#hp x gn reader

[hp-hcs]

• smut • literally everyone here is so problematic (but oh, so hot) [part 2 of drunk words, sober thoughts] — best friend! dom top! jealous! theodore nott x gn! bottom/receiving! dumbass! reader x best friend! switch! jealous! manwhore! mattheo riddle

tysm to the anon who gave me this idea ur a real one 🤲👑

okay so like, i never really state it in text but like, reader, theo, and mattheo have been like a best friend trio since first year alr?

working on a part three rn you silly lil horndogs

read the title man idk

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“We can’t keep doing this,” you mumbled, but your head still tilted to the side to grant him better access.

“Why not?” He asked, kissing along the newly-freed skin of your neck and lightly biting down on your collarbone.

You let out a breathy half-moan. “We can’t- this isn’t fair for either of us. I can’t give you a real relationship.”

“I don’t care about that,” he said dismissively, tilting his head up to suck on the sensitive flesh on the underside of your jaw. “As long as I can have you in my bed.”

“How romantic,” you deadpan.

He laughed, shutting you up with yet another sharp thrust of his hips. “Never said I was, darlin’.”

You gasped and moaned. “Fuck! Th-there!”

He followed your directions, gripping your hips tighter and driving into you with renewed vigor.

Your thighs trembled and your nails raked along his back as you came with a low moan of his name.

He followed right after you, moaning and burying his face into the side of your neck. His hair, damp with sweat, brushed against your jaw, making you smile as you felt him shake above you.

He caught his breath after a moment, pulling out and rolling off of you. “You know that you can’t just keep sleeping with me to forget about him, right?”

“Oh, c’mon. Like you’re gonna complain? Don’t you want a hot-albeit-emotional-disaster such as myself in your bed?”

“I mean, I’m not gonna say no to that,” he snickered, reaching over the side of his bed to retrieve his shirt from the pile of discarded clothes before tugging it over your head and helping you get your arms through the sleeves. He laid back down so you could curl into his side, wrapping an arm around your middle and mindlessly running his fingers up and down your side.

You both lay in a comfortable silence for a moment before you quietly murmured, “Thank you.”

“For the sex or the pep talk?” He teased, running a gentle hand through your hair.

“Both,” you give him a half smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “But really, I mean it. Thank you, Mattheo.”

~~~

“That’s it, shit- yeah, fuck,” Mattheo moaned, dropping his quill on his desk in favor of threading his fingers through your hair. “So good- so damn good at this.”

You’d really thought you’d be able to go to the library with Mattheo after school “to study”. And you were doing plenty of that, if studying what that fine Riddle dick looks like up close is going to be a question on your Charms exam. Which, y’know, it probably won’t.

You could feel your legs cramping up from being curled up in a kneeling position underneath the table for the past ten minutes, but that didn’t stop you from tightening your grip on his thighs and taking him down as far as you could go.

His grip on your hair tightened in warning. “Shit- someone’s coming,” he hissed.

You pulled off of him just to sassily respond with, “Yeah, you.”

With just a few pumps of your fist, wrapped tight around his dick, Mattheo fell apart in the middle of the library.

~~~

“Fuck! Yes- shit!” Mattheo groaned and cursed.

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed. “Are you trying to get caught?”

“I won’t claim to not be an exhibitionist,” he said in a mock-serious tone. “Besides, tell me this isn’t a hot place to fuck.”

“This isn’t a hot place to fuck,” you scoffed as you tightened your legs around his waist. “If I drown in this damn lake ‘cause of you, I will haunt your bitchass.”

~~~

“You seem to be awfully…close with Matt right now,” Theo said in an odd, stilted tone.

“Yeah,” you said shortly. “We are.”

“That’s…nice, I guess.” Theodore cleared his throat. “Riddle’s cool.”

“Yup,” you said in a bored tone, not even sparing a glance in his direction.

Theo huffed out an annoyed sigh, abandoning his fruitless questioning. “Whatever. Can you pass the butter?”

~~~

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Yeah, kinda.” Mattheo drawled.

“Apologies, won’t happen again,” Theo sneered, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door frame as he surveyed the scene in front of him.

His longtime crush, sprawled out naked on his best friend’s bed. He kept his eyes trained pointedly at your faces, making no acknowledgment of the fact that Mattheo was three fingers deep inside you.

“So, like- this is real awkward,” Mattheo licked his lips and pursed them, unabashedly meeting Theo’s gaze and quirking an eyebrow. “You can either leave or come in, but either way, you gotta shut the door, man. That’s just common courtesy.”

Theo scoffed. “Are you seriously suggesting I stay?”

“I’m not not seriously suggesting you stay.”

“I’m not watching my best friends have sex, you fuckin’ freak.”

“Shit, what d’ya want me to say then, Mr. Prude?” Mattheo rolled his eyes. “You rather join in?”

“I’m not having a threesome with my best friends!”

“Coward.”

Theo spluttered out a protest that fell on deaf ears.

“Boys, boys, we get it. You’re both pretty,” you say dryly. “Either stay or don’t, Nott, but I’m getting fucked either way.”

Theo hesitated at the doorway before cursing under his breath and stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “I hate you both.”

“We hate you too,” you and Mattheo replied dryly in unison.

Theo scoffed and took a hesitant step closer. He chewed on his bottom lip nervously and looked at you as he sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed. “What about the…y’know, disagreement?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, I’m still mad at you for that.”

“Yeah, and I’m mad at you too!” Mattheo interjected before leaning in to loudly whisper to you, “What exactly are we mad at him for?”

“Teddy’s only been my friend for the last six years because he thought he’d get lucky.” You said through a tight smile.

“That’s not- I- I mean, it kind of is, but- it’s-”

“That’s kind of a dick thing to do, Teddy,” Mattheo said in a mocking tone.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Riddle. Like you’re not doing the exact same thing!”

“Wait, what?” You interrupted at that, but the boys continued arguing.

“You don’t get to call dibs on a person, Nott!”

“You don’t get to hook up with your best friend's crush, Riddle!”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk,” Mattheo seethed.

“Boys!” You snapped suddenly.

They both went dead silent, looking over at you with matching deer-in-headlights expressions like they’d forgotten you were there—despite the fact that you were the literal topic of their argument.

“Are you done with the damn fighting?” You prompted, your eyes narrowing.

“Yes, Y/n,” both boys chorused sheepishly, only to shoot each other glares when they thought you weren’t looking.

“Good boys,” you taunted. “Now, kiss and make up.”

“What? I’m not going to-” Theo spluttered.

“I wasn’t asking, Theodore.”

“Fine,” Theo seethed in annoyance, grabbing Mattheo by the back of his neck and yanking him into a harsh kiss. There was no romance there. No lust, no real passion. Just jealousy and anger.

Mattheo, ever the slut, still moaned and grabbed onto Theo’s hips to pull him closer, practically climbing into his lap.

Theo growled, biting down hard on his bottom lip. Mattheo whimpered and unabashedly started grinding against Theo’s thigh, moaning like a goddamn Muggle porn star.

“Fucking whore,” Theo hissed against his lips, shoving him back down onto his bed. “Thought I could trust you.”

“What, so it’s okay for you to incessantly chase Y/n, but when I do it, I’m a whore?”

“Yes!”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, Nott.”

You rolled your eyes at their pettiness. “For the love of Merlin- you’re both stupid, how about that?”

They pause their bickering to glance over at you.

“What did you just call us, darlin’?” Mattheo asked in a suspiciously calm voice, seemingly unbothered by the fact that his best-friend-slash-current-enemy-slash-crush-stealer was actively straddling him and busying himself by nibbling and sucking at Mattheo’s neck.

A sarcastic comment died in your throat as you watched them interact. Despite Theo being preoccupied, coaxing tiny sounds out of Mattheo’s mouth with every jealousy-fueled nip at his neck, his gaze remained locked on yours.

You gulped. You’d been so confident before, but now they were staring at you with matching expressions of jealousy, possessiveness, and lust.

Ah.

Whoops.

[defectivevillain]

alone together

pairing: Blaise Zabini x reader (can be platonic or romantic)

reader’s pronouns: unspecified but masc-intended!

summary: You’re a Gryffindor that earns detention with Umbridge during class. You go to detention that night only to find a Slytherin already there. Against all odds, you find yourself forming an unexpected friendship with this other student. 

author’s note: Just pretend you’re a Gryffindor!! It’s for the story, I swear. [i'm not a gryffindor either lol]

warnings: blood, injury, and scarring from umbridge’s blood quill. 

You walk out of Umbridge’s class with hunched shoulders and clenched fists. That woman is... beyond vile. You tried to bring up your concerns surrounding the lack of practical application in the class, but she assigned you detention instead of addressing anything you said. You grit your teeth and walk to your room, already dreading the detention. You’ve had detention with her before, and you’re not looking forward to adding to the scar on your hand. 

The hours leading up to your detention pass by incredibly fast, of course. It almost feels as if you blink and suddenly you’re standing in front of the door to the Defense Professor’s chambers. You steel your nerves and knock on the door, entering when you hear that familiar high-pitched voice. You’re unsurprised to see the toad herself glaring at you as you take your seat. You are surprised, however, to see someone sitting in the adjacent chair. You recognize him to be Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin student in the same year as you. 

Umbridge places down a piece of parchment and a quill for each of you. “You two have been here before. You know what to do.” You sigh, picking up the dreaded quill and beginning to write your lines. I must not speak out of turn. It’s only the first sentence you've written, yet your hand begins to bleed again. I must not speak out of turn. I must not speak out of turn. I must not-

“It seems I have some... business... to attend to,” Umbridge interrupts. You pause in your writing, just barely withholding a wince at the stinging sensation. “I expect these lines to be completed when I return.” With that, Umbridge leaves the room. For a long moment, you and Blaise sit in silence. You try to brainstorm a way to get out of this situation, but you’re not quite sure how. You eventually blurt out what’s on your mind. 

“Do you know a spell to replicate our writing?” You ask Zabini. He raises an eyebrow, the only external sign of what you can assume to be shock. A few seconds pass and he doesn’t reply. You’re about to give up on the conversation when he finally replies. 

“Yes.” You watch as he waves his wand and murmurs some words. To your surprise, the ink bleeds across the paper until the entire scroll is filled with your writing. Even better, this replication doesn’t further aggravate your injury. Speaking of the cuts on your hand, the skin on your hand itches and burns. “Thanks,” you nod, impressed. Admittedly, you didn’t know any spells like that. You’re reminded of why Zabini is one of the smartest students in your year.

“You’re not bad for a Gryffindor,” Zabini murmurs, just quietly enough that you think you imagine it. You stare at him for a moment, processing his statement. 

“You flatter me, Zabini,” you eventually huff, just barely managing to hide an eye roll. Your effort doesn't seem to work very well, because the Slytherin scoffs in response. For a long moment, the two of you stare at each other in silence. You’re not able to hold in your laughter anymore. Somehow, he starts to chuckle, too.

“Call me Blaise,” the boy says, after the two of you have calmed down. You raise your eyebrows, not having expected that at all. Blaise notices your surprise and laughs. “I’m not a fan of all that name bullshit. Don’t tell anyone I said that, though.” You mime zipping your lips shut and throwing away the key. He has the most perplexed look on his face at that, which amuses you greatly.

“Let’s get out of here, before she comes back,” Blaise says, drawing you out of your thoughts. He rises out of his seat and you follow him. For a moment, Blaise pauses in the doorway, evidently checking to make sure the coast is clear, before walking out of the room and into the hallway. The two of you continue down the winding halls for a few minutes, until you reach a deserted area where you won’t be eavesdropped on. 

“Well,” you remark, not quite sure what to do from here. Admittedly, your hand is hurting like hell. You hadn’t quite noticed before, since you were distracted. Now, though, you can’t help but notice. Blaise must be freakishly observant, because he frowns and looks at your side. 

