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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

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I live in the neighbourhood - Part 3

What happened to the cycling classes after work and the occasional drinks with coworkers? Now it was flying to Italy to vacation for the December holidays with Harry and his family and friends.

Ok part 3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and the final part of ilitn i believe! let me know what you think! plssss! Not proofread, but your support means the most and it means the world to see your thoughts, literally anything about it, and this little harry I always have to remember that’s the simp your honor ^ right there! anyway happy reading!

Read Part 1 | 2

Word Count: 10.9k | Warnings: swearing, smut! (finally) - oral (m+f receiving, dirty talk, choking? i can’t remember ngl there might not be, sloppy sex, outdoors by the pooldeck just btw, christmas, idk but hopefully nothing I missed, feelings! happy ending (possibly rushed

“You’re really flying to Italy and then traipsing around the Italian countryside for three weeks with Harry and his family? I cannot believe you’re leaving me behind.”

“You’re gonna kill me for saying this, but he had said I could invite a friend or two if I wanted. But I thought it’d be weird with his family so you literally can’t be mad at me!”

“Fine. I’ll move past it, but how did you move past the whole panic attack? Like you barely spoke to him for a month and then he’s on your doorstep and you’re kissing and agreeing to a Roman Holiday?”

“It’s Harry,” she sighs, laying down on her couch. “How could I not, I got scared because he was gone, but once he was back, nothing else mattered.”

“I guess,” Cate mumbles.

“Oof, sorry Cate I have another call, I’ve got to go…”

By the time she tries to pick up the other line has gone to a message and she’s left to listen to her boss over a voicemail:

“Hey Y/N, I know your holidays have just begun, but I wanted to inform you that you’ll be getting a new client in the new year. Big artist! Anyway, just wanted to inform you that I’ll be emailing over some of their paperwork. Feel free to ignore it until the new year! Have a nice trip.”

She sighs. “Interesting...but will definitely be waiting for the new year to even think about work,” she says to herself.

She throws her phone to the side. Tired of all the phone tag and messages she had begun to have to deal with as the Holiday season dawned more and more upon her. She had more important things to think about. Most important being the suitcase laid out before her and the flight she was bound to be taking in less than 24 hours. This time, she wouldn’t be picking Harry up from the airport. No, this time they were flying out of London Heathrow together.

Together together? She wasn’t sure. The kiss on her doorstep and plea of Italian holiday meant a lot to her, but did it scream committed relationship? She had no idea when it came to Harry. Maybe it was better not to ask and just wait until he told her. Wondering had gotten her in a pit last time and she never wanted to feel the way she had over the last month while he had been gone.

She sleeps in her bed for one last night before leaving for a month. Harry had managed to convince the airline to allow Rori to ride with them in first class, so she wouldn’t have to leave her dog in a kennel or with friends during the holidays. She was grateful for that and she just didn’t understand how she had gotten so lucky as to have someone like Harry in her life.

They fly first class and while Harry had secured her ticket last minute, she insisted that he take her money to pay for the ticket. She was determined to not lose herself in this process. She would happily go along with Harry’s crazy life as long as she maintained her constitution. And paying for her own ticket was one of her ways of doing that.

The flight is short, a quick jaunt compared to the arduous trips across the Atlantic, both her and Harry were quite used to from their work and family lives. He smiles at her throughout the journey, coming across the aisle often to check on her and pet Rori. He would make little jokes that wouldn’t make anyone else laugh but them and he would grab the airpod she would take out and play whatever she had been listening to and offer a dance. His little dances were so sweet, if strange and awkward in the small flight cabin.

She wore grey marbled leggings and a matching thick strapped tank top beneath a nondescript hoodie. Harry’s dressed quite nice for traveling, she presumes in case he’s papped. Linen trousers, a collared coat, and some beaded necklaces he had taken to wearing over the last few months - each month seemed to add on another necklace, but she wasn’t counting.

He had reminded her to bring large sunglasses for the airport.

He had said “I don’t care if we’re seen together, but it’s more for your comfort. I hate when my friend’s lives are put on display for the whole world. You’re not the one who signed up for this.”

She had been appreciative and grabbed her largest pair of sunglasses because truthfully she didn’t want to be seen with Harry. She didn’t want the whole world knowing her or her business, it wasn’t who she was. No, not at all. So when they step off the plane and head to baggage claim after customs, she feels aware of her surroundings in a way she never has been. It reminds her of the way Jeff, Charlotte, and Mitch had conducted themselves in the bar that one time. Extremely alert. Watching people’s eye movements and considering whether they recognized her companion. She trails behind him a fair amount, three paces at least. Harry glances back every few moments, checking in to make sure she’s still with him as they move through the bustling airport.

They make it to baggage claim with no stops, but sadly Harry’s luggage seems to give him away. That or just his presence, he was a 6 foot tall and extremely broad man who gave off this energy that couldn’t help but turn eyes. And all it took was one of those eyes to recognize the fluff of hair, the olive-y skin, the peaking bird tattoos and colorful necklaces to alert the world of just where he was.

He doesn’t get stopped for any pictures, but she feels the number of eyes on him grow. She also watches as Harry doesn’t shrink from the growing attention. If anything, it simply makes him move quicker, but only slightly. He glances at her once to see her hood up and big green glasses covering up half her face. Rori has left his carrier and is covering the other half as she pushes a cart in front of her. He makes a nondescript nod and then sets off towards the exit, she follows behind easily.

By the time they’re in the car that was waiting to drive them to Harry’s villa, he’s gotten buzzed by Jeff just to check-in since a few photos have been uploaded of him at the airport. People were so fast. She shook her head in disbelief as she looked up Harry Styles on twitter and saw the scene she had just been apart of minutes ago on her screen now. She’s unrecognizable in the photos she happens to appear in and to everyone else she looks like another traveler instead of Harry’s companion or whatever she was to him. Instead of his friend.

Harry calls Jeff as they’re driven to his lovely sprawling home near Lake Como. He informs him they’re fine - he is quick to ensure that Y/N is well after asking her himself once they had gotten into the confines of the small car. She thinks it’s sweet especially because she was sure that Jeff really was more focused on Harry and his well-being since he was both his friend and his client while she was just an extra. The two men talk about the flight and customs and what Jeff will be doing with his holiday since he had turned down Harry’s invitation to come out to Italy as well. This leaves her to stare out the window at the passing scenery. She and Rori are completely content with this as they watch the tranquil life around them as they pass by little forests and towns over cobblestoned ground.

The colors seem brighter throughout Italy compared to the sad and gloomy winter of London. The dreary scape traded for something far more picturesque. Italy growing ever more beautiful the closer they drive to Harry’s home. Everything was so radiant, from the sun shining above her head to the little dew drops still pooled on the perfectly green leaves of plants she knew not the names of.

The car pulls up to the long driveway to Harry’s place which he insisted was just a house, but she knew better. The driveway felt like half a mile of perfect cobblestones, seemingly handpicked to make the smoothest drive. Outside the house sat a gorgeous little convertible that was in between steel and cream and sparkled in the sun. The top was currently up, but she could tell the interior was just as nice as the exterior. Harry had a thing for cars and she suspected that no matter where he was, he managed to keep his cars in perfect condition.

The house was breathtaking due to its simultaneous simplicity and intricacy. It’s coloring was variations of cream and gold and some terra cotta. But it sprawled into the hillside behind it and wrapped around the nature to the side of it and the pool to the back right of it. There also was a little separate shed like thing that also seemed to be a residence. Harry insisted it was just an extra bedroom, but it looked like almost another house to her.

As she stepped out of the car, she thought that she might get lost in that house if she was left to wander around it by herself. A feeling she feared to get accustomed to.

The door of the house was a dark green that seemed oddly familiar to her as she walked through it. And when Harry looked back to make sure she had gotten in the house alright she recognized it. His door somehow matched the color of his eyes in dark lighting. A green that was timeless and ancient at the same time. A green that was unnerving yet inviting. A green that was Harry. She never thought she had a favorite color, but in that moment she was sure it was his eyes.

Harry calls her name and she realizes he’s been saying it for awhile.

“Sorry?”

He smiles fondly at her confused face and leans towards her as if he might kiss her. She stops breathing in that moment, wanting more than anything for that to be his next move. His chest brushes against hers, his warmth invading her space. His face is a mere milimeter from hers and she can count every speck of stubble on his jaw. But his lips don’t brush gently over hers in a way that she knew was addicting. Instead, his strong hand reaches past her and shuts the entrancing green door gently.

His eyes flicker back to her face when he pulls back, taking a single step backwards to allow for a comfortable space between them. Still close, but not like he’s about to embrace her expecting frame and kiss her.

“I asked if you wanted a tour of the house? Or if you just wanted me to pick your room.” His eyes are crinkled at the corner, a smile on his face even though his mouth is hung open in a lingering question.

