#humpdaydrabble

[ralina003]

"Alright, out with it," Ginny said, looking at Hermione with her eyebrows raised at her challengingly. "You've barely even looked at this book over the last hour. Instead, you have eaten about twenty cookies, which is totally unlike you, considering that you barely touch any sweets under normal circumstances. So what is wrong?"

Hermione looked at Ginny with a sigh. "It's complicated," she said, suddenly not feeling like eating another cookie. Not, that she had registered eating the other twenty, mind you. 

"Good complicated or bad complicated?" her friend asked with a grin, propping her feet up on her bed. It had been a while since the both of them had last seen each other, Ginny usually busy with training while Hermione concentrated on the book she was trying to write. Not that this was going very well, considering her late difficulty to concentrate on something else than her current misery. That's why she had decided to take a break and visit her childhood friend at the Burrow.

"How about I-have-a-crush-on-your-twin-brothers-and-am-unable-to-decide-complicated?" Hermione asked, smiling wistfully when she saw Ginny's face break out into a disbelieving grin. Hermione shook her head. She hadn't really planned on saying that, she realized, but somehow the amount of sugar must have loosened her tongue. Well, it didn't really matter. Ginny was her friend and probably the only person she felt close enough to, to talk about her stupid crush. 

"So, you like Fred?" Ginny asked, grinning like a Cheshire cat. 

"Yes," Hermione admitted carefully. 

"But you like George, too?" 

For a while, Hermione said nothing in return, but when Ginny kept staring at her, she nodded, whispering: "...Yes. You see why this is complicated?"

Ginny looked at her with a wide, amused grin. "Not really, no. Cookie?" She asked, pushing the half-full plate of cookies into her direction. Hermione looked at the redhead with a confused expression. Why wasn't she freaking out about what she'd just told her?

"No thanks, Ginny. You can tell your mum they're delicious, but I think I'm going to explode if I have another one of those. In fact, I'm feeling kind of strange already," Hermione confessed with a grimace. 

But Ginny just looked at her with twitching lips. "Well, actually those are not my mum's," she confessed, before turning towards the door. "Fred and George actually made them." She smirked before continuing somewhat louder. "Don't you finally want to come in here, boys? You heard it! She fancy's your pants off. So get your arses down here and snog her already!"

Hermione looked at her friend in horror. "They heard all that?" she squeaked, bolting from Ginny's bed in a panic. But why would they… "Ginny! Did you plan this whole thing?"

"Nope," Ginny said, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "But they did."

Hermione did not have time to say anything to that, as the door opened a moment later, Fred and George stepping into the small room. They wore matching grins on their faces, their eyes twinkling with mirth as they stepped closer. Hermione's heart skipped a beat at the sight of it. 

"Thanks, Gin," Fred said, winking at his baby sister with a grin. "We owe you big time. But now be a good little sister and go snog your boyfriend for a while."

"Will do," Ginny chirped and before Hermione knew what was happening, her friend, the little traitor, was out of the room. What was she supposed to do now? It wasn't like she had intended to say any of this! Merlin!

"You weren't supposed to hear this," she blurted out, eying the both of them in panic as they kept walking closer. "What are you doing here anyway? If I had known you are at the Burrow, I…"

"...wouldn't have come, we know," George said with a shake of his head. "That's why we had to do something, you see?"

He was right in front of her now, his hand slowly travelling towards her face, where it took hold of one of her curls and stroked it behind her ear. Hermione shivered as his fingers brushed her face ever so slightly while doing so.

"Because Georgie and I pretty much wanted to see you," Fred added, suddenly standing behind her. "And as it appears you wanted to see us, too."

Hermione swallowed nervously. "I…" she started and realized that she was unable to hold her tongue or lie. "I did," she croaked out, her heart beating nervously in her chest. 

George nodded. "Good. And how about kissing us?" he continued, his brown eyes boring into hers with an intensity that made her shiver. "Do you want to do that too, love?"

She closed her eyes, taking a big breath but even though her mouth was clamped shut, she found herself nodding at his words. 

"Excellent," she found Fred whispering into her ear a moment later, his breath tickling her skin. Then, suddenly she felt his hands close around her middle from behind and pull her against his muscular chest, as he continued: "Because Georgie and I want to kiss you, too, you know? And do much more, if you'll let us."

At that, her eyes snapped open, right in time to see George Weasley nod, before his face suddenly crept closer, his mouth coming to rest over her's. His lips were soft, she realized, when they brushed hers ever so slightly before pulling back for a few inches again. "Pity we first had to drug you to admit this to us. We could have been doing this for months now."

Hermione looked at him with wide eyes. "You've drugged me? With cookies?"

Fred chuckled behind her. "Sure. We've added a little bit of truth potion to them. Better than using alcohol."

"Why?" 

"Isn't it obvious? Because we want you to be in possession of all your senses when we do this," he said, placing an open-mouthed kiss on her neck, "and this." Another kiss followed, this time accompanied by his teeth that scraped her skin ever so slightly. Hermione found herself moaning against George's mouth, but a moment later her mouth was sealed by his lips again. This time they did not only brush over hers but kissed her with a passion, that took her breath away. It only took her a moment to kiss him back, her lips seeking him out with an eagerness to explore his mouth and anything else he would let her. Because she wanted him, wanted them both, Hermione admitted to herself while digging her fingers into the man's shirt before pulling him closer. It was useless to try to deny it to herself any longer. Hermione had eaten way too many cookies for that. 

(Pictures are not mine. Using them for presentation purposes only.)

[kryskrosszee]

Forgot to post these yesterday cause I got caught up with Love Fest, among other things. I wrote 5180 words last week. This year is testing me so far so I'm glad I'm getting any words out at all tbh. Here's this week's list but I fully expect to spend the entire week on Love Fest fics with some And They Were Soulmates maybe spliced in. I set a 4k goal for Love Fest and I'm already 2k in so.... #amwriting #goalsetting #goals #weasleyswitchesandwriters #andtheyweresoulmates #lovefest2022 #keepcalmandwritesomething #rollanidea #andthesnakesstarttosing #adoptanidea #paneville #dramione #dracosdenscattergories #theclockticks #hermionexlavender #humpdaydrabble https://www.instagram.com/p/CZXKRX5qAA_/?utm_medium=tumblr

[roblnwheeler]

Fandom: Harry Potter Rating: Explicit Warnings: Sexual Content described Word Count: 500 Character(s)/Pairing(s): Charlie Weasley/Daphne Greengrass Summary: For all her good taste and common sense, Daphne can’t help the way her gaze falls upon him.

Astoria marries Draco Malfoy, which is all well and good, but it leaves her sister Daphne feeling rather isolated and alone. She’s felt like that a lot, ever since the war ended. Greengrasses have always been a respectable family, and Astoria’s decision to marry Draco is built upon that belief. Marrying a Malfoy is smart, disgraced as his family currently is, because they’re of old, noble stock. Daphne finds the union agreeable, despite it breaking her heart, and she can’t, in good conscious, ask her sister to remain with her forever. Astoria moves on, and eventually, so does Daphne. Bloodlines are important to a Greengrass. And Daphne’s no exception. She’s had the concept instilled in her too deeply, too early on, to disregard it now. And any man she shares her bed with should agree with, or at least exhibit, that breeding in their heritage. Preferably, they ought to also have a sizable bank account to accompany their genetically superior stature. For all her good taste and common sense however, Daphne can’t help the way her gaze falls upon him. Yes, he’s a blood traitor, and completely unacceptable by the unwritten customs of the old world, but they aren’t living in that world anymore. Charlie Weasley, Daphne tells herself over and over again, is still a pureblood. She quotes this to herself ad nauseum. As if, in this feeble attempt, she might alleviate the knot of guilt that pesters her in his presence; sending her heart fluttering against an unstable ribcage. He’s interested in her, for reasons Daphne can’t quite explain, and she plays on that interest relentlessly. She’s taken to pushing him against something to get him going, but once they get started, it’s Charlie who takes complete control of the situation. Much to Daphne’s pleasure. He’ll often push into her folds without warning, sliding her knickers to the side at a dizzying speed. He pistons into her at an equally alarming pace, and Daphne wonders how she doesn’t collapse under the friction of his attentions. And his hands, Charlie is ever so good with his hands. Broad, and callused from days spent studying dragons in their native landscape, they press roughly against her skin; bruising her hips as he tightens his grip for a better reach inside her. While physically satisfying, the sex is a poor exchange for a proper conversation had between them. Daphne likes it rough, and he pleases her quite well, but she’s afraid of what a proper conversation might reveal about them, particularly herself. That perhaps the war has changed her, maybe for the better, because she certainly never would’ve fallen for a red-headed Weasley, even Charlie, before it. Or perhaps for the worse, though she can’t imagine life without Charlie. And she worries that the war’s changed Charlie as well. That maybe he’s not the shining knight he once was. That, somewhere deep inside himself, he’s with her because he no longer believes he deserves better. Her climax washes the thoughts away, momentarily.

[not-harry]

Memories || Drabble 01

There were certain things Harris tried really hard not to think about. The really hot TA in biology, how he was probably going to be a virgin forever, and anything related to do with his dad were all things topped the list. And this summer had already made him think about all of them. Jeremy's casual mention of his own dad had sparked up anger in Harrison that he had sworn never to look at again. It just wasn't fair that two guys who had the label 'dad' thought fit to derail their sons lives because they weren't comfortable enough with themselves to deal with it. Realizing it was not just their dads but parents, teachers, friends, everywhere just made him feel worse. Nobody asked for their sexualities, and it was ridiculous to see the effect it had on quality of life when hair, height, and eye color couldn't even remotely compare.

He still remembered the time he'd come home happy and slightly sore, spinning around the living room in his eagerness to show his dad what he'd learned that day. Time had taken what exact move it was away, but he'd never be able to forget perfectly executing it and turning around fully expecting to bask in his pride and instead getting a disappointed sigh and, "You look like a girl. Go change and come back. We need to talk." Nine year old Harris had been confused, but he went changing into jeans and after a moments hesitation between his favorite lilac shirt and the black one, went for the darker one. He'd felt like he was in trouble and couldn't think of what he'd done wrong.

His bed was made, he'd done the dishes the night before, his homework had been finished before he left, what had he forgotten? A small frown settled onto his features, but he climbed up on the couch next to his Daddy who was patting the spot next to him anyway. "Son," his dad had started, "Dancing is for girls. Kind of like how football is for boys. You don't see any girls on the field during the games we watch, do you?" Even more confused now, he shook his head but promptly opened his mouth, "But what about Tommy and Drew? They're boys and they're in my class. There's even boy teachers! They said if I kept practicing, I could maybe be a teacher one day too!" His dad's eyes had shut like he was about to sneeze before he was turning and placing both hands on Harris' tiny shoulders, tight enough to make him squirm. "No son of mine will be a poofy dancer, you hear me? You're done. You are better than that. You're going to go outside and play. Kick a ball around, climb a tree, get dirty. Be a boy, Harrison."

What fun was being a boy if you could only do things Harris didn't like? "But - " "No. My mind is made up. It's final. No more dancing, no more flowers, no more musicals. I'll talk to your mother about it. And trust me, you'll thank me for this later. Now, Daddy has a very important chapter to write so go outside, alright? Take your sister! She at least knows how little boys should be. Maybe she can help you."

Harrison had slid off the couch without another word, effectively creating the rift that would always exist between him and his father. A sense of being made wrong had filled him even then as he walked away. He never did go find his sister that night. His mother had been crying in her room and he'd gone in there instead, not saying a word but just letting her hug him until she stopped crying and apologizing. And the next day when he'd come home from school to find all his clothes had been taken away and replaced with rougher, darker things, he didn't say a thing. Just pressed a smile on his face and kept his head up, playing the part of happy perfect son that was expected of him. The rest of his teenage years had followed the same pattern, with him instinctively clamping down on any tells before they could fully form and steering consciously away from things that peaked his interest - like theater. If he liked it, it was a safe bet his father would not, and he didn't have enough left in him to keep fighting that battle.

His father had broken something that afternoon and Harrison wasn't sure it was something that could be mended, not if just over a decade couldn't do the trick.

[kryskrosszee]

Had an awful week with this migraine but I still managed to write 11892 words!! I finished a Hermione's Haven Bingo Square and last year's Panevi11e prompts as well! #goalsetting #goals #weeklywrapup #dealornodeal #hermioneshavenbingo2021 #paneville #tropesandfandoms #dracosdenscattergories #homecoming #petproject #keepcalmandwritesomething #winterwonderland #rollanidea #humpdaydrabble https://www.instagram.com/p/CWfow7_KSci/?utm_medium=tumblr

[kryskrosszee]

Last week I wrote 9442 words, 8502 of those words during NaNo! I am on track to make my 50k goal! Long may it continue. Here's my Priority list for this week, though Cast the Dice will be finished before I sleep, even if it means another late night.... #nanowrimo #goalsetting #goals #amwriting #castthedice #paneville #dramione #dealornodeal #hermioneshavenbingo2021 #tropesandfandoms #petproject #dracosdenscattergories #keepcalmandwritesomething #rollanidea #weasleyswitchesandwriters #humpdaydrabble https://www.instagram.com/p/CV8oA61KVmF/?utm_medium=tumblr

[ralina003]

“I can’t do this any longer, Hermione,” Fred said, leaning against the door he had just ripped open, before hastily closing it behind him with a bang. Hermione stared at him in confusion, putting the book on house-elf customs aside, she had just started reading an hour ago. 

 "Fred? What are you doing here?" she found herself asking, taking in the man's dishevelled appearance and the smudges of lipstick all around his mouth. She forced herself not to think about it, not when she decided to let him go months ago. "And where's George? Weren't you supposed to be on a double date or something?"

 Fred looked at her with a groan. “Only because George insisted on me going,” he said, looking at her with a headshake. “But I can’t do this any longer. I can’t keep dating girls, can’t keep kissing strangers, pretending they’re you,” he said, staring at her with a wild expression in his brown eyes. “I can’t do this any longer, not when you’re actually the one I want.”

 It was like her mind suddenly refused to work, as she was simply unable to contemplate his words. “What?” she said while shaking her head in disbelief. “Why are you saying that, Fred?”

 Her friend did not answer right away and instead started to pace the room in front of her. “Because it’s true. Merlin Hermione, I want you, have wanted you for months actually.” 

 She shook her head in disbelief. It couldn't be. She's watched him for months, watched him, dating girl, after girl after girl, a few of them even visiting the weekly Weasley dinners she used to attend. Seeing him like that had hurt at first, but after a while, she had gotten over it. Long ago she had learned to accept, that a man like Fred Weasley was not interested in a plain girl like Hermione Granger. "That doesn't make sense, Fred. You don't make sense, right now. If you've wanted me for months, you could have said something long ago. You're not one to beat around the bush, Fred, have never been actually. I've known you for years, remember?"

 Fred looked at her with a frustrated expression on his face. "I know," he said with a sigh. "But that doesn't make what I just said less true. I want you, Hermione, believe me, I do. So please, will you let me kiss you now?”

 Hermione looked at the redhead with wide eyes, her eyes taking him in with a sad expression. How could he even ask that, when she could still smell another woman on him, still see the evidence that he had been kissing someone else probably just minutes ago? This was insane! "No!" she exclaimed, stumbling back towards her sofa with shaky feet. "Merlin Fred, are you drunk or something? Because I will not kiss you when you reek of Firewhiskey, smoke and another woman!”

 Fred looked at her with something like defeat. “I’m sorry Hermione. Please forget I said something. I shouldn’t have come here today,” me mumbled, before turning around and slowly walking towards the door of her flat. Hermione followed him, her eyes prickling with tears. 

 “No, you shouldn’t,” she said, lowering her gaze to the floor.

 A moment later he was gone, without saying good night or even another word. Hermione told herself it was for the best. She could not have a man like Fred Weasley, could not keep his interest for longer than a heated snog or a shag on the sofa. Because that’s how it always was with him, having heard all the stories when Ginny used to complain about her brother when she crashed at her flat after her professional Quidditch training. Fred Weasley was not a man to be interested in a girl for more than a month. And Hermione was not going to let her heart be broken again, not even by one Fred Weasley. She had just put it back together, after all. 

ssssssss

(I don't earn credit for the images, using them for representation propose only.)

[not-harry]

Mornings || Drabble 02

Something made consciousness start to stir in Harrison's brain, causing his eyes blink open. It took a minute to place his surroundings but it wasn't exactly unusual to find himself face-down on his desk with a book as his pillow. A soft laugh came from behind him, making him realize that was the sound that woke him up. And that was unusual. Blearily he turned, fighting back a yawn and squinting slightly before recognizing the figure in his doorway. "Mom!" A slight flush colored his cheeks as he quickly straightened up, subconsciously raising a hand to fix his hair as he looked for a clock. Three hours. Not bad. "It's nice to see not all things change," his mother said fondly. Harris rolled his eyes, but he pushed himself up, moving over to properly greet her.

"When'd you guys get here?" Her arms were soft around him, and the smell he could never find a word for but instantly meant home and safe filled his nose. Unreasonably he felt his eyes prick as he held on a little harder. "Just now," she replied back, pulling back to tug at his hair with another little grin. "Look at you. Your hair! You look good, Harrison. Tired, but good." A soft huff left his lips, but he couldn't quite wipe the smile off of them either. "So do you."

"Awh, you always were a charmer."

Harrison laughed but let go and stepped back eyeing her familiar clothes. "You heading out to the studio?"

"Yeah, I've got an 8am class. Just thought I'd drop in and see if you wanted to join me. Everyone keeps asking about you. And it would be nice to show them more than just a picture of you."

Harrison wondered briefly what the harm would be just to go and watch, but it wasn't worth the risk. "No, no thank you. Tell 'em I said hey and I was doing the lazy college boy thing and sleeping until noon. How is it going though? Everyone alright?"

"Harrison."

"Mother."

"Fine, but I'm picking you up after and we're going to go to dinner. Just me and you, alright? I feel like we haven't spent any time together in ages. I miss you."

"Miss you too. And dinner sounds good. I'll see you then."

She hesitated, but Harris just wanted to try and crawl into bed while he still felt groggy enough to maybe sleep for another hour or two. "I'll see you at dinner. I promise I'm fine. Go torture five year olds at way too early in the morning."

"Alright, alright! Love you."

"Yeah, you too."

Harris gave her a real smile before shutting the now empty door and crawling back under his covers. Unfortunately his brain had other ideas. He groaned, trying to bury it into silence with pillows and blankets but he only lasted ten minutes before he was back up at his laptop, deciding to give in and do his online homework for next week and hoping that'd bore him back down to some kind of sleepy state.