“Let me see your hand,” Blaise orders, his eyebrows furrowing. You grimace and pull up your sleeve, revealing your scarred hand. He inhales sharply. “Why didn’t you speak up? Gryffindors...” You hardly get the chance to wonder what that means before there’s a warm feeling coasting over your hand, softening the pain. 

“How’d you do that?” You’re sure there’s an unhealthy amount of admiration and awe in your voice, but you can’t quite help it. “And, wait, you should cast that on your own hand.”

“Oh,” Blaise mutters, pausing for a long moment. He stares at you and you nearly wilt under his watchful gaze. “I appreciate your concern, but my hand was never actually cut. I just faked it and cast a spell.” Smart. You wish you had thought of that. 

“Anyway, you should put a salve on this,” Blaise cradles your hand gently, and you feel your heart begin to race for some reason. The two of you are standing rather close together. Blaise inexplicably leans forward for a moment, but a harsh meow makes him flinch. The two of you look to your right, only to find Mrs. Norris staring up at you. You curse and look to Blaise, who has a similarly annoyed expression on his face.

“Well, we should go,” you say awkwardly. You look down at his hand on yours and he quickly removes it. Blaise shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts, before uttering a goodbye and walking away.

Once he’s out of view, you look down at your hand. You can still feel the ghost of Blaise’s touch. Signing to yourself, you walk back to your common room. And, if the Slytherin boy begins to dominate your thoughts? Well, no one has to know.

endnotes below!

I know it may seem a bit... uncharacteristic, I guess... that Blaise is able to wield his magic so effectively. I like to think that he knows a few Dark spells that allow him to be more efficient than most. I’m sure there are some Dark healing spells out there- after all, the stigma behind Dark spells solely causing harm is... a stigma. anyway. 

I don’t support JKR in any way whatsoever. I saw an author’s note on ao3 that describes the sentiment: “JKR owns these characters, no matter how much she doesn’t deserve them.”

thanks for reading <3

[deadqueerboys]

- Remus Lupin x Gn! Reader -

First post!!! I've had this in mind for a while (I don't know if anyone has done something similar)

Waring: None.

****

Remus' headcanons in a state of...idk:

• He would be with you 24/7, literally.

• Personal space? What is it?

• Sudden kisses and hugs.

• If you are talking to someone, he will avoid interrupting and bringing you closer to him. • If you can't take it, he takes you by the arm and leads you to the nearest empty hallway.

• He has minimal respect, so nothing in class.

• BUT, there are those little touches… if you sit next to him you'll feel his hand on your leg every now and then while he seems to be paying attention in class.

• Bedroom studies become him holding you by the waist and placing you on his lap, legs crossed and spreading light kisses on your neck.

• As usual, James and Sirius obviously laughed at him for being so dependent on you.

• Dramaturgy;

Loooooooove…..

I already said no Remus!

It's okay, you don't love me.

Um, puppy son of a-

• If he spends the day quiet, something is wrong;

LOVE!

What?! Damn it!

I love you!

• 'We need to go to the library…' becomes a new meaning for 'hey, want to go somewhere private?'

• Playing with your hands like a tic is just… satisfying. Hold, kiss in a ridiculously cute way.

• Above all, he wants to feel 'loved' - please.

• If he gives up on a gentle form of affection, you'll have your arms around him all day.

• Grabs you by the chin just to mock you and fake a kiss, only for him to piss you off and leave you alone.

[moonstruckme]

hey mae! it’s been awhile since i’ve sent an ask but im always reading your work girl! i love how you write tbh. if you’re up to it do you think you could write something with poly marauders, where the reader has trouble eating and making themself eat due to poor appetite. my appetite really does come and go and ever since covid (maybe before) it’s like eating makes me feel revolted. sometimes i just don’t feel like eating bc of other things like depression, adhd, anxiety. i was just wondering if you could write something with the boys helping out the reader with finding out what sounds good, cooking, and eating if possible. sometimes having someone around to talk to and hang out with makes it so much easier to deal -🌶️

Hey Pepper, thank you sm! And thanks for being patient with me <3

cw: lack of appetite, mention of skipping meals

poly!marauders x gn!reader ♡ 1.1k words

The sun’s going down, the last dregs of its light spilling brilliant and golden over the book in your lap, and you can feel your boyfriends starting to get restless. Well, two of them. 

“If we’re missing half the ingredients,” Sirius says, trailing James into the kitchen, “it’s not going to be any good.” 

James only tsks. “Ye of little faith. That’s what improvisation is for.” He starts pulling things down from the cabinet. 

“You’re not even going to glance at the recipe?” 

“I don’t need to. I know the general vibe.” 

“Help!” Sirius calls towards the living room. “He’s gone off the rails. Remus, come fix it.” 

Remus turns around to look over the back of the sofa, his shoulder brushing yours as he does. He’s sitting right up against you despite the couch being empty, not that you mind. Remus is sort of like a cat that wants to be near you but not always to be pet. His touches are often like this, passive gestures like a hand on your head or his thigh pressed against yours. It works for you just fine; you can feel the affection bleeding into you from any point of contact. 

“Don’t you think we should just eat out?” Sirius asks, tilting his head and doing that thing with his eyes that you all pretend doesn’t work on you. 

Impressively, Remus keeps his face impassive. “I’m having leftover brussels sprouts,” he replies, “so it’s not really my concern. Anyway, James has a good history with not following recipes.” 

“Exactly,” James says, grinning at Sirius, who scowls. But then he fixes his gaze on Remus. “So why are you having that, Rem? Have what I’m making.” 

“Because they’re going to go bad, and I’m not hungry enough for a big meal.” The last part is said somewhat quieter, directed towards the living room as he turns back around and picks up his own book. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see James frown, but he glances at Sirius and they seem to collectively decide not to push it. Remus’ appetite isn’t much better than yours. He has his better days, but it’s not uncommon for him not to feel up to what your other boyfriends would consider a whole meal or to eat only chocolate until Sirius hounds him into something more substantial. 

James looks to you hopefully. “You’ll have some, won’t you sweetheart?” 

You wince, hating to let him down, and from the look on James’ face he clocks the guilt in your expression before even you get a chance to say, “I don’t think I’m really up to it tonight, either.” 

James deflates, but he’s clearly trying to put on a brave face. “That’s alright. I think I’ll just save it for another night, then.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, setting your book facedown on the armrest and turning around to face him more fully. “You could still make it and just put leftovers in the freezer. Maybe I’ll have some tomorrow.” You wince again as soon as you say it. No promises, though.

The smile James gives you is comforting if not totally satisfied. “It’s okay. I’ll just make it another time, it’s not a problem.” 

You return his smile, close-lipped. Sirius is looking at you with narrowed eyes, arms crossed like he’s sizing you up. 

“What are you going to eat?” he asks. 

“Hm?” 

“What are you going to have instead?” You hesitate, and he tilts his head knowingly, a piece of hair slipping from behind his ear to drape over his shoulder. “You need to have something, especially since you didn’t have lunch.” 

From the kitchen, James looks at you. “You didn’t?” 

“I just…don’t feel like it.” It’s a feeble argument even to your own ears, and the look Sirius gives you says that he thinks so, too. 

“You can’t miss two meals,” he says obstinately. “Even Remus is having some brussels sprouts.”

You look to Remus to be offended at the even Remus comment, but he only shrugs. You’re on your own. 

“What sounds good?” he asks you. 

You try not to pout. “Nothing. Everything sounds gross.” 

“C’mon, baby.” Sirius leans against the countertop. “It doesn’t have to be strictly dinner food, yeah? Just anything that sounds like you’d be willing to eat it.” 

You think for a minute. Remus touches the back of his hand to your leg, knuckles soothing over the skin beside your knee. 

“I guess…ice cream sounds okay,” you say hesitantly. “But I know that’s not exactly nutritious…” 

“Would a milkshake be close enough?” James pipes up. 

You shrug. “I guess.” 

He grins. “I can do that for you, love. Just gimme a sec.” 

James is a loud cook. You go back to your book while cabinet doors slam and the blender whirs and you hear a muffled “oh, shit” as something is undoubtedly dropped on the floor, but a minute later he’s bringing you a glass of something thick and chocolate-y looking. You smile at the added garnish of mint and a straw, reaching for it. 

“Thanks, Jamie.” 

He winks. “Anytime.” 

Remus is the only one courteous enough not to obviously watch while you take a sip, and you feel your eyebrows raise as you look up at James. 

“This is really good,” you say. He practically glows at the praise. “I didn’t even know we had chocolate ice cream.” 

Sirius barks a laugh, and James’ smile widens. 

“What?” you ask. 

“We don’t,” he admits. “Will it ruin your appetite if I tell you it’s not actually ice cream?” 

You shake your head, sucking at the straw. “I’m already drinking it, so.” 

James beams. He really is looking very proud of himself. “It’s a protein shake. A pretty balanced meal, actually.” 

“Nice!” You grin at him, taking another hearty slurp mostly because you know it’ll please him. “It’s perfect, thank you.” 

“Gotta keep our sweetheart fed,” he says, bending down for a kiss. Sirius and Remus’ hums of approval nearly harmonize, and you and James share an elated look while they both do their best to pretend like it didn’t happen. 

“Can I try?” Remus asks, and you tilt the cup towards him in invitation. 

He wraps his lips around your straw, sipping hesitantly. He looks mildly impressed. 

“Could you make me one of those too?” 

From the look on James’ face, he’d be delighted to. “Course, love.” He plants a smacker on Remus’ cheek and nearly knocks Sirius over as he beelines for the kitchen. 

“This is just excellent,” Sirius gripes, but you see the satisfaction in his expression. “Now that you two have blown up his ego, I’ll have to eat something he makes too.” 

“Correct,” James says brightly. “And you should be so lucky.” 

[fangisms]

playfight

A/N: first of all, she is REALLY in her active era, hold the applause. second this is so borderline smutty and disgustingly self indulgent... it had to be done gif creds: @drunkblushed

Pairings: Theodore Nott x GN!Reader

Summary: Theo finds a way to motivate you out of bed. Hint: it includes body heat and physical contact. 0.5k words

Warnings: fluff with like a self indulgent pinch of smuttiness, more like heavy petting and a little spicy, lovesickness

You'd been inside all day, soaking in the cool tranquility of the Parkinson family lodge. With your group of friends always nearby and a good book always in hand, it can't get better than this.

"Topolina mia..."

Theo calls you like an emergency siren before he pounces on top of you, straddling the backs of your thighs and leering over your shoulder like a hungry leopard. You whine and he just giggles boyishly into your ear.

"Theo!"

His cold, pink nose presses to your pulsing jugular, teeth pinching the delicate skin. You whine and reach around, cupping the back of his head and resting your book against the pillow. Soft puffs of air fan out across your throat. He groans with contempt.

"It's cold in here"—his fingers fuss with the edge of your sweater—"If you want to be cold, why don't you come outside with us?"

"Too cold."

His laugh rolls up your spine, and when you try to flip yourself over, he pins your forearms to the bed. Suddenly, you're defenseless and he spreads your thighs with his knee.

Theo whispers into the tender warmth of your temple, "you're losing."

You let him overpower you, resting your cheek on the mattress but wriggling in his grasp to test him. 

"Not fair," you protest, "Rules unclear."

It's not so entertaining to Theo who gives you a little less wiggle room, pressing his hips to yours. Slotting his hips between your thighs.

"Are you coming to the pub later?" he asks. You pinch your eyes closed.

"I could. Or I could stay here and nap."

He groans. Just one shift of his pelvis has you relaxing beneath him. It's snowing, but he keeps you warm.

"You've been napping all day. Come with us," he pleads, pushing your sweater up and smiling when you writhe under his icy touch, "per favore?"

You mumble something into the mattress.

"Can't hear you."

You lift your head and sigh. "Damn you. Oh, how I love to stay in. But then again, oh, how I love you."