She blinks her eyes and twitches her head to glance around the rest of her surroundings. Rori had run off the moment they had gotten in the door. The hallway Harry and she found themselves was narrow and simple, a single painting right behind Harry’s head was the sole decoration and a tapestry style rug beneath their feet. She nods after a moment, feeling all her words caught somewhere in her throat for no reason at all.

“Good,” he nods and gives her a funny look, trying to understand her quiet demeanor. “Just drop your stuff here for now,” he adds.

His hand encircles her wrist, as it had grown accustomed to, to lead her through the house. She bites her lower lip to muffle the little giggle that somehow escapes her as he tugs her playfully down and through the house.

He goes on about almost every piece of art and trinket he has hung and placed throughout the house. Each thing has its story and Harry waxes eloquent on every single one. He shows her each room in the house and then leads her outside through the single door of the master bedroom on the second floor. The door takes them onto a small balcony that overlooks the center of the estate which included the pool and then a garden to the left of the converted poolhouse - what Harry insisted it be called when Y/N had told him it was a mini house.

His hand has traveled down to intertwine with hers as the tour had drawn on. So as he leads her down the little spiral staircase to the ground floor, she hums at the warmth his thumb rubs into her skin ever so softly. His eyes flicker to her face and hold her gaze for a moment as he watches her descend the last two stairs.

She smiles at him, her cheeks rosy from the air outside. They walk between the garden and the pool to reach the “converted pool house” and she stops for a moment to dance her fingers through the perfectly clean pool water - he must have had a housekeeper who came by recently to open everything up and clean it all.

“This is truly amazing, Harry,” she sighs as she stares out at the entire house from the single stone upstep to the little cottage. It gave her a view of the entire place besides the front of the house. It was gorgeous.

Harry nods, tucking his head to his chest slightly, possibly feeling a little bashful. Behind the successful man that stood before her was a young boy with a dream that had made this possible and he never forgot that.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely and unlocks the door of the cottage, a similar green is painted on this door as well.

She goes ahead of him at his request and he watches her fingers on the green paint, caressing it softly, each finger never wishing to leave it as they slowly depart its surface. This place is just a microcosm of the house they had just been. A kitchenette, a living area, a bedroom, and a full bath - including a freestanding tub.

She all but runs around the place, fingers running over the countless spines of books that Harry mindlessly chose to store there in ceiling high bookshelves and eyes taking in prints of personal photography he had been too nervous to store anywhere but here. There were larger poster sized prints as well as smaller ones, all black and white, of different scenes on the walls of the living area. Some were portraits of loved ones, others were landscapes of cities and countryside alike, and some were of past lovers with their hair swept behind them as they looked back at Harry in some beautiful place. She smiled at these obviously film photographs and turned to Harry after a moment, almost mirroring the people in the more personal pictures.

“When’s the last time you used your camera?” She asks.

Harry’s figure is perched in the door, his body slightly slumped on the frame while he rolls his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. He hums, thinking back to the last time he took out his camera.

“Last tour...I think. I got film back with Camille in it and I just didn’t feel like putting more in it after that,” he rasps out and clears his throat at the end, clearly unnerved by the topic.

“Well, these are beautiful, you have a smart eye for catching precious moments,” she smiles softly, understanding Harry’s apprehension.

“Thanks,” his voice still a bit deeper than usual, “I still use my Super8 pretty regularly when I’m doing things for work. Like when I shoot music videos, I usually bring it along to get my own footage for later.”

She only nods and watches him enter the room, moving closer to her to gaze at the images more up close as well.

“I like to have something to remember it by. Just in case, someday,” he starts and sighs, eyes trained on the wall of memories, “My mind isn’t what it once was.”

She watches him delicately place his hand on the couch behind them to brace himself and she notices the slight fear in his face as he says it. She blinks at the scene in front of her. A man in an amazing moment in his life fearful that it might all disappear from his vision someday. A horrible thought that seems to plague him more often than one would expect.

She nudges closer to him immediately. Her shoulder brushes his arm as she presses her head to his own shoulder and stays there firmly.

“Thank you,” she whispers and his head drops down to look at her face now radiating warmth against him. “For sharing this with me.”

His hand on the couch moves to wrap around her shoulders and pull her closer. Instinctively, she wraps her arms around his waist and he rests his head atop of hers. He stays silent but places a chaste kiss in her hair. She squeezes harder, telling him everything is alright and all he had to be with her was himself.

He switches his gaze between the girl wrapped up in him and the pictures of the rest of his life in front of him and he takes it all in. He feels safe, a comfort he was hard pressed to find with his life always on the move. The bustling change felt eons away while he was wrapped up in her. She was constant and kind. Understanding. She took him as he was, no expectations. That realization has him melting further into her, his head dropping down to her shoulder and nosing into her hair. His hands cusping at the back of her neck and the small of her back. And he presses firmly yet gently.

They stand there, swaying slightly to an unknown tune that played only in their private world of just them two.

A branch sways too and breaks them out of their reverie when it taps against the French doors that lead out to somewhere else in Harry’s estate.

“I think I’d like to stay here, if that’s alright,” she says, pulling back from him only slightly.

His hands migrate from their embrace around her back and neck and slide to her hip and her shoulder separately. Her hands both rest on his chest and she feels his consistent heartbeat that she had been listening to for the last few minutes against her ear.

His eyes sparkle at her suggestion. “Really? There’s plenty of spots in the main house,” he rushes.

“No, I love this place,” she glances around once more, soaking in the cozy room that housed Harry’s art. “Plus, your family will be here tomorrow and you should all be together under one roof for the holidays. I know how rare that can be.”

He nods in agreement and twists a tendril of her hair around one of his fingers slowly. She doesn’t notice until he makes an experimental and playful tug on it. Her lips purse at the feeling and her eyes narrow.

“You’re an evil little thing under all those layers of niceties and kind words, Mr. Styles,” she says as she pulls away from him.

Now that it was decided on where she would be staying for the next few weeks, she wanted to get her things settled and take a shower possibly. She also needed to check in on Rori and see what he had gotten up to while they had been wandering.

Harry laughs, filled with an unmatched glee as he follows her out of the cottage and back into the main house, “I can show you evil if that’s what you want, dove. I’ll give you anything you want.”

And while she knows he’s saying this in jest, she knows he’s also telling the truth. He’d give her just about anything she wanted, all she had to do was ask.

After settling the house a bit, finding where Rori wanted to sleep - he chose inside the main house, and some showers, she and Harry both felt refreshed.

She walked out of the front door of the cottage and crossed to the French doors at the middle point of the house. They had them open to get fresh air in the house and she walked right through and into the kitchen where she found Harry and her dog happily perched on the countertop.

Rori batted at Harry’s hands and nuzzled into his scratches as Harry cradled him to his chest. It was criminally sweet and she knocked on the door frame to pull Harry’s attention away from her furry friend.

“You look nice,” Harry smiles.

She glances down at her outfit; a cashmere olive colored sweater and high waisted cream corduroys along with her sneakers of choice. She thought it was casual, but she appreciated the compliment nonetheless. She murmurs a thanks and a quick “you too”, she didn’t even need to look at what he was wearing, he always looked good. Her head tilts to rest on the door frame as well, her eyes trained on Harry’s face.

“Do you want to go for a drive?” He inquires as he places Rori back on the ground.

The dog scampers to her side for a moment before running off to do his own thing. Her lips quirk up on the sides and her eyes narrow slightly. He’s looking at her with a quiet confidence set in his jaw that she doesn’t quite understand.

His smile makes her bite her lip, slightly unnerved by the energy he was giving off. Maybe it was because they were completely alone - not something new to them since that’s how they interacted almost solely, but something about being in Italy seemed to have shifted the dynamic. Something in the water or whatever that saying was.

“Do I get to drive?” She stands from her leaning position and crosses in front of him.

His laugh comes out quickly and heartily. “No chance, dove.”

She groans and pushes at his shoulder.

“Trust me, you’ll like it better. Can just enjoy the scenery, don’t have to focus on the road.”

He wraps a hand around her waist and then scoots her towards the door that would lead them out of the house. She giggles at the contact and she feels him watching her. It felt nice, felt simply theirs.

He drove her down the driveway and onto a country road until it merged into a road by the lake. He brought the top down so the wind rushed around them, blustering about as he drove at a quick yet somehow leisurely pace. She glanced at the scenery and took a few pictures, but something else kept demanding her attention.

Harry. He was a quiet kind of handsome in this moment. It wasn’t in your face, it was just how each curve of his skin seemed perfectly placed. Every pore was clear and every mole had a reason. His tattoos peeking from his collar and shirt sleeves were that perfect inky black that remained smooth. It was consistent, the way his hair fell over his forehead and he would smooth it back without even thinking. His eyes were focused and bright, yet slightly stormier than normal. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. And she wondered what she had done to be beside him at that moment. Wondered what it was that she had done to be cared for by Harry.

His hand on her leg brings her out of her mind once again. His looks always seemed to get her lost in thought. He was just that special. No one else had ever caused any similar reaction. His fingers splay on her thigh, no rings on them today. He rubs his thumb back and forth softly and she leans closer to him to whisper in his ear. They were completely alone, but it felt like something even the wind didn’t deserve to hear.

He tilts his head to her, eyes flickering to her movement for a moment and then back to the road. His hand on her thigh slips upwards with how she moves.

“I’m the most lucky girl in the world,” she says, her lips brushing the shell of his ear as she says the words.

She pulls back and stares at him, her hand going down to her thigh to play with his lovingly. He looks at her again and sees her serious expression. This causes him to pull over on the side of the road by the water. He rubs at her thigh again with his thumb and she shifts in her seat.

“And why’s that?” His voice low as he asks and shifts the car into park.

“Because I’m here, with you. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything in this world.”

He hums in response and licks at his lips when her sweater happens to fall off her shoulder. She notices the slip, but doesn’t bother to fix it since she also saw how Harry’s eyes danced over the newly exposed skin.

“I wouldn’t trade this either” the words dance slowly off the tip of his tongue. His accent fuller as he says the last word. “Let’s walk around,” Harry suggests when he sees her eyes flicker between his and his lips.

They explore the grassy area that lives just before the dip of the water at Harry’s request. He guides her along with his hand entwined with hers. Her eyes stay on only him still, the scenery unable to compare to the beauty of him that she was just fully realizing how bad she wanted to be enveloped in. His profile is illuminated by the sun shining above them and she swears he’s sparkling under the light.

The fear of what they were and all of the things that came along with labels were the furthest away thoughts. The man who had been the quirky neighbour had transformed into the man she was pretty sure she was in love with. Too afraid to say those three words, she decided the best thing she could do was to show rather than tell.

“Harry,” she calls and he stops his wandering, turning to face her instead.

A hand reaches up to trace over his strong cheekbone and caresses down the side of his face and cradles his slightly stubbled jaw. Her thumb rubs over the place where his dimple often showed up. He sighs into her touch and says her name back. His voice fails him as he gazes down at her, everything he means to say dies in his throat, for once at a loss for words.

She purses her lips and reaches up to connect their lips, having missed his sweet lips touch. They were meant to press against hers. Harry seems to forget how to breathe, her initiating the kiss between them, something foreign to him, but not unwelcome. He leans down to make it easier on her and she glows in his reciprocation. His hand shifts to cradle the back of her head as the kiss continues. Their lips dance, brushing back and forth, tongues slightly licking into one another’s mouths ever so delicately, playfully even.

A specific clash of teeth as the kiss continues leads to a breathless laugh from her as Harry presses himself closer to her. His other hand pressing her waist safely into him. She happily obliges, sinking one hand to rest over his backside which makes him smile.

“Naughty,” he mumbles against her brightening lips, eyebrows bobbing over his closed eyes.

She laughs now, her head tilting up for a moment, eyes opening to look at his face, yet up so close it's just his eyes and upper cheeks. His eyes are extra large from this angle and the grey green they had been dancing between had merged into a darkening seafoam green that was rather rare for them. She wanted to take an inventory of every color his eyes managed to be, but she was sure the list would never end.

“You like it,” she quips back, a peck sneaked at the corner of his mouth. That little love touch leads to more minutes of making out. Her supple and soft chest against his strong one, hands roaming the other’s body searching for purchase. Soft sighs and gentle moans leave Harry’s mouth when she nibbles at his ear and leaves loving kisses to his neck and collarbone. She makes similar sounds when he laves his tongue over the hollow of her neck and mouths happily on her neck.

The sight of them is two lovers enthralled in each other’s mouths and bodies in a meadow beside a lake. The sounds of nature are only overtaken by their happiness with each other.

When he ruts his hips against her body and she writhes against him with eagerness previously not seen, Harry realizes just how in public they are and he pulls away. A whine of discontent falling from her lips before she can control herself.

“We should…” He falters again, staring down at his neighbour he had begun to want more than anything else in the world, “Should head back.”

“Right,” she nods curtly.

Hands falling back to her sides, but Harry grabs one of them and intertwine their fingers as they had them before. She smiles so wide her eyes crinkle at the corners and he can’t help himself to peck at the left side of her temple.

They drive back to the house and Harry suggests a dip in the pool which Y/N agrees to easily. Something to cool them off from the heavy makeout session they had partaken in down by the water.

“Everyone else is arriving tomorrow,” Harry says after he surfaces from his expert dive into the deep end. He treads water lightly and drifts towards her.

She’s floating on her back a little ways from him. Her hair was shimmery all wet again and the skin of her face glowed with tiny droplets. Her eyes were closed as she moved her hands back and forth through the comfortable water.

She feels his eyes on her, burning into her, waiting for a response. She peaks open one eye and looks at him. His cheeks pinken quickly from the slight embarrassment of being caught, but he doesn’t look away.

“It’s going to be really fun, Harry,” she rights herself and swims closer to him causing him to smile happily. “I’m really happy to be here.”

“It won’t be just us anymore,” he says, swimming backwards and creating a slight chase for her as she follows after him.

She narrows her eyes at his tactics, but still follows as he swims to the edge of the pool where they could both stand.

“Nope, but we’re gonna really get the holiday spirit flowing. Family dinners and games, shopping for gifts...this really is one of my favorite times of the season,” she smiles back at him and puts her hand against the edge of the pool, her chest emerging from beneath the cooling water.

Droplets roll down her chest, racing down her body and in between her cleavage. Harry’s eyes follow the water droplets disappearing beneath her bright red tied bikini top. He gets distracted when the air pebbles her nippls beneath the thin wet fabric, his tongue darts out to wet his lips at the sight. The round of her breast was especially full in the thin fabric. He had never seen this much of her despite their friendship lasting for many months now. It was...mouthwatering and his eyes stayed trained on her breasts as they rhythmically moved up and down with her breathing. It was like a spell.

That he was brought out of when a splash of water flicks at his face. She gives him an obvious look saying she had caught him staring and then she rolls her eyes at his smirk obviously not embarrassed by his latest fixation.

“We won’t be alone like this,” he steps closer to her, his own chest running with water droplets. His hair messy and wet atop his head as he pushes it off his forehead. “Possibly at all for the next three weeks,” he continues and hears her breath catch as he moves even closer. His body hovers a moment away from hers as he stares down at her. His nose almost brushes hers as he starts to lean down. She stays almost completely still. Her head moves though to allow Harry access to where his mouth seems to be headed, the side of her neck.

“After today,” he whispers before smudging an open mouthed kiss just below her ear.

A small gasp escapes her at his hot breath and a searing kiss against her chilled skin. She feels his smirk on her skin as he continues down her neck, leaving spongy eager kisses down the column.

“Well, I don’t think that’s a problem,” she tries to remain composure, feeling the burn inside of her pitch back up. The fire had dulled from the kissing by the lake once they had swam, but here he was pressing into her once again. Suddenly more eager and forward than he had ever been. Her breathing is hard to regulate with his expert hands running along her naked sides below the water and his legs backing her into the edge of the pool while his lips make love to her neck.

“Oh?” Harry hums, moving a hand up to fiddle with a strap of her top, the wet nylon twisting easily and then he lets it snap back softly. Her arousal only grows from the tiny smack. “Not a problem, eh?” His lips travel down between her breasts and she gasps in anticipation.

“Won’t be able to make you feel this good anytime you want,” he breathes and then ghosts over her covered pebbled nipple.

“You’re a tease, Harry,” she grips at his shoulders that are hunched to allow him to kiss on her. Her eyes having the perfect view of his curved neck and spine, the skin an expanse of clear perfect flesh, no tattoos in sight from this angle. The little curls at the nape of his neck trickling with spare droplets as he sucks on her own skin.

“Hmm…” his lips travel back up to the underside of her jaw causing her to tilt her head back and her stimulated chest to press into Harry’s. A chuckle passes against her skin as he feels her two points press into him.

Then, suddenly, he pulls back and grips at the back of her head to make her look at him. His eyes are deep and dark as the day starts to wear on, the sun beginning to set off in the distance.

“Maybe I need to demonstrate just what you’ll be missing out on?” He tilts his head at his suggestion and the glimmer in his eyes shows that he knows exactly what he has to say to get his friend - and soon to be lover - riled up.

Her chest heaves once, longing for the warm touch of Harry’s lips again. “What are you getting at?”

“Wanna make you feel so good you’re begging me to call my family up and tell them to not bother coming because we won’t be leaving your bed for the next few weeks.”

A breathless laugh leaves her, in disbelief, but also in wanton need. Her desire for him grew tenfold in the last ten minutes. His last sentence leaves her itching with longing. For his touch as he promised it.

“Give me the best you got then,” she challenges, her conviction never wavering despite her needy state.

That little sentence is what sets Harry’s eyes ablaze and has him gripping her waist and picking her up and setting her on the edge of the pool.

A quick press of his lips against hers and a “wait here” before he’s pulling himself from the water and shuffling to grab one of the towels he had laid out. She watches him curiously, confused why he had just promised to ravage her but was pausing to towel off.

He comes back with the towel and lays it behind her.

“Harry, what are -”

A finger presses to her swollen lips as his other hand goes to her shoulder and lays her back.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

She nods, eyes wide and glassy as she stares up at him kneeling over her, his body between her bent knees. He leans down to press another kiss to her lips and then begins his decent.

“Gonna make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart,” he whispers.

Down her throat that he had happily been sucking on. His lips ghost over her still hard nipples and his hot breath has her arching off the ground immediately. A whine leaving her lips when he mouths between her two breasts in the valley just above the tie of suit. His fingers dance around on her skin, playing with her swimsuit fabric and she wants to scream at him to just untie it and really touch her, but she refrains. He continues his assault down her body. His hands grip at her knees when his lips travel below her navel. Her breaths have grown more strained as he’s gotten closer and closer to her heat. The cold wet fabric that covered her was a poor substitute to what she wanted to rub against her.

“Please,” she begs in a sigh as Harry’s lips skip where she wants him, instead traveling to her upper inner thigh.

He spreads her legs wider with his arms and her back arches further, her body just about fully on display for Harry. His eyes flicker up to her face that was staring right back down at him, watching his every move.

The cheeky bottoms left little to the imagination and the ties on the sides were so enticing Harry’s fingers smoothed up her thighs and began to toy with them. His face now hovering over her clothed center. His breath fanning the flames of her arousal just below the cherry fabric.

“See,” he smirks, eyes back on her face, “I haven’t even touched you yet, but you’re already begging.

“You’re an ass,” she grits out, trying to not be bothered by how easily he has gotten her in this position.

He clicks his tongue and tugs experimentally at one of the bottoms ties, “S’not a very nice thing to say to the man who’s about to stick his tongue in ya’?”

She gasps and slaps at his right shoulder at his crudeness. “You’re dirty!”

“And you’re wet,” he says confidently, smirking up from between her legs.

His fingers finally tug the ties undone and pull the fabric away from her center. The red bikini bottom falls limply to the ground and Harry’s eyes train on her glistening mound. Wet with the pool water as well as her arousal. To add to the cool air ghosting over her newly exposed skin, Harry blows his own breath over her. She writhes at the sensation, she bites at her lip to hold back any possible moans.

He glances at her face again and settles one arm to be wrapped around her leg and pressing down on her left hip. His other hand snakes between his face and her body and lightly drags between her folds. She bucks her body again, completely in need of some friction after all of the build up and teasing of today. Every nerve down there was electrified at the possibility of Harry finally touching her like this.

His finger pulls back and a string of arousal clings to him, a testament to the filthy thoughts she had about her neighbour. Thoughts she had pushed away for so long until recently. Thoughts she only indulged in in the dead of night, when she was exhausted but her mind insisted on wandering to the green sharp eyes that might stare at her if he ever were to delve into her depths. Her hands would travel to where he was now and rub out a triumphant shake of her thighs and heaving chest all in hopes that maybe he would bring her to that euphoria himself one day. Well that day was today.

He filthily takes that finger into his mouth and grins. “So wet,” he corrects.

His eyes disappear from view as he launches into his work. His drying curls flop over his forehead and tickle at her lower stomach slightly. He flattens his tongue and licks a strong stripe between her folds. The wet from her weeping hole spreads to her lips and around her clit as his finishes the lick with a little swirl. He uses his free hand to spread apart her lips a little more and takes the new angle to suck on the little puffy nub that is already throbbing. She gasps audibly when he pulls off of it with a squelching sound.

“Fuck,” he sighs and goes back to eating her out, happily pressing his tongue into her.

His hand on her hip travels to grope at one of her breasts and he deftly pulls at the top’s tie and grips onto her skin underneath the fabric. The strong grip mixed with his expert work between her thighs has her moaning loudly and her body writhing as he builds her up.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he rasps, thumb on her nipple flicking happily back and forth. “Scream it out,” he says into her quivering center, “Nobody around to hear you, be as loud as you want.”

She moans louder at his words, her hands gripping harder into his hair. The thought of this scene turns her on even more. In all honesty, if someone did hear them she’d kind of like it. If someone walked in and saw her stretched out next to the pool with their wet bodies writhing against each other in pleasure. Harry’s head buried between her thighs making her feel better than she ever has, her breasts falling out of their top as he massages them harshly.

“Taste so sweet,” he groans, lapping at her tight hole, the muscle contracting against his tongue’s invasion.

She liked how messy he got with it, not that she really had much coherent thoughts in this moment. But his hot tongue swiping up and down and back and forth over her glistening lips and sucking on her clit left her breathless. Her juices and his saliva were making a mess of her thighs and the towel below her. When Harry felt her getting closer he’d back off and pay attention to another part of her and then go back to sucking and nipping perfectly into her.

She was eventually stuttering out, “I’m going to cum, Harry.” Breathing becoming uneven as she was about to tip over the edge. He nods, sucking harder at her clit one last time before taking his tongue and pushing it in and out of her hole, one of his thumbs traveling to rub over her clit in quick succession.

“Cum for me, dove,” he mumbles quickly before going back to making her feel good.

She grips her own nipple now with one hand and Harry’s hair with the other, her hips pushing up into Harry’s face over and over again. And then she’s hitting her climax and tipping over the edge, a moan ripping from her throat and freezing on her face as Harry eats her out through it. His tongue licking over her quivering pussy. His thumb rubbing comforting circles around her clit until she stopped shaking. Her breathing slowing down, eyes fluttering open eventually. They lazily stare at the man below her who’s lips and chin are slick with her juices as he grins up at her.

“Do you want me to call my mum now or wait until you’re fully back on earth,” he says slyly and kisses the inside of her thigh once more. Eyes lovingly staying on her pleasured out face.

“Seriously talking about your mom while you’re still between my thighs,” she breathes out, completely in disbelief. Harry and her had never gone that far before and it was life changing. He had been right, even if she didn’t want to admit it, she wasn’t sure if she could go three weeks without that again.

He sits up and begins to gently pull back on her swim bottoms and tie them back up. She lays there watching him work.

“How about now?” He asks with a smirk, moving to sit beside her and help her sit up when her bottoms have been readjusted. The fabric against her newly sensitive area was definitely interesting, but she couldn’t care with Harry beside her. She ties off her top on her own, even though Harry gestured that he could do it.

“Shut up,” she laughs and takes a hand to caress at his cheek.

He nuzzles into her touch.

“You forget I’m staying in the cottage...separate from everyone else,” she winks at him.

“Think they’ll still be able to hear ya’ from in there, dove. You’re a loud one,” he bites the inside of his cheek as he teases her.

She huffs and drops her hand, “I was gonna return the favor, but now I don’t think so.”

It’s Harry’s turn to laugh and reach out to her face, he pulls her face close to his, bringing her eyes level with his. “I’m just teasing. Plus, you don’t need to return the favor, I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

A laugh bubbles from her lips at the thought of Harry wanting her as much as she wanted him and she pecks at his lips. She grimaces only a little, tasting herself on him still.

“We’ll just have to be sneaky,” she pulls back and rests her forehead against his.

“Yeah,” Harry breaths out. His breath hitches when he feels her hand begin to trail down his chest and fiddle with the hem of his shorts. Her eyes are trained on his, expressionless like she wasn’t beginning to palm his hardened length over his sticky swim shorts.

“I told you,” he musters, “You don’t have to.”

“But,” she rasps, finally. “I want to,” she licks her lips with determination, “Want to make you feel good, too.”

He hums as her soft fingers go back up to the hem of his shorts and he helps her pull them down as he gives a nod of approval to her watching eyes.

Her eyes widen when his length is finally revealed and its bright red tip stands tall and strong against Harry’s stomach, placing itself slightly just below one of the ferns. Harry watches her lick at her hand and then places it between his thighs, her body positioned right next to him. On her knees, she makes an experimental first pump, seeing how his body responded. Her eyes mainly watch his face and an open mouthed smirk twitches onto his face when he notices her gaze. She pumps him again, twisting her wrist this time and swiping at the precum leaking from his tip. A groan leaves Harry’s mouth at that and his stomach flexes, the skin beneath his many tattoos hardening.

“Feel good?” She inquires.

“Great,” he breathes out as she leans forward on her knees and attaches her mouth over his head.

She slowly moves her head down and attempts to fit his entire length into her mouth, but despite her best efforts, she can’t quite get her throat to open up for his entirety yet. After holding him there for a moment, his head scratching at the back of her throat, she pulls off. Heaving a sigh and continuing to work him with her hand, her now glassy eyes look at him. Saliva gathers at her mouth and Harry can’t help himself but reach one of his hands from behind him to her lips. He swipes at it and presses the wet to her lips which she sucks at eagerly, a whine hidden beneath the action.

When his hand pulls away she says, “You’re quite girthy.”

“Girthy?” He sputters, both at the funny comment but also that she’s said it while still jacking him off.

“Mhmm,” she nods seriously, “Couldn’t get you all in.”

“That’s alright,” he starts, but falters on a specifically masterful tug. She grins, knowing what she's doing to him. “You seem to excel, no matter the setbacks.”

“I’ll get it eventually,” she begins to speed up her strokes, “Just need a bit of practice.”

Then her lips are pressing back onto Harry’s prick. She sucks solely at his head and Harry moans out as he gets more sensitive. Then she slides down further and bops her head vigorously. She wants Harry to come undone for her just like she had for him. Make him feel like she had moments ago. And within a few more minutes of enthusiastic sucking and pumping of her hands, even some fondling of his balls which Harry had been extremely receptive to, she has him stuttering beneath her.

One hand gripping at her hair, while the other keeps him upright, Harry’s head is thrown back on his shoulders as he tries to keep his eyes open and trained on the girl taking him so well down her lovely little throat.

“I’m almost there, sweetheart,” he pants, his hips bucking up once as he begins to lose control.

This only spurs her forward, spit drooling down his cock every time she pulls back from his slightly. Her ass is high in the air now as she arches over his length, trying to get him to unload.

“Taking me so well,” Harry praises. “Fuck,” he exclaims at another squeeze of his balls.

She swirls her tongue around his runny head and then hollows her cheeks and sucks on him with everything she’s got. This has Harry cursing and repeating her name, his load spurting into her mouth as she stays still. His chest now covered in beads of sweat as he tries to catch his breath after tipping over the edge himself. His eyes are trained on her. She keeps her lips diligently around his cock, wanting to swallow everything he’s just expended. When he’s done, she pulls back and sits on her legs, swallowing quickly and staring at Harry as she does it.

His eyes bug at the sight. She was the hottest woman in the world and she’d just sucked him off so well that he’s pretty sure he saw stars. Then she made eye contact as she swallowed his cum with her pretty little bikini barely covering her anymore, as she seemed to shift slightly uncomfortable in her drying bottoms. God, he was fucked.

“Shit,” he says, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re an absolute angel.”

Harry’s family arrives the next day and the pair have a hard time keeping their hands off of each other. She doesn’t know why they decide to start this little game where they pretend like they don’t want to jump each other’s bones each minute of the day. But as the days go by, they maintain to his family and chosen family that they are only neighbours who became friends. Anne gives a knowing look to Gemma every so often and Gemma’s boyfriend whispers in her ear sometimes, but for the most part they buy it.

No one notices that some nights Harry’s or Y/N’s beds are vacant sometimes. They don’t see him descend his spiral staircase at midnight or see her scamper next to the pool and slip into her cottage in the wee hours of the morning.

In the nights, it’s Harry’s soft lips pressed against her hot skin, panting praise and leaving little bite marks that can’t be seen with clothes on. Her lips mouth at his shoulder when fills her up and she exhales a breath that feels like she’s been waiting to let go for her entire life. They make each other feel good and they don’t talk about it but the secrecy of it makes it all the more enticing.

At least that’s what she thinks. Harry had been completely ready to tell his family about him and Y/N, at least that things were new between them, but when she introduced herself to his mum and Gemma she had said she was a friend. Harry had gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing hard, taking in the change of direction and agreeing with Y/N immediately. “Just a friend” he confirmed with a nod of his head and glance at her. She had smiled wide and given a hug to the other most important women in his life like she’d known them forever.

He didn’t understand why she wanted it this way, but his objections would be forgotten when night fell and she’d do the things he’d only dreamt of. Her breathy whimpers and pliant body would all but wipe his mind of any other thoughts but her and then he had no complaints, just a wish for the night to never end.

Y/N doesn’t even tell Cate when she calls her a week into the trip. It’s just something she wants to keep to herself and Harry. Their own private world.

It’s Christmas Eve when that bubble pops. The Champagne has been flowing for hours non stop - well only stopping when a different drink is in their hands, whether that be red or white wine or a mixed drink Harry has decided to concoct.

In the big Italian house, he’s free of prying eyes and he’s able to truly spend quality time with his loved ones. They have fancy dinners at private restaurants, go on gorgeous hikes, swim, and relax. They have a good time with playing holiday games, which they do most nights when they stay in.

Tonight’s the first night that Harry and Y/N haven’t ended up on the same team. He fears that most times he cheats it by swapping a paper or two, but tonight the alcohol has fizzed his brain and he forgot. This shouldn’t be a problem, not really. Except that everyone in the house has learned over the past week and a half that besides being perfectly matched in almost everything else, Harry and her are both equally and extremely competitive. Being on the same team has both advantages and avoids squabbles like the one the house has found themselves in at half past 11.

Harry’s arguing that his team got the last question before the buzzer went off, but she won’t back down. She is sure that Gemma had said the correct answer, but after the timer had run out. Everyone else was too sauced to care, but Harry and her were adamant and passionate about game play. As the argument heats up, Anne gives Gemma another one of those looks.

Y/N has stood up and crossed the short distance to Harry. She’s a breath away from him and he puffs up his chest, his eyes dark and serious as he’s ready to fight for this win all night.

“The time was out,” she says simply, but her eyes are beginning to glower.

“No. It was not.” He states back.

His eyes narrow at her as she stares right back at him.

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

They go back and forth, rapid fire as the alcohol in their veins flows straight to their mind and hearts.

“Children please!” Gemma exclaims, finally growing tired of the bickering. “It’s Christmas. Harry show some spirit and let your guest have the final say.”

They think she’s done but then adds, “Or else she might never want to come back here.”

Harry exhales harshly through his nose as his gaze flickers to his older sister and listens to her scolding. Handing over the timer to Y/N, which had been what kept them from moving on, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room.

“Oh gosh,” Y/N says after a moment, her frazzled mind processing that Harry’s leaving has something to do with her. A hand goes to her lips for a moment, a ghost of his warm breath still there, but gone too soon.

“I’ll...I’ll be right back,” she confirms and exits the room, following Harry’s footsteps.

She finds him on his front porch step, his breath misting in the cold air, much like it would back in London when they’d walk the neighbourhood streets together.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she says, placing a hand on his left shoulder to really get his attention.

He turns from looking out at the clear night sky, his nose and cheeks already pinkened from the night breeze. His eyes are still dark out here, but there’s no malice or anger behind them. His lips tilt up on one side for a forgiving half smile, but there’s also some pain mixed in there.

“You wouldn’t not come back, right?” He asks helplessly, his smile faltering.

She swallows, taken aback by the question, both unsure of where it came from but also how exactly her drunk brain was supposed to respond with the double negatives.

“I’d come back next Christmas and the Christmas after that, Harry,” she whispers, “If you wanted me to of course.”

“Of course I’d want you to. I want you, sweetheart. All the time.” His voice isn’t slurred, but it’s raspy, a slight dry mouth from all the alcohol consumed tonight.

“Okay,” she confirms, “Then I’ll come back.”

They stand on the porch silently for a few minutes, eyes on one another, but no movement towards anything. It’s not a profound moment for their hazy minds, despite the meaning behind their words. It’s not quite clicking for them, but maybe tomorrow when they wake up with massive headaches it will register.

“I really am sorry,” she repeats when she sees little goosebumps begin to prick at his skin.

He had forgotten a jacket. And while his drunk blanket makes him immune to the feelings, her brain still registers that she doesn’t want him to get sick.

“S’alright. For what it’s worth, I was being a little childish. So, m’sorry too.” He says sincerely, maybe a little slurring of words slipping in.

He reaches a hand out of his pocket to touch at her upper arm. She can feel his warmth from beneath her thin long sleeve. They smile at one another and turn to reenter the house, feeling the giggly tide of alcohol wash over them again. Euphoria on their mind rather than family game malice.

Just as they’re about to open the door to the house. The two of them at the precipice of a house, a place they often find themselves, Gemma swings it open face and with little care for its heaviness. She glances between her brother and his “friend” and then up to the top of the door.

The top of the door? Why was she looking at the top of the door? Mistletoe.

“Mistletoe!” Gemma exclaims, pointing between the two of them. “You’re beneath the mistletoe, go on!”

Harry shakes his head in protest, falling onto the sword of friendship again. But then Y/N is grabbing at the back of Harry’s neck and pressing her lips to his. It’s a little sloppy, but Harry can’t help but enjoy the taste of her against him. They slot together like they usually do, but this time his sister is watching them, which is a little odd, but his muddled mind quickly forgets that fact. Her tongue is the deciding factor as it licks into his mouth and he licks back, pulling her closer by the waist. They get lost in the kiss and only pull apart when they hear a cough.

Gemma is now accompanied by the rest of the household watching them in disbelief. Everyone’s eyebrows are raised and even Rori is standing with the group, confused that the humans didn’t know they were doing this.

“Erm…” Harry has no idea what to say, shifting to face his family more fully.

Y/N blushes and shrinks into Harry’s chest, feeling like a teenager caught in the closet with her crush.

“That’s not how friend’s kiss one another,” someone murmurs.

There’s a few “I knew it”s mixed in as well with the rest of the chatter.

“Well…” She finally musters and throws a hand out to her side in a ta-da motion,

“Happy Christmas!”

After the revelation on Christmas Eve, everyone won’t stop teasing Harry and Y/N. The two laugh it off but something always nags at the back of their head. What they were to the other person. The status of this relationship. This friendship that had taken a turn to something else entirely.

It’s another Eve of a holiday when Harry finally musters up the courage to ask her directly. They learned from Christmas day that they couldn’t drink as much as they once did for multiple reasons. So on New Year’s Eve, they both choose to only consume a couple glasses of Champagne.

It starts with “Can we talk about us?” right after midnight. Right after Harry’s just started the New Year with her lips on his. She hears his question and takes it in, her stomach twisting with nerves and possibly excitement as well, and nods.

They slink off to his bedroom, but not for the activity everyone else was certain they were engaging in.

He sits them on the edge of the bed, both her hands clasped in one of his. He’s been quiet all day, she just realizes as he stays silent another moment longer.

“I love you,” he says in his dimly lit room.

Her jaw drops slightly, not quite expecting those three words yet.

“You don’t, don’t have to say anything yet. I just wanted you to know that,” he continues. “And that I want to be with you.”

“Harry,” she starts, breathless at his words.

“No,” he stops her again, “I felt something draw me to you the day you moved in across from me on Sherwood, like I was meant to know you or something. Then I met you and you made me feel so comfortable, all I wanted to do was be with you and that month when you didn’t really talk to me...dove, those weeks were wretched. But when I came back, it was like nothing happened and I was so happy because I couldn’t fathom life going back to the way it was before you. When we kissed, I felt overjoyed, I was so happy that you liked me like that because every time you called me friend...felt like a knife in me. I don’t want to be just your friend,” he pauses to say her name again, “I don’t want to be just your lover, I want to be your boyfriend or whatever they call it now - If you’ll have me.”

He takes a deep breath and blinks away the little well up of water that had grown in his eyes. He had forgotten to blink for a moment he realized.

His stare had been intense as he’d confessed all of his feelings to her, but she didn’t feel intimidated, his gaze had warmed her with its sincerity. It had strengthened his confession.

She sighed, her own eyes not as strong as his, unable to hold his gaze as she herself said her own confession.

His hand rests between them on the bed, steadying himself upright with it. She places her own hand over it and their fingers slightly intertwine. She feels him begin to fiddle with her fingers like usual. Like normal.

“Thank you,” she starts, “Of course I’ll have you. All the time, Harry.” She repeats his words from Christmas Eve back to him.

He starts to interject, the rambling thing, but she tugs at his pointer finger and he takes it as a sign to be quiet.

“I want to be your partner, too. I want it all with you, lover,” she gazes at him now, his free hand reaching up to caress her cheek in that moment. “Want it all,” she repeats in a whisper before he’s kissing her again.

Kissing her and kissing her. Over and over again. Because she was his. And he was hers. And it was a happy beginning. A happy new year and a happy new beginning of a relationship that was bound in friendship, born out of proximity, and nurtured by two kindred souls.

And it all started with her parents making her take her dog. Harry really needed to thank that dog for being the best wing man to ever run around on four legs.

Who knows who that new client of Y/N’s might be...

676 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years

Text

monster, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: Mafia boss Min Yoongi and his bodyguard Jeon Jungkook punish you for being a smartass. Oh, I guess there’s some plot too. Maybe.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; intense smut (fem reader, threesome, unprotected sex [get tested please], creampie); abuse; non-idol!AU - mafiaaboss!AgustD!Yoongi (black-haired Daechwita AU), longhaired!tattooed!Jungkook; mercenary!reader; Jungkook has a praise kink; you have a pain kink (maybe psycho tbh)

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“And?”

He tapped the air with his black card.

“Order anything you like.”

A beat passed in silence. You shut the leather menu you were holding and placed it on the table. You closed your eyes slowly and blinked at him.

“I don’t think this date is going to work out.”

You turned and were about to get up from your chair, only to have a gun pointed right between your eyes. The smile the guard gave you was almost angelic with his full lips.

“Jimin, get that gun out of her face.”

You gave Park Jimin a venomous glare. The sunglasses meant you couldn’t see his eyes even if you wanted to. The private room at the restaurant meant there were no one was watching.

“Shoot it. I honestly don’t care.”

“We both know that’s what you’re really aiming for.”

After a long moment, you turned back around to face him. Him and his scar over his right eye. A fresh reminder every time that you were the one who did that. His brown eyes seemed dead.

“How long do you plan on acting like a bitch?”

He spun the black card against the table. You hated it when he flexed how much money he had and he knew it. He didn’t do it because he was arrogant. He did it because he knew it pissed you off.

“I don’t know, how long do you plan on keeping me?”

He shrugged casually. The card spun and spun like a tiny black tornado. Then it made a sharp snap as he slammed it to the table. His eyes flickered up to you.

“Forever.”

Min Yoongi.

You were supposed to kill him and you got caught. The only time you had ever been caught. In your defense, it wasn’t because you were bad at your job. You almost had him. The scar proved it. At this point, it didn’t matter if you killed him or not. Your original contact was now dead. Min Yoongi owned everyone who as anyone in the city. Blackmail, money, whatever it took. Maybe mafia boss was too cliché of a title for him. You, on the other hand, didn’t care what he did. It wasn’t as if you were some kind of angel either. Min Yoongi was just supposed to be another number to add to the list of people you killed for money.

And, well, there was no meaning to that money now, considering he basically owned the banks.

You were pretty sure there was something wrong with you. Something was a little off. People didn’t become mercenaries out of the goodness of their hearts, after all. Maybe you caught on to killing a little too easily and felt a little too little. Maybe causing chaos was a little too fun. A little bit of an anarchist, perhaps.

Yoongi cocked his head at you, his black hair covering his eyes a little. He had been trying to convince you to work for him all this time, but you didn’t see a point in it. He had nothing to give you. Money? There was nothing to buy and nowhere to go. Fame? Not quite the title you wanted as a mercenary. Power? Fleeting as far as you were concerned. Freedom?

Oh, no, Yoongi wasn’t going to let you have that.

“You can play along or I can have Jungkook play with you. Take your pick.”

You flinched. The only reason Yoongi wasn’t six feet under was because of that little shit who interrupted you. Knocked your aim off, caused you to slash instead of stab. A single second later and you were trapped in his muscular thighs, passing out from a triangle choke and armbar combination. It wasn’t just that you were bested. It was that you were bested so easily and without even being able to fight back.

Fucking little bastard.

Yoongi smirked.

“I could go for a game of Go Fish right now,” you sneered.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “Ah, you really want it to be like this, don’t you?” He tipped his head and Jimin stepped out. Panic shot through you like lightning. Aw, shit. Yoongi watched your emotions change in an instant. He hadn’t meant play in the innocent sense, after all.

“It pains me more than it pains you.”

You made a face at him. “Shut the fuck up.”

The door slid open.

“Hey, hyung, what’s up?”

And in Jeon Jungkook sauntered. Black oxfords snapping against the hardwood floor. Black hair long and messy, wearing black slacks, matching black vest, and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He didn’t even bother to hide all the tattoos on his right arm. He gave you a cocky smile and looked over to Yoongi for instruction. Suddenly the short black dress Yoongi told you to wear was much too small and much too tight.

Yoongi tapped his fingers against the table.

Out of the two, you definitely preferred Yoongi. Mostly because Yoongi could be satiated.

You inhaled deeply. “I’ll behave.”

Yoongi’s lips curved into a sly smirk. “Begging, are you?”

“I was stating a fact. I don’t beg.”

Wrong answer. But, of course, you said it because you had too much pride to not to be a smartass. Yoongi smiled. His hand stopped moving.

“Are you hungry, Jungkook?”

“What about you, hyung? You haven’t eaten yet,” Jungkook asked inquisitively, hands in his pockets. “I couldn’t eat before you.”

Ugh. They all loved Yoongi like he was some sort of soft animal that needed to be protected. Even Jungkook, who Yoongi let do what he wanted because he was the youngest. You were sure Yoongi had to clean up some messes Jungkook made, which was why he wanted to use you. You were clean in conduct, diverse in methods, and apathetic to the cause. The perfect tool.

The problem was, he couldn’t convince you to do jack shit.

Yoongi took his card and calmly filed it into his wallet. Even though all of his guards were elegantly dressed, Yoongi was in an olive-green jacket, dark green shirt, and grey jeans. Silver accessories. No one could even guess how important he was.

And you? Tight, short, black dress with thin straps. Black heels. No jewelry. Smokey eye makeup and dark red lip. Not quite gaudy hooker, not quite rich wife either. A strange in-between.

Yoongi placed his hand flat on the table. Slowly, he turned It around and curled his fingers toward himself in a beckoning motion.

“Come here.”

You knew he was talking to you. He knew it, you knew it, Jungkook knew it. Jungkook’s dark brown eyes followed Yoongi’s hand, up the length of the table, and then to you. His lips curved into an amused smile. Like a predator to prey. You glared at the two of them. You never listened. You weren’t going to start now.

“You should listen to hyung, you know,” Jungkook purred, taking a step towards you.

“I hear every word he says,” you retort, standing up.

Yoongi tilted his head. Just a few steps and Jungkook kicked your chair aside, pressing his body against you. Hard, unrelenting, hot breath down your neck. You didn’t even look at him.

“Don’t even think about it.”

You narrowed your eyes at Yoongi, facing him as you responded to Jungkook’s words.

“I told you I’m no longer interested in murdering him.”

Yoongi gave you an open-mouthed smirk.

“You regret it now, don’t you?” Yoongi drawled slowly.

One second you were simply standing there. The next you were twisting out of the way as Jungkook tried to pin you against the wall, knee up to defend against Jungkook’s inevitable kick. Jungkook growled, grinning as he dove again. You went low, elbowing him in the thigh to throw off his balance and slam him into the floor. Or would have, if Jungkook wasn’t sturdy enough to simply take it and he drove his shoulder into your chest. You hissed at the contact of shoulder to sternum, already bracing your body as you slid across the floor due to your heels.

You felt a hand grab you by the hair and yank hard, making you hiss in pain as you went down hard on your knees. Fighting Jungkook always took all your concentration. It wouldn’t be that way if he wasn’t such a skilled fighter. Yoongi, however, was an impatient and dishonorable man.

Yoongi held on to your hair and pulled up, dragging you to your feet and slamming you against the table. You let him do it because, well, it was going to become a beating if you continued. Also, Yoongi was more lenient when he thought he was the stronger one. But you didn’t give him the satisfaction of you yelping in pain, even if your ribs felt like they were rattling.

“I think I would be worried if you didn’t try to fight for once,” Yoongi grunted, grabbing your upper arms and dragging you up the table. You tried to twist out of his grasp but Jungkook suddenly appeared between your legs and pinned your arms down.

“Ah, hyung, couldn’t you pick someone more… docile?” Jungkook complained with a pout as you panted with exertion.

Yoongi chuckled. “Are you trying to tell me you want her?” There was a dangerous edge in his voice.

“I’m only saying it would be easier for you,” Jungkook muttered, forcing your legs in their spread position as you were perched at the edge of the table. Hs eyes flitted to yours and it was obvious – the second Yoongi released you from his grasp, Jungkook would be ready to pounce.

“Take what you can get,” Yoongi growled. Coldness touched your skin as Yoongi flipped his switchblade out, slicing through the thin straps of the dress. You gritted your teeth as Yoongi’s face appeared in your vision. “I was going to let him eat you out but I’ve decided against it thanks to your antics.”

“Fuck you,” you snarled.

Yoongi shrugged. He pointed to your upper arm, tapping the implant under your skin with his blade.

“You can go in raw, Jungkook. Finally had Hoseok install it.”

Jungkook took his hands off your arms and began to unbutton his pants. “Seokjin-hyung is going to be really mad if we fuck in his restaurant,” he warned.

Yoongi scoffed. “Then I’ll let him have a taste too if he’s feeling upset.”

“This will not make me tame,” you hissed, looking up to him.

Yoongi gave you an almost-bored look. “That’s not what I’m looking for.”

You gasped as Jungkook yanked your dress up, ass hitting the table. Yoongi laid your arms one over the other above your head so he could hold them with one hand. The other laced around your neck, pushing your head up and forcing you to arch your back uncomfortably. Each silver ring cut into your skin painfully and you growled at him, even as Jungkook pulled out his switchblade and tore your panties to ribbons.

Yoongi leaned down, lips against your ear. His tongue slid out, curling around your earlobe. You stiffened, breathing swallow. He knew how to get you wet. He paid attention to detail, gently nibbling at your ear, listening to the change in your breathing as you gave in to him. You were human after all. You had your erogenous zones. You barely registered Jungkook cutting up the length of your dress, exposing your breasts to the cold. Your nipples hardened as Yoongi blew softly against your ear, whispering your name, almost pleadingly. It didn’t matter if he didn’t mean it.

“Don’t you wish it was me between your legs?” he breathed.

You sank your teeth into your lower lip, trying to control yourself. Your hand found his shirt and clutched a fistful of it in response. Yoongi chuckled and straightened, only to see Jungkook watching your pussy in fascination.

“Ah, so disappointing I can’t eat her out,” Jungkook pouted. “Looks so tasty.”

Yoongi chuckled. “Maybe next time, Jungkook.”

You could hear Jungkook’s pants falling to the floor, but you were still staring at Yoongi, holding onto his shirt. Yoongi seemed to notice your gaze and looked down at you with a smirk.

“What’s the matter? Ready to tell me you love me?”

You let go, scowling. “As–fuck!”

Jungkook entered you with one swift thrust, no stretching out, no warning, just hard dick shoved straight in. You gritted your teeth, breaking out of Yoongi’s grip and grabbing Yoongi’s shirt with both hands, struggling to adjust as Jungkook grabbed your hips and began to fuck you without remorse. You had never taken in someone raw before, and certainly not Jungkook’s rough, wild thrusts. Yoongi held you in place calmly by your neck as you struggled to not make a sound, feeling every vein and every thick inch of muscle pumped into you with vigor.

Jungkook, on the other hand, groaned lustfully as he fucked you, eyes closing as he felt your pussy clamp around him, tight and pulsing.

“Oh, fuck, hyung, it feels so good,” Jungkook moaned, throwing his head back, muscles bulging in his dress shirt and vest. His right hand dug into your hip, tattoos flexing with his tanned skin.

“Are you a spoiled boy, Jungkookie?” Yoongi drawled, voice low. He always watched. It didn’t matter who it was. He liked to watch.

“Yes, hyung.” Jungkook liked to be watched. He had a little bit of a praise kink when it came to his hyungs. He loved Yoongi, as they all did. Maybe a little too much. “Thank you, hyung.”

And well, Yoongi was clever. Even through you never told him directly, it was obvious you loved pain in all senses of the word. Delivering it, receiving it, all of it. Giving you the birth control implant was your gift as much as it was his. He could hear it, the strained moans you stubbornly kept in your throat, the wetter and wetter slapping of Jungkook’s hips against your own, watching with interest as Jungkook’s angry red cock thrust into you over and over.

He held your neck, slowly tightening. Your mind was fogging up, forced to feel the painful pleasure of Jungkook repeatedly pounding you into the table, his cock swelling inside you. Black spots danced on the edges of your peripheral vision, clouding your thoughts.

Jungkook bit his lip, digging his nails into your hips as he came with a groan. You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling hot strings of cum shooting into you, filling you up as he pulled out with a hiss, cum dripping out of you.

He was still hard.

Yoongi let go of your neck and pulled out of your grasp. Before you had time to collect yourself, Jungkook was pushing you on top of the table, flipping you over so you were on your hands and knees. Your shredded clothes fluttered to the floor, heels still on as Jungkook climbed onto the table, pants at his ankles. You could hear his cum plop onto the table from your dripping pussy. A loud scrape and you looked up to see Yoongi repositioning the chair so he could witness your face.

He caught your eye but before you could lash out, Jungkook grabbed one arm and pinned it behind your back, shoving his cock into you once more. You gasped sharply, biting your tongue as Jungkook began to fuck you again, slowly rolling his hips into your cum-filled pussy. He moaned, feeling the extra slickness of your walls painted in his orgasm. Yoongi observed with interest, not looking away. Jungkook leaned down, hand snaking between your thighs.

“Don’t you dare,” you growled, more to Yoongi than Jungkook, but both ignored you. You felt Jungkook’s nail scrape against your clit and you stiffened despite not wanting to reveal that he found the right spot. Jungkook chuckled, voice dropping several octaves.

“Scream for me.”

He pinched your clit and you clamped down hard on your tongue, squeezing your eyes shut as you slammed your fist onto the table. He thrust into you, hard, making you see stars. Every muscle tensed as you struggled to keep in your noises, furrowing your brow as Jungkook pinched and flicked your clit, abusing it. You could feel your pussy clenching and throbbing around his cock, unable to control yourself as you came with a muffled scream. Liquid gushed down both of your thighs, the squelching sounds becoming louder. It was obscene.

Yoongi’s trademark open mouthed smirk appeared as Jungkook came once again, driven by your orgasm. You were filled up once again by his cum, gasping at the sensation of so much inside you. And Jungkook still didn’t stop, slowly beginning again, moaning at the sensitivity of his cock from the back-to-back orgasms. He let go of your abused clit and grabbed your hips. The first slap made you hiss, nails digging into your palm. He kept going, smacking your ass in between thrusts to feel your walls tighten.

“Such a spoiled boy doing such a good job,” Yoongi purred. Jungkook whimpered at the compliment, looking up to see Yoongi nodding in satisfaction.

“Are you hard, hyung?” Jungkook whined, voice softening when addressing the older man.

“Mm-hmm,” Yoongi hummed, spreading his legs a little to readjust. Jungkook watched him closely, trying to see his erection through Yoongi’s jeans. The thought made him even harder inside you. You squeezed his cock and he groaned, shoving himself all the way inside you.

“Let me see,” Jungkook pleaded, raking his nails down your back. You grunted in pain and glared at Yoongi.

Yoongi chuckled. “You want to see it that bad, Jungkookie?” He dragged out the younger man’s name, low and teasing.

“Please,” Jungkook moaned, gripping your side so tight you gasped. “Oh, please, hyung.”

Yoongi glanced at you, amused at your silent scowl telling him to give the man what he wanted. He unbuttoned his jeans lazily. Slowly pulling down the zipper, lifting his hips a bit to slide it down enough to reveal his black boxer briefs. They could see it now, the growing erection straining against his underwear.

Jungkook groaned, rolling his hips into you and hitting your deepest spot. You almost moaned, eyes fixated on Yoongi’s crotch. Jungkook did it again, mumbling to Yoongi.

“Please…”

Yoongi palmed himself through his underwear, taking his time. He leaned back, exhaling deeply as he ran his large hand over his clothed erection. Jungkook was whimpering, desperate for more.

“Hyung…”

Yoongi cocked an eyebrow and sighed, giving in. He always gave in to the youngest. He pulled down his underwear, letting his hard cock spring free. You felt breathless at the sight. Maybe it was Jungkook’s multiple orgasms getting to your head. But it was always like this. Yoongi always made you wait to see his cock. He knew how to make you blind to your own desperation, growing the hungry desire to see Yoongi’s ringed hand encircle his throbbing, beautiful cock, eyes half-lidded in arousal.

Jungkook moaned again lustfully, his pace increasing again now that he knew that he was the catalyst to making Yoongi hard.

“Harder, Jungkook. Fuck her rougher.”

Jungkook obeyed, slamming his hips into you so hard that the whole table shook despite being solid wood. You choked on air, feeling the cum dripping out of you as Jungkook began to fuck you wildly and with reckless abandon, hitting your most sensitive spots. And Yoongi, in all his audacity, continued to watch, still holding his cock. He noticed your gaze and he stoked himself slowly, making you bite down on your lip to avoid moaning. You shoved your cheek against the cool wood of the table, shuddering as you came, overwhelmed by pain and pleasure.

Jungkook hissed, shooting you full of cum once again. The sensation of being so full intoxicated you and you let out and soft whimper, hoping neither of them heard you. But, of course, Yoongi heard you.

Yoongi purred your name softly. You looked up at him, breathing hard, legs shaking. At this point your makeup was messy and your lips a little smeared, hair messy from fucking. He grinned as you winced, feeling Jungkook pull out of you. Jungkook was still semi-hard, the animal.

“Come here,” Yoongi said once again.

You had snarky comments prepared. You had you retorts all filed away. But the sight of Yoongi holding his hard cock, eyes smokey with lust made you forget all of them. Every muscle hurt from your constant strain of staying silent, refusing to let them hear you cries of pleasure. But your resolve was cracking now, seeing Yoongi’s want. You crawled off the table, ignoring Jungkook who was readjusting himself behind you. There was only Yoongi.

“Hold it in,” Yoongi commanded.

You walked towards him, trying not to hobble in your heels. Even now, you were prideful of how you presented yourself. You clenched your pussy tight, not letting Jungkook’s cum fall as you approached the black-haired man.

Yoongi removed his hand and patted his thigh. Wordlessly, you slid onto his lap, your hand lightly guiding him to your entrance. You placed one hand on his shoulder to steady yourself, spying his smug expression out of the corner of your eye.

“Need me that bad, huh?”

“Shut up,” you said hoarsely. Your throat was dry from breathing so hard.

Yoongi chuckled. “I need you too,” he breathed, lips against your cheek.

You sank down on him, eyes rolling back into your head as he filled you up. He was still mostly clothed, the rough denim rubbing against your thighs as you went down. Yoongi moaned in satisfaction, hands trailing up your sides and pressing his thumbs against your nipples. Against your better judgement, a cry left your lips as his cock shoved Jungkook’s cum deeper inside you. You could feel every contour of his cock, every vein pulsating against your walls.

“Mmm, that’s nice,” Yoongi drawled, pressing your nipples down and moving them in small circles. It wasn’t enough. You wanted his mouth on them and he knew it. He smirked. Yep, he wasn’t going to do it either.

You rolled your hips onto his cock. He grinned, pinching your nipples tightly and twisting them. A soft mewl reached your ears – you. Oh, fuck. Yoongi smirked triumphantly.

“Use my cock and get yourself off,” he purred. “You deserve it.”

It was all a trick. A ruse to feed your ego and yet you still did as you were told because he knew how to manipulate you, especially after wearing you out with Jungkook. It wasn’t fair, but Yoongi never played by the rules.

You lifted yourself up and sank back down, breathing hard. All your muscles were sore and yet you still found the energy to thrust your hips into Yoongi, squeezing him tight as you rode him. Yoongi pinched and pulled your nipples, fueling your arousal. He smelled so good, some kind of sharp pine, and it was driving you crazy. With a start, you realized the moans you were hearing were you, saying his name breathlessly over and over.

“That’s it,” Yoongi murmured, eyes half-lidded and smirk on his lips. “Cum for me.”

Shit. If you were in your right mind, you could refuse him, but you were so full of Jungkook’s cum with Yoongi’s dick so deep inside you that you could barely see straight. He kept pinching your nipples, flicking them hard as you went down, shocking your system every time. You came with a cry, gripping his shoulders hard as waves of pleasure raked though you, your entire body shuddering.

“Jungkook, hold her up.”

Yoongi removed his hands from your breasts, only to be replaced by strong, calloused ones. One tattooed, one bare. Jungkook held you firmly. You were panting, unable to look away from Yoongi’s eyes. His scar was an angry red. Those dark brown eyes looked at you like you were his queen, and yet it could all be a lie because Yoongi was a master manipulator. His black hair was pushed back, damp with sweat. He smirked at you, baring his teeth. You had a strange urge to kiss him, but you held back.

“Time to fill you up with me,” he whispered, hands settling on your hips.

The first thrust was slow, languid. Not enough. You bit your lip, feeling Jungkook roll your nipples slowly in between his fingers. Yoongi didn’t just want to fuck you. He wanted to drive you crazy. He wanted you to lose your mind. He sank in again, hissing with satisfaction. He made his cock throb inside you, your muscles clenching automatically in response. Jungkook ran his nail over your nipple and you could feel yourself becoming wetter with every passing second. Yoongi’s lips parted, a low, guttural growl clawing its way out of his throat. It was gravelly and deep.

“The implant was a good idea, wasn’t it?”

You gasped as he thrust in particularly deep.

“First time my cum will be mixing with Jungkook’s, deep inside you.”

Against your better judgement, you whimpered at his words. Fuck. Yoongi grinned, cocking an eyebrow.

“You like that, hm? Being pumped to the brim with cum?”

Before you could respond, Jungkook moaned behind you, pinching your nipples hard. You winced as Yoongi increased the pace, rolling his hips into you easily.

“Wonder how much you can take,” Yoongi drawled, eyes boring into yours. “Should I tie you up and let them all fuck you one by one? See how much cum you can keep in that pussy of yours before I fuck it all out of you?”

You hissed, feeling Jungkook grip your breasts and flick your nipples hard.

“Hyung, don’t get my hopes up…”

There was no way that the wet squelching noises between your hips were only your juices. You could smell Jungkook’s cum dripping down Yoongi’s cock.

“Or would you rather only have Jungkook?” Yoongi purred. He didn’t miss your eyes flashing at his suggestion. He chuckled deeