand on the back of your head tightened, Poe’s lips coming to yours and stopping just short, where he turned his head only ever so slightly to whisper back, “Because I’m yours, sweet girl-always have been. And you’re mine.” You shivered at his words, and then he moved his head back and pressed his lips to yours.

It was the softest he’d ever kissed anyone, but Poe put everything into it. He wanted you to know everything he struggled to say aloud, to know how long he’d wanted to kiss you just like this, how much he cared for you. Your body had stiffened at first, but then you were melting into him. Hands that had been gripping him now sliding up into his hair and forcing his mouth harder against your own.

Poe groaned, keeping one hand in your hair and bringing the other to hold your face, his tongue swiping across your lips eagerly. When you parted them for him, he took his time licking into your mouth, tasting you completely, teasing.

You whimpered in delight, still trembling as he held you.

You were the first to break the kiss, pressing your forehead to his, both of you panting.“Poe, you mean ev-everything to me,” You gasped out, “I love you, always loved you, so, so in love with yo-“

Your sweet words cut off when they overwhelmed Poe with joy and he kissed you again. After a moment, he slid both of his hands down, stopping at your hips, “Let me show you how much I love you, sweet girl.” His voice was deeper now, and he enjoyed the way your eyes seemed to go round as he accentuated his words by leaning slightly and bringing his hands behind your legs, lifting.

Your arms instinctively hooked around his neck as Poe lifted you, legs circling his back. He kissed you again, but pushed at your shirt, his thumb brushing the soft flesh of your stomach as he held you up with one arm. He wanted you, but he needed to make sure you were ready, that you could handle making this leap with him. He let you lead, for the time. You took the hint and removed your shirt, tossing it to the sand. Poe gasped as he gazed at your chest, bringing his lips to your breasts, licking at them before taking a peak gently into his mouth and swirling his hot tongue over it.

“Poe, stars-fuck,” You moaned, arching your chest just slightly toward his eager mouth, trying not to set your precarious position off centre.

Poe grunted, “Hold on to me, going-gonna take these off.” He held your body against his with one arm and used the other to swipe at your shorts, pushing them down. You complied, holding on to him as he adjusted your legs and ripped the shorts off.

His eyes snapped open-you were on a beach. A fucking beach-there was nowhere to safely lay you down. “Fuck, I want to taste you.” He groaned.

A soft whimper slipped out at his delicious words, “Too far, I need you now, wait-waited so long for this...”

Poe’s decision came easily at your words. He pushed his pyjamas down and stepped out of them, before twisting toward the water and walking into it. His feet came to the bath-like water before you noticed what he was doing, and then another needy little moan escaped at the realization of what you were about to do.

Before he lowered you both into the water, he slipped one hand between your bodies and gently trailed his fingers down, dipping into you slowly. Your entire body jerked in response as Poe groaned in delight at how wet you were, “Sweet girl, fuck, so ready for me already.”

“Always,” You replied, kissing under his jaw as your hips rolled a little, clinging to him, “Always thinking about y-you, Poe. Fuck, every guy was just-was nothing, I closed my eyes and thought of you, and w-wished...”

“Fuck, sweet girl,” He carefully moved his fingers, teasing at your pussy while you whimpered out your filthy confession, driving him wild. He slid two inside of you, eyes nearly rolling back at how hot you were, “F-fuck, you’re mine. You know that, sweet girl? Mine.”

“Yes, yours, always yours!”

He pulled his fingers out and adjusted you in his arms, the water lapping at his lower thighs below. His cock pressed up against your slick heat; however, he wanted to taste you first. He brought those fingers to his mouth and you watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he closed his lips around them, immediately groaning at your perfect, sweet taste.

“You taste fucking amazing,” He growled.

And then he was dropping his hands to your hips and lining your bodies up properly, lifting you slightly to allow you to wiggle against him and help wet his cock with your juices. You threw your head back when he began to push the head in, “No, sweet girl look at me, I wanna see your face-only face I ever pictured.” He demanded, his hands tightening their grip.

He watched you work to tilt your head forward, to meet his eyes as he pushed into you, splitting you open, another growl ripping from his chest at how tight you were. It took a few moments to bottom out as he moved slowly, not wanting to hurt you. When your bodies pressed together the sweetest little whimper escaped your lips, your eyes rolling, “Poe, fuckfuckfuck!”

“I know,” He pulled out slightly and quickly rutted back in, earning another whine, “So tight for me, l-like you were fucking made for me, sweet girl. Perfect little cunt.”

“Stars, I’m yours, Poe, only ever yours.”

He grunted, thrusting a few more times before sitting down in the water and pulling you down on him hard. You cried out as he used his hands to lift and drop you repeatedly, almost effortlessly thanks to the water now surrounding you to your lower chests. Your breasts hit the water each time he sunk you onto him and the sensation seemed to only add to your pleasure, your hands carding into his curls and gripping to keep yourself steady. Because he was lifting you, he felt you take control of rolling your hips as he slammed you down, earning grunts and curses, your name on his tongue as the pleasure built between you both.

Poe had never had sex like this, where he felt so entirely connected to the other person. He’d never cared so much for another’s pleasure. Because any other person was always a placebo for you, and no matter how beautiful that person was, he would always close his eyes and picture you when he came. He would have to bite his lip to prevent himself from accidentally moaning your name. Now he could moan your name over and over, and he did.

“P-Poe, uh,” You broke off, trying to keep looking at him as he slammed you down particularly hard and a scream ripped from your lips, the pleasure burning. “You’re gonna make, gonna cum, Poe, Poe, Poe!”

He could feel it, the way your walls tightened around him in soft flutters as your pleasure neared its peak, your entire body trembling in his arms. He brought his mouth to yours, licking inside it sloppily before kissing your jaw, his lips near your ear, “Sweet girl, cum for me, cum for me and put my imagination to fucking shame.”

“F-fuck!” You cried out, your hands squeezing, your head falling slightly back as your mouth popped open and a cry reverberated through your entire body, the wave inside you crashing. Poe didn’t stop moving you, watching your beautiful face as you came, hard, on his cock. Your walls fluttering deliciously around him as he lifted you and slammed you down, one hand bracing your mid-back so that you didn’t fall, so that he could keep watching your face twist in ecstasy.

You quickly became a whimpering mess even as you came down from your high, now entirely unable to form a word of basic. Poe felt himself nearing his release, his thrusts only becoming harder the more you whined for him, “Fuck, so beautiful cumming on my cock,” He grunted, and your eyes met his, tears leaking from the corners and he knew, just knew you were already close again. “Gonna fill you up, sweet girl, fuck. Fill you up and make you mine!”

“Oh, ohohohohoh,” You were fully quivering still as his cock swelled and he thrust as hard as he could, his hands slamming you down and absolutely ripping another orgasm from you as he spilled himself inside of you, filling you with his cum. The pleasure coursed through Poe as he watched you come entirely undone, the reality was a million times better than he ever dreamed. You were fucking perfect. Your pussy milked every last bit of his cum and Poe couldn’t stop shouting your name as spurt after spurt burst from him, his arms forcing you down onto him to take him completely.

Many moments later he came down, his cock still twitching slightly inside of you. You had collapsed into him, all energy spent as you crashed from the second orgasm, from the brutal way he’d fucked you full. Poe held you and carefully dropped his legs, grateful there was no heavy current causing waves. The water was fairly still tonight, and therefore he could brace one hand behind him and the other pressed into your back without worrying he’d fall over.

As you both worked to catch your breath, Poe felt you shift. Sensing your needs, he moved his hips back and slipped from inside you, breathing out at the sensation. He already missed you.

“Poe,” You whispered into his neck, your head resting on his shoulder, “So perfect, that was so perfect.” The genuine happiness in your voice made him smile.

He sat forward, settling you into his lap and bringing your lips to his again, this time taking all the time in the world to lazily kiss you, his hands running across every curve and dip and swell of your body. It was more than sexual, now he was exploring you and memorizing every part, memorizing the spots that made your breath pick up and your mouth become more eager. He enjoyed it when you fought to taste him, your tongue eager to pull small groans from him as you slid over his.

After a short while, he pulled back and met your gaze, catching his breath at your blissful, fucked out expression. Your pupils were blown wide, cheeks flushed.

“I love you, sweet girl,” Poe brushed his thumb across your lips. You melted into the touch, sighing in content.

When he swiped again and then began to push his thumb into your mouth, your eyes snapped open in surprise. You instantly closed your lips around him, “Sweet, perfect little girl, you were so good for me.” His gaze was darker now, he knew, as he watched your lips wrap around his thumb. He pulled it back out, his cock twitching. “Such an obedient, perfect little slut, aren’t you?”

Your heavy eyes were knowing, “Only for you. Take me back to our room, Poe.” You purred, and Poe was lifting you out of the water before you finished, a giggle escaping your lips.

Once ashore, he quickly helped you throw on your clothes, nearly tripping as he pulled his pyjama bottoms on in his haste. He saw then that you were shaky on your legs, so he swept you up bridal style and started back inside, grinning down at you as you continued to giggle excitedly.

“Walls are soundproof in there,” He murmured, and you abruptly stopped laughing, your eyes widening in a mix of anticipation and trepidation. “I’m going to spend the rest of the night tasting you.” His grin increasing at the way you gulped, eyes bright, and nodded your head.

“Not getting any sleep tonight, are we, Commander?”

“No, sweet girl, we aren’t.”

Did you enjoy this story? Consider leaving a comment or reblogging to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Thank you 🤍

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redswanned · 3 years

Text

Always Together pt 1; Porco x reader

Porco Galliard x reader

childhood friends to lovers, canonverse

word count: 2,510

no warnings, some minor swearing

omg this is my first aot fic ever ahhhh!! I didn’t mean for it to be this long haha but here we are. I hope you all like it!

_________________________

A life without Porco Galliard was a life you couldn’t imagine living. Ever since the two of you were in diapers you’ve been the best of friends, which was a pleasant outcome considering both of your parents were close. Every Sunday night you and your family would have dinner with the Galliards. While you played with Porco and Marcel, both of your parents always talked about moving forward in life.

You realized early on that this meant both you and Porco’s parents shared the dream of becoming honorary Marleyens, which was common amongst Eldians. However, in order to achieve that goal, both of your parents as well as Porco’s signed you all up for the warrior program. They were too caught up in the dream of living a life where they were not oppressed, at the cost of their own children.

The training was brutal for mere children, and you felt like you were training harder than actual soldiers. Sometimes it was just too much. As hard as you tried, you noticed yourself falling behind the other kids in training. Hell, even Reiner was better than you by a long shot.

One day, you injured your ankle during the running exercise. Ironically, you weren’t crying from the pain of your swollen ankle. The thought of being ousted from the warrior program and disappointing your parents scared you more. Unlike Porco, you were an only child so your parents were depending on your successful completion of the program entirely to become honorary Marleyans. At this point, you didn’t even bother to reach the finish line. Instead, you wandered off to a more secluded part of the training grounds, an all too familiar tree stump inviting you to rest after a long day. Warm tears flowed down your flushed cheeks as you heard laughter amongst your fellow warrior candidates.

“They’re probably happy that they’ll be selected for a Titan,” you thought sadly to yourself. You sighed as you realized they probably didn’t notice you were even there. As you tried to hold back sobs, you noticed the sound of running footsteps.

“Hey, Y/N, why didn’t you complete the race? Even that dumbass Reiner beat you!” Called out Porco.

Upon hearing his comment, you began to cry more which stopped him in his tracks. Sure what he said was kind of rude but he didn’t want to make you cry!

“Whoa, calm down! Why are you crying?” He yelled out of concern as he kneeled beside you.

“It’s nothing,” you replied as you wiped your tears.

Porco only stared at you frowning slightly. “Y/N, I’ve known you my whole life I know that something is up when you cry.”

Despite his concern, you didn’t feel like telling him the truth behind your tears. “When I was running I tripped and hurt my ankle,” you said as you sniffed back some tears.

Though he didn’t completely buy your reasoning, he did notice how inflamed your ankle was. He’d ask you about the true reason why you were upset later, his first priority was to get you some help.

“Here,” said Porco as he reached his hand out to you, “let me help you get to the clinic.”

You took his hand and felt yourself blush as he wrapped it over his shoulder. “Don’t put pressure on that foot,” he warned as the two of you trudged towards the clinic.

On the way there you saw your fellow warrior candidates conversing amongst themselves.

“Y/N! Are you alright?” Asked Marcel as he and Pieck quickly ran up to the two of you.

“Yeah, I just hurt my ankle back there,” you said sheepishly.

“That doesn’t look too good Y/N, it’s already so swollen. Are you sure you’re okay?” Asked Pieck.

“Um, yeah I’m fine!” You quickly replied through the pain.

“If you were fine I think you would’ve crossed the finish line by then,” said Reiner, more concerned than anything.

However, Porco took this as Reiner insulting you. “You know damn well Y/N would’ve beat you on a normal day!” He spat back.

“Hey that’s enough Porco, go help Y/N to the clinic,” said Marcel trying to diffuse the situation.

Porco just frowned at the crowd and pulled you along. You knew he would always defend you, but lately, he’s been getting more mad at Reiner for even talking to you.

“Porco it’s okay, I don’t think he meant it in a bad way,” you said as you cling to him since he started to pick up the pace after that incident.

“You never know these days Y/N. We’re all competing against each other. He probably feels lucky that you got hurt today since him beating you only boosted his score,” he said as he held the door open for you.

You decided to let it go as you trudged towards the bed and sat down. The burning pain in your ankle wasn’t getting any better as you slipped off your shoes. Definitely sprained, broken at the worst. You sighed at your predicament, knowing that you’d never become an honorary Marleyan like your friends and their families. Porco ran off to tell commander Magath, who then told Zeke to deal with you since he had some experience patching up wounds and since he was the oldest candidate.

“Hey Y/N, Porco told me you hurt your ankle?” Asked Zeke as he began to gather some bandages to wrap your injured ankle in.

You simply nodded before Zeke examined your ankle.

“Ouch!” You squeaked after he tried to move it sideways.

“Sorry, but I think it’s definitely a bad sprain at this point. It looks like you’ll have to use crutches for the next few weeks,” he said as he frowned slightly. He knew the selection of the candidates among the younger bunch was coming up soon, and this injury didn’t rule in your favor.

“Are you sure Zeke? Can’t you just wrap my foot back up and I can resume training?” You asked tearfully.

The older teen felt sorry for you as you were still determined to work hard for the selection. There was no way you could continue training like this, and your physical test grades weren’t even that high, to begin with. There was no doubt you would not be receiving a Titan.

“That will only set you back, just focus on healing, okay? The Marleyan trainers were kind enough to give you a break from training to heal,” said Zeke as he finished wrapping your ankle and grabbing the crutches for you.

You didn’t say anything after, the pain in your ankle was nothing compared to the disappointment and hopelessness you felt knowing you had no chance to improve your training scores. Zeke pat your head as almost a condolence and left the room. As you sat there contemplating your situation yet again, a familiar boy opened the door and took a seat next to you.

“I know you’re not okay and it’s not just about your ankle,” said Porco bluntly as he faced you. You didn’t dare look him in the eyes.

“Y/N, you could tell me. Please?” He said as his face softened.

You might as well get it over with. “Porco, at this rate I am never going to be chosen for a Titan. You know this too. I’ve tried my hardest but I am nowhere on your level or anyone else’s! I’m pretty sure my marks are the lowest out of us. And I’m going to disappoint my parents by not inheriting a Titan! They will never become honorary Marleyans because of me,” you cried.

Seeing you cry was difficult for Porco. He always had a soft spot for you and he immediately pulled into a hug. It was rare that he gave out hugs but you were an exception.

“Hey, don’t cry Y/N, okay? You never know what could happen. You’re way stronger than you think and I mean that. You’re even stronger than that loser Reiner! Don’t give up just yet. You heard Zeke, you need to rest. An injury like that proves you’ve been working hard so maybe those in charge will notice that too,” said Porco as he tried to comfort you. A part of him knew that there was a chance you wouldn’t inherit a Titan, neither would Reiner since there were only five titans available to inherit. Still, you could always work your way up as a soldier and earn merit that way. It was rare though since Eldians are not allowed to order Marleyans. There had to be another way.

His words comforted you a little. It was nice to see someone have faith in you for once. Maybe he was right, there could be another way you become an honorary Marleyan.

Several weeks passed by and the selection for inheriting Titans was revealed. It stung when you realized you were not selected a Titan, but you had prepared yourself for this revelation for the past few weeks. Your jaw dropped when you heard Porco was not chosen either. You stood with the rest of the group as Porco lashed out at Reiner, him yelling in disbelief that someone who he believed performed worse than him was chosen instead. Marcel pried his brother away from Reiner as Porco sobbed in defeat. The whole scene was heartbreaking to watch. You knew how hard Porco worked all these years, but you were also surprised that Reiner was able to get a Titan. That factor made you think that you had some of the necessary skills to inherit a Titan since you were not that far from Reiner.

All of the other chosen candidates left the room for the festival and left you and a sobbing Porco. It was now your turn to comfort him. “Hey Porco, I know you tried your best out there. It’s okay though, you still get to be an honorary Marleyan because of Marcel!” you said trying to cheer him up.

“It’s not about that,” he sobbed, “I can’t believe I’m this weak! I thought I was so strong but clearly, I’m not!”

“Remember what you told me the day I hurt my ankle?” you asked and he looked up, “You told me that I am stronger than I think I am and I think that also applies to you. Don’t give up hope just yet, I think you should stay in the program. You have what it takes to inherit a Titan in the future!”

He wiped his tears and simply nodded, listening to your words. Maybe they’ll hold some truth one day, but he will keep training to get stronger. This time, you brought him into a hug which he returned. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“What are you going to do since you also weren’t chosen today?” asked Porco.

“Be a disappointment to my parents,” you said sarcastically with a small chuckle.

“Don’t think that way, Y/N. There’s always so much more than their opinion of you,” he said frowning.

“Oh I know, it’s just I’m prepared for the guilt I’m going to be feeling. But I’ll probably try studying to become a nurse. At least then I can be useful on the battlefield,” you replied.

Porco’s eyes lit up as you told him of your prospective plans, “I wouldn’t mind having you as my nurse one day,” he said as he blushed.

“I hope for your sake that you aren’t my patient, because well, that would mean you got hurt,” you chuckled blushing as well.

Unfortunately, that was one of the last conversations you had with Porco for a while. Since you didn’t have Marleyan citizenship, you were moved back to the internment zone which showed you how hard life was for your kind. Your parents didn’t help either, they seemed eternally disappointed in you since they relied on you for Marleyan citizenship. You spent your days working at a small restaurant, which was tough since the management was pretty rude. Not to mention that the pay wasn’t great either but it was more than nothing. However, the shunning you felt from your parents was unbearable. Every time you were in a room with them the overwhelming feeling of your failure haunted you. All you wanted to do was to see Porco, but he was too busy continuing training.

Occasionally, on both of your rare days off, Porco would come to visit the internment zone where you caught up on life. You both confided in one another about being perceived as failures, which was not true at all. Without the other trainees around, you and Porco became much closer over the years. You’ve never been able to open up to anyone else and vice versa.

One day Porco came to you and tearfully informed you that Marcel had died early on in the mission to receive the founding Titan. It was one thing losing a friend, but you understood that Porco was suffering the most since Marcel was his one and only brother. Your arms became his safe haven as he sobbed away, missing his older brother and wondering why he had to leave this world so young. You cried with him, you had known Marcel since childhood too and he was suddenly gone. As much as Marcel’s death hurt both of you, it brought you two even closer. Recounting the good times you both had with Marcel was healing for both of you. And when Porco found out Reiner and Bertolt brought back the girl who had inadvertently killed him, Ymir, he knew that it would be his duty to consume her in order to obtain the Jaw Titan. You could not be happier for Porco in that aspect; his dream of inheriting a Titan was finally coming true. At the same time, this also meant he would have to leave you for military duties. As much as you hated that harsh reality, you were happy that his skills were put to use. The news broke out about the new war with the Mid-East Alliance, and you knew it would be a while before you saw him again.

After his parents said their goodbyes to their only son left, you approached your best friend tearfully and embraced him.

“I’m going to miss you Porco, please stay safe,” you cried into his chest.

“I will don’t worry about me Y/N,” he said as he returned the embrace.

You pulled away from him and he frowned at your tear-stained face. “Come on Y/N, you know I hate seeing you cry,” he said with a slight blush.

“I can’t help it,” you giggled in between tears, “Promise to send each other letters?”

“Of course I will,” he said as he grabbed your hand and squeezed it comfortably.

That was the last time you saw Porco Galliard for four years. You didn’t know it at the time you stood on the dock, but your life would change drastically in a way that would change you and Porco forever.

#attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #porco x reader #porco galliard x you #porco galliard x reader #aot x y/n

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years

Text

Felons pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nessian multichapter. Next part out probably Monday. As always, this one just sets up some stuff so it’s kinda boring. This one’s probably going to be long. And an emotional roller coaster. Just letting you know :)

Lightly based off the book The Witness. I say lightly because I’ve actually never even read this book, but my mom told me about it. ALSO no offense to anyone who’s from/lives in Nebraska lol.

Cassian swiveled around in his chair and looked at his partner with raised brows. “She’s in Nebraska?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”

Someone’s a little testy today. He ignores the tone and repeats, “But... Nebraska? What the hell is she doing there? And why did it take us so long to find her?”

Azriel gives him a tight look, and he realizes the reason for his pissy attitude. He’s annoyed it took him so long to track her down.

Before he can tell his partner it isn’t his fault, he says, “She isn’t doing much. She’s completely off the grid. Which answers your second stupid question, too.”

“Okay... how off the grid are we talking?”

The woman had grown up in a penthouse, for fuck’s sake. He couldn’t imagine her living in the middle of nowhere without any of the comfort she’d lived with her entire life.

“No cell phone or bank records for the last two years. The last time she was seen by any sort of traffic camera was before that, and it was in Atlanta.” He scrolls through something on his desktop with a frown. “From what I can tell, she took all her money out in cash and hoped on a bus.”

Nothing about that sounded like the woman he’d been reading about, but he wasn’t about to argue with Azriel in such a bad mood. “So she went straight to Nebraska?”

“I don’t know.”

His least favorite answer. “How’d you find her, anyway?”

“Well, I figured that unless she was sleeping under a bridge, she had to be paying rent somewhere. So I went state by state, looking at new property purchases under her known aliases.” Azriel sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. “But that didn’t pull up any results, so I looked at all the IDs on new renter’s insurance purchases until I matched one to her.”

His eyebrows rose. “That’s...”

“Tedious as shit.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s why it took so damn long,” he mutters. “She’s been careful, Cass. I mean really, really careful.”

A laugh bubbled out of him at that. “Well, she should be. She’s a felon.”

~Nesta~

Nesta’s breath clouded in front of her as she ran up the hill, panting like crazy. Even though she’d taken up running after the move, she still fucking hated it. Especially when it was cold.

Which, in Nebraska, was somehow year round.

Even the summers here were cold compared to back home-

No. Not home.

This was home now.

California was slowly, painfully becoming a distant memory, and she had to constantly force herself to remember that Mackenzie Brooks had never lived there. She was born in Michigan. She has no family or friends. Her hobbies include reading and running (the last of which was a definite mistake to include).

And she was her.

God, it honestly was a miracle she hadn’t slipped up yet.

Maybe it was still the fear that drove her. Maybe it was just that she knew she could never go back to her old life. No matter that she wanted to.

No matter that she’d picked up and left without a word. No matter that her sisters probably thought she was dead.

Thankfully, she made it to the top of the hill before she passed out or died, and she bent over, sucking down the freezing air. It was only October, but it was already cold enough to force her to wear three layers and a beanie.

Despite being miserable and cold, she forced herself to go through her training course.

Because it couldn’t just be enough to be fit enough to run away anymore. If the person chasing her was faster...

Nesta punched her hand through the target, satisfied when the wood cracked down the middle. Her knuckles luckily had gotten used to the abuse, so when she ducked under the branch and struck again, another target went flying.

By the time she was done, her hands and arms were tired and her body was aching for a bath.

Or two hours on a warm, sunny beach.

Since only one of those things was bound to actually happen, she trudged back to her cabin, praying the hot water would hold out long enough for a full bath.

One thing about Blair, Nebraska was that somehow, the less than ten thousand people who lived here were always experiencing a water shortage.

It rivaled the cold ass weather for her least favorite thing about the place as a very close second.

Noticing who was parked in front of her small little house, she grimaced and amended her statement. Lack of hot water was actually third, second only to the one and only Sheriff Marks.

He spun around when he finally heard her steps, smiling a big, ugly, fake smile. “Miss Brooks.”

“Marks.”

According to small-town social guidelines, she was being beyond rude for not calling him Sheriff. But he was a short, ugly, annoying man, and she didn’t hold an ounce of respect for him.

And because she wasn’t completely fake, she didn’t bother hiding it.

“What are you doing on my property?”

His smile dimmed as his eyes beady eyes narrowed slightly. “I wanted to see how you’re doing. You never come into town. And here in Blair, we take care of each other.”

That right there was the reason for her dislike; Sheriff Marks was an insatiably curious man.

And ever since she’d shown up a year ago, he’d been trying to put together the puzzle of why a moderately attractive young woman would move to the middle of butt-fucking nowhere.

“I’m fine.”

She wanted to walk by him and go inside, where she could blissfully lock him out, but she had a list of rules now, and not putting her back to people she didn’t know or like was at the top of it.

“Okay, sure, but-”

“Listen, Marks. I appreciate this... gesture, but I moved here to be left alone. I’d appreciate it if you would respect that.” It was the most she’d ever said to him, and he looked a little shocked. “I think I’ve made it more than clear.”

His face went somehow even ruddier, and for a split second, she regretted the harsh words.

She couldn’t have people caring about her, though. When people cared, they stopped by more and felt entitled to know your business. Neither of which were things she wanted.

So she just raised a brow and shot a meaningful glance to his cruiser.

“Yes. It’s perfectly clear exactly who you are.”

She almost rolled her eyes at the attempted insult, thankful when he finally turned to leave. As he was pulling away, she united her muddy shoes and got her house key from her sock, grimacing at how tight her back was when she stood up.

Inside, she went through and made sure every door and window was locked, a habit she’d picked up two years ago and hadn’t been able to shake.

God apparently was looking out for her today, because when she finally made it upstairs, there was enough hot water to fill the tub.

When she sunk down to her shoulders and closed her eyes, enjoying the moment of peace. But then images of her sisters’ faces, the ocean, and her old home popped up uninvited in her head.

It was always quiet moments like these when she found it the hardest to shake the memories of who she used to be. And since Nebraska was always fucking quiet...

Nesta reminded herself of why she was here; why it had been necessary to leave. She reminded herself that her family was safer with her gone, that she was safer.

But the hole in her chest refused to listen and close up.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she was too tired to even brush it away and chastise herself. Because for the first time in twenty-five years, she admitted she was lonely.

She’d been alone for most of her life, but there was a difference between alone and lonely. Even when she’d isolated herself from her family and friends, they’d still been there for her.

But now... she had no one here. And she’d never felt so alone in her life.

It was horrible enough to make her consider going back, despite the risks.

This is home now, she told herself, dunking under the water to wash away the thoughts hounding her. You didn’t work your ass off to get safe just to bitch out after a year.

Coming up and gasping for air, she went through her cover, just like she did every night.

“My name is Mackenzie Brooks, nickname Mackie. I’m from Michigan, but I moved to Nebraska last year to start over. I like to read and run. I’m twenty-five.” Taking a deep breathe, she finished, “I don’t have any family.”

No amount of time under the water could ebb the sting of those words, though.

~Cassian~

Cassian was honestly a little surprised he hadn’t gotten fired.

He absolutely hated his orders, and he’d made that more than clear. They’d come straight from Command and “weren’t negotiable,” but that didn’t mean he hadn’t tried.

Calling his boss a two-faced asshole might’ve been a bit much, but it felt justified in the moment.

Because in all the time he’d spent searching for Nesta Archeron, he’d always pictured the day he’d finally track her down and slap some cuffs on her wrists, haul her away to jail.

He’d never imagined he’d be given orders to find out what she knew first.

And he’d also never imagined having to do so in fucking Nebraska.

An hour in the state, and he already hated it. He was from Boston, so he didn’t mind the cold weather, but the lack of buildings over thirty feet was a shock to the system.

That, alongside the fact that everyone here was wearing some form of plaid, only worsened his mood.

It wasn’t like he cared about her or anything, but he’d never really liked undercover work. Deceiving a woman--no matter that she was a criminal--never felt right to him.

But orders were orders.

He had to find out why she’d run, what she knew about what had happened, and if she had any proof. The goal was to get it all recorded, so he had to carry around a stupid little tap recorder in his jacket pocket.

Maybe she’d meet him and just spill her guts immediately. That’d be ideal, but it seemed pretty fucking unlikely. At the very least, he’d have to get her to trust him enough to talk about the events of two years ago.

He drove the crappy old truck Azriel had gotten him through the small town, gaining the eyes of pretty much every person he passed.

Not a lot of new people, apparently.

Ignoring them, he drove to the address of a small house on the outskirts of town. Or home for however long it took him to get close to her.

Gods, I hope she’s talkative, he thought, walking up the creaky stairs and shouldering the door open.

Quiet and small, but at least it was clean.

Throwing his bag down, Cassian grabbed his laptop and started to get to work.

Three hours and a trip to the grocery store later, he’d learned absolutely nothing Nesta--or Mackenzie Brooks, rather.

There had been nothing online, and no one in the store had much to say besides, “She moved here a year ago. Keeps to herself.”

Great.

Luckily, he had a reason to go see her. They were neighbors. Kind of.

Her house was further out of town than his, and she owned the land around it, so she didn’t actually have neighbors. But he lived within a two mile radius, so he counted it.

Which is why he found himself sitting in her gravel driveway, eyebrows high on his forehead, staring at the place.

And for the first time, he questioned if Azriel was right.

Because the woman he’d read about... she definitely didn’t seem the type to live here.

The porch was missing floor boards, the roof was caving in on one side, and the paint on the outside of the house was peeling off. The only thing that looked somewhat new was the front door.

It had three locks and seemed to be a little heavy duty compared to the house, which made it stand out in a pretty obvious way.

Stepping out of the car, he walked up to get a better look, avoiding the holes in the floor. The house was quiet, and he knocked on the door, finding it to be solid and heavy.

No answer.

He knocked again, waiting a few minutes. Then he decided to be nosy and peek in the window.

A couch and dining table were all that was visible, furthering his opinion that she couldn’t actually live here.

She’d grown up in one of the nicest apartment buildings in California. Her father had been a wealthy real-estate tycoon. She’d gone to private school and sailing camp, for Christ’s sake.

There was no way she lived here.

That theory was proven very soundly incorrect a second later when he felt something tap the back of his head. Repressing the jump that rose from not hearing anyone sneak up on him, he straightened and turned around.

And found himself looking down the barrel of a shotgun into the surprisingly beautiful, angry face of Nesta Archeron.

“You have five seconds to get the hell off my porch.”

Shock ran through his system like lightening. For a few reasons, the least of which was the gun.

For starters, pictures didn’t at all do her justice, because she was probably the most attractive thing Cassian had ever laid eyes on. And that was with mud splattered on her face, hair in a ponytail, and athletic clothes covering her thin frame.

Then there was the fact that Azriel had been completely correct. Nesta Archeron, pampered little trust fund princess, was living here. In Nebraska. Completely off the grid. By herself.

The gun was also a surprise, but not as much as the way she was holding it. Her feet were squared, her shoulders lined up to absorb the kickback if she fired. She looked... she looked like she knew what she was doing.

She raised a brow, reminding him of the fact that he still hadn’t spoken.

And remembering who he was supposed to be, what he was supposed to do, he ignored the gun and smiled broadly. “Or what?”

“Or I will shoot you,” she responded calmly, hand pulling back the fore-end to load the gun with a snap.

“You aren’t going to shoot me,” he assured her. “I brought you a pie.” He held up the baked good and grinned. It was from the grocery store, but it still counted, right? “It’s blueberry.”

“What? Who the fuck are you? And why are you here?”

Sticking out a hand that she ignored, he said, “Cassian. I’m here because I just moved in to the place about a mile from here, and I wanted to meet my neighbors. I gotta say, I’m loving the hospitality.”

Nesta ignored the joke and asked incredulously, “You moved here?”

He nodded.

She just narrowed her eyes, not buying it apparently.

Good God, “stand-off-ish” didn’t begin to cover it.

He was having a difficult time wrapping his head around the fact that this was the same woman who’d gone to UC Santa Barbara, liked to surf, and had dated a movie star.

“But what about the-”

“I hate pie.”

He scoffed, leaning against the crumbling wall of her house like he was unbothered by the rejection in her voice. “No one hates pie.”

Nesta shrugged, jerking her chin towards his truck in a clear get the fuck out manner.

“I’ll leave if you tell me your name,” he bargained, acting like he didn’t know who she was already.

There was a pause of silence, and a bit of sadness seeped into her bright blue eyes. “Mackenzie.”

Mackenzie Brooks, one of her aliases.

“Pretty name.”

“Leave.”

“Sweetheart, I honestly can’t believe you’re trying so hard to get rid of me. I’m the best looking guy around here.”

That might very well be true, considering he hadn’t seen a single person under the age of fifty when he’d gone out earlier.

“And what if I’m not looking for a man?”

“I have a female cousin you could date instead.”

Her lips twitched, and it made him a little too happy to see. “If I take the pie, will you leave?”

“Counteroffer. We split the pie, then I’ll leave.”

Her eyebrows go up. “Who the hell offers someone half a pie?”

“I was planning on giving you the whole pie, but I didn’t know you’d be so beautiful. And feisty.” He ran his eyes over her slowly. “A quality I never even knew I liked.”

“The urge to shoot you just increased.”

Cassian waggled his eyebrows. “So passionate.”

Nesta just sighed, finally lowering the gun. She engaged the safety and leaned it against the door, then snatched the pie from his hands and walked to the porch railing.

He noticed she didn’t turn her back to him the entire time, and she she kept the gun in arm’s reach.

What the hell had she been through?

His train of thought was cut off when he heard a splat. Nesta came back to him, one crumpled half of the pie lying upside down in the lid, the other in the original container. She shoved the crumpled half toward him. “Now leave.”

“How did you even cut it? Do you have a knife hidden between your breasts?”

It was a miracle she didn’t slap him for that one. She just narrowed her eyes again and said, “Yes.”

He honestly believed her.

Cassian sighed, knowing he had to actually leave now. “Well, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it’ll do. It was lovely to meet you, Mackenzie.”

“Please just leave.”

Ouch.

He laughed and walked to his truck, calling out, “I’ll see you soon, neighbor!”

Nesta frowned at that, but he ignored it and grinned back.

She stood on the porch watching him drive away until he was a certain distance, then picked up her stuff and unlocked the door.

Well, Azriel had definitely been right: she was being very, very careful.

But why?

Cassian had no idea, but he was definitely going to find out.

_____________________________________________________

Part 2

@sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @highqueenofelfhame @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #cassian #nesta archeron #nesta #cassian x nesta #acotar #acotar fanfiction #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight

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songsformonkeys · 4 years

Text

A Tiny Piece of the World Called Home - (Ezra x reader) chapter 2

pairing: Ezra x reader

summary: "Just like the first of the Terras, Icarus had precisely one moon. It was a desolate and barren place, gray rocks and dust as far as the eye could see. It was cold and unwelcoming and you felt a certain kinship to it. It wasn't a hostile place but it gave you nothing for free. For as long as you could remember, you had wanted to go there."

Reader and Ezra end up as partners on a mining job and are forced to live together in close proximity on a small moon base.

rating: explicit

warnings: smut

notes: trying to post all my ao3 stories to tumblr as well so this isn’t a new story and some of you might have already read it. Chapter 1 is here

Chapter 2

While Ezra had been watching you from the very start, it was only now that you had started to actually watch him back. And the more you watched, the more details you discovered about your roommate and work partner. For example, he walked around barefoot in the base a disconcerting amount of time, he was ambidextrous, liked to take long showers, that sometimes left you without any hot water but with a strong urge to strangle him, and he snored when he slept on his stomach. That last bit you knew partly because Ezra liked to take a nap after lunch and partly because the small base offered very little in the way of privacy. You shared every living space and the only way to get away from each other was to hide in the bathroom. In the beginning, Ezra must have thought you suffered from terrible gastrointestinal problems considering how much time you'd spent in there.

Ezra had definitely noticed you watching, you had been able to tell by the way his mouth always curved into a smug smile when he caught your eyes lingering, but he hadn't said anything about it and so neither had you. Instead, the two of you danced around each other while Ezra kept up his usual out loud stream of consciousness.

“Do you enjoy art? I went to a museum once. Sculptures, paintings, VRs, soundscapes, and what have you. They had everything! Of course, I'd never been before so I had no idea. Anyway, I had just landed after a job and was looking for a way to spend my well-earned freedom. So I went. And let me tell you, Birdie, I came out of that establishment a changed man. Now, you know I'm a man of emotion, I ain't ashamed to admit that, but I wept like a small child in there. Did you ever get so moved by something that it consumes your whole being? It's part of the reason why I travel. I have the privilege of seeing the most wondrous of places. The majority of them try their very damned hardest to kill me but you have got to admit that there's a certain poetic beauty in that too. Something so beautiful doing their very best to keep people from seeing it...”

You had been tinkering with the temperature-settings on the water-boiler and had only half paid attention to what Ezra was saying. Something about arts and planets and wanting to kill him. You looked up when he went quiet. That was usually your cue to say something or hum or nod before he would continue but this time Ezra was watching you intently with the faintest of smiles on his lips. The scrutiny made you a little nervous and you wished you had listened more closely.

“...yes?” you guessed, hoping that it would be an appropriate response to what he'd just said. Ezra's smile widened and clearly seizing the opportunity of having your attention, he went on.

“Where's your favorite place in the world, Birdie?”

“Here,” you stated simply and returned your focus to the water boiler. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Ezra turn and look out through the window of your small base. He wouldn't get it. No one else had.

“It is quite a marvelous place to behold, isn't it? The planes and the ridges over on that horizon. Never the same, no matter where you turn your eye to. And I know you prefer the sunsets and they are grand indeed but for me, it's the sunrises that does it. Those first rays of sunlight make the whole planet look like it's covered in silver. Takes my breath away every morning.”

You had stopped again to just look at Ezra as he described the planet he was watching outside the window. There was a fondness to his face when he spoke and it tugged on your heartstrings like it was part of you that he was complimenting. As the light from outside hit his face you found yourself thinking that Ezra was quite a wondrous sight to behold too. Rough and rugged, sure, but there was a certain beauty to him. In profile, the curve of his nose and the uneven spikes of his hair reminded you of those very same ridges he'd mentioned just a moment ago. Sharp and jagged. And yet other parts of him seemed way too soft, in comparison. His eyes which, once he'd gotten over the initial apprehension of you, held a sort of kindness that you had not often seen. The scars on his back and torso, that almost glowed like white lines when he undressed in the evening, and told a story of a vulnerability that his usual larger-than-life persona did its best to cover up.

Ezra caught you looking at him and you quickly looked away.

If you happened to wake up an hour earlier the next morning, it was pure coincidence. And when Ezra handed you a cup of coffee and opened his mouth to, no doubt, claim otherwise you glared at him so hard that he raised his hands in surrender before closing his mouth again and pouring himself some coffee.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mining Ander was hard work. Much harder than what most people assumed. They only saw the finished product and figured that the delicate ore must be mined in an equally delicate manner. What they always failed to take into consideration was the several feet of stone and rock that you had to drill through to even get close to the Ander.

The big mechanic drill helped but it was still a grueling work, and you loved it. You loved feeling the strain in your muscles and the way they ached after a long day of work. The smell of sweat in an air-tight suit was something you definitely could have done without, although it did make the fresh air back at the base seem all the sweeter.

Ezra was a hard worker too, which was something you appreciated about him. He never shied away from the strenuous work, despite his occasional verbal complaints about the working conditions, and a couple of hours into the workday his grunts over the comms became a familiar background noise.

You took turns manning the drill while the other person carried the discarded bits of rock away from the hole in the ground and over to the pile which had been growing steadily larger over the duration of your shift.

Most days you paused for lunch but there were days when neither of you wanted to pause what you were doing and you ended up working way too late. Those were the very few days when Ezra stayed mostly silent before it was time for bed. In the beginning, you had cherished those moments like nobody's business but as time went on you found yourself almost missing his steady stream of words and comments.

This particular day was shaping up to be one of those days. Lunch was supposed to have happened some time ago but just as you had been about to call for a break, Ezra had cheered and declared that he'd discovered something purple and gleaming. So instead of stopping, you doubled your efforts the get the ore out.

The eagerness to get to the Ander as quickly as possible might have been what did it. Ezra pushed the drill a little too hard into the ground and suddenly there was a loud snap and you started.

It felt like someone had cracked a whip against your lower leg and you yelped. The pain was followed almost immediately by a whooshing sound and you met Ezra's widening eyes before both of you looked down at the tear in your suit, where oxygen was rapidly leaking out.

“Fuck!” you cursed loudly and quickly crouched to press your hands against the hole on the fabric. Ezra hurriedly jumped down from the driver's seat of the drill and ran over to you.

“We need to get you inside,” he stated, unnecessarily, and you had half a mind to make a rude remark about him stating the obvious. But you held your tongue. Maybe the quick decrease in oxygen was making you soft.

Keeping both of your hands wrapped around your calf, to keep the pressure on the wound and the integrity of your suit, made it impossible to walk. Ezra realized this too and wasted no time picking you up and carrying you. You felt grateful for the decreased gravity since it allowed him to sprint back to the airlock in no time, despite carrying a fully grown person in his arms. Your helmets bumped together in an uneven rhythm as he ran. You listened to his sharp breaths as he ran. They were faster than usual and you didn't think it was from the effort of carrying you. He was worried, you realized and you felt a bit touched that he cared this much. It was a bit excessive, of course. This wasn't the first injury you'd suffered during your shifts on the moon. There was plenty enough oxygen in the suit to get you back to the base and plenty enough blood in your body so that even if he'd sliced your whole leg of you were pretty sure you would have been fine. And since you very much felt your leg still being attached, there wasn't really any cause for alarm. You told Ezra as much but he didn't slow down and you could tell that he didn't quite trust your abilities to medically assess yourself.

“Let me remind you that it took you almost a full day to confess that you'd cut yourself on the kitchen knife when we first got here,” Ezra reminded you, and fine, that was a somewhat fair point but you hadn't known him back then and in your defense, you probably would have been fine even if he hadn't discovered the cut and forced you to let him redress it. You said nothing more. If he wanted to run himself tired for no reason then he was, by all means, welcome to do so.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once inside, he set you down and instructed you to strip. For once in your life, you did what you were told without arguing and as Ezra rummaged around in one of the cupboards for a medkit, you shrugged out of your spacesuit. Your lower leg and foot felt wet and as you pulled it out of the leg of the suit you winced with pain. There was more blood than you had anticipated and you suddenly felt a little light-headed. You weren't afraid of blood but you weren't exposed to bloody injuries all that often either and you preferred your own body parts without them.

You wiggled out of your pants as well and flopped down on a chair. Ezra had struck gold with his search and returned to your side a second later. You gripped his shoulder as he knelt in front of you. A warning for him not to set his knee down in the small puddle of blood that had formed on the floor in front of you. Ezra not only missed the warning but also interpreted your gesture in a completely different manner.

“Don't you worry, Little Bird,” he assured you, as if you were the one who needed comforting, “We'll have you patched up and in tip-top condition again in no time.” He began wiping the skin around the wound clean. You winced a little in anticipation of the pain that never really came. Ezra's hands were surprisingly gentle as he cleaned away the blood. Ezra always surprised you with that. For some reason you always expected him to be rough, but he never was. Whether he was preparing food, reading one your books that he'd stolen or helping you into your suit every morning, he always did everything with a gentleness like he was handling something precious.

His brow was furrowed as he worked, though more from concentration than from worry, you noted and was pleased that he seemed to have reached the same conclusion that you had on the way to the base; that there was no immediate danger to your life. Once he'd cleaned the blood away it turned out that the cut wasn't very deep at all. It was about three inches long but shallow enough that Ezra could simply tape it shut before sealing it with a big anti-bacterial bandaid. He wiped your blood from his hands as best he could and let out a slow breath.

“You gave me quite a fright there, Little Bird,” he confessed and looked up from where he was still sitting at your feet. One of his arms was resting against your bare leg.

“I told you I would be fine,” you reminded him.

“Well, you down-play things and therefore are not to be trusted on matters like this.”

“I do not!” you protested. Ezra cleared his throat and held up his index finger to begin counting.

“It's just a short walk from here, Ezra. Took us three hours. I just nicked my finger. I cleaned that wound too and I'm fairly certain I saw bone. The coffee is a little bit hot. I couldn't taste anything for two days afterwards. I'm not that cold. Your lips matched the Ander... do you wish for me to continue? Because I've got more examples if you need 'em, Birdie”

You were watching Ezra with indignation and coughed out a laugh. You could hardly be held responsible for him taking every comment you made quite so literally.

“Says the man who exaggerates just about everything,” you countered

Ezra raised his eyebrows in confusion, as if this was the most preposterous accusation he'd ever heard. You were pretty sure he was faking it but you still took the bite.

“You beg me to shoot you every afternoon when I wake you up from your nap. You almost cry every time we strike Ander and how many times have you had the finest meal of your life since you got here?”

Ezra shook his head but you could see the small smile he was trying to hide.

“I am an appreciative man, Birdie. What can I say...” he said with a shrug and yes, he was definitely trying to rile you up.

“Well, appreciate this,” you said and jokingly flipped him off.

“I would appreciate every last part of you if you weren't so damn stubborn.”

You opened your mouth to toss another semi-insult back at him before the words fully registered, making you blink and stutter out a “W-what?” instead.

“I believe you heard me perfectly well,” Ezra answered, holding his ground. You felt your cheeks flush from the boldness of his comment. Even if he didn't realize how unprofessional that joke was, you certainly did and you were at a loss for words. Your usually so sharp tongue had, for once and with the worst timing, failed you. Every witty retort you began to come up with were instantly interrupted by mental images of Ezra making good on the comment he'd made. So what if you had entertained the thought previously? You and he were two people stuck in a small space which allowed little or no room for any sort of release in that department. The mind was bound to go a little crazy after a while. It had happened with previous work partners too. And it was understood by everyone that it wasn't anything to act or even comment upon. Understood by everyone except Ezra that was.

“You have been watching me. There are many things about you which are subtle, but that has not been one of them,” he said. There was something curious in his eyes as he watched you. He was searching your face for any indication whether he was reading the situation right or not. You weren't sure at all what expression you face did show but you were quite certain it wasn't disgust or revulsion, partly because those weren't the emotions you were actually feeling right now but more importantly because you were 100% certain that Ezra would have backed off if he'd detected any aversion on your part. And Ezra remained firmly where he was, on his knees in front of you, looking up at your face with a look on his face that you vaguely recognized.

You had gotten quite good at reading Ezra during your time on the base. This look was something you'd only seen in fleeting glances when he thought you weren't looking and when you both undressed for bed in the evenings. It was a look you hadn't quite been able to read. But now he was looking you dead in the eye and it was clear as day; Ezra wanted you. The realization made heat pool low in your stomach and if truth were to be told, you wanted Ezra too. Had for a while, now that you allowed yourself to admit it.

“I have,” you admitted and Ezra let out a breath you hadn't noticed he was holding.

“And did all that watching reward you with any new insights, Little Bird?” he asked, sitting up a little straighter and placing his other hand on your thigh. Your skin felt like it was buzzing where his hand was resting. His thumb began rubbing small circles against the skin of the inside of your thigh, just above the knee. It felt wonderful but was nowhere near enough and if Ezra was gonna give another monologue right now, you were pretty sure you wouldn't be able to handle it.

“For Kevva's sake, Ezra, can we save this conversation for later and just... do something!” You weren't necessarily proud of the shrill note of desperation to your voice but a dangerous smile spread across Ezra's face and his grip on you tightened. In a torturously slow movement, he pushed your legs further apart and you had to grip the edge of your seat hard to keep yourself from yanking him forward. He moved closer, hands running up the outside of your thighs, and he leaned down to place a kiss halfway up your thigh. Then another one, slightly higher. Then, because he was Ezra and of course he just couldn't help himself, he stopped and looked up at you.

“I must confess that thoughts of this have crossed my mind more than once,” he said, voice rough like sandpaper and utterly delicious. But there were so many better things for that mouth to be doing right now, other than talking.

“Ezra, please,” you groaned, more out of frustration than arousal, but from the smile Ezra gave you he definitely interpreted it as the latter. You didn't care because it had the intended effect regardless and a moment later Ezra's mouth was back on your skin, kissing its way higher and higher up on your thigh.

When his lips finally brushed, feather-light, over the fabric of your underwear it almost had you shooting off your chair. Luckily Ezra had anticipated this and his hands were now firmly placed on your hips, holding you in place. Your first instinct had been to close your legs, the jolt of sensation almost being too much, but Ezra's broad shoulders made that impossible and as he pressed his lips against the fabric a second time at was all you could do to hold back the needy whimpers that threatened to spill out with every breath. Ezra glanced up at you and you could feel the bastard smiling against you.

He pulled back and you were ready to make loud complaints about this lousy decision before you realized that he'd only pulled back in order to get you out of your underwear. You let him slide the piece of clothing down your legs then yelped a little in surprise as he promptly lifted both your legs and hooked them over his shoulders. Any comments on the manhandling died in your throat a moment later when his mouth found its way back to the prize and he licked a broad stripe across your folds. It had been quite some time since anyone had touched you in this way. Maybe that was it, or maybe it was just that Ezra really knew what he was doing, but as his mouth continued to explore, alternating between licking and kissing and sucking, your entire body felt like it was shaking. Your knuckles were white from how hard you were gripping the chair and your breaths escaped you in ragged huffs of air, mingled with the occasional whimpers that you had given up on holding back. The vocal feedback only seemed to encourage Ezra and he doubled his efforts.

It was too much and not enough at the same time. You felt like you would slap him if he stopped but, at the same time, you weren't sure you could handle this much longer. All your higher brain functioning had gone out the window and flown off into space. Your whole world had narrowed down to the sensations of your body and, even more specifically, the place between your legs where Ezra's clever tongue had all your nerve-endings going off like fireworks. And Ezra showed no signs of stopping until he'd made you come apart completely. Something which was rapidly approaching.

You tried warning him, managed to grip his forearm and push a little while stuttering out his name, but he only held you tighter and flicked his tongue over your clit in a way that turned the last vowel of his name into a cry of pleasure as you came. Ezra continued his ministrations and his tongue carried you through the pulsating waves of your orgasm.

When he finally pulled back and met your gaze, you were speechless. Ezra, true to form, was the first to comment.

“You truly are a vision like this, Birdie,” he said with awe in his voice and you gave him a weak laugh. Vision, you suspected, was hardly the most fitting description for you right now. Mess, more likely. You could feel how flushed your cheeks were and your lips must be bitten raw by this point. But Ezra was watching you with a mix of lust and wonder and as his gaze wandered lower he looked like he was ready for another round. You suspected that you might actually die this time if he did.

So, on legs that felt like jelly, you slid off the chair and onto his lap. The taped wound on your calf smarted but Ezra caught you before your knees slammed against the floor. His breath hitched in his throat as your weight pressed against the hardness in his pants and his hips bucked slightly, seemingly out of their own accord.

You wrapped your arms around Ezra's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue and lips and you greedily licked into his mouth, wanting to taste more, taste him. Rolling your hips against him earned you another stuttered breath and a moan from Ezra. He mumbled something against your lips and you had every intention of ignoring it in favor of continued kissing but Ezra pulled back and broke the kiss. You made a noise of complaint, which made him laugh.

“Sincerest apologies, Little Bird, but if I am to make good on my promise to appreciate every part of you we are going to have to pace ourselves, just a fraction...”

You were about to protest. To hell with pacing yourselves when you had Ezra's mouth only inches from yours! Perhaps sensing your usual stubbornness and unwillingness to cooperate returning, Ezra played dirty and reached down to press the tip of his finger gently against your opening.

“Fuck...” you shuddered, unsure if the next word was gonna be you, me or just fuck in general.

“That is what I am arguing for here, beautiful. But you and I are both still way too dressed for what I'm hoping comes next and, for the sake of your knees and my back, perhaps we could relocate ourselves to the relative comfort of my bed?”

As much as it pained you to admit, Ezra did have a point and, in a move that required more energy and coordination that it usually did, you climbed off him and stood up. Ezra got to his feet as well. He took your hand and kissed each of your fingers softly in a way that somehow felt more intimate than the place he'd been kissing a minute or two ago.

“Allow me to take you to bed?” he asked, even though you were under the impression that this had already been established as the next destination. You nodded impatiently and pushed him slowly backwards towards the bedroom.

“Take me to the bed or the kitchen table or back to the floor, Ezra. I don't care, I just... I just need you.”

Ezra's eyes darkened with lust and a moment later he was the one dragging you towards the beds. The two of you stopped just before you crashed onto Ezra's bunk, realizing that undressing might be a slightly easier endeavor before you were both tangled up on the small bed.

Ezra was quicker getting to your clothes than you were at getting to his and he pulled your shirt and then your sports bra over your head and tossed it to the side. You were fully naked now, while he was still fully dressed, if a little disheveled-looking. The contrast made you feel all the more undressed. Ezra watched you, with that same appreciation as before.

“I have imagined this. What you would look like... so gorgeous. Even in that spacesuit, you managed to drive me up the walls crazy. Can barely keep my hands off you,” he mumbled.

“So how about you don't,” you suggested. You were more than ready for this, it was just Ezra that needed to get with the program. He didn't need to compliment and woo you. He just needed to touch you.

You reached for his shirt, made quick work of getting rid of it before you made equally quick work of his pants and underwear. Now you were both naked and you took a moment to appreciate the newly revealed areas of skin. Ezra twitched as if it had been your hands and not your eyes which were caressing his body. You took a step closer.

“I want you to fuck me, Ezra,” you stated, perhaps a tad too matter-of-factly but Ezra made a noise that could only be described as a growl and crashed your mouths together again. Without the layers of clothes between you, your hands were free to roam and you tried touching every bit of skin that you could reach, slowly circling lower and lower, towards where you knew he wanted your touch the most. Ezra was giving as good as he was getting and when it was his impatience's turn to take hold, he grabbed your ass and pulled you fully against himself with a moan. You pushed him back and finally onto the bed. He laid down and watched, with almost pitch-black eyes, as you crawled on top of him and straddled his thighs.

He began talking again, nothing coherent this time, and you leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips, effectively silencing him. Ezra seized the opportunity to grab your hips and pull you a little higher. You both moaned into each other's mouths as your folds dragged along his length.

“In me,” you whispered and Ezra reached down to position himself against your opening. In the slowest pace you could bring yourself to, you began lowering yourself onto him. Ezra's eyes looked like they were about to roll back in their sockets and he said your name, followed by a whole string of curses, some of which you had never heard before.

You stilled for a moment once he was fully inside you, letting yourself adjust slightly to the sensation, then you rose up to let him slide almost all the way out before lowering yourself again. The pace was much slower than what either of you wanted but if he was feeling anywhere near as needy for more as you did, then it would be worth it.

It seemed that he was because the very next thing out of Ezra's mouth was a begging plea.

“Please, Birdie,” he said and he sounded wrecked. You took pity on him, both for his sake and for your own. You couldn't handle this slow pace for a second longer either. Speeding up, you heard the relief in Ezra's breathing and he placed his hands on your hips again to help guide you into a quicker pace.

The sensation wasn't quite as overwhelming when you were the one in control but you could still feel your pleasure building every time Ezra slid back into you. His moans were becoming more and more ragged and you weren't sure how much longer he was gonna last. Just as you were about to ask, he wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you down for a kiss. The move gave him a little more leverage to move his hips and you gasped as he snapped his hips up, making him hit a whole new spot inside you. He did it again. And again. And you had to take back the thought you'd just had about the sensation not being overwhelming. You met his thrusts as best you could, your rhythm becoming more and more sloppy the closer the two of you got to climax.

In the end, you cracked first. Pushed over the edge by the surprise of Ezra latching onto the skin of your neck and sucking, hard enough to leave a mark. As your second orgasm rushed through you, you felt Ezra follow and he moaned loudly as he came, still inside you. He continued thrusting a few more times before he slowed down to a stop.

The stillness that followed, as you had untangled slightly before pulling each other close again, was interrupted only by your panting breaths...and of course...

“If I were to die now, I'd die a happy and content man,” Ezra mumbled, his hand drawing patterns against your back.

“Dying now would be a breach of contract,” you informed him, with a small smile, “We still have a fifth of our rotation left before we're heading back for Icarus.”

“Only a fifth?” Ezra asked and you watched his brow furrow as he did the math.

“'fraid so.”

Ezra turned and gave you a devilish grin

“Then I propose we attempt to make the very most of that fifth, or what do say, Birdie?”

As his hand trailed lower, you couldn't help but nod.

~~~~~~~~~~~

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#ezra x reader #ezra/reader #ezra prospect #prospect fanfic #prospect #prospect fic #my fanfiction

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 4 years

Text

Just A Taste

Characters: Spencer Reid x reader, minor characters

Word Count: 2,925

Warnings: talk of men abusing their female partners (very implicitly), smut, oral (female recieving), fingering, a bit of dom!spencer

request by @theitcaramelchick: Okay but imagine Reid interrogating a suspect and you, an assistant at the BAU office, happen to hear how domineering he is with them and you get all hot and bothered? Jesus. 🥵 And the way he would make the suspect tell him stuff. ...Could you do a one shot with this?

Summary: You assist Spencer with an interrogation despite having no experience with it all. Turns out, there is a reason why Spencer chose you, and it’s not all for work.

Squares Filled: office sex for @cmkinkbingo // free space for @cmbingo

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! this is unbeta’d and every mistake is all on me.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

For the first time in… ever… you’re going to assist the one and only Dr. Spencer Reid in an interrogation room with a real criminal. You’re only an office assistant, but they wanted you to be in there with him. You know nothing about how to talk to criminals or where to even begin, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer. You don’t even know what you would do in this interview, but you’re not going to question it. This is your chance to prove you belong with the rest of the BAU.

Your dream is to be a profiler that catches bad guys. If you can see how they think during this interrogation, then maybe you can start to work on your own profile. While you’re very nervous to be in this interrogation room, you’re more worried to be in that room with Spencer. It’s not that you’re worried for how bad you might be in front of him, you’re afraid he will figure out your feelings for him. He’s the most talked BAU agent on your floor. He’s so smart, innovated, talented, and very handsome.

His brown eyes can be so soft and caring, but can also turn hard and threatening in a moment’s notice. How he hasn’t landed himself a girlfriend yet is beyond you, but you’re glad he hasn’t. Him being available makes you less guilty for the thoughts you have about him. He’s tall, lean, has curly hair that you really want to tug, and he has a habit of biting and licking those damn lips. He’s definitely been the center of far too many fantasies you relive over and over again.

Your office is one floor below the BAU team. You’re best behind a computer, but you’re trying hard to prove yourself worthy enough to be a profiler. Because you’re great with a computer, your best friend is Penelope. When the team is away, you like to go to her office and hang with her when she’s not assisting her team. You use her to gather intel on the rest of the team, and you’ve learned the following details:

Rossi loves to drink. He has a very impressive collection of old alcohol that he doesn’t really use all that often, but always loves to show off. Hotch loves his son, and would do just about anything for him. One year, Jack dressed up as his father for Halloween. You thought that was the best thing ever. While Emily isn’t on the team anymore, Penlelope does talk about how brave and selfless she is. She’s saved the other teammates in more ways than one.

JJ has been through so much; not only as a mother but as an agent. She’s suffered the most, but she works the hardest. Derek is the muscle of the team, and Penelope has said some raunchy stuff that you’d rather not repeat. Last, but certainly not least, Spencer. He’s had a kind of serious girlfriend, Maeve, but she ended up dying right in front of him. He’s been through a lot as well, but he won’t ever give up on helping people. He’s really great with kids, and he is definitely husband material. Even Penelope is surprised how Spencer hasn’t settled down by now.

Fine by you, as long as you get a piece of him at some point.

It’s hard to put yourself out there for a man like him because if he somehow rejected you, then you won’t be able to recover from that. You don’t want to be one of those women who centers her world around some guy, but Spencer is just so special that you wouldn’t bounce back by a rejection from him. You’ve voiced your thoughts and opinions to Penelope, and as far as you know, she’s kept all those opinions to herself.

Now you have to work with the guy you are already nervous to be around. No one told you why they wanted you in there with him, but it’s not like you’re going to complain. You head up to the floor above you where Spencer is waiting for you. Once he sees you, he heads over to you. Your heart pounds just a bit faster, and your breath comes out a bit shakier. You try to keep your complexion the same color, but you know you’ve revealed how pink they are.

“Are you okay? Do you need a minute?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Your cheeks are flushed. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m just a bit nervous. I’ve never done anything like this before. I don’t know why I’m even here,” you chuckle nervously.

“You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

“Why am I here, Spencer?”

“I asked for you.”

He leaves your side without another word, and you follow him to the interrogation room. The unsub they caught, Frank Bishop, sits inside the room silently. From what you’ve heard about this guy, he’s killed half a dozen men. The BAU doesn’t know where he’s buried them, and they have to get him to confess to their murders as well as their locations. You’ve seen some terrible people, but he is on your radar.

First and foremost, this man is accused of killing men who were physically and emotionally abusive towards their wives or girlfriends. He sees himself as some sort of God or savoir in the eyes of these women. Not that you agree with his method, but these women aren’t suffering anymore. You’re actually nervous to talk to a man like him because of the person you are.

Yes, you’re a submissive. Everyone who meets you knows this. You don’t broadcast it, but it’s all in the way you present yourself. You’re also showing signs of nervousness, you rarely say no to people in fear of what they would do to you if you did, and all your friends are dominants. They just embrace life and want you to do the same. You’ve done some stupid shit in your day because of them, but your life wouldn’t be what it is now if you didn’t have them in your life.

Spencer gives you one last look before entering the room. Frank’s head pops up, and he straightens when he sees you. He must have seen the way you’re presenting yourself because he can’t take his eyes off you.

“Don’t look at her, look at me. Tell me where you buried those five men,” Spencer demands.

Seeing him like this is putting you back into your late night fantasies. One thing you never considered is the way he is with hardened criminals. He can get so threatening that sends a heat sparking up your core. You push your thighs together to relieve some tension, and you cross your arms loosely.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What five men?” he asks and smiles at you.

The way he smiles makes you nervous, and you begin to bounce your leg aimlessly. Frank likes how nervous you are, so you try to keep it under control.

"Don't waste my time here. Where are they?" Spencer asks again.

The man doesn't answer. All he does is stare at you. Your leg bounces faster so that's the only thing you can hear besides the ticking of the clock in the room.

"Stop bouncing your leg," Spencer demands.

He puts his hand on your thigh to stop you himself and that doesn't go unnoticed by Frank. You immediately stop what you're doing and look at Spencer with wide eyes. Once he knows you won't do it again, he takes his hand away.

You wish he hadn't.

"We know you stalked and killed men who abused their partners. They'd be somewhere where you can visit and continue their humiliation. You wouldn't want a proper burial for them, would you?"

"I didn't kill anyone else besides Jack Harmer."

"Yeah, that's because we caught you in the act. We know you did it. We found traces of your DNA in their houses."

"Doesn't mean I killed them."

The tension in the room thickens, and you feel trapped. You can't go anywhere, you haven't said a single word since you got here, and all Frank has done is stare at you. You'd leave, but you're afraid Spencer is just going to yell at you. You knew he wouldn't, but your anxiety doesn't know that. Because you feel trapped, you result in biting your nails. It's one of the things you do when you don't know what to do. However, as soon as you put your thumb between your teeth, Spencer swats your hand away.

"Don't bite your nails," he orders.

Why is he being like this? He is never this aggressive towards people—or that's what Penelope told you.

"Why don't you let her do what she wants?" Frank asks.

"Is that what you told Jason Hurley, Jared Bush, Harold Jenkins, Bailey Pickett, and Cody Campbell?"

"Who?" Frank smirks.

You shrink back into your seat because this interrogation can literally take a number of turns. Spencer looks at you with fire in his eyes, and you actually became scared at the thought of what he might do to you.

"Sit up straight. We're in a goddamn interrogation. If you can't handle that, then why are you even here?" he snaps.

Okay, you have no idea why he's treating you like this. Is it all for show, or does he really think he can boss you around like that? Of course, you're not going to say anything to him about it, but that doesn't mean you won't complain to Penny about this.

"Leave her alone! Who do you think you are treating her that way? Jason, Jared, and Harold all thought they could get away with treating their women like that. It's why I threw their bodies in the lake behind my house. Now, don't get me started on Bailey and Cody." Frank blew up.

He confessed to all five murders including revealing where their bodies were located. It wasn't long before you were able to leave. However, you didn't get very far because Spencer was pulling you into the nearest empty office.

"Look, I'm sorry for how I treated you there. Frank looked for men who "bossed" their partners around. I figured if I did that to you, he would reveal where he hid those bodies."

You knew Spencer was one of the good ones.

"You could have just told me. I would have played along."

"Your reaction needed to be real. I chose you because I know you're a submissive. I needed all of it to be real."

"How did you know that?"

"Besides how you acted today... Penelope told me."

"She what?"

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Though, that's the other reason why I picked you."

"Which is?"

You meant to say that accusingly, but it came out in a breathy whisper.

"You're attracted to me. I need that attraction to be real," he reveals. You want to deny it, but your brain just isn't cooperating. So, he continues when he sees you wanting to deny it. "I knew it was true when you came up this morning. I asked you if you were okay because your cheeks were pink. They were like that because of me. I'm sure your heart started pumping as well. The next sign was in the interrogation room. You were rubbing your thighs together because of me. Should I continue?"

Goddamn, the man really knew how to sweet talk you. You could deny it, but what would the point be? He already knows your feelings. The other option is to come clean and hope he doesn't reject you.

"What are you going to do if what you said is true?” you wonder.

He takes three large steps toward you, and you, purely out of intimidation, take five much smaller steps back. Your back hits the wall next to the door, and you realize you trapped yourself. He places one hand on the wall next to yours and with the other, he locks the office. He leans down so that his mouth is right next to your ear.

"If it were true, I'd get down on my knees, yank that unbelievably tight skirt down your legs, and bury my tongue in you," he whispers.

Shit. Did he really just say that to you? Your panties are so wet right now, and it's all because of the man right in front of you.

"Hmm? Would you like that?" he asks as he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. You can't help but nod slightly. He's taken your ability to talk. "That's my girl."

You could have come right there, but you really want to know what his tongue feels like inside you. He presses his lips on your neck and gives a few kisses. He has you exactly where he wants you. You are his and he knows it.

"Remember, we are at work. Be a good girl and don't make a sound," he whispers before dropping to his knees.

Holy shit, this is exactly what you pictured in your fantasies. Now, you're getting the real thing. His hands grip your waist, digging his fingers into your skin. You know bruises are going to show up even through the couple layers of clothing. He gives you a questioning look as if to ask if this is alright. You just nod once, and he gets to work.

He slides down both your skirt and panties until they are on the floor. He keeps your heels on, and you make a mental note that he likes heels. He rests one leg over his shoulder, and he presses light kisses to your inner thighs. It didn't occur to you that you're exposing yourself to him for the first time. He has an eidetic memory. If this whole thing doesn't work out, he will have the look, taste, and feel of you embedded into his mind.

The smell of you messes with his mind, and he knows he has to get a taste of you. He gives one kiss to your clit, and you do your best to keep that moan in. Whenever you had sex, it’s always a challenge to stay quiet. You did it, but it always came at a cost. Spencer loves it when a girl moans for him, but not at work where his coworkers and bosses are.

Too much time has passed since he first got a whiff of you. Maybe he can take his time later, but for right now, all he wants is to make you come. From the bottom to the top, he licks one thick stripe up your center. When he sees you dripping with anticipation, he shoves his unbelievably long tongue inside you. You bite your lower lip to keep yourself from screaming out. Spencer looks up through his lashes and swipes his tongue from one wall to the other. The way he's looking at you makes you clench around his wet muscle. You have to get your tension out somehow.

There is finally an opportunity for you to satisfy one of your urges. You reach down and grab a fistful of his curly hair. You tug, and he moans. The vibration sends ripples through your body, and you give another hard tug. Your head bangs against the wall behind you, but you're too caught up in the moment to care.

He grunts when you give another yank. You file that piece of information in the same place as the heels. He pulls away only to suction his lips around your clit. He doesn't want you to feel empty, so he slides in two very long fingers.

“Shit! Spencer!” you hiss.

That response only makes him suck harder. You tighten around his fingers, making it almost impossible for him to remove them. He keeps his fingers right where they are and wiggles them so that he's hitting places not even you knew you had.

"I'm close! Fuck!"

Without going too hard, he nibbles on your clit with his teeth. The stimulation, combined with what his fingers are doing, is enough to push you over the edge. Your orgasm washes over you just as your come spills over his fingers. He pulls away and sticks them in his mouth. He sucks your juices from them before diving in once more. You're very sensitive from the first orgasm, so you twitch away from him. However, he grips your hips to hold you in place. He licks you clean until there is no more evidence lingering.

Once he finishes, he sets your leg down and redresses you. Your legs are wobbly, but you're doing a good job at keeping yourself up. He pushes your hair back to expose your ear, and he leans down to whisper in it.

"I never knew you tasted so sweet. I'm going to have a hard time focusing on work now that I got a taste. Be a good girl for the rest of the day, and I’ll show you what else I'm good for."

He presses a kiss to the side of your neck before leaving the office. Did that really just happen? How can you get through the rest of the day when you've experienced how well he can work his tongue? Plus, you also won't be able to stop thinking of his proposition. If he's that good with just his mouth. What else will he be good at?

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omgrachwrites · 4 years

Text

Tell a Tale of You and Me - Chapter Nine

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You knew that making a bet with Sirius Black was like making a deal with the devil but you just couldn’t help yourself. You had never been a heavenly woman.

Warnings: fluff, mutual pining, angst

Words: 2403

Disclaimer: This gif doesn’t belong to me!

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this part and please let me know what you think and let me know if you would like to be tagged! I love you all very much! xxx

Chapter Nine

Sirius huddled into his fur lined coat as he walked down to the Quidditch pitch with Remus, Lily and Peter. Despite it being so cold it was a really beautiful morning, the frost that had settled over the lawns in the middle of the night sparkled like diamonds under the watery weak sunlight and the sky was a pure white colour. Sirius hoped that it would snow later on; he loved it when it snowed, and it was his favourite part about winter, well apart from Christmas. Though, he didn’t know how much fun Christmas would be this year.

The thought about the beautiful morning was pushed out of his head when Lily gave a quiet and frustrated huff. Sirius smirked as he looked at the unhappy expression on her face. James had scheduled a short practise on the morning of the Hogsmeade trip. Lily and Y/N wanted to look at gowns for the Yule Ball, even though it wasn’t happening for over a month. Despite Lily’s unhappy expression she had never missed watching a team practise – even when she was sick – since James had become Captain. It was plainly obvious that she was so proud of him, it was sweet to see.

“Oh lighten up, Evans!” Sirius joked, earning a glare from his efforts, “I don’t understand why you and Y/N simply have to find a gown at this early stage.”

Lily rolled her eyes and looked at him like he was stupid, “of course, you wouldn’t understand. It takes a lot of time to find the perfect dress, if it’s not perfect it simply won’t do. It’s hard being a woman sometimes Sirius,” Sirius laughed as he shook his head.

“I don’t know why you care about some stupid ball,” Peter started glumly as he shoved his hands into his pockets, “I probably won’t find anyone to go with,” he moped.

Sirius chewed his lip thoughtfully as he slapped his friend’s shoulder affectionately, “what about that girl, Evelyn? Haven’t you gone to Hogsmeade with her before? You could ask her.”

Peter shrugged, “she probably won’t want to go with me, there must be something wrong with me.”

Sirius frowned, there was nothing wrong with Peter, he just lacked confidence, “look, Pete,” he sighed, “there’s nothing wrong with you. I don’t know why or how you’ve got that idea lodged in your head.”

Peter scoffed, “it’s easy for you to say when every girl in this damn school wants to date you.”

Sirius pushed his hair off of his forehead as his cheeks grew warm and there was a fluttering feeling in his stomach, “not everyone,” he mumbled, chewing his lip and looking at the ground as they entered the stands.

When he glanced up he found that Lily was looking at him with the most peculiar expression on her face, it was somewhere in between a shocked expression and a smug one, “what?” he scowled at her. In response she shook her head but she nudged his shoulder all the same.

The Quidditch practise started off quite slow, it was obvious that the players were tired and it was freezing to top it all off. Sirius was almost glad that he wasn’t on the team this year because he certainly didn’t miss the early morning training sessions. It took a while for the team to warm up and get some enthusiasm but when they had, they were unstoppable as they whizzed around the stadium. Hufflepuff didn’t stand a chance in the next house match.

Sirius thought that Y/N looked especially pretty today; the tip of her nose was flushed from the bitter wind, as were her cheeks. His stomach performed somersaults as he watched her hair blowing in the wind and he knew that he couldn’t deny his feelings for her any longer.

Though, he didn’t want to be vocal about his feelings yet but due to Regulus’ interfering, he had to speak up about it. If Regulus wasn’t Sirius’ brother then he wouldn’t have cared that Regulus had obvious feelings for Y/N. But, if there was only one thing that the siblings had in common it was their undeniable good looks.

At the end of the Quidditch practise, Regulus walked right onto the pitch and even Sirius from where Sirius was he could tell that Regulus was fiddling with his fingers, a dead giveaway that he was anxious. Regulus engaged Y/N in conversation for a couple of minutes and it made Sirius feel a little angry. He loved his brother by why did Regulus have to have feelings for Y/N as well?

“What in Godric’s name does my brother think he’s doing?” Sirius snarled, not taking his eyes off of what was happening on the pitch below him. His three friends all rolled their eyes and exchanged exasperated looks.

“Why do you care if Regulus is talking to Y/N, Sirius? Why do you care that he’s got an obvious crush on her? Is there anything you want to tell us?” Lily asked innocently but Sirius knew what she was getting at.

Sirius sighed and momentarily squeezed his grey eyes shut. If he couldn’t admit it to his friends, how was he ever going to admit it to Y/N?

“Because I have feelings for her alright, is that what you wanted to hear me say?” his friends all seemed to let out a relieved sigh.

“Finally, you’re admitting it,” Remus said and Sirius could hear the tell-tale smirk in his voice, which Sirius didn’t appreciate.

“So, what changed for you to have feelings for her? You’ve certainly never mentioned it before,” Lily asked with interest.

Sirius shrugged, he didn’t understand it any more than Lily did, feelings were hard, “I’m not sure, sure she’s very beautiful,” the butterflies were back in his stomach as he spoke those words, “but it also seems like we’ve just really connected this year. I don’t know if it’s because we’re spending more time together or maybe it’s because she doesn’t seem the least bit interested in me. Maybe it’s because she’s one of the few people that I have an emotional connection with, I remember how kind she was to me when I got kicked out while the other girl’s I was seeing didn’t give a toss. I can’t explain it.”

“You don’t have to,” Peter started and he almost sounded wise, “but are you going to tell her at least? I think that she deserves to know about your feelings.”

Sirius shook his head, feeling a little bit queasy, the thought of telling Y/N, of being that vulnerable terrified him, the first step was telling you guys, I’m not ready to tell her yet. I only admitted it to myself that I have feelings for her after the kiss we shared at the party.”

“Well, that’s okay, just go at your own pace sweetie. How about you just dip a toe in and ask her to go to the Yule Ball with you? I think that’s a good first step,” Lily said understandingly as she rubbed his arm.

Sirius smiled at her gratefully, he really appreciated his friends’ support right now. It was kind of scary to have such genuine feelings for someone when he was so used to sleeping around and not getting attached, “yeah, I think that I will.”

Before Sirius could ponder for much longer, James whistled up at the stands to grab his friends’ attention as the team filed out of the Gryffindor changing room. They had obviously got changed into their own clothes while Sirius was busy pouring his heart out to his friends. The four friends laughed at each other as they made their way down to the frosty pitch.

Y/N greeted Sirius with a tight hug that warmed him from the inside and he felt his cheeks go warm, he supposed that his face was beetroot red. When Y/N pulled away from him she quirked an eyebrow at him, a slow teasing smile making its way onto her lips, “are you alright Sirius?” she giggled.

Sirius nodded, “I-I’m fine,” he stammered, he really hoped that now he had admitted his feelings out loud he wouldn’t start stuttering in front of her. Y/N nodded at him but Sirius could tell that she was trying her hardest to conceal a smirk.

It started snowing halfway on the walk down to Hogsmeade which Sirius was very happy about. Y/N giggled and ran forward with Peter and they immediately started trying to catch the snowflakes on their tongues. Sirius thought that Y/N was adorable and she looked so beautiful as the snowflakes settled on her eyelashes and melted into her hair.

“When are you going to ask her? I’m not trying to rush you or anything,” Lily whispered.

“By the end of the day,” Sirius assured her. He started rehearsing what he was going to say to her in his head. He was feeling nervous already. Though he knew he wasn’t going to truly enjoy the ball if he wasn’t going with her.

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You sighed as you looked at your reflection in the changing room mirror while you were dress shopping with Lily, truly the dress you were standing in was beautiful but it just wasn’t right. It was a gorgeous powder blue dress but the skirt wasn’t big enough, you wanted a dress with a big skirt that you’d have to hitch up when you were walking up and down the stairs. You wanted to feel like a princess. There were so many fake gems that had been sewn into the bodice and it just felt a little too tacky for your tastes.

“Come on Y/N, let me see it!” Lily knocked on the door, sounding excited; she had been giddy all morning, like she knew something that you didn’t. You sighed as you walked out of the changing room, “I love it!” Lily’s face lit up with an excited grin and you pouted.

“I don’t,” you chewed your lip and Lily gave you a sympathetic look, you just wanted the perfect dress. Was that too much to ask? “let’s just call it a day, I’ll look elsewhere,” you fiddled with the dress; you just wanted to get it off.

“Are you sure sweetie?” Lily asked kindly and you nodded, feeling very disappointed.

As you were walking out of the shop you rested your head on Lily’s shoulder, the snowflakes tickling your face. Lily had found the perfect dress right away, “you’re so lucky that green looks like it was made for you,” you pouted.

Lily giggled as she kissed the top of your head, “don’t you worry, Y/N. We’ll soon find you the perfect dress.”

You were itching to get to The Three Broomsticks – that was where you were meeting the boys – you knew that a warm Butterbeer on a cold day was the perfect remedy. Unfortunately, before you could warm into the warm pub, Sirius cornered you, his eyes wide and vulnerable you had never seen him look like that before.

“Can we go for a walk and talk? It’s important, please.”

You nodded, your heart going about 100 miles a second, you wondered what he could possibly have to talk to you about, “of course Sirius.”

The both of you walked through the snow in a comfortable silence; you glanced up at his gorgeous profile. It looked like he was internally arguing with himself and he looked nervous, it was so unlike him, “so, what did you want to talk about?” you prompted.

“Right, right,” he mumbled like he’d only just remembered, “I’m just gonna go for it,” he chuckled nervously and chewed his lip, “do you want to go to the ball with me?”

It felt like someone had dropped a rock into the pit of your stomach as you gazed up at his beautiful, hopeful face. You wished that you could go with him, you longed to go with him, really you did but you had made a promise. Immediately, you began to stammer, “the thing is Sirius is that someone has already asked me and I’ve agreed to go with him. I’m sorry,” you felt so sad.

The hopeful smile dropped from Sirius’ face as that vulnerable look was back in his eyes – it hurt you so much – before he plastered on an artificial grin that didn’t reach his eyes. He shrugged, “no worries, I just thought that it might be fun if we went together but it’s not a problem,” he brushed off your apology. His voice cracked and you felt like the worst person in the world.

“Sirius, I really am sorry,” you told him as you cupped his cold cheek.

He turned away from you with a sigh, “let’s just go and get a Butterbeer,” he said that he was okay but you knew that you had hurt him.

When you were getting ready for bed later on that evening you still felt really bad about having to reject Sirius so you decided to tell your best friend about it.

“So, Sirius asked me to go to the Yule Ball with him today,” you started casually as you ran a comb through your hair.

Lily gasped excitedly, “really?! Y/N, that’s amazing, I know you said that you don’t like him romantically but I bet that you’ll have a really good time with him,” she sounded so happy for you.

You felt like you were on the verge of tears, “I do like him,” you finally admitted, “I really like him, I can’t believe I’ve managed to conceal it and lie to myself for so long,” it felt good to finally get the truth off your chest, “but I said no. I had to say no.”

Lily looked at you with wide eyes and she went to join you on your bed and she wrapped an arm around your shoulders as a tear ran down your face, you didn’t want to cry, “why did you say no beautiful?” she asked as she wiped the tears from your eyes.

You sniffled, letting more warm tears cascade down your face, you had to tell her the truth, “oh, Lily, I have to tell you something but you have to promise not to tell anyone,” you almost sobbed as you felt an awful stinging pain where your heart was. You had finally told someone about your feelings for Sirius but what would it cost you?

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guardian-of-the-thunder · 4 years

Text

Well, You Look Familiar

Well, You Look Familiar | A Naruto/Jujutsu Kaisen Crossover Fanfiction

Summary: A rare occurrence of planetary alignment and an enormous amount of killing intent allowed two worlds to meet. What will happen when Team 7 meets their dimensional siblings? | Where 27-year-old Hatake Kakashi meets 28-year-old Gojou Satoru.

Rating: General

Genre: Humor, Adventure

World: Crossover between Naruto and Jujutsu Kaisen

A/N: This fic was actually inspired from one of the artworks of @kkaags where Gojou says that Kakashi is his brother from another mother. XD You can check out her other amazing artworks at her link here. She creates so much awesomeness!!!

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Well, You Look Familiar | A Naruto/Jujutsu Kaisen Crossover Fanfiction

No one was aware of the rare planetary alignment that only happens once every one hundred years. That's why, when Kakashi was forced to activate his chidori to defend himself from Naruto's Rasengan, Sasuke's Great Fireball Technique, and Sakura's Earth Release during their usual drill session at training ground three, none of them ever expected that they'd all be sucked inside a galactic rift that suddenly formed in thin air and swallowed them in a zap.

"Waaaaaah!"

"Shit!"

"Ow!"

Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura landed on top of one another in the middle of a wide pathway made of bricks and their unexpected fall definitely hurt and probably broke a few bones.

After kicking and tugging at each other because nobody refused to help the other up, they eventually clawed their way out of their tangled human limbs, picked themselves up and dusted their knees, until they realized that not one of them was standing on Konoha soil.

Sasuke and Sakura immediately armed themselves with kunais from their leg holsters while Naruto fumbled with the unfamiliar surroundings and deduced that they were actually somewhere on top of a mountain. What made their situation even more perplexing was that they were in a part of the mountain where it was flat and a series of traditional Japanese buildings surrounded them from either side.

"What is this place?" Sasuke whispered between his two teammates as he traveled his gaze on the architecture surrounding them which looked nothing like the one's they had in Konoha.

"Oi! Oi! Has anybody seen Kakashi-sensei? Teme? Sakura?" Naruto asked, still rubbing the sore spot on his back which Sakura kicked a while back while shifting his gaze between the two when he noticed that Sakura had a weird look on her face and that her index finger hovered in the air pointing at something.

When Naruto and Sasuke turned to look, the former's jaw dropped while the latter's eyes widened upon seeing their sensei having a staring contest with someone who looked so much like their sensei but was obviously not.

The man was clad in all black and his hair was silver-white which was styled in a fascinating disarray like their sensei's. There was a lazy slouch on his shoulders while both his hands were inside his pockets—also like their sensei. But the man towered over their jonin teacher because he was so very tall—probably the tallest man they've ever seen in the field.

The only other difference they noticed between the two aside from their height and clothes was the placement of the mask, which coincidentally, the man was also wearing. Because instead of covering the lower half of his face like their sensei, the black material was tightly wrapped around his eyes which made them wonder if he was blind or something. However, the way he was 'looking' at Kakashi had them discarding the thought of such disability because the man was clearly eyeing their sensei from head to toe.

"Kakashi-sensei?"

"Gojou-sensei?"

Naruto called as the three of them inched themselves forward and realized that they weren't the only ones who were there. Three other people were present and were standing behind the other man whom they decided to call as Kakashi-sensei 2.0.

"So, your name's Kakashi, huh? I like your name." Kakashi 2.0 said with a smirk. If their sensei was being playful, the three of them could swear that the man's voice also sounded similar to Kakashi. Even so, they were all perfectly aware that their sensei's voice had a much deeper tone to it.

"And you're Gojou. I like your name too." Kakashi replied casually, still intently studying the peculiar man before him.

"You're…small." Gojou said as he took a step forward and entered Kakashi's personal space. He began circling him like a predator assessing its prey and was clearly enjoying the scrutiny he was doing because there was a mischievous lift on his pale lips.

"And you're like a bamboo." The ninja replied thoughtlessly as his lone eye traveled the length of the stranger before him.

Gojou stopped right in front of Kakashi and stared him down behind his mask-covered eyes. Kakashi simply stood his ground, slightly tilted his chin and met those sharp imaginary stare like it was nothing even when the fair-haired man, clad in black was already giving out quite a strong aura.

"I'm the strongest." Gojou nonchalantly declared and everyone who was present during that moment knew that those weren't empty words.

To Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura, they could clearly feel the dark, dark energy surrounding the man despite his amused smile and chill demeanor. The air around him was electric—charged and heavy, just like when their sensei activates his chidori—and they knew that if they ever stepped a little closer, they'd be choked and suffocated with such strong presence.

"I know." Kakashi simply responded which had his students gawking at his back.

"H-how is Kakashi-sensei enduring all these? How is he still standing?" Sasuke winced and gritted his teeth because when the man named Gojou shifted his look towards him, Sasuke clearly felt his heart drop to his stomach and only returned to normal when the man shifted his gaze back at Kakashi.

"But you're strong too. Really strong!" Gojou stated, clasping Kakashi's shoulders with his long slender fingers while moving his head up and down his frame, smiling, and that familiar gesture brought Team 7 back to whenever their sensei praised them for a job well done.

"I like you!" Gojou exclaimed and fully beamed at Kakashi which made the latter absently scratch the side of his cheek—the very first relaxed movement they've ever seen from their sensei from the moment they stepped in such strange and unfamiliar world.

"Thank you…I guess?"

"And I like your mask!" Gojou poked Kakashi's cheek which made the three of them snicker because everyone in Konoha knew that no one poked the Copy-ninja's cheek unless they wanted their fingers to be chopped off clean from their hands. But everything was fine. There were no dark clouds or bolts of lightning above because their sensei seemed relaxed and was even smiling while he said that he also liked the mask wrapped around the other man's eyes.

"You know…if you pushed that forehead protector up and we kissed, our faces would mold together and our mask will be complete!"

"Uhh, I believe that's really a great idea but I'm not into men."

"I'm not into men too, but when I saw you I knew you were the one." Gojou said while wiggling his brows at Kakashi as could be seen from the movement beneath his eye mask. "Two beautiful people gotta stick together, correct? Similar yet so dissimilar. So different yet so alike." He grinned which made their sensei turn red in the ears.

Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura were so enraptured at how the other man was so forward with their sensei that they failed to notice the other group of three approaching them. It was only when the orange-haired girl from the other team spoke that they all shifted their gazes from the animated display before them towards the curious looks on their side.

"Is that your sensei? He's pretty cute! I'd say he's definitely hotter than our Gojou-sensei."

"Your sensei's quite adorable too. He's got that boyish charm that could make any girl swoon." Sakura replied as she eyed the orange-haired girl who was also staring at her.

Beside them, respective introductions also took place as she heard Naruto introducing himself to the spunky and fun, pink-haired boy named Itadori Yuuji, while the stoic and calculating boy named Fushiguro Megumi was trying his best to coax Sasuke of his name.

"The name's Kugisaki Nobara. First year here at Tokyo Metropolitan Magic Technical College, and I think I'd look great with pink hair too." She confidently said with a flip of her hair.

"My name is Haruno Sakura and I do agree that you'll suit my hair color especially with that hairstyle of yours." She said, and when Kugisaki grinned at her, and Itadori loudly admired Naruto's whiskers, and Fushiguro showed Sasuke his summons, and Gojou-sensei showed Kakashi-sensei what was under his eye mask, everything just suddenly fell into place making their unusual arrival in such a foreign land feel so damn right.

Suddenly, these new people whom they didn't know a few minutes back where dragging them around and giving them a tour. The next thing they knew was that they were already sharing a hearty meal inside the school's mess hall while their team, as well as Gojou-sensei's team were trying their hardest to get a peek of what was under Kakashi-sensei's mask.

The two grown-ups simply shared a knowing smirk while they continued to discuss how they got into that new world and what were the possible ways to get back. The discussion was quite heavy because it involved killing intent and cursed energy as a fuel for the 'jump', and a lot of other unfamiliar words that were a first for Team 7 to hear.

"If worse comes to worst, you'd have to wait for another hundred years for the planets to align. That's how you got here in the first place. That particular rare occurrence combined with your students' killing intent during your training." Gojou-sensei told Kakashi which was loud enough for everyone to hear.

"A hundred years!? So no Ichiraku ramen for a hundred years?!" Naruto cried as his face slowly filled with dread.

"What's Ichiraku ramen?" Kugisaki whispered on Sakura's ear. However, even before Sakura could answer, Fushiguro spoke which completely interrupted the female ninja from her trail of thought.

"Can't they stay here, Gojou-sensei?"

The man in question thoughtfully looked up as he began rubbing his chin with his slender fingers as though weighing imaginary options in the air while he hummed.

"I'd love for my brother and his kids to stay here. I know they'd be great sorcerers and it'll be fun to train you guys together, but we may be disrupting some cosmic balance here. Who knows?"

"So, what's the plan, Kakashi-sensei?" Sasuke asked, still petting Fushiguro's Divine Dogs to which he was suddenly so very attached to.

"I heard this world is in the middle of an impending war. So, up until the time Gojou and I finds a way to get us all back to Konoha, what do you say about training and having fun in here in the mean time?"

The three of them perked up upon hearing the word war—not because they were afraid but because it brought a certain amount of excitement, like their first S-class mission or something. And if anyone asked for their opinion, the three of them were very much willing to stay and help as much as they can.

"Well, if we're going to face a war, you better bring me this world's best ramen first or else I won't be of any use when the time comes! I'm telling you, I refuse to go to war with an empty stomach!" Naruto warned which made the group laugh. And despite the threat of warfare like what their sensei said, at that particular moment, Team 7 simply felt at home and were really glad to have met their dimensional siblings or probably their selves from a parallel universe. No one really knows…

#naruto #jujutsu kaisen #naruto jujutsu kaisen fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #anime fanfic #naruto jujutsu kaisen crossover #hatake kakashi #gojou satoru #uzumaki naruto #itadori yuji #haruno sakura #kugisaki nobara #uchiha sasuke #fushiguro megumi #jjk freeform #naruto freeform #a little oc for team gojou and team 7 #the author regrets nothing

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mybiasisexo · 4 years

Text

Oh, Brother

Genre: Angst | Fluff | College!au

Pairing: Kai x Reader

Length: 7.5k

Warning: Unfinished | Language | Love Triangle (I know, but hear me out!!)

Summary: You’ve finally started college and are getting the full freshman year teen romcom experience and it’s not as great as you though it would be, but a certain ballerina (ballerino? I googled it and its ballerino in Italian [quote unquote] but in French they are a danseur and im rambling) might be the calmness you’ve been needing...that is until you meet his brother....

Author’s Note: I plan on turning this into a scenario??? Question marks cause idk if I want to turn it into a chaptered fic instead??? Anyways I wrote this back in like 2014 so its kinda dated but it is what it is yall.

MASTERLIST

credit

With the arrival of the bell came the flood.

You got caught in it. Dragged into the depths of the sea that was the main hall. You grunted and fought against the current, as students barged their way past you, slamming roughly against your shoulders as you clutched onto your books for dear life.

It seemed never-ending, it actually felt like you were moving backwards as more and more people rushed, trying in vain to arrive to their next class on time.

You didn’t think that college would be like this.

You thought it would be peaceful and calm, like a pond or a small lake.

Not the damn sea during a hurricane.

It was probably because it was the first day, and everyone was still trying to catch their bearings. Or because this hall was seriously the most used and classes held up to two hundred people. Whatever the reason, you felt a sudden panic attack crawling up your throat like a corpse clawing out of the grave. You knew that very soon you would lose it, and so you began to count in your head to calm yourself down.

“I…2…3…4—” push “—5…6—” shove “—7…..8….9….”

Before you could lose your cool, you broke the surface and felt the cold wind snap deliciously against your damp face. You closed your eyes and sighed with relief as you realized that you had won.

You battled against the human sea and you beat it victoriously.

But could you deal with that every other day?

You shuddered as the thought hit you and decided to ignore it for the meantime. You had to admit, despite that near death journey you had just trekked, your first day as a college student wasn’t as bad as you—and your parents, not to mention your little sister—had imagined. Today was Monday, and on Mondays, you had three classes: English 1102, Math 1143, and Introduction to Art.

You had just left the math department and now had a couple hours to kill before your last class.

You decided to call your best friend, Suho, and see if he had escaped his side of campus.

“Hello?” He answered happily—did he have any other emotion?

“I nearly died just now. This hallway is lethal, I don’t know if I’ll make it.”

“Well, I’m glad you made it out alive. When does your next class start?”

“In two hours. Wanna get lunch?”

“Absolutely, I’m starving. Meet me at the Student Union building?”

“Okay, see you then.” You hung up and tried your hardest to recall just where exactly the Student Union building was located.

Nearly twenty minutes later, you stumbled upon the holy land. You found Suho almost immediately and rushed over to his table.

“What took you so long?” He wondered, munching on a fry.

You plopped down in the seat across from him and let out an exhausted breath, “I forgot how to get here. I had to backtrack like four different times.”

He sighed, “You could have called me, I would have helped you.”

“I’m aware,” you dismissed, stealing a fry from his tray. He frowned, but didn’t do anything to stop you from stealing another one.

“It’s the first day, and I’m already beat,” you muttered after you had returned to the table after leaving him briefly to buy a cold sandwich, a bag of salty chips, and a bottle of green tea.

“And it’s not even over yet,” Suho reminded you with a smile on his face.

“Can you not? I don’t want to think about that just yet.”

“At least it’s art. You can unwind in your last class. My last class is Physics, there is no unwinding in physics.”

“You’re smart, you can literally handle anything.”

He cocked his head to the side and studied you. Once he caught your attention, you stuck your tongue out at him and drained your drink, smacking your lips obnoxiously when you were done.

“it’s a wonder we’re even friends,” he mused aloud around his sandwich.

You shrugged, “you still have time to run.”

He grinned, not missing a beat, “I wouldn’t even dream of it.”

You held out your semi-empty plastic bottle, “I’ll drink to that.”

He chuckled and lifted his own soda can, your drinks clinking exotically together, confirming your status as best friends for life.

Which Suho was. The two of you had known each other since you were five. Your fathers were childhood friends that lost contact after college, but somehow—when the two of you were five—reunited and stuck to each other like glue. Even opening their own music store together. Kim Junmyeon, who was lovingly addressed as Suho, and you grew up at the music store, learning how to play different instruments as well as the ropes to owning a business, and the chemistry between your fathers ultimately rubbed off onto you, causing yet another family-like bond.

“You are taking piano, aren’t you?” You asked him a few minutes later.

His attitude shifted instantly as his smile faltered a tad. It was barely noticeable, but you could read this young man in front of you like a book.

“Junmyeon,” You said warningly, using his real name to show how serious you were.

He sighed, “I want to. I just… so much is already on my plate, and I didn’t want to burden my parents with another credit and…”

“And you just didn’t want to,” You finished for him. You lowered your voice, “I thought you liked music.”

“Of course I do, but that’s something our fathers love. Music is their dream, not ours.”

You pouted. He was right, even you weren’t taking any classes related to music, but you were still planning on practicing the viola on your own time. Music was in your blood, it was just as unavoidable as Suho. You didn’t know what life would be like without it, and quite frankly, you didn’t want a life without it.

Suho adored music more than you did. When his father first taught him how to play the piano, he had to be forcefully removed from the bench. There was nowhere else he would rather be, and as he grew, so did his talent. He was so talented, that he won many competitions, and even wrote compositions for many popular songs heard on the radio today.

He was a prodigy.

You? Well, you just liked to play. You were nowhere near as good as Suho, despite the many things he had told you, and you knew that and was fine with it. For you, it didn’t matter if you won or lost, as long as you got to play. You learned how to play the guitar, clarinet, drums, and even the piano, but nothing called to you like the viola. It was an extension of yourself, and Suho once said that when you played, people could tell you transported into a different realm. You were in your own little universe, and would only return once the piece was finished.

“It can be both, couldn’t it? You play so well…” You could tell Suho felt uncomfortable and would rather not discuss the matter anymore, so you just let your sentence carry. Instead, talking about everything else and nothing for the rest of your time together. “Well, my class is about to start in ten minutes. Luckily, I know where the art building is. I’ve only been going there since I was twelve.”

You tried to laugh, but got nothing out of Suho. His smile still plastered on his face, but his eyes dull as he pulled himself up and collected your trash, throwing it in the trashcan and following you out into the crisp fall air.

The art building was very hard to miss. It was one of the bigger buildings because the college you attended focused mostly on the arts, and was painted a bright blue, while every other building was a tan brick color.

“Paint me something nice, alright?” Suho said once you both stopped outside the doors of the building.

You rolled your eyes, “You know I suck at painting, Su, I’m more of a charcoal person.”

He shrugged, “I still want a painting. Charcoal is so boring.”

You smacked his shoulder, “go. Before I lose my temper.”

He laughed and held his arms up in surrender, “We wouldn’t want that now would we?”

He sauntered away and left you to stare up at the intimidating building. Hesitantly, you pried the glass door open and scuttled into the structure. Noise overwhelmed you. You could hear many people tuning their instruments, and the noise of a teacher counting and the soft thud of footsteps. If you listened harder, you could faintly make out people singing.

It was beautiful.

The cacophony of sound settled around you in a somewhat numbing hum, beckoning you to walk even deeper within the building. Almost all the doors were open and you peered into each one, loving everything that you saw. A chubby boy wailing away on his trombone. A lanky boy with a mop top and a short thick girl with glasses singing a duet. What appeared to be an African dance class. A trio practicing on their violins. A boy twirling about in an empty dance room.

You paused once you glanced inside the dance room. He was doing barrel turns across the room, and when he reached the end, he pirouetted for what seemed like a long time, stopping smoothly with one foot resting in back of him and his arms held out in the perfect stance.

He was breathing hard as he dropped his position and ran his fingers through his dark hair, dragging the strands away from his face, only for them to return. He must have felt your stare, because he suddenly swiveled his head to meet you eyes.

He was gorgeous, to put it simply. He had slightly tan skin and perfectly shaped almond brown eyes and a straight nose, and lips that seemed to be the center of his face. He looked almost ethereal as he attempted to catch his breath and sweat slid alluringly down his lean frame and his eyes remained on you.

“Lost?” He asked. His tone wasn’t mocking, simply curious.

His voice was just as lovely as his features. You shook your head, “Just looking around.”

He walked up to the mirror where a drawstring backpack laid, and pulled a small towel out of it, wrapping it around his neck, “class starts pretty soon, doesn’t it? You might be late,”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s so easy to get distracted in this building. There’s so much going on.”

“First day?” He asked with an understanding nod of his head.

You returned the nod with a rushed one of your own, “I’m in sensory overload at the moment.”

“Happens to all of us.”

He turned around and headed back to the corner of the room. You stared at his retreating frame for a moment and then decided it was time to leave. “See you around then.”

He turned his head so that you could see the outline of his nose and raised a hand, “see you.”

You had to forcefully remove yourself from the doorway, and practically run to your classroom, making it in with thirty seconds to spare.

~*~

After your last class was finished, you headed over to the dorms.

You still could not believe you were actually living on your own, away from your parents and sister. And as you stepped into your new home, you couldn’t help but grin.

It was small, but cozy. With a living room that held a couch, there was one bedroom that your roommate and you would be sharing and you got your own bathroom which was nice.

You noticed that your bedroom door was open and you could faintly make out a voice coming from within. It appeared your roommate was in. You hadn’t met her yet, and was nervous. Would you like her? Would she like you? You carefully tiptoed towards the door and paused in the threshold. She was singing under her breath and it was beautiful. The words did not sound very familiar to you, but her voice was so lovely, you found myself creating notes to accompany her with in you head.

Finally, you grew the courage to gently knock on the wall and peek your head in.

She was sitting at a white vanity she must had brought with her, and was clipping something into her jaw length black hair. She spun around quickly, startled.

Once you were facing each other, you carefully examined the other. She was gorgeous, but seemed a bit rebellious with her black lace clothing and scruffy boots. With the light from the window on her hair, you spotted green and blue highlights in it. Her eyes were covered in kohl and her lips were set in a hard line, but you noticed the tips curled slightly in a mischievous grin.

After your slight stare down, she held out her hand, “Park Sunyoung. But I go by Luna.”

You smiled and marched in to shake her hand and introduced yourself as well.

“Like what I’ve done with the place?” She smirked, spinning around to face the mirror again.

The room was placed in such a way that each half was your own. Her side was crowded. The white walls were covered with posters. You spotted both movies and boy and girl groups respectively. She had a purple fluffy mat on the wooden floor, and clothes were strung there and about. She also placed a flat screen television on a dresser that she pushed in the middle of a wall so that it was between your beds.

You glanced at your side, You had only put sheets on your bed, leaned your viola case against the wall, and tossed your suitcases on your bed. It was—and would still be once you finished unpacking—bare compared to hers.

You nodded your head, “you just moved in?”

She nodded her head also. “Bout to grab a bite to eat. Wanna come?”

You bit your lip. You wanted to unpack and maybe practice your instrument for a while, but the need to make friends overwhelmed you, especially a girlfriend. “Sure.”

You watched as Luna hopped off her chair and grabbed a black homburg hat before snatching your wrist and dragging you out of your room.

You entered the cafeteria five minutes later, the building was bustling with life and you couldn’t help but to search around, looking at your fellow schoolmates.

There were a bunch of different stores to choose from, and after watching Luna tap her chin while glaring at each station, you both finally decide on Chinese. You grabbed your plates and then Luna pulled out her phone, dialing a number before she pressed it to her ear.

“Yah! Where are you?” She laughed. Your eyes widened. You were not planning on meeting other people. “I can’t see you! Oh! By the taco station? Mmm… Okay, on my way.” She hung up and glanced at you, tilting her head in the direction she was heading before walking off. You quickly tried to match her pace. You arrived at a round table with seven chairs and two girls sitting there in comfortable silence.

“Hey!” Luna sang as she pulled a chair next to one of them, you quickly followed suite.

The girl next to Luna had brown hair that she had cut really short, a pixie cut. While the girl beside her had straight black hair that cascaded down her body. The one with the pixie cut was sporting a guy tank top and khakis while the one beside her was wearing a black and white stripped dress and blood red lipstick.

“Who’s the stranger?” The girl next to Luna asked, studying you.

“This is my roommate,” Luna beamed with pride and you smiled shyly as she introduced you. “This is my cousin Victoria and our friend, Amber.”

“Nice to meet you,” you greeted.

“Are you a freshman like Luna?” Amber asked, giving you her full attention.

You nodded, “what grade are you in?”

“We’re both juniors,” Victoria supplied, taking a giant bite of her food.

“So… how was your first day?” Amber asked Luna, who rolled her eyes.

“Fine. I guess. All I had were generals today. I can’t wait till my fun classes begin.”

“Are you, by any chance, in choir?” You asked.

She stared at you with wide eyes, “oh god, no! What makes you think that!?”

“Well,” you began nervously. “I heard you singing when I entered the room…”

“Oh~~” The three nodded.

“I do love singing,” Luna informed somewhat sheepishly. “I just…”

“She just doesn’t like to do things when told to do them.” A girl who just walked up to the table finished for Luna, pulling the chair next to Victoria out and unceremoniously plopping down. She was tall and skinny and had long blonde hair. Just like Luna, she was wearing dark clothes and makeup, her expression unimpressed.

Another girl who was the polar opposite took a seat beside her. She had reddish-brown hair that went down to her collarbones and was wearing a pink skirt and shirt and a genuine bright smile. She instantly reminded you of Suho.

“Shut up, Krystal,” Luna barked.

“Make me,” the Krystal girl retorted, sticking her tongue out.

“Choir is just so stuffy,” Luna defended herself. “You have to sing three octaves higher than you normally do, have to wear hideous outfits, and have to move your mouth like this,” she began to open and close her mouth in a way that resembled a fish. “It’s horrible.”

“Plus, she never goes to class, so she’d probably get dropped,” Krystal grinned wickedly at Luna.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?!” The two began to bicker, and you locked eyes with the bright girl next to Krystal who was looking at you.

“What is your name?” She asked. You told her and asked for hers in return. “I’m Sulli. Sorry about my friends. They tend to not have manners.”

“I heard that!” Krystal screeched and smacked Sulli’s shoulder, causing her to wince. She then turned her gaze to you. “I’m not that bad, really. I’m Krystal, by the way.”

You introduced yourself to her and she boldly held out her hand for you to shake. Her hand was very soft.

“Are you a freshman?” She asked and you nodded your head. “Cool. So are Sulli and me. Are you Luna’s roommate?”

“Yes she is, so can you stop asking so many questions?” Luna asked, exasperated.

Krystal shrugged, sniffing a cup of fruit, “just curious. I’m surprised you’d invite her along. I know how much you hate new people.”

“I don’t—”

“YES YOU DO!” The four interrupted Luna, causing the whole table to laugh.

“You all suck,” Luna pouted, but a smile tugged on her lips.

“Welcome to our crew,” Victoria said to me, holding up a bottle of apple juice. You lifted your own drink and you all chugged the liquid.

It tasted like a long friendship.

~*~

Back in your room, all unpacked and exhausted, you laid on your bed. Luna was taking her last class of the day, which was at eight, and she wasn’t very excited about that, so you had the place to yourself. You wanted to play your viola, but was so tired, you couldn’t budge.

Vibrating caught your attention and you groaned as you felt around for your phone. Once found, you answered it without bothering to check caller I.D.

“I take it you’ve already eaten?” Suho asked you from the other end.

You grinned, “What makes you so sure?”

“Because you aren’t harassing me about how you will die any second if you don’t get any food in you soon.”

You sighed, “You know me so well.”

“That’s why I hold the title of best friend.”

“Sorry. Are you hungry?”

“Kind of.”

“Did you just finish your last class?”

He was silent for a second, “no. I, uh, finished it a while ago.”

“Well why didn’t you call me then?”

“I was…distracted. Come down. I’m at your dorm.”

“But, Suho!”

“You shouldn’t have unpacked all at once. That’s your fault. Hurry!”

He hung up and you had no choice but to get your lazy butt up and head downstairs.

He was outside the building, leaning against the cool brick.

“What is the rush?” You asked once you spotted him.

“It’s the first week of school, there is so much we could do!”

“Like…?”

“Like visit the art building and watch people.”

Your eyes brightened and you hurriedly pushed Suho, he laughed at your eagerness and you headed over to your favorite building.

“I should have brought my instrument,” you pouted as the doors opened.

Suho shook his head and you entered the first room you found.

There were a couple kids acting in this one. You watched for a minute, but you both knew which rooms you wanted to really be at.

“Let’s just go to the music room,” You ordered. You started running down the familiar halls, eager to enter the one room you had been in over the years.

Suho continued walking, and you wondered if it was because he didn’t want to go to this room after all.

You entered the room and took a deep breath, smiling widely as you were surrounded by all the instruments. You were in the string room, and you bowed to the professor before heading over to decide which instrument to play.

There were a few kids there in a small circle with guitars on laps, so you picked up an acoustic guitar and joined them.

You quietly tuned your instrument as two of the other boys were playing off each other. The music was very bluesy and you nodded along as they continued.

All music stopped and you heard a few gasps. Suho must have entered. You turned to verify his presence and tried not to laugh at his awkward smile. He hated the attention. Anybody who considered themselves piano players knew who Suho was, and anybody in this area who was aware of music knew who he was as well. He was kind of a big deal.

“Please, continue,” Suho said, motioning for the two boys to play. They stared at him instead, either too nervous or starstruck. With a sigh, you held your guitar on your lap and began to play a song you had made up a few years ago. The people around the room blinked over at you, distracted from Suho, which you knew he was grateful. You felt him sit down beside you, but you ignored him and continued playing. Your fingers gliding confidently over the strings.

“You think she’s good at this,” You heard Suho say. “You should see her play the viola.”

You missed a note and lost your train of thought as laughter bubbled up your throat.

“Please stop, Suho,” you chuckled, finishing the song quickly. Once you were done, everyone in the room applauded and you bowed your thanks and Suho and you sat silently and listened to the others play for a while.

“Should we go now?” he whispered in your ear after about twenty minutes and you nodded. You both got up and bowed to everyone before heading out.

“That was nice,” you grinned up at your best friend, his hands in his pockets and his smile somewhat strained.

“Uh… yeah, nice…”

You laughed, “You hated every waking minute of it.”

“No!” He quickly defended. “I just… you know I hate it when people treat me like that.”

“Like a celebrity?”

He sighed, “I hate that word.”

“But, I mean, you kind of are a celebrity, Suho.”

He groaned and covered his face with his hands, “don’t say that!”

You laughed again and dragged him out of the hall. On your way out, you passed the dance room, and you glanced into the empty room. You were somewhat disappointed to see how lifeless it was in there compared to earlier today….

~*~

Your first week went by smoothly. You hung out quite a bit with Luna and her friends and only got lost once. Suho and your schedules did not align very well, and you rarely got to see each other, which frustrated both of you, but you made time—as little as it was—to hang out at least once a day.

It was Monday again, and after a semi stressful weekend, you were looking forward to another week of college.

Your alarm went off and you chuckled as Luna groaned and tossed in her bed, “turn that off!”

She threw a pillow in your direction and you turned the alarm off, and with a whispered ‘goodbye’ you left for your first class.

After your math class ended, and you had once again fought against the ten o’clock rush, you decided to head over to the art building early to goof off for a bit and kill time.

You found yourself pausing in front of that damned dance room again. The door was closed, but you could hear the faint thud of bass coming from the speakers within, and you just knew that man from last week was in there. After a bit of hesitation, you finally pried the door open.

He was there alright. Wearing cut offs and a black wife beater. He was stretching on the center of the floor, leaning against one leg as the music played on. When he lifted his upper body he noticed you, “you’re back.”

You couldn’t tell if he was happy or annoyed by the fact, but you smiled at him anyway, “I told you I’d see you later.”

He laughed once under his breath and shook his head faintly.

“Mind if I watch?”

He opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything.

You deflated, “or…not.”

As you began taking a step back he let out a breath, “no! Wait.”

You glanced at him expectantly and he sighed, “You can stay if you want.”

You beamed and came all the way into the room, closing the door solidly behind you. You sat against the mirror and pulled your legs up to your chin.

“It’s nothing much,” the beautiful boy began. “I’m just going to be doing some stretches and going over some routines….”

“That’s fine,” You encouraged and he paused before nodding his head self-consciously.

After fifteen minutes of warming up, he began to dance. You knew he was not going full out, but even still he was captivating. He moved effortlessly, almost as if he were bored, and he made every move seem easy, although you knew it was anything but.

At one moment he attempted a leap, but couldn’t land right. He groaned with frustration, “I can’t get this jump right.”

You perked up, with him talking for the first time in thirty minutes. He was standing in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips, eyeing himself in the mirror.

“I don’t even know why it is so difficult for me, but I just can’t get it. The teacher told me I was landing too hard but what does that even mean?”

You blinked at him and were silent for a moment. Finally you worked up the courage to speak, “may—maybe you can demonstrate it again? I’ll watch and see if I can spot the problem?”

His eyes flickered to yours questioningly, “you dance?”

“Uh… no, but I’m sure I’d notice if you weren’t landing right.”

He thought about it for a second, but must have seen there was no harm in it because he shrugged and started the music up again.

You watched him as he twirled around the room before going for the leap. He was flawless in the air, but once his foot came down, he was a stumbling mess. He had to hold his arms out to catch his balance and you figured out the problem.

“You’re not distributing your weight properly,” You informed him once he was at a standstill. “You put all your weight on the leg you’re landing on when you need to put it on both.”

“How do I go about doing that?” He asked, twirling the lid off of his water and chugging half the bottle.

“As soon as your foot touches the ground, stretch out your back leg and lift your arms higher.”

The dancer’s eyes wandered above him for a minute, probably imagining the actions he had to take, and then he put his water down and started the music again.

When it got to the troubling leap, you held your breath. He was up, up, up and then he came down. His foot touched the floor and he seemed to spring higher as he flexed his legs and raised his arms, not even wobbling.

“Perfect landing,” you breathed with a grin as he continued on with the choreography. You couldn’t help but to notice how dazzling his face looked graced with that triumphant smile that seemed nearly blinding.

He was now going all out, as if he were performing on a stage, and your heart was in your throat.

You had seen a lot of beautiful things. Watching your father play the trombone, watching Suho play the piano, listening to one of your friends, Yuri, sing, but this fellow in front of you took passion to another level.

Tears began to obstruct your vision as you watched him reach towards the heavens with every jump. Every flex of a muscle seemed to be a part of a story only he knew how to tell, but the story was magnificent and you could not look away.

It ended with him pirouetting before landing on one knee, an arm stretched towards you.

The music ended and the only thing that could be heard was his hard breathing.

“That… that was beautiful.” Beautiful could not cover base to how life altering watching him perform was. He was beyond that, he was something no word could yet define.

“Thank you,” he grinned and bowed humbly.

“No, I’m… I’m serious. I don’t think I have ever seen anything that passionate before in my entire life, and my father lives and breathes music. You are truly talented.”

You watched him bite his lip and scratch the back of his head before repeating, “thank you.”

“No, thank you,” That sounded so cheesy out loud, but you really wanted to thank him for showing you that. You wiped away the tears that had fallen from your eyes and laughed at yourself, “I swear I don’t usually cry watching people dance. Only if I’m moved enough.”

“I moved you?” He asked. You noticed the teasing tone in his voice, but also surprise, as if he didn’t believe he was that good.

“To tears,” You confirmed, holding your hands out to show him the salty wetness on them.

“Thank you,” he repeated yet again, and you blinked up at him.

“For what?”

“For helping me with that turn. Also for letting me know just how good I am. Sometimes you need other people besides those who are always telling you to realize your potential, you know?”

“Absolutely. I definitely understand. I remember when I was first learning how to play the viola, and my father was constantly telling me how good I was, but I felt like I wasn’t adequate. It took my best friend to finally make me realize that maybe I was worthy of the instrument.”

The sweaty ballerina just stared at you for a moment, and you grew embarrassed. Were you talking too much? You were definitely talking too much. This is why you only had two friends growing up.

“You can come watch me practice whenever you want,” he suddenly allowed. His smile grew at your shocked expression. “I realize now I enjoy the company, and you can probably help me on some things. So… whenever you want, if I’m here, don’t be shy.”

He said all of that without even glancing at you, but you could tell the sincerity in his voice. Plus, you found it endearing how he dug the ground with his toes.

It was your turn to repeat yourself, “thank you.”

~*~

You ran all the way to your dorm after art, eager to get this off your chest.

You felt kind of bad that Suho wasn’t the person you wanted to talk to about the matter, but this was strictly a girl thing, and you knew he wouldn’t understand.

“Luna!” You practically screeched when you finally slammed the door to your bedroom open, scaring the living daylights out of your roommate.

“Jesus!” she cried, throwing the magazine she was peacefully reading on her bed onto the floor. “What’s gotten into you?!”

“I’m in like,” You breathed, falling unto your bed with a longing sigh.

“In like?” she questioned.

“Yes. With a beautiful ballerina.”

“Ballerina?”

“It’s a guy,” you clarified, rising up to meet Luna’s gaze. She was grinning from ear to ear, leaning in closer.

“Well, spill it!”

You told her about the mystery dancer who just so happened to be drop dead gorgeous and wanted your company.

“Wow, that is so romantic! What is his name? Maybe I know him.”

“It’s…” Your smile melted off with the realization that you in fact had no name for the face you most definitely would be dreaming of later tonight.

“You don’t know?” Luna’s eyes widened and than she gasped, “that’s even more romantic! It’s like Cinderella! Does he know yours?”

You shook your head and she threw a pillow up in the air. It hit the ceiling before landing on the floor behind her, next to her long forgotten magazine. “Oh my god! The two of you are so mysterious! That is so hot.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. You’ve grown quite close to Luna this past week; she was someone you really needed in your life.

“You have to keep me posted on the development on your unfolding love story. And don’t forget who was there in the beginning when you have to pick a maid of honor for your wedding!”

“Oh, I will def keep you up to date.”

~*~

Sadly, there was nothing to report back to Luna.

Classes started to add pressure the rest of the week, and you were so swamped in schoolwork, that you had no time to eat a normal meal, let alone watch someone dance for a couple hours. you even had a test in art!

When Friday came around, all you wanted to do was relax, but Suho had other plans for you.

“Come on! We haven’t seen each other all week! I miss my bestie!”

“I miss you too, but I’m so tired,” you complained, rolling around in your bed for affect.

“We are all tired, we’re college students.”

“Why can’t you hang out with your roommate? I’m sure he will keep you company.”

“He is hanging out with me. I’m trying to expose you to more people,” You could hear the annoyance in his voice.

“I don’t need more friends. You’re like five friends put together!”

“Please,” Suho whimpered, muttering your name softly. You tensed, knowing what he was doing. “We haven’t seen one another in five days and I just really need my best friend right now. Is that a crime? Is wanting to see you such a bad thing?”

He sighed when you remained silent, “fine. I won’t bother you anymore. Take your nap and be a loser for all your life, but don’t call me when you finally want to settle down, because I would have moved on with a new bestie by then.”

“Fine!” You cried, hopping off your bed. “Jesus, Suho! I’ll hang out with you, damn!”

He chuckled and you heard a muffled ‘works every time’ before he was back in your ear, “you have ten minutes. Dress really cute, we’re going somewhere fun. You better be waiting for us when we get there.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” You hung up before he could guilt you into doing something else you didn’t want to do and slumped over to your closet.

Suho’s definition of really cute was a scary concept, and it made you wonder where he was dragging you. He loved heels and thigh highs. You always joked and told him he was a subtle pervert, and he would reply by simply shrugging, tilting his head to get a good view of the girl he had his eye on at the time.

You groaned and yanked the clothes you knew he was already picturing in his head before getting ready.

Six minutes later, you were standing outside the dorms in a thin pink dress, black tights, chunky black heels, and a glare.

True to his word, Suho was in front of the dorms ten minutes after your call ended. He stepped out of the passenger side of a very expensive looking black car, dressed in dark jeans and a sky blue button down, and you knew that you were dressed accordingly.

His grin grew into a full-blown smile as he took you in, “you never disappoint.”

“Shut up, you perv,” You retaliated. He just laughed, continuing walking up to you. Once you were right in front of each other, he pulled you into a hug and you soon felt a tugging at your hair.

Suho pulled away with a satisfied grin, “you look prettier with your hair down.”

“What is this?” You snapped, as he ruffled your brown hair that he had released from the ponytail you had it in seconds ago. “Are you trying to hook me up with someone?”

“I might be, but I just want you to have fun tonight. You have to dress good to feel good.”

“I mean, I guess?” You let him drag you over to the car. He opened the backseat door for you and helped you get in before crawling back to the front. There were two males sitting to your left, both incredibly handsome and one behind the wheel.

Suho called you and you glanced at him, really nervous. You usually felt at ease around the opposite sex, but Suho made you dress up, and it made you self-conscious, especially since all the men in the car were good looking.

Not as fine as your little ballerina, you thought suddenly, and you felt your cheeks heat up. They definitely weren’t that pleasing to the eyes.

You blinked, quickly focusing back at Suho. He had his hand on the driver’s shoulder, “This is my roommate, Kris, and those two sitting next to you are Kim Jongdae and Do Kyungsoo.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said, nodding towards them. They all nodded in return and you zoomed off to some unknown place.

“Jongdae and Kyungsoo are singers,” Suho informed as you continued driving. “And Kris here is an actor. They all have scholarships and are top of their classes.”

“Why must you talk us up like this?” The one furthest to the window whined. He had a cute voice and a cat like curve to his lips that you couldn’t help but stare at.

“It’s alright,” you began. “It’s in his nature. He’s like a proud father.”

“This girl right here,” he started, and you rolled your eyes. “Is one of the best viola players in the country, if not the continent! She also draws, plays other instruments, and sings.”

You shook your head rapidly, “please do not tell professional singers that I sing, Suho. That’s embarrassing.”

He simply shrugged, “how many times have you sung the lyrics to my compositions?”

“I’m not sure anymore, Suho,” you sighed, your gaze flickering to the singers beside you. They looked intrigued, and you wanted to shrink.

“Exactly, because it’s been too many times to count. If it had been up to me, I would have given you the songs to record. I write them for you anyway.”

“Gross,” you cried, kicking his seat. Sometimes he said things that made it seem as if you were closer than you actually were. It was a habit you were trying to get him out of.

It was around ten when Kris—who had been silent throughout the entire ride there—pulled into a karaoke bar.

“Damn,” you muttered under your breath. Suho was toying with you the entire ride there, the bastard.

“What was that?” The smaller boy beside you, Kyungsoo, asked. His voice was deeper than you had thought it would be at first glance and his wide eyes and plump lips made him seem older than you would have originally thought, more mature.

“I should have known we would be singing,” you said a bit louder to him, although you pushed your knee deep into the back of Suho’s seat.

“And drinking,” the guy near the window, Jongdae, winked at you playfully and you sighed with both content and relief, because he was really cute and you really needed a drink.

“Good,” you breathed as you all headed out.

You followed the guys into the bar, and was led into probably the biggest room you had ever seen in one of these places. It was already filled with about six other people, both male and female.

You felt pressure on your arm and lips at your ear. “Don’t be afraid to make friends, and maybe even get a bit touchy if you want,” Suho winked at you and you grimaced. What was up with him today?

There were only two other girls in the room, and you quickly ran to sit beside them, introducing yourself quickly. They were Hyeri and Hyorin. There was a guy singing a Super Junior song, and he was really good. You just sat silently as everyone got comfortable. Jongdae soon appeared with around four huge bottles of liquor, while Kyungsoo scuttled behind him with shot glasses.

“Whose ready to turn up!” Jongdae’s high-pitched voice rang loudly over the commotion of the room, and everyone—including yourself—cheered. Jongdae and another boy who you weren’t acquainted with poured the shots, while Kyungsoo handed them out. You were the last one to receive a glass, and he sat beside you with a shy smile. You returned it and waited for one of the shorter boys in the room to give the toast speech, “to freshman! To the beginning of the rest of our lives!”

You all held your glasses up high before tilting your heads back and downing the liquid fire with grimaces and coughs.

Liquor made you friendly, to put it simply. It also made you extremely confident, yet also very uncoordinated. You took six more shots of the strongest stuff Jongdae had to offer, and before you knew it, you were singing a duet with one of the boys named Byun Baekhyun. It was an intense balled, and you acted the part, even pressing against each other, his arm around your waist while one of your hands were on his cheek as you both shared his microphone.

You gathered hoots and hollers and you just laughed and laughed when the song ended. He gave you a wink and carried you off the small platform, making you sit on his lap back on the couch.

“You’re fun,” He yelled into your ear, his voice deep enough for you to feel warm from the compliment.

“You give good speeches,” you replied, remembering him giving the toast earlier.

“You sing very well,” he countered.

“Well… you’re very handsome.”

His smile was a million watts.

~*~

(Another lil snippet that I haven’t even gotten to plot wise but I had a Vision™ and wrote it down before I forgot, to give you better insight on what I'm trying to do here haha)

“Jongin….”

“Oh no, silly girl, I’m not Jongin,” his eyes remained piercing into your soul as he pushed a chunk of your hair back behind your ear just to whisper, “I’m Kai.”

You blinked up at him, “who?”

“Kai,” he clarified. “Jongin’s twin brother.”

It was silent for a moment and then you burst out laughing, pushing his shoulder. He looked at you stunned, “stop playing, Jongin. What kind of joke is this?”

He raised an eyebrow, “It’s not a joke, plus, Jongin’s sense of humor wouldn’t allow him to play such a prank. Maybe when we were younger and used to switch classes for the day, but ever since college, all that boy’s focused on is the art.”

“The art?”

“Dancing.”

“Oh… oh!” Your eyes widened as you remembered asking Jongin about his hiphop routine. Your eyes flashed up to the Jongin in front of you, “you were the one doing the hiphop routine!”

He smirked and nodded boldly, “That I was.”

“Shit, you’re telling the truth.”

“Duh. I’m not a liar. But, it seems like Jongin might be…..”

#kai scenarios #kai scenario #exo scenario #exo scenarios #kai drabble #kai drabbles #exo drabbles #exo drabble #kai oneshot #kai oneshots #exo oneshot #exo oneshots #kai

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