With Theo's weight loose on your upper body, you manage to twist, and he smiles and nudges your nose with his like a lover. Like he's your lobster, but he looks more like a buck. Then he kisses you.

It's slow and syrupy. He wastes no time in pushing his tongue into your mouth. It's his favorite party trick because you always let him show it off. Only with the promise that you'll cradle his face while he does it, though.

Theo hastily pats your ass and rolls off the bed. Holding out his hand to you, he cocks his brow expectantly.

"Coming?"



masterlist

[musingsofahufflepuff]

Into the Blackhole

Theodore Nott x gn!reader; fluff

summary: when it all just gets too much, there’s one place you can always find theodore nott, a secluded corner on the second floor of the three broomsticks

a/n: hogmarch prompt 2. it’s apparently my goal to be the last submission for all of these, sorry @thatdammchickennugget (it’s technically still the 13th). i went with the butterbeer approach and this pure fluff. lots of friends to lovers in my submissions, whoops. guess the trope is on the brain

Bad week. That’s the only way you could describe your current mood. Between the long ass essay Snape had assigned with only 2 days to complete and the howler you’d received from your parents about something that wasn’t even a big deal you needed a break away from the castle.

So here you were on your way to the Three Broomsticks. The path to Hogsmeade is familiar and the fresh air is already starting to improve your mood. With the sun setting soon, there’s a comforting light casted on the village.

The old wooden doors to the pub creak when you open them and it’s relatively quiet for a Friday evening. You decide to make your way up to your usual table to relax a bit before getting a drink. At the top of the stairs you find Theodore Nott already sitting there. A smile spreads across your face.

He looks like his week was just as bad as yours as you slide into the seat next to him. His blue eyes look up to meet yours when you sit down and his expression is immediately softer. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart flutter.

“Bad week?” you ask.

Theo sighs and nods, “why else would I be here. Assuming that’s why you’re here too.”

You laugh softly at that, he wasn’t wrong. Since your first trip to Hogsmeade third year, you and Theo had decided this was the best spot in the village to get away from everything. You’d spent many a night here with and without him, and you couldn’t help but feel glad he was with you this time.

“Want something? I was about to go get a drink when you came up,” he stands from the table, eyes still on you.

“Sure, that’d be great.”

He gives you a nod before heading down the stairs, leaving the seat empty and a hole in your heart.

So, maybe you had a small crush on your friend. Maybe.

♡ ♡ ♡

His footsteps returning pull you out of your thoughts. He sets a cold butterbeer down in from of you and you give him an appreciative smile.

“I know you don’t like warm drinks, as weird as that is,” he teases as he sits back down with his hot butterbeer in hand.

“I’m not arguing about this with you again, Nott,” you tease right back.

He holds his hands up in surrender, which makes you both laugh.

There’s a comfortable silence as you sip on your butterbeer and you steal a few glances at him.

“Wanna talk about it?” his voice surprises you, making you snap your attention to him.

“Just a rough week,” you blink a couple times, trying to think of what to say.

“Yeah, my fathers been, persistent in the whole… mark thing.” He looks down at his mug.

“Oh, Theo, I-“ without thinking about it, you get up and hug him.

He tenses up for a moment at the unexpected touch, but easily melts into your embrace. You don’t ask anything else, you don’t need to. He turns in his seat to make it easier to hug him, his strong arms coming up around your waist.

“Thank you tesorino. I guess I wanted to talk about it, but my friends…” he trails off and you immediately understand. They’ve gone through similar if not worse, it can be too much.

“I’m always here for you Teddy,” the nickname slips past your lips like it’s the most natural thing in the world and you try not to blush at the Italian term of endearment.

“I know you are and-“ he hesitates, “I think that’s why I’m falling in love with you.” The second half comes out quieter, like he’s scared of your response. “Actually, I’ve liked you for a long time.”

His blue eyes meet yours and it feels like it’s just the two of you here in the Three Broomsticks.

Just the two of you in all the universe.

He blushes, “sorry, not great timing on my part.”

“No!” you blurt out, “I’ve had a crush on you forever. Since we met first year.”

Theo looks a little shocked, but it’s quickly replaced with a smile and you melt.

“Wanna maybe turn this pity party into uh- a date maybe?”

You laugh softly, which makes him join you.

“Sure, I’d love nothing more.” You sit back down in your seat, in your and Theodore’s table and you can’t stop the grin that spreads across your face.

“But first, another butterbeer?” he smiles and you happily nod.

[wolken-n]

❝𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧s❞

Unspecified gender

𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚆𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚢

★ Fred is an expert at planning surprises for you. Always coming up with creative ways to show his love, whether through gifts or romantic gestures.

★ Fred is known for his mischievous and playful sense of humor, in private, he is an incredibly sweet and affectionate guy. He loves making you laugh and ensuring that you're always happy.

★ Something you both share is a deep love for sweets and pranks, which brings you even closer. You spend hours coming up with jokes and enjoying sweets together.

★ When it comes to holidays, Fred turns every day into something unforgettable. Christmas is a very special time in your relationship, filled with decorations and gifts.

★ Despite the constant antics of the Weasley twins, Fred is a natural protector. He always looks out for your safety and is willing to face any challenge to keep you safe.

★ It doesn't matter what you do together, whether it's exploring the world or just hanging out at the Burrow, Fred makes every moment special and meaningful.

★ The two of you share a unique bond, understanding each other's thoughts perfectly with just a single glance or smile.

★ Your love is a perfect balance between excitement and stability, making your relationship strong and enduring.

𝙶𝚎𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚆𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚢

★ George is a passionate advocate of freedom and independence in a relationship. Despite his playful side, he always values your independence and encourages you to pursue your passions.

★ George's sense of humor is contagious, and he knows it well. That's why he always tries to make you laugh even in the toughest moments.

★ Playing pranks and tricks never goes out of style for George. He always finds clever ways to surprise you with jokes and affectionate little mischiefs.

★ George is a master at creating memorable moments. Whether it's organizing a romantic date under the stars or simply taking a walk together in the Forbidden Forest, every moment you share is unique.

★ George's loyalty to you is unwavering. He is always ready to defend and protect you, no matter what.

★ You both share a deep emotional connection, allowing you to understand each other without the need for many words. He's always there to support you in any situation.

★ The Burrow is the perfect place for their love to flourish. Together, you create a home filled with love, laughter, and, of course, top-quality pranks.

★ He values honesty and sincerity in your relationship.He always strives to communicate with you, building greater trust each time.

[drvconian]

How You Get the Girl ...

“I just don’t know what I did.” Ron complains, leaning into the back of the couch in the Common Room, his eyes closed and his eyebrows pinched. It’s late, almost everyone else has gone to bed, which is why he speaks quietly to you: it makes you feel like you’re sharing a secret, which you technically are, but everything feels more special when it’s just Ron and you.

You like Hermione and Harry just fine, but when you all got together as a group, it always felt that he preferred them more, especially Hermione. You could understand why: she was smart and pretty, both things you envied about her. Your jealousy wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t seem like you caught Ron staring at her all the bloody time.

You shake your head, smiling softly over at him. “Girls are fragile, Ron. You can’t be as brutish as you are with your brothers or Harry.” You laugh quietly, “what kind of girl would take that as a compliment anyway?”

“I dunno.” He replies, rolling his eyes. “I would, though.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Well, you gotta help me then.”

You widen your eyes at him, clearly taken aback at his request. “You want me to help you get with Hermione?”

Ron moves in closer, nodding his head slightly. “You have to. You’re one of my closest friends, I dunno who else to go to with this.”

Your heart beats hard in your chest, you have no idea how to feel. The sentiment is nice, that he trusts you enough to ask for your advice on how to impress the girl he fancies. On the other hand, it hurts to know that he even fancies another girl (even though you knew) and that he expects you to help him. You want to say no and try to convince him that Hermione and him would never work out, so you surprise yourself when… “okay, Ron. I’ll help you.”

...

A knock on your door drags you out of your reverie. You close the book in your lap and place it on the table beside you, and unfold your legs. They’re stiff from how long you’ve been sitting on your couch, and you wince slightly. You stand up and make your way over to the door, opening it slightly to peek at whoever it could be.

“Ron?”

He’s standing in your doorway, hunched over in his jacket. He’s soaking wet, his hair dripping onto his face and his jacket a shade darker than it’s supposed to be. He looks miserable standing there, but his face brightens when he sees you. “You answered.”

You nod before opening the door wider, “are you insane? Come inside before you catch a cold.”

He steps inside, brushing against you, and stands barely in the doorway. The water on his clothes drips down onto your floor, and you quickly close the door behind the two of you. You open up a closet close to the door and pull down a towel, handing it over to him so he can dry off. You watch him, the air between the two of you thickening.

“It’s been a long six months.” He begins, peeking out at you from beneath the towel that he’s drying his hair off with. You watch him, worrying your bottom lip. You don’t know what to say, you hadn’t seen him since your final, chaotic days at Hogwarts – even then, you hadn’t seen him for a long time before then. He hadn’t contacted you at all. He takes a deep breath. “I was too afraid to tell you what I wanted. I’ve always been too scared of that.”

...

“Tell her something cheesy like… I want you for worse or for better. It’ll help defuse the tension since she’s upset with you. It’s sort of cute, and it’ll help lead into you telling her you like her.”

He nods in a more attentive way than he ever had in class. Your stomach twists – you could sabotage this whole thing, yet you weren’t. Hermione was your friend just as much as Ron was your best friend. You weren’t cruel. You just happened to like Ron more than she probably did.

“And then maybe you can add in something like: I would wait forever. To show your dedication.”

“Dedication? I’m not looking to marry her!”

You roll your eyes. “That’s not what I meant! You’re just buttering her up, but you don’t have to say that if you don’t want to-”

“I’d only say that if I meant it.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes again. How romantic. You feel a pang in your heart at that thought… at least he wanted to confess to Hermione.

“Okay, well, you hurt her, right? Admit that you did, and say that you want to fix it.”

...

“We were best friends, Ron. You could’ve told me anything, hell, you almost bloody did!” You cross your arms, conflicted on whether to laugh or be annoyed with him. “You told me way too much sometimes.”

He doesn’t smile or laugh the way he might’ve at the suggestive joke when he was younger. Something seems to settle within him, and he pulls the towel off of his head. He takes a slight step forward, and you feel the tension settle between the two of you. You rarely saw Ron this serious, though it seems to be a more permanent emotion during and after the war.

“I broke your heart.”

Everything around you stills. Your own heart stills. That was one truth you had kept to yourself throughout all those years, throughout all of his relationships. So many little fragments over the years had gathered until, just about half a year ago, it had finally shattered and he had walked away from you. Your chest feels tight as you wonder who could have told him.

“I want to put it back together.” He swallows, his words trembling just the slightest bit. “I know now that I will wait forever.”

...

You're sitting in the Great Hall as Ron eats lunch while you work on your homework. You’re focused on a particular list of ingredients for a potion when Ron speaks. “That stuff you told me worked, by the way. Thanks.”

“Oh. With Hermione? Good.” You force yourself to sound happy, even looking up to smile at Ron across the table.

“She forgave me, sort of. I don’t think she understood what I was really trying to say.”

You sigh, rolling up your parchment and setting it aside. You’d get back to it later. “You’re back to being just friends?”

He nods, “I couldn’t just outright tell her! She’d probably think I was joking or something.”

“You’re such an idiot.” You lean across the table so you can lower your voice. “You could bring up the ways you’ve subtly flirted with her. There’s that picture we took where you’re staring at her. You wouldn’t let her see it, remember? You could show it to her.” You settle back into your seat, reaching to unroll your parchment again.

“How do I explain why I didn’t just show her then?”

You pull your quill out of your ink, already returning to writing down another ingredient. “Tell her you lost your mind.”

...

You remember sitting on the Common Room couch, when one of those fragments joined the many others. When Ron first started fully showing interest in Hermione and you knew you had no chance with him. No, Ronald Weasley wouldn’t show up at your door and suddenly confess to you, when he and Hermione had finally found their happy ending sometime during the battle at Hogwarts. He couldn’t be saying that.

“Ron… what are you saying? Is everything okay?” You want to feel his forehead, to see if his cold has already set in and he didn’t realize what he was saying. Your heart is hammering inside of your chest.

“Don’t you remember how it used to be? We were always alone.” His voice becomes steadier as he talks and he grows closer to you, his eyes brightening. “We spent so many nights together, talking on the Common Room couch. It was always just us at lunch. We even went on walks just to talk.”

“That’s because, usually, Hermione and Harry were busy. We didn’t have a choice-”

“I did. I didn’t know it then, but I always had a choice and I always made it.” He’s standing in front of you, looking down at you with a look you know you’ve never seen before. You had known Ron since first year, and you knew almost every look and what it meant. You didn’t know this one.

“I was such an idiot. I am such an idiot. You’ve been in front of me this whole time, and I didn’t see it.”

...

It’s one of the rare moments where you somehow end up alone with Harry. You’re sitting in the library, waiting for Ron and Hermione to show up so you can start your study session together. You already have your parchment and ink out, along with several books on the table. Harry’s setup mimics yours, and you’re both leaned over the table.

The two of you don’t talk much, you’re both connected by your friendship with Ron. While you’ve become friends with Hermione, you and Harry are still more like strangers.

The sound of footsteps approaching causes you to look up from your books. You knew it was Ron, you didn’t have to be looking to know it was him whenever he was near. What you didn’t expect was for Hermione to be walking next to him. They sometimes entered together, having run into each other or they had been previously hanging out. The part you didn’t expect was their intertwined hands, and the large grins on their faces. Their rosy cheeks.

It happened.

Harry looks up from across you, and his face immediately splits into a grin. He’s happy for his friends, and you should be too. You mimic his smile, trying to mask the way your heart feels like it’s breaking. Ron looks victorious, like he’s just won the final Quidditch match of the season against Slytherin. All you can feel welling up inside of you is defeat, because this is your fault. You could have just denied him the help, and maybe it’d be you holding his hand and smiling.

Would Harry even be smiling like that if it was you?

...

“I want you.”

Eight years. Ninety-six months. Four thousand, three hundred and eighty days. That’s about the time you had known Ron. You had spent more than half of that wanting him. You had spent the latter half of that knowing it was never going to happen.

Never had you expected that during your ninth year of friendship, he would tell you the thing you had wished for all that time. The thing you had hidden in journals or in daydreams you were ashamed of. You had spent years making up crushes and having Ron try to help you the way you helped with Hermione.

“But you- you and Hermione… I can’t-”

“Hermione and I broke up a while ago. She said she knew from the beginning that we wouldn’t last.” You wince at that, but it doesn’t seem to faze him. He’s smiling down at you. “She said she knew who I would end up with.”

Oh.

“It’s been obvious this whole time, hasn��t it? That it was you?”

Oh.

“I mean, even Harry saw it. After ‘Mione and I split, we all had dinner and he told me that I was a blind idiot for not noticing sooner.” He laughs slightly, “he also made me realize how much I’ve hurt you over the years.”

You don’t know what to say. You’ve wished for this moment practically your whole life, and now that it’s here, you’re lost. In your mind, you would end up with someone your parents’ set you up with and you’d live your version of a mediocre happy ever after. You’d spend the rest of your life with the knowledge that Ron loved someone else and he had and would never love you.

You’re staring up at him. You had stared up at him so many times before, but never like this. Never with him confessing to you. Never with him smiling at you so tenderly and so happily. Never with so much affection.

Softly, he brushes a strand of hair away from your face. You reach your hand up and rest it on his wrist. The two of you stay like that for a moment.

Your voice is quiet when you finally speak. “Do you mean it?”

His eyes never leave yours as he nods his head. You wrap your arms around his neck and his arms wrap around your waist. You want to weep into him but also scream with joy: you’ve never felt this happy.

You pull away slightly to look at him. “It’s always been you, Ron. For worse or for better. Slug puking or Quidditch winning. It’s you.”

He pulls you close again, his head resting on top of yours. You press your head to his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

It’s beating just as fast as yours.

...

You listen to the birds chirp as you walk down the street. It’s slightly windy, but the heat from the sun keeps whatever chill the wind carries away. There’s the faint smell of flowers coming from the flower vendor just down the street, next to the diner where you’re supposed to be grabbing lunch from.

You’re not very familiar with this part of town. It’s not near your flat, and you had to Apparate to get there.

You pull open the door to the diner, and a bell chimes to alert the people inside of your presence. Muggles. You smile slightly at the gesture, and make your way inside. You look around, before you spot a pair of brown hair and glasses.

Harry spots you first and his face breaks into a smile. At this, Hermione turns around and greets you with a smile too. Harry stands up out of the booth and pulls Ron, who has been holding your hand this whole entire time, into a hug. Hermione stands up and pulls you into a side hug. It’s a little awkward, but maybe you’ll get more comfortable with each other someday.

Everyone is smiling as you slide into the booth beside Hermione. She picks up the menu and hands it to you, “I have to recommend the cheeseburger…”

Word Count: 2270

[george-weasleys-girl]

Kinktober - George and Gn!Reader are sitting in front of the fireplace having a romantic evening with wine, until accidentally👀 the reader drops wine on George’s shirt...

"Your shirt has to go, but you can stay." 👀

if cant do that, please tell me♥️ilu

Something New

Warnings: smut, hand job, sixty-nine

18+only

George Weasley x gn!reader

~•~

"Shit, sorry, baby!" You dabbed at the huge red stain spreading across George's shirt. "Oh well, there's nothing for it," you sighed, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. "Your shirt has to go, but you can stay."

Your boyfriend chuckled and began unbuttoning his shirt. "I can tell you're all broken up about it." The gleam in his eyes matched yours.

You grinned. "I'm absolutely falling to pieces."

"Oh dear," George said, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you hard against his toned chest. "It's imperative that I comfort you, then." He leaned down and kissed you. You slid your hand down to rub his dick through his pants. He groaned into your mouth, thrusting his hips forward, trying to get more friction. You pulled back a little. "Looks like you need a little 'comfort' yourself, my love." Then, before he could say anything, you sank to your knees, unbuttoning his trousers and pulling out his throbbing cock. You ran your thumb over the tip, spreading his precum around the sensitive head, then grabbed his shaft, stroking him slowly. Soft moans fell from his lips as he looked down at you, a mixture of adoration and desire glistening in his eyes.

"I want to suck your hard cock," you said giving the tip a teasing lick. He released a shuddering sigh as a tremor of pleasure shot through him, and his dick twitched in your hand, begging for more.

"You have no idea how bad I want to shove my cock down your throat right now," he growled. "But I want to try something new tonight," he placed his hand over yours, stilling your movements. "Something I've never done with anyone before."

"Oh?" You titled your head, your curiosity, and desire growing by the minute.

George pushed his pants down, kicking them off to the side. "I want to undress you," he said, reaching pull off your shirt. Then I want you to make me cum with that sexy mouth of yours," he ran his hands down your sides, raising goosebumps as he went. "While I do the same to you."

"Sixty-nine?" You licked your lips, looking down at his twitching cock, eager to lick up the precum dripping from the tip. "Then what are we waiting for?"

~•~

You lay side by side, your muffled moans permeating the room. You bobbed your head lazily, matching George's languid pace, both of you wanting to revel in those sweet sensations as long as possible.

But, damn, that man knew exactly how to use his mouth to drive you crazy and it wasn't long before your legs began to shake with need. You picked up your pace, sucking harder on his dick as you reached to fondle his balls. He bucked his hips, pushing more of himself into you, his fingers clenching tight to your ass.

You were getting close, and so was George. Though from the way his hips were beginning to stutter, you knew he was closer. You took him in deeper, his tip hitting the back of your throat, gagging you a little. But that didn't slow you down at all. You needed him to cum, you needed to feel his balls contract in your hand, to tease his sweet spot with your tongue as he emptied himself down your throat, you needed to send him over the edge and beyond.

Just the thought pushed you right to the brink. Your desperate moans around his cock were all he needed to explode into your mouth, his whole body shaking in ecstasy as you sucked and licked up every last bit. It was pure bliss, making him lose control so completely. And yet, even through it all, his mouth never left your body, his litany of groans sending ripples of pleasure down your spine. He was still trembling when you came undone, devouring your pleasure with a ravenous hunger.

~•~

"Damn, that was intense," you said, looking down at George, his head resting on your thigh.

He chuckled. "No kidding. If I'd known it'd feel that good, I would've suggested 69ing ages ago."

You nodded. "Yeah, we are definitely doing that again soon."

"How about now?"

You looked back down at George, who grinned up at you, as he slowly stroked his erect cock.

"Already? It's only been 10 minutes," you teased, even as your own desire reignited.

"What can I say?" He shrugged. "I'm a needy boy."

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @xmjthewitchx @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @samberriejams @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @mrsgweasley @hufflepuffie @morally-grey-obsessed @fredweasleyyyyy @anvaaryn @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @hmisa11 @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @kaysau2510 @qmylovexoxo @planetkt @costheticbabe @drama-queen-fromthevault @smallsweetvanillabean @hanne-montana @greenapplegrass @el-de-phi @lizzytrees @scooby-doo1995 @spididerman @yoursarahg @marvelgirlstories @theimpossible-girl-whowaited @ceehance @Havenater1920 @jelloangela @charmedfandomgal @loca4moony @whotfskai @netflix-addict @lunacurlclaw

[flxwerydreams]

Take my hand (take my whole life too)

Remus Lupin x GN!Reader (established relationship)

a/n: i fear this one's a drabble.

c/w: none that i can think of.

Sometimes you thought that you and Remus were like two pieces of a puzzle. You wondered quite often about this — if there were other universes — if your souls had lived other lives, had you been with him in those? Had you looked at him, like you do now and wondered if the way his scars stretched when he smiled could be considered art? You hoped he didn’t have scars in those lives. Not because they disgusted you but because the mere idea of your sweet boy being in pain made your heart weep. He was so beautiful. Had you, in another life, held his hand, and touched his lips and kissed him until you could only think about your bodies fusing together into one? Had you ever loved him, like you do now? It seemed impossible. Your heart felt heavy with the weight of it — the love you felt for him. Was it possible to love with that rawness, in every lifetime, in every universe? He was your universe. He was the one holding up the world. He was the first summer breeze that brought with itself a relieved sigh. He was a heavy cloud, he was the petrichor in the air and he was a fragile zephyr lily, blooming with the first rain. You looked at him now, as he sat before you, a hand in yours and the other holding up Austen’s Emma. His hair, mussed from leaning against the back of the couch, his lips moving softly as he read the words to you, his voice a gentle murmur. A fleeting thought crossed your mind — you wondered if he knew how far gone for him you were. You wondered if he knew that in this universe, and every other one, you would let him take your hand once, twice, a thousand times. You would let him take your whole life too. You were his, forever, and you only hoped he would want to be yours too — forever.

i hope you enjoyed it! leave a comment :)

[queerpumpkinnn]

Kinktober 7th: Inside Joke

aka mommy kink with James Potter

3.5k words

Summary: Jamie's poker face is put to the test when you surprise him with a new toy.

Pairing: Collegeau!boyfriend!james potter x reader

Warnings: mommy kink, unprotected piv sex (don't do this at home), james wears a buttplug in public, sirius is a dance major because i said so, nipple play/sucking, slight anal play, exhibitionism kinda, cum eating, degradation with a healthy dose of condescending praise, alcohol consumption, smoking (not reader or jamie, just the people around them), overstimulation, maybe hints of cnc (jamie expresses discomfort but doesn't ask to stop or struggle), cunnilingus, finger sucking, let me know if I missed anything!

While reading, I recommend you listen to guys my age - a Spotify playlist by me!

~

"You what?"

"Did I stutter?" you crossed your legs, turning back and forth a little in James' desk chair.

Meanwhile the man in question stood dumbfounded with an unwrapped package in his hands and his jaw dropped. "I-in front of everyone?"

"Well, yeah. But it's not like they'll see it." You quirked a brow. "Unless you make it really obvious."

James' cheeks burned scarlet at the thought. "I won't." He doesn't fully believe himself as he says it, but as he stares down at the brand-new silver toy in his hands, he doesn't really care.

"Good." You stood, kissing him on the cheek. Your touch was electric on his skin, from your lips to your hand on his chest. He was sure you could feel his heartbeat racing. "Cause we're leaving in ten."

. . .

As soon as he crossed the threshold of Sirius' house, he knew he had severely overestimated his ability to be subtle. Your fingers were locked together so as not to get separated- the house was overflowing with raucous college students and blaring music- but James was using it as a stress toy, squeezing it every time the plug nestled inside of him moved. He had worked up a thin line of perspiration under his glasses and across his hairline.

James could feel the bass of the song vibrating in his feet as he walked, through the walkway down towards the living room. His ears perked instinctively at the sound of a clear, crisp whistle from somewhere deeper into the room. He glanced around until he found the familiar, wide-grinning visage of his best friend. Sirius jerked his head, as if telling him "come over here", raven hair swishing with the movement.

You must have noticed, because when you turned back from him, one hand gripping two beer bottles by the neck, you nudged your chin to signal him forward.

"Welcome, welcome, my dear comrade!" Sirius hollered, holding a red plastic cup up in the telltale grandiose joy that always overcame him when he was drunk. "And Prongs."

James rolled his eyes, unable to help the grin splitting his face as Sirius clapped him on the back.

"Sit, sit!" Sirius beckoned them to the couch, where Remus was draped over the arm, blunt in hand. The sandy-haired boy waved lazily.

James struggled to hide a grimace as he sat down, the prodding of the metal becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. He was grateful for the bottle you passed him, eager for something to ease his nerves.

"Relax, baby," you murmured in his ear, breath tickling his cheek. James' neck felt hot, the hair at the back prickled.

All he could do was swallow thickly, nodding and taking a swig.

"Good boy," you purred, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. "You might want to cover up a little though, hm? A poker face doesn't help much when you've got a boner."

James' eyes shot down. Indeed, there was a growing bulge in his pants.

Before he could say anything, you stood, pushing his legs apart. Shock coursed through him before you sat on the floor between his legs, arms draped over his knees and head leaned against his lower stomach.

This made it infinitely worse. Now he had a bird's eye view of your cleavage, and when you looked back up through your eyelids to smile at him, he had to bit down on his lower lip to keep from groaning. Your head rested so conveniently against his crotch, and when he shrunk back from it, the plug nestled around.

"Oi, Prongs. Y'alright?" Remus nudged the man with his foot, concern painted on his face.

"Yeah," he managed to choke out.

"Sure? You look like y've got something up your arse."

James could feel you shaking with laughter underneath him. He exhaled, shaking his head. "Just tired, s'all."

"Aren't we all." Remus nodded, head lolling over to watch the dancers- or rather, one singular dancer. "But we've got the whole summer ahead of us to loosen up."

James lifted his half-empty bottle of beer in agreement. Remus wasn't even watching, his eyes were trained on Sirius, swaying to the music. He was a dance major for a reason.

James' attention was snapped away to his crotch when you began nodding slowly to the music. You were engrossed in conversation with Dorcas and Marlene- when did they get here?- but James knew that through all your subtlety you knew exactly what you were doing. What you were doing to him. James huffed, gripping the glass bottle so tight to keep himself from holding onto your hair. He wasn't even sure what he'd do with it once he had it. Would he tug your hair away, or rut against the back of your head like a bitch in heat? He knew you'd call him that if he did, you'd call him desperate and such a needy little whore-

He almost sobbed when your head froze. His fingers itched to touch you, but he knew better than to grab your head. So he opted to look down at you. You were glaring a cold fire, so he followed your gaze across the room to some girl whose name he didn't know and whose face he didn't recognize. She wiggled her fingers at James, and as she did so, she leaned forward and pushed her arm into her tits, accentuating her already plunging neckline.

Ah, James thought. He was almost amused at your annoyance, if he wasn't already so turned on at any meager touch from you. Your hand reached under the crook of his knee to rest on his upper thigh, sending electricity shooting through his muscles.

Your head tilted up, and he knew exactly what to do without you even needing to ask.

The minute your lips touched together, mashed in a frenzy of tongue and teeth and quiet sighs, James' body was set alight. Your hand kneaded at his thigh, and he could feel you smiling- you thrived on making him squirm, and you knew when you were succeeding.

By the time you parted, James' head was swimming. He watched through lidded eyes as you licked your lips at the girl, and as the latter rolled her eyes and stalked off.

James was throbbing. He couldn't help his hips from rising up into your hair, even if his efforts were hopeless. His face was red and he was breathless.

He squeezed your hand, and you looked up in question. He didn't even have to say anything.

"Wait." You told him firmly, taking another swig.

Wait? He couldn't wait, he'd been waiting all night.

"Please," he whimpered, leaning down to your ear.

"Patience, Jamie." He hated and loved the nonchalance in your voice, the indifference.

"Need you, so bad..."

"Wait."

"Mommy!"

It wasn't that loud, barely a sigh, but it rang in your ears, scorched your belly. You scrambled to your feet, hooking a finger in the collar of his shirt.

"Can't hardly wait a few hours, huh? I thought you could last longer than that." You snarled, turning and dragging him with you.

James held close to you, trying to hide his raging hard-on by pressing his front into your backside. You slithered through the crowd, around the pillar, up the stairs, and into the first bedroom you saw.

James quickly recognized it as Sirius'. Various posters were plastered almost on top of each other, so that there was more picture than wall. The smell of weed was fainter here than downstairs, and there were clothes- mostly black, but there was an occasional red or silver- scattered all over the floor. Makeup was scattered over the dresser, where a mirror was propped up haphazardly. The bed, however, was as tidy as ever, decorative pillows propped up and everything.

The click of the lock brought James back to the moment. You were standing at the door with one hand on your hip, tongue poking at the inside of your cheek.

"Go on." You said simply. Irritability was painted on your face.

"Huh?"

"Since you needed me so badly you couldn't wait until we got home, go on. You have me. Show me how badly you need me."

James' head went dumb at the idea, and his body acted of its own accord. He stood from the bed, taking your hand and pushing it into his crotch. A low moan was pulled from his throat when you cupped him, gently massaging the ache between his legs. His face dropped into the crook of your neck, relishing in the overwhelming sensations- your smell, the strain of his leaking cock against his jeans, your free hand tracing down the back of his neck. He shivered, gasping and arching his back when your finger trailed down his spine. It lingered at the base of his tailbone, sneaking under the waist of his jeans and tracing feather-light over that ticklish patch of skin.

"Mommy, please," James whined, fingers clutching your wrist.

"Turn around," you muttered, pushing him around by the waist. You walked him over to the bed until his knees hit the edge of it, trapping himself. Instinctively James reached down so he could plant his hands on the mattress, rendering himself entirely vulnerable to your will. Both of your hands groped at his behind. You reached around to unbutton his pants, tugging them down along with his underwear.

"No touching," you snapped before his hand could take his cock, bobbing heavily under its own weight. He let out a weak noise as it dripped onto the blanket pathetically.

You were still entranced with his ass, or rather, what was inside of it. Your fingers went from groping aimlessly to pulling his cheeks apart, finger trailing delicately around the little stud. At even the slightest of pressure, James' now shuddering body arched into your touch and he let out a noise so loud and unabashedly pornographic you had to clap a hand over his mouth. It wasn't until you felt the plug moving that you registered the rhythming clenching of his ass, a telltale sign that he just came.

And glancing around his body, you were right. There was a pool of white under his now softening cock, strands of cum webbing between the tip and the sticky puddle.

"Jamie." Your voice wasn't loud, nor really that stern, but it made him jump regardless.

He didn't dare look at you, but he also didn't dare fight the gentle hand of yours, guiding his face to turn back and look you in the eye.

"Jamie, baby, what am I going to do with you?" You shook your head, clicking your tongue.

It was a rhetorical question, but James gave a weak, defeated sound anyway. He wouldn't have been able to talk, your hold on his jaw having grown tight enough to hold him in place.

"I give you a nice, pretty new toy, help you stay hidden when you can't do it yourself, even start to indulge you when you can't even be bothered to wait, and you cum just like that? Without even asking?"

James knew it was a twisted description of the night's events, but shame boiled in his stomach anyway. "'M sorry, Mommy. Jus' felt too good."

You suck in a breath through your teeth. "I really thought you'd be good this time, bub. But I guess not."

James felt tears pricking in his eyes. But he was. He was so patient. You were just mean.

"Alright, on your back." You released your hold on his face.

"H-huh?"

"If you're just gonna be a needy little brat who cums whether I let him or not, I might as well get some use out of you."

James crawled, with shaking legs, up the bed, until he was propped up against the pillows, beefy legs spread enough to where you could see his sticky cock limp against his stomach and the plug, that goddamn plug that had gotten him into so much trouble in the first place.

He felt as though he were under a microscope, in a cage at the zoo, on a stage, the way you were staring at him. Hungrily, menacingly, with plans in your eyes that he was both terrified and excited to learn of. You kicked your shoes off slowly, stripping off your outer layers without breaking eye contact. James' eyes bulged when you shimmied out of your pants.

"Mommy.." he sighed, fingers flexing over his thighs as he willed himself not to touch.

"Shh, hush baby, I know," you crooned, crawling over to him. Your fingers, lithe and light, traced the underside of his dick, making him gasp. You only seemed to be spurred on by his reaction, your other hand brushing over his thigh.

"You just couln't help yourself, hm? Isn't that right?" James shook his head, resorting to clutching the comforter by his side. "Well, I guess we'll just have to work on that, won't we?"

James didn't have the opportunity to ask what you meant by that, because as you said it, you were shuffling up so that your hips hovered over his cock you were holding upwards. That was the other reason he couldn't ask you, because in his sensitivity, your touch knocked the breath from his lungs.

"Aw, pretty boy, what's wrong?" You cooed, though there was a mean tone to it. "You're so tense."

James gives a hiccupped whine, his lower lip trembling. When your hips rolled deviously over the tip of his weeping cock, his head kicked back against the lush pillows.

"Nuh uh, none of that." You snarled, taking a fistful of hair and tugging his head up so that his gaze, under hooded lids, met yours.

James' hands, now clutching your waist as though it were the only thing that would keep him from drowning- in what, he didn't know- trembled as you sunk down, slowly, onto his poor cock.

"Ah! M-mommy, too much, 's too much-"

"No." You stilled, which was somehow worse. "You're going to take it. I've been dealing with you being impatient and selfish and useless all night, it's my fucking turn."

He shouldn't have throbbed at the word, but he did. James nodded after a moment, when he noticed a tinge of concern in your eyes. It disappeared as soon as it came, and then, inch by agonizing inch, you sank down on his cock until you were sat fully on him.

You didn't move immediately, instead relishing in the feeling. Your eyes fluttered closed and you flexed your fingers over James' chest, which, oddly, seemed to upset you. Your eyes snapped open, staring down at James' chest, plucking at the material of his shirt.

"Off." You grunt, pushing the material up his stomach. James pulled the material from his body faster than he's ever done anything- anything to please you.

You seem satisfied; your hips roll against him, and James feels as though he's been set on fire. The evidence of his previous orgasm was not yet dry on the bedsheets, and here you were sitting on his cock- no, your cock. Your useless cock.

"Aw, yeah, see Jamie?" You dip down, mouthing around his heaving chest. "This is what happens when you don't wait. Mommy's going to get ther way either way, it's not my fault how that turns out for you."

James only nodded frantically, breathing heavy and yelps and gasps giving way to long, high moans. Your lips reached his nipple, and your tongue traced over the sensitive skin.

"Mommy! Please, mommy, don't stop-" James' pleas were cut off when your lips wrapped around the bud, tonguing and sucking and pulling the sweetest, most shameless sounds from the depths of his throat.

A new kind of panic settled over James as your hips sped up. He felt it in the throbbing up his cock, in the heat brewing in his lower stomach. He wasn't going to last.

"Mommy, Mommy slow down, please, 'm not gonna last," he pleaded, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes as he tried and failed to think of anything else. He was already denied looking away from you, but even if you'd let him he wouldn't want to.

"Oh, but you will," you purred in his ear. "You're gonna get Mommy off if it kills you."

"Can't, Mommy, 'm sorry," he wails, eyes screwing shut.

"Hold it." You grit, but the firm cant of your hips up and down his length make your orders impossible. White-hot pleasure mixed with shame washed over James as he, against his own will, releases into you.

You were fully planning on continuing regardless of whether or not he came, but seeing the way he fell into a series of jolts and falling limp, you had a lapse of pity. You could tell by the crossing of his heavy eyes that he was exhausted.

Once you were still, and James had caught a breather, he tried nestling his face into the crook of your neck. "'M sorry Mommy. I tried, I really did. Wanna take care of you, wanna make you feel good. Wanna taste you Mommy, please?"

"That's the first smart thing you've said all night, Jamie." You combed a hand through his hair. Gently, slowly, you lifted yourself off of him, rolling over and lying on your back. James was quick to follow your movements, chasing the warmth of your body despite being sweaty and sticky.

"Go on, baby," you nod, legs spreading open. You wince a little at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you, but James was ever so quick to replace it. His eager tongue lapped at you, licking his own cum out of you.

"That's it, sweet boy, just like that, doing so good for Mommy."

James' efforts redoubled at the sugary sweetness of your voice. The hand that was kneading your thighs slithered between your legs, tracing around your hole so his lips could wrap around your clit, tongue laving over your skin in a manner that could only be described as hot. Big doe eyes gazed up at you, pouty and longing for approval. Your moans and praises were confirmation enough, spurring his fingers to sink into you with ease.

James’ mouth and hand worked wonders, that was never a debate, but it was the devotion and surrender in his actions that sent you barreling towards that high. It was watching him earlier as you rode him, watching him try to stave off his orgasm for as long as possible, denying himself overwhelming pleasure simply because you had asked. Your pleasure was his pleasure.

“Ah, Jamie, so close baby, so good- ah!” Your hands flew to his hair when he delivered a particularly harsh suck to your clit; bleary, blinking eyes clouded with lust watched your face contort in pleasure.

You writhed underneath him, and at this point, you were bucking your hips up into his face, pulling it so that his nose rubbed over you exactly how you needed it to.

When your high hit you, your hips stuttered, so James took it upon himself to maintain the rhythm for you, head bobbing with the movement as overwhelming pleasure set your body alight.

The air was thick with the smell of sex as you basked in the afterglow; you’d only just realized how hot your body had become when you pushed your hair out of your face.

“Did I do good Mommy?”

James was blinking up at you wearily, but he looked content as ever. A mixture of your slick and his own cum was strung between his tongue, still poking out over his lip, and your lips.

You hummed, swiping your thumb over his chin to clean him. “Of course, Jamie, did so good for Mommy.”

James happily suckled on your thumb, laying his head on your thigh.

You watched him for a while, content in the silence, until you became suddenly aware of the music still blaring downstairs.

“Oh God, wait-”

. . .

Back at home, you sat with your legs dangling over the bathroom counter as you brushed your teeth. You were contently scrolling, not even paying attention to what rolled down your screen when a familiar name dropped down from the top.

Sirius “The Whore” Black: hey bestie boo

Sirius “The Whore” Black: why are my bedsheets gone

You snorted, clicking on the banner to respond. But before you could type, a few more messages popped up.

Sirius “The Whore” Black: they’re in the fucking washer

Sirius “The Whore” Black: why are they in the washer

You: Because I put them there??

Sirius “The Whore” Black: oh

Sirius “The Whore” Black: oh my god

Sirius “The Whore” Black: YOU HAD SRED

Sirius “The Whore” Black: SEC

You: Take your time

Sirius “The Whore” Black: fuck off

Sirius “The Whore” Black: copulation

You: there you go

Sirius “The Whore” Black: ON MY BED

Sirius “The Whore” Black: so I got cockblocked because of you

Sirius “The Whore” Black: Now Remus thinks I'm a disgusting slob who doesn't even have bedsheets

Sirius “The Whore” Black: I had it so perfectly made too

You: I can say with full confidence that your chances are not ruined

You: Besides

You: Would you rather I had just left the dirty sheets there?

Sirius “The Whore” Black: god no

Sirius “The Whore” Black: but I'm never using those sheets again anyways

Sirius “The Whore” Black: I'm burning the entire bed

Sirius “The Whore” Black: And you will be purchasing me a new set since you're soooo considerate

Your head kicks back in a cackle.

"What's so funny?" Came James' voice from the shower.

You scroll up so that you can show James the conversation. When you push the phone past the shower curtain, the words James reads aloud are not the ones you'd read.

"Sirius "The Whore" Black sent you an ApplePay request - €300."

~

James Potter Masterlist

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Harry Potter Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[hp-hcs]

i didn’t realize the riddle brothers were a "buy one get one free" type of deal, but alright — simp! overprotective! yandere! riddle brothers x gn! oblivious! bullied! slytherin! reader

requested by 🎀!

2.5k words, not to brag 😌

i love writing the bros’ interactions with each other as like, actual sibling-core yk? they r just so cutie patootie

the reader's patronus makes an appearance in this, but i tried to make it as accessible to everyone as possible, so it's never explicitly stated what animal it is. it is implied that it’s able-to-fit-under-a-table sized though

also this is totally just pre-slash nothing that interesting happens

warnings: couple mentions of blood, mild descriptions of wounds, implied violence, implied bullying, murder

not edited!! this is my first like, really long fic so constructive criticism is welcome!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A well-timed shove to the small of your back sent you tumbling down an entire flight of moving stairs. 

You groaned as you hit the bottom, sprawled out on your back on the cold stone floor. You laid there for a moment, winded. You could hear the occupants of a nearby painting titter at your gracefulness (or lack thereof), so you rolled your head to the other side to give them an award winning smile and an unabashed middle finger. 

You could hear them all grumble about kids these days and how I never would’ve treated my elders this way. You just rolled your eyes at their pettiness. 

“Uh…what are you doing?” A decidedly alive voice interrupted your momentary satisfaction.

“Ah- evening, Riddle!” You said cheerily as soon as you recognized the speaker, scrambling to your feet and dusting off your uniform. “Nothing! Just…tripped. Couldn’t see very well in the dark, that’s all.”

Tom blinked, his lips twisted into a frown. “.....Fine. But don’t let me catch you out of bed past curfew again. You’re a Slytherin, for Salazar’s sake. Act like it.”

And that was it. Tom turned on his heel and continued down the hall without another word. Tom Riddle: prefect, teacher’s pet, and obnoxious hardass extraordinaire—he just...let you go, with no threats of detention or loss of house points. 

Huh. 

~~~

Tom, having just returned from a full night’s shift of prefect hall duty, flopped face-down onto his bed, his cheeks aflame as he let out a muffled shriek into his pillow. 

His brother, in the process of getting dressed for the day, paused at the scene in front of him. 

“Dude, what’s your deal?” 

“L/n,” Tom said by way of explanation, kicking his feet as he shrieked into his pillow again. “They acknowledged me. And they know my last name.”

“Most people know our last name, Tom,” Mattheo rolled his eyes.

“No- you don’t understand,” Tom said emphatically. “L/n is like…the cutest person to ever exist. And they’re so sweet, and smart, and funny, and-”

“And terrified of us?”

“Well…”

Mattheo rolled his eyes, putting his hands on his hips. “You talk about them too much. It’s getting insufferable.”

Tom just scowled and flicked his fingers to cast a wandless spell that straightened Mattheo’s tie and neatened his uniform. “The way you dress is insufferable. Slob.”

Mattheo stuck out his tongue at his brother before ruffling Tom’s hair to purposely mess it up. “Dick.”

“Idiot.”

~~~

Mattheo glanced up at you as you hovered uncertainly by the corner of his desk. 

“Can I sit here…?” You mumbled shyly, your cheeks flushing as the pretty dark-haired boy in your year smiled up at you.

“Course!” He grinned brightly before realizing that might have been too enthusiastic of a reply for eight in the morning and quickly tried to cover up his slip. “Uh…Y/n, right? I’m Mattheo.”

“Yeah, I know who you are.”

Mattheo’s stomach dropped.

Fuck, that’s not good.

“You let me copy your homework in third year for that essay on the properties of wormwood, or whatever.” You said offhandedly, like it wasn’t batshit insane to remember that pointlessly tiny detail. “Thank you for that, by the way. Potions sucks ass.”

Before Mattheo could even think, the words left his mouth. “I could tutor you if you want.”

You looked at him oddly, but grinned after a second. “Yeah, sure. That’d actually be really helpful. Snape hates me, man.”

“Really? Even though you’re in Slytherin?”

“Mhm, his baseless nepotism only extends so far.”

Mattheo barked out a startled laugh as your deadpan humor caught him off guard. You just grinned at him in response, causing the tips of his ears to immediately burn bright red.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Um…do you wanna meet in the library after school today? For our tutoring session,” Mattheo hurriedly added. 

“Sure, alright.” You shrugged. “See you there.”

He beamed, giving you that stupidly adorable grin once more. “Awesome! Yeah- yeah, cool. Awesome. See you there then.”

~~~

You were still shit at potions.

It had been six weeks of tutoring, and you’d learned pretty much nothing. Although, that wasn’t an issue on Mattheo’s part, but rather on his annoyingly hot older brother’s. 

Tom Riddle was surprisingly funny. For someone who gave off almost exclusively stoically austere bastard vibes, he enjoyed cracking jokes and enlisting your help in pulling pranks on his brother a bit too much.

It became your routine. Every Tuesday and Thursday after school, you would meet the two brothers in the library, waste like three hours joking around and getting absolutely no work done, and then going back to your dorm and ranting to your roommate about how fucking cute they are and how you would gladly pay for the opportunity to make out with one- no, both of them. 

(Your roommate is so fucking tired of hearing about the Riddles. You’d better buy them a latte and a cake-pop as an apology.)

~~~

You struggled to get up, your legs giving out. You cursed under your breath, putting a hand to your forehead as it throbbed in pain. 

It came away sticky with blood. 

This wasn’t going to work, you realized belatedly. With what remained of your strength, you were able to reach out and grab your wand, murmuring a quiet, “Expecto Patronum.”

A spectral creature formed in front of your eyes, remaining motionless as it stared at you. 

“Go find Riddle,” you mumbled to the Patronus, your eyelids growing heavy. 

You barely registered the wispy glowing animal immediately bounding off at your instructions, your vision doubling before your body went completely slack, the wand slipping from your fingers and hitting the tile floor with a clatter. 

~~~

Mattheo doodled mindlessly in the margins of his parchment as his brother droned on and on about the properties of willow bark in potions and really, this is important, Mattheo. Pay attention.

“Why isn’t Y/n here yet?” Mattheo asked his brother for the third time. 

Tom rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, Matt. Just like how I didn't know when you asked me five minutes ago. Maybe they just don’t want to see your stupid face any more, huh?”

“What if they’re in trouble? Or hurt?” Mattheo worried, chewing on his thumbnail and ignoring his brother’s insult. “They’re never late, Tommy.”

Tom wrinkled his nose at the use of the dumb (albeit endearing) nickname Mattheo gave him when they were children, but the sinking feeling in his gut at hearing his brother’s distressed tone didn’t help to ease the niggling worries at the back of his mind of maybe they are in trouble.

As if on cue, Mattheo shivered as something icy cold brushed against his ankles. He glanced down. A glowing spectral creature nudged his leg, looking up at him expectantly with unnervingly empty eyes. 

A Patronus. 

Y/n’s Patronus.

~~~

They followed the Patronus down the deserted hall, the animal occasionally pausing to make sure the boys were both still following it before bounding forward again.

The Patronus stopped in front of a bathroom door, giving them both that same unnervingly hollow-eyed stare of expectancy.

Tom gulped and pushed open the door, fearing that he might find the worst.

He did.

~~~

Your eyes cracked open slowly, and you winced at the multitude of stinging and stabbing pains that wracked your body.

You had to blink a couple times for everything to come into focus. You were in a small room with white walls and white flooring, and the gentle dawn illuminated the quiet space with soft rays of light. The steady beep of a vitals monitor faded into the background as you stared down at yourself.

You weren’t wearing a shirt, for one, or even a hospital gown. Pretty much your entire upper torso was wrapped in bloodstained gauze. The jagged edges of a brutal slash across your chest peeked out of the top of the dressings, and you had to close your eyes and hold your breath for a moment to keep from throwing up. Once you’d calmed back down, you opened your eyes, startled to see that you weren’t alone.

Mattheo had pulled up a chair to the side of your hospital bed and crossed his arms on the mattress, using them as a makeshift pillow. His dark lashes fanned across his cheeks, his breaths slow and even. He looked so peaceful and...unguarded in his sleep. You reached down to brush a loose curl away from his forehead.

“Having fun?”

You startled, jerking your hand back. 

Tom leaned against the doorframe of your room with an amused expression, quirking an eyebrow and wiggling his fingers in a wave.

“Shut up,” you hissed back in a whisper, your cheeks flaring red. 

Tom’s amused grin only grew at your dark blush as he invited himself into your room fully, closing the door behind him.

 “Your secret’s safe with me.” He jokingly winked, tapping the side of his nose.

“You’re insufferable.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“What am I doing here?” You quickly changed topics, refusing to even look down in Mattheo’s direction. 

Tom sighed, any amusement on his face rapidly vanishing. “You sent us a Patronus, thank Merlin. Pomfrey said you would’ve bled out if you hadn’t.”

You had no memory of casting the Patronus charm at all, but you trusted Tom’s recollection of events better than your own jumbled and spotty one. “Bled out?” You questioned, your heart hammering in your throat as your voice climbed an octave in anxiety.

Tom nodded, his face carefully schooled into a blank and neutral expression. “You were hit with the Sectumsempra spell. You've been out for three days now.”

Your brow furrowed. “Malfoy got hit with that last year though—and was in and out of the infirmary in less than a day.”

“Snape knew the counterspell and found ‘im just in time last year,” Mattheo mumbled sleepily, his eyes still closed as he tuned into the conversation at hand. “But whoever hit you with it just left you there to die.”

“Charming.” You mutter under your breath.

“Regardless of what happened in Malfoy’s instance,” Tom interrupted briskly. “You were on the brink of literal death. So I’ll ask you this one time and one time only. Who did it, Y/n?”

~~~

“I brought you a cookie from the Great Hall,” Mattheo grinned widely, climbing into your hospital bed next to you and unwrapping the napkin in his hand. “And the notes from today’s Charms lesson, but those’re boring and we both know you won’t actually read ‘em.”

“Aww, you know me so well.” You teased, breaking the cookie in half and handing him one of the pieces.

Mattheo cupped the cookie fragment in his hands like it was a priceless treasure, staring down at it in unrestrained awe. 

You just shook your head at his antics and brushed the odd reaction off.

~~~

You woke up this morning and just felt like shit. You were nauseous, and dizzy, and felt borderline faint. Tom’s voice, usually soothing and comforting to hear, sounded like nails on a chalkboard right now. He rambled on and on about the delicate process of making the temperamental Felix Felicis potion. 

“Tom,” you interrupted, your voice scratchy and quiet. “Can we take a break? Please?”

He blinked, surprised at being interrupted, but nodded slowly. “I suppose…? Why?”

“Don’t feel good,” you mumbled, setting your textbook down and rubbing your eyes. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Madame Pomfrey said brusquely as she bustled around your hospital room, shooing Tom out of the way to stand by your bedside. 

(Poppy Pomfrey remains the only person who can and has shooed Tom Riddle III and lived to tell the tale—and all without a single ounce of fear.)

“I’ve raised your dosage so that you can be out of here in time for your N.E.W.T.s.” Pomfrey elaborated upon seeing your confused look.

“Fantastic.” You mumbled dryly, grinning sleepily up at Tom as he grabbed onto your hand and interlaced your fingers together. He ignored the way his heart skipped a beat in favor of letting you hold his sweaty palm.

“Go to sleep, L/n,” Tom muttered under his breath. “Potions can wait.”

~~~

Tom lay in your hospital bed beside you, running his thumb over your knuckles. “Please? We promise we won’t do anything.”

“Yeah,” Mattheo chimed in from the other side of your crowded bed, one arm tossed over your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Or at least, nothing we’ll get caught for.”

You sigh, tired of their ceaseless pleading. “Alright, alright, fine. I’ll tell you who it was.”

Both boys leaned in close.

You sigh again and roll your eyes at their overprotectiveness. “Alright, it was-”

~~~

Tucker Thompson and Devin Dobbs: Gryffindor Sixth Years Found MURDERED at Hogwarts! Dumbledore: “No comment at this time.”

You tilted the newspaper so Madame Pomfrey could read the article over your shoulder as she replaced your IV bag. 

Pomfrey just sighed and rolled her eyes. “I don’t understand how Skeeter is still employed at the Prophet.”

“Cause shock value will always hold weight in the media?” You answered dryly around a mouthful of depressingly plain infirmary wing toast. “And Skeeter’s good at nothing if not coming up with bullshit shock value titles.”

“That may be true,” she began, snatching the paper from your hands. “But patients shouldn’t be reading about such dark subjects, and certainly not while under my care. And don’t talk while eating. I rather like your company, and would hate to see you choke.”

You rolled your eyes at her suffocatingly motherly behavior. “So are they? Thompson and Dobbs; they’re really dead?”

Madame Pomfrey hesitated.

You let out a relieved breath of air that you tried (and failed) to hide behind a cough. “That’s…terrible.”

She narrowed her eyes and studied you for a long moment, her fingers mindlessly worrying the deckle edge of the newspaper in her hands. “It was them, wasn’t it? Your boys.”

“My boys?”

“Yes, yes, Riddles one and two. Your boys.”

“Oh- we’re not…”

She raised an eyebrow, pursing her lips as she tried to hold back a laugh at the utter obliviousness of teenagers. “Do they know that, dear?”

You spluttered out a half-assed rebuke to her statement, but Pomfrey quickly interrupted you.

“They’ve been staying here for hours every day for the last month. They want more than just your friendship, hon.”

“No way. We’re just friends.” You insisted firmly. “That’s all.”

Madame Pomfrey rolled her eyes. “Uh huh. Friends. Keep telling yourself that.”

You stared after her, open-mouthed in bafflement, as she rolled up the Prophet, tucked it under her arm, and turned around without another word—leaving you with zero reading material and a million questions.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

you have to love how pomfrey could not give less of a fuck that the riddles murdered two students as long as she gets her ot3 absolutely iconic behavior

[stilesb0]

Snuggly Harry Potter and Y\N L\N.

(Pronouns used For reader: They\Them\Theirs)

•

Harry James potter and Y\N L\N, the most openly affectionate couple in hogwarts. (Besides that time Lavender & Ron Dated and the couples who are shoving each other o against walls.)

Everyone knows Harry’s Touch starved, both parents dead and the Dursleys being people who only focus on themselves. So, students aren’t surprised when they see Harry latched on to Y\N somehow, holding their hand or arm, having his arms wrapped around their waste, no matter how shorter or taller they are compared to him. It’s also quite common to see Y\N giving Harry piggybacks, even if he does start to get a little heavy.

Other Students haven’t really seen the chosen one and his partner kiss before, they leave that for when they’re alone or with close friends. Some students even assume that they’re just really close friends, the embarrassment they feel when they ask out Harry or Y\N in front of each other is adorable, seeing the un-informed student turn red in the face or become a laughing mess as they apologise furiously.

Harry and Y\N are the type of couple that do everything together but also don’t. If one wanted to do something and the other didn’t they’d split off and meet each other at the end of the day where they just snuggle together.

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I didn’t know what to call this. Also- I was bored and just felt like writing something weird and possibly out of character?

[masivechaos]

KISS YOU WHEN I WAKE UP

drunk! remus lupin x gn! ravenclaw! reader

Request: yes / no

see the request here!

Synopsis: you are late for a party and Remus has the great idea to drink while waiting

Warning/content: mention being drunk, alcohol, kissing, fluff, my English

a.n.: 1.5k words- first real fic for the first time in a month youhou

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── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

“You’ll be there tonight?”

Remus turned his head, his eyes finding yours. He couldn’t get what you just said since he was too focused on forcing himself not to stare at you and your endearing features. “What?” he said as he cleared his throat, trying not to seem flustered.

You shake your head with a chuckle “You’ll be there tonight?” you saw his eyebrows knitted together in confusion “The party I mean” You really wanted Remus to go. You loved parties, it was a break from school pressure and allowed you to relax for a night. Sure, you were grateful to be a fast learner but burnout was easy for a gifted child who craved academic validation. Anyone in Hogwarts who wanted to have great grades needed to sacrifice a part of their mental health.

But parties were there to help you. And Remus too. You had a long week and just wanted to rest your brain and the party was a good way but it would be even better if Remus was by your side for the entire night.

You held your gaze on the boy, trying to let him know with the look in your eyes that you wanted him to be there. His lips tugged up “Sure” he offered you the softest smile, his cheeks light pink. 

It was rare to see Remus being shy, he actually was the type to be sarcastic and teasing with everyone if he wasn’t just wearing a blank face. But you didn’t remark this, you were maybe smart but totally clueless when it came to other people’s feelings. That’s something your friends always made fun of. You were a total flirt but never knew if they flirted back, liked you and were just shy persons.

You grinned a large smile “Great!” you got up and brushed off the grass that was stuck to your pants. Remus and you decided to spend some time together near the Black Lake and it was now time to leave, you had a long week and wanted to take nap before the party.

Remus watched you as you took your bag off the floor and slid it on your shoulder. When your eyes landed on Remus, it seemed like he really wanted to smile but stopped himself from doing it, his pupils were shining and he looked genuinely happy. He truly was handsome.

“See you tonight!” you bent down, pressing a brief kiss to his scarred cheek. You quickly walked away, not seeing the hard blush on Remus’ face and his wide eyes, he had to take a deep breath and a good minute to get up.

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Remus lifted his head, hoping to see you enter the room as he saw a group of students coming from the corner of his eye but unfortunately, you weren’t there yet. He was wondering where you could be and just wanted you to be by his side.

As he was lost in his own thoughts he felt someone grabbing his shoulder, he turned around with a small jump, not expecting any physical touch.

He faced a very smiling Sirius “Waiting for your lovebird?” he said with a wide smirk. Remus looked back at the entrance of the common room, rolling his eyes at his friend’s comment.

James came by their side “Who are we looking for?” he nudged Remus in the ribs, showing the crowd starting to form with a head movement.

“Y/n~” Sirius sang as he sent a wink to the tall boy who let out a sigh, hating that he was right. Remus didn’t even bother listening to whatever his best friends were talking about, you were the only thing in his mind at the moment.

But as the waiting began to be long and he started to overthink, he drank a glass of firewhiskey. Then two. 

It was his fourth glass when you stepped into the room, it was just the only way he found to spend time. His eyes met yours and his lips immediately extended into a wide smile.

He got up from the couch and that was the moment he realised how much he had drunk without break. Lily next to him let out a chuckle, knowing very well why he was in this state “Go get her” she laughed and Remus nodded as he headed to you.

He approached you, his hand grabbing your shoulder. You turned your head, smiling when you saw him. Without thinking you wrapped your arms around his middle, hugging him to express how happy you were to find him.

“I’m sorry for coming so late. I forgot to set up an alarm and woke up like 40 minutes ago.” you said with an apologetic smile. But Remus beamed down at you and breathed a quiet ‘It’s okay’.

You chuckled “How much have you drank already?” Remus let out a sigh before bringing you to his chest so you would shut up, with your face pressed against his shirt.

“Take a drink and leave me alone” he said grumpily but you could hear his smile as he talked. You pushed away from his embrace before walking to the buffet, shoving a few appetisers in your mouth and filling a glass.

You joined Remus on one of the couches, you could see he was more tactile than usual but you weren’t going to complain, his arm looped over your shoulders you felt protected and relaxed.

You felt his gaze on you as you did anything “What?” you laughed, your eyebrow raising as he was staring down at you.

Remus blushed and looked away “Nothing” he let out a long breath before looking at you from the corner of his eyes “You- You’re just really pretty” That’s it. He just said it. What he wanted to tell you since he first met you months ago.

“O-oh” you weren’t expecting this and warmth raised to your entire face. You had a foolish smile on your lips “You’re pretty too”

Remus didn’t know if it was because of the alcohol in his blood or just the genuine comment you just said, but he wanted to kiss you. His mouth was agape, looking at you in such admiration, he was adorable when he was flustered. 

It wasn’t the first time he had the urge to kiss your soft-looking lips but he never dared, you were so confident, he was even surprised you weren’t taken, every sane person would love to date you. But the new form of adrenaline gave him the confidence he didn’t have sober. He leaned down, his right hand cupping your cheek.

You knew what he was going to do. And you wanted the same thing as him. The only problem that was floating in your mind was ‘does he really want to kiss you? Or it’s just the euphoria of the night?’ “Wait” you whispered when his lips almost touched yours.

Remus cocked his head to the side. “Do you really want this? It’s not just alcohol?” you asked quietly.

The boy nodded eagerly “Of course, I wanted to since I first led my eyes on you” you grinned when he talked, that was the sweetest thing someone ever told you.

“You’re not going to regret this tomorrow morning?” you were scared your dream will disappear when you will wake up and Remus shook his head with wide eyes, he was begging you in silence and you couldn’t resist anymore.

“Just one.” his lips tugged down in disappointment “C’mon, if you still like me in the morning we will have plenty of time to kiss” This time you were the one initiating the kiss, your hand on his scarred cheek, tilting his head down so you could reach for his lips. He didn’t wait before kissing you back, his hand coming behind your neck.

Fireworks exploded in Remus’ stomach, he couldn’t believe what was happening. He never wanted to stop, he loved you too much to break the kiss right now.

You pulled away for air but Remus chased for your lips and you giggled. “I said one” Remus sighed, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a muffled groan. When you tore your stare away from him you saw all his friends looking at you with big smirks and you let out an awkward laugh.

Remus could feel your embarrassment and he gazed up at where you were looking. He grunted when he saw his idiots of friends “Leave us alone” he told them with furrowed brows before grabbing your hand to lead you to a more quiet place.

The said place ended up being his dorm. He just plopped down on his bed, waiting for you to join him. He made sure his face was close to yours, and it made you laugh “So I can kiss you when I wake up” he let you know before hugging you to sleep.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

⋆ ★ remus lupin taglist: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @sw34terw34ther @cauliflowertree @madison-rebel @moonlitmeeks  @rhydianissuperior @loveeharrington @mad-elia @jackys-stuff-blog @elenatries2write @princess-paramour @juneberrie @vintagepearlss @gilmore-angel @heartfucks @sparklenarniawizard @songs4themoon @moondemon123 @mystic-writings @siriusblackstwin @natashxromanovf @violetteshoneybee @unadulterated-syd @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @garfieldsladybird @kidcuisinesvcks @percy-the-hufflepuff @fairydxll

[luv-loo]

Christmas with Neville Longbottom

Masterpost || Harry Potter Masterlist

Neville Longbottom x GN!Reader

Headcanon/Drabble: The first time with your new boyfriend during the festive season

Warnings: These drabbles/headcanons are directed towards a teen audience, as this takes place during Hogwarts schooling. You can read it as a backstory as sorts, but keep in mind the reader and Neville are minors. Neville’s parents and backstory is part of this headcanon, so be weary when reading.

Notes/Anything Else: Neville’s my favourite and a major comfort of mine. With Christmas coming I was thinking about this little thing hehe, hope you enjoy ! I haven’t done a format like this before… is it a drabble ? Idk…

Christmas times always been a iffy topic to Neville.

You noticed it when the Christmas holidays were coming closer, whenever someone would ask what each other plans were during the time. The teen would slug down a bit in his spot and have a dejected face for the conversation. You didn’t pry… to much.

When you two started dating your 5th year, you really took notice of it.

You found him in the common room, looking on the brink of tears, curled next to the fire place.

It broke your heart. “Why is my love so sad?”

You sat on the floor in front of the chair he was curled in. You asked what was wrong.

The common room was empty as everyone was packing to leave for the holiday, but you still whispered.

Neville didn’t say anything for a solid 10 minutes. All that was heard was the crackle and pops of the fire place.

“… my nan likes to have Christmas with my mum and dad.”

You turned to face him, his chubby cheeks had tears slowly rolling down. Your heart was breaking even more.

Neville didn’t live with his parents, you knew that, but he never talked about what had happened with them or even if they were alive.

“Nan says they’ll know who I am when I’m there.” Sniffles were coming in clumps now.

You sat up immediately and placed yourself on the arm rest next to him, taking hold of his hand and squeezing tight, a gesture you know will calm him down. “What do you mean by that? Love, you can tell me anything.”

Sobbing was echoed through out the room, you squeeze his hand impossibly harder. He explains St Margo’s, and how they’ve lost themselves. (You could tell he was holding back, but you wouldn’t dare push him any further, with all he’s said already)

A great pain of sadness deep in your chest gathered. By that point forward, you made sure your boyfriends Christmas were special.

You brought your own Christmas decor from home and set them up in the green house (with permission). A small Christmas tree with red & gold ornaments, with present, sweets and all Neville favourite plants surrounding it.

The first time your brought him to your little set up, you bouncing on the heels of your feet while you told him he can open his eyes now.

First, shock, then disbelief and lastly utter gratefulness crossed his face when tears started coming down.

You embraced him in the tightest hug, wiped his tears away and kissed his cheek.

Carefully taking him by the hand, you lead him to a little picnic blanket laid out with sweets of all sorts that you brought last time in Hogsmeade.

“I don’t deserve you at all.” He whispered, wiping his, now, puffy red eyes. You stop, turned to him, and cuffed his cheeks.

“Don’t tell me you don’t deserve anything, especially me, because that means you deserve everything.”

[fangisms]

war is over

A/N: i figure this takes place sometime around the holidays 1996?? that seems like the cleanest place for me to shove it <3

Pairings: George Weasley x GN!Reader

Summary: George comforts you over your losses and grief during the war. 1.0k words.

Warnings: established relationship, the mf 2nd wizard war, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, stress/anxiety, mentions of grief/loss, pet names (poppet, love), the ultimate trifecta: crying kissing cuddling

It had been a long holiday. With apocalypse looming and hopelessness rearing its ugly head, it had been difficult to focus on festivities and warmth. The mug of hot chocolate cupped in your palms seemed to burn right through your skin. You felt cold though swaddled in sweaters and blankets and embers and touch.

When you retreated upstairs, George had followed you with delicate strides. He’d give you space until he was required of you. Which was almost immediately with how you beckoned him to lay down beside you as your head hit his pillow.

And now you’re tucked under his chin, arms folded with yours over his knitted and monogrammed sweater while your cheek is pressed to his shoulder. The whispers of small talk between you simmered for long enough when you fell silent. If he had to guess, he’d say you’d grown too tired, but that was before you rattled in his arms and took a choked breath in.

“What’s bothering you, poppet?”

You sob and curl into his side, pressing your knees up against his thighs and balling your fists, clenching your teeth out of frustration and exhaustion.

“I…”—a tear slips down your upper lip and your damp lashes squint closed—“I understand what we’re fighting for—what we’re all fighting for, and I know we’ve all put in far too much effort to waste, I mean—the things people have done for this war and this cause is incredible and once it’s over and we win, lives will be changed, but”—you shake your head and press the hard heels of your palms to your eye sockets—“sometimes… it feels like we've lost too much. We've lost... so much. And I'm so sick of it.”

George swallows hard. He turns, tip of his nose pressed to your hairline as you agonize over your long-suffered grief. He takes a deep breath, only drawing the pads of his fingertips down your arm while your fist tightens around the sternum of his sweater.

He waits until you’ve begun to mediate your inner conflict. Your bones settle and you breathe like usual, and he can finally tilt your chin up and look you in the eye. He brushes his thumb over the supple and wet apple of your cheek. And he whispers:

“You’re right.”

You recoil slightly, a serious pout drawing your lips into an upside down half moon of disappointment. Until his lips meet the tender bridge of your nose.

“We are far too young to be so worried about the problems left for us by our parents,” he huffs, “But I think… at least I hope… that our dark cloud has the brightest silver lining waiting for us.”

It’s hard to believe. He’s never sounded so corny, you think, he’s officially lost it. But he smiles and curls his hand at the base of your skull and you want to trust all of him.

“Something wonderful is going to come of this war that is not going to come together until everybody’s shaking hands and dancing and we’re finally free of the horrid thing keeping us all in the dark.”

Fine. As hard as it is to accept his hope and rosiness, you are desperate for it. You want to share his awful optimism and bathe in whatever gold-crested fountain he was born from.

His fingertips feather and skirt across your face, behind your ear, beneath your lips, over your eyelids. So gentle you wouldn’t dare stop him. You can’t bring yourself to resist the slow and steady smile creeping across your face.

Then Molly shouts, “Dinner’s ready, my loves!”

His weight shifts to the edge of the bed. You open your eyes and curl your fist around the hem of his sweater. He turns to flash you a sweet smile.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

His warm hand cups the sude of your face as he dips down and softens you with a sturdy kiss. And when he tries you pull away, you urge him with another. And another.

“Come on, poppet,” George chuckles, “We’ll feel better once we’ve eaten.”

He assists you in sitting up but you still grown and flop against him like a rag doll. He couldn’t be happier. Neither could you as you hum and listen for the hushed footfalls racing down the stairs and the raucous laughter and the warmth that seeps in through every wall.

He kisses your knuckles and you whine in protest.

“One more minute.”

It’s muffled because your face is squished against his shoulder, so he laughs heartily and deeply but out of kindness.

“Alright! Minute’s up, I’m hungry”—he pats your knee with determination yet—“You’re mad if you think I’ll let you starve me just because I love you.”

You slip out of the bed, wobbling over to stand between his legs and pout—quite unserreptitiously—“So you love me?”

“Of course I love you.” You lean down to kiss him and pull away just as he closes his eyes. And as you do, his eyes snap open. “But I also love food!”

He leads you by the hand, hurried down the steps to the table, making sure to sit beside you with his fingers intertwined with yours.

The food is warm and soft and the people around you are gentle and soft-spoken and all of it fills you with comfort and relief. With confidence and just an inkling of hope. An inkling of hope to stake a battle on. To build purpose on. And maybe, you think, there are things greater than yourself that are worth fighting for.

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