#i am unable to make funny jokes or witty responses right now because the reader in that fic is just me projecting

[literaila]

wowowow i just read 'push and pull' and you ate with that, it's so sweet and the writing is pretty, also i was listening to one of my playlists while reading it and 'my love all mine' started playing at the last scene and it fit so perfectly 💅🏽👩‍🍳

sometimes the playlists really do tag-team you with the fic reading. it can be incredibly debilitating or an incredible experience—glad yours didn’t end terribly!

mitski canon band at the end?????

[writesowhatnext]

working up the courage // lee jordan

Summary: Lee Jordan is a flirt; who would’ve thought that he had a softer side?

Request: Lee Jordan flirting with one of the ravenclaw quidditch players during commentary? Maybe she’s chill and even replies back to his pick up lines?

A/N: I found it so hard to write Lee just because he’s not mentioned nearly enough but I’m excited but am unsure about my writing tbh after a bit of a break also CHARACTERISATION HELP who is lee Jordan that is my QOTD

Reader: unspecified, Ravenclaw

Warnings: nope, I don’t think

It was next to impossible to walk down the halls of Hogwarts without the knowledge of who Lee Jordan was. Even if you didn’t know him, you’d heard him or, at the very least, heard of him. He had the largest gob that the school had to offer and boy, was he proud of it. It seemed only natural when he was given the role of Quidditch commentator and Professor McGonagall liked to think of it as redirecting his talkative talents from the classroom to the Quidditch pitch.

To his credit, he did try to keep it professional.

There was the odd slip up here and there, of course. Especially when the Slytherin team were being ruthless cheats or Gryffindor caught the snitch; he was at heart, after all, just a boy with a favourite quidditch team. The worst it ever got was when he called Flint, the Slytherin captain, a ruthless toe-bag. He’d had more PG-13 insults in mind but McGonagall had swiped the microphone from him before he could deliver them to his adoring fans.

Just as it had been then, it was even harder to be professional whenever he noticed you in the crowds, bundled up in your blue scarf and chatting animatedly to your friends. The first time he did it, he’d seen you around a few times, even smiled a couple too if he was feeling particularly brave. You were definitely nowhere near friends, but something about the adrenaline rush of the Quidditch pitch had him buzzing and his inhibitions were dropping like flies.

“Hufflepuff scores again!” he roared, his words met with the cheers and boos of the stands around him. Unable to help himself given the look on the Slytherins’ faces, he chuckled.

“Now, where was the Slytherin keeper?” he goads, enjoying the glare he received from one of the Slytherin chasers as she flew past.

His grin faded as he spotted you a few rows below him, laughing at his provocation with your head thrown back. The warmth that flooded through him at the sight of your smiling features was unfamiliar and, for the first time in his life, he felt actually nervous about something.

“Doesn’t matter, though,” he shrugged, biting his lip. “Because I think I’ve found a keeper in the fourth row.”

Professor McGonagall tutted next to him, but he could hardly be expected to pay attention when you turned around with wide eyes and an even wider smile. Was he talking to you? He smirked, waving with his free hand. Oh, you realised, pleasantly surprised, he was talking to you.

“Fifth row, actually,” you yelled back, raising your eyebrows. Butterflies swam in your stomach at his interest and you felt warm under his stare. You sat around your giggling friends, not too abashed at the attention.

“Ladies and Gentleman,” he said cheerfully, not quite ready to tear his eyes away from you. Your witty response had greatly lifted his mood, but not quite erased the uneasy pit in his gut. “It seems I have a correction: I definitely meant the fifth row.”

You beamed at his words and all he could think was how much he hoped to see that expression on your face many more times.

“Mr Jordan,” McGonagall said, her tone stern, but a familiar twinkle in her eye.

“Sorry, Professor,” Lee replied, not sorry in the slightest. You laughed at his scolding, turning back towards the match. When you looked back at him again, he glanced at you, and your insides turned to mush.

Between that match and the next, you were rather disappointed that Lee hadn’t come to speak to you. You only caught flashes of him in the corridor between lessons. Often, you offered each other coy smiles and awkward waves, but never anything more. You were almost convinced that he’d forgotten all about your little interaction: that was, until the Ravenclaw game.

“The score is 90-30 to Hufflepuff!” Lee yelled. His almost cheerful tone was dramatically different from the foul mood you were now in and he could tell by your face that you were less than pleased. You were scowling rather deeply and whilst he hadn’t spoken even a syllable to you since the last time he piped up during a quidditch match, he found the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them.

“Maybe the Ravenclaw seeker will catch the snitch and put a smile on my favourite Ravenclaw’s face.”

Your mouth dropped open as you swung your head around, probably fast enough to get whiplash. He grinned at you; definitely you, you decided. You couldn’t help the smile growing on your lips: he hadn’t forgotten.

“And there it is,” he said, his voice amplified tenfold by the enchanted microphone. You bit your lip, attempting to stifle the squirming of your stomach. He didn’t speak again for the rest of the match, but he did wink when he announced Ravenclaw scoring, a fact that had heat rushing to your cheeks. You were almost certain that time that he’d find you after the game. Again, though, you were mistaken.

Lee didn’t know what was wrong with him. He was Lee Jordan. Everyone knew him and he was never nervous around people – that was just who he was. He was a bloody Gryffindor; he’d never been anxious about anybody until he thought about spending time with you. The idea alone had his mouth drying up and the echo of his heartbeat in his ears when you smiled at him made him feel like a child. It felt so stupid: why could he flirt with you when the whole of Hogwarts was listening but not just speak to you in the corridors? He told himself, though, that he was just too busy to come and find you, what with quidditch and schoolwork; as if his palms weren’t sweaty every time he saw you across a room.

“So, what’s with you and that Ravenclaw?” Fred asked, shadowing him as he walked down the corridor.

“The one you keep flirting with during quidditch,” George added, eclipsing his other shoulder.

“What Ravenclaw?” Lee said quickly, stopping in front of the portrait of the fat lady behind a couple third years. “Don’t know what you’re on about, mate.”

Fred and George paused, sharing a look at his blatant lie.

“Right,” they said, following Lee through the portrait hole.

“So, there’s absolutely no reason why you keep looking at a certain Y/N in the corridors?”

Lee frowned under Fred’s gaze. He didn’t even know that he didn’t know your name.

“Nuh-uh,” he insisted, cursing himself mentally for his poor response. “I don’t even know who that is.”

George hummed, rolling his eyes and pinching his chin between his fingers in mock thought.

“Do you believe that, Georgie?”

“I don’t believe I do, Freddie.”

“Do you know what I think?”

“No, I don’t, actually.” Oh, but he did. “What do you think?”

Lee threw his bag on the floor, letting his head droop backwards onto the sofa with an impatient sigh.

“I think that Lee here might have a bit of a crush.”

“A crush?” George asked, both twins plonking themselves down either side of him. “Never!”

“Yes, George, a crush. On that funny little Ravenclaw, no doubt.”

“Oh, piss off, you two.”

What Lee was reluctant to admit to himself, and decidedly never going to admit to them, was that, like a broken clock twice a day, they were, in fact, right. It wasn’t something he liked to realise, but he liked your effect on him even less. As he sat there, though, commentating the Slytherin vs Gryffindor game, he spotted you in your usual seat and found himself filled with the confidence only a microphone could give him.

“The sun is bright and it seems like a wonderful day for Slytherin to cheat again!” he said, laughing at the response from the crowd, more than pleased as you beamed at your friends.

“It seems that Hufflepuff will start this game; apparently Marcus Flint has not yet found a way to rig Madam Hooch’s coin toss-“

“Mr Jordan,” Professor McGonagall warned, her voice strict despite the slight curve of her lips.

“Alright, alright,” he said, allowing his eyes to drag across the crowd and settle on you. “Professor McGonagall is not a fan of my jokes… Maybe the lovely Ravenclaw in the fifth row is?”

He almost regretted it as his voice trailed off and he was scared, for a moment, that the twins, and the rest of the school, would tease him mercilessly. But then you turned around. He matched your expression as you grinned at him, shooting him a thumbs up and pulling your lip between your teeth. His chest tightened a bit and he found himself wanting to tell you everything he thought about you: how attractive you were, how much he loved to make you laugh, how much he wished he could ask you out. He couldn’t, though, and as McGonagall encouraged him to do his job, he resigned himself to another week of pining.

When the game ended, you’d decided you’d had enough and, despite your friends’ protests, you rushed towards the Gryffindor Quidditch changing room with one thing on your mind and one thing only. Your resolve, though, crumbled slightly when you shoved open the door and ended up face to face with a very confused Oliver Wood.

“Can I help you?” he asked, frowning as he adjusted his bag on his shoulder.

“I’m looking for-“

“Oh, shut up, both of you,” Lee shouted from the corner of the room, his exclamation followed by a round of cackles. Oliver turned to face the noise before returning to you, recognition plastered on his features.

“Ah,” he said, stepping to the side to let you in.

You thanked him quickly and immediately went inside to find Lee. In your haste, you forgot it was a changing room and your expression blanched at the sight of the Weasley twins shirtless and talking to the only person you actually wanted to speak to. Their eyes lit up when they saw you even though you’d never actually had a conversation with either of them and given their reputation, you figured that your nerves were preservative.

“Hello there,” one of them said, crossing his arms over his chest and grinning.

“How can we help you today?”

You frowned, watching Lee turn around. Surprise riddled his features as he pushed between the ever-so-slightly taller boys.

“You can’t,” you said rather blankly, lifting your hand to gesture to Lee. “I’m here to talk to him.”

“Um,” Lee said, regrettable mesmerised by the sight of you up close. “Yeah, yes, sure, yes, of course.”

“I think he’d like that,” one of the twins teased, earning a chuckle from the other.

“Don’t know what gives you that impression, George.”

“Oh, shove off,” Lee snapped, grabbing your wrist and pulling you over to a deserted corner of the room. You barely registered the twins cooing, too focused on the feel of his warm skin.

“Sorry about them,” he said, turning to face you. His brows drew downwards as he followed your eyes to his hand, immediately letting go of your wrist. “And that.”

“It’s fine,” you replied, far too quickly. It struck you as odd that you both, it seemed, were a lot more nervous without the crowds around you.

“You never came to say hi,” you said, frowning at your accidental accusatory tone. “I mean-“

“Would you believe me if I said I was nervous?”

You opened your mouth to retort sarcastically. Everyone knew that Lee Jordan was never nervous. Of you, as well? Highly unlikely. But then you noticed his almost ashamed expression and the sincerity in his dark eyes and you closed your mouth again.

“Of me?”

“Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “You’re very hot.”

You barked a laugh in surprise, even happier still when his features seemed to lift.

“Am I really your favourite Ravenclaw?”

He smirked a little, his tongue poking out between his lips for a second.

“Oh, without a doubt.”

“Then it seems only right I ask my favourite Gryffindor out then,” you said, feeling less and less anxious. “Doesn’t it?”

“Well,” he said, tilting his head to the side in jest. “That seems like the courteous thing to do.”

You hummed a laugh.

“Well?” you prompted, raising your eyebrow. “What do you say? Hogsmeade this weekend?”

“I’d love to,” he said, happier than he could remember being for a while. You frowned when his expression turned worried and he leant in conspiratorially. “Can we maybe say I asked you out? I wouldn’t hear the end of it from-“

“Too late!” one of the twins called from the doorway as they made to leave.

“We already know that Y/N here has bigger balls than you.”

Lee rolled his eyes as they left and you found yourself giggling, unable to keep the smile off your face. He realised, as he listened to your laughter, that maybe he didn’t mind them teasing him if you were there.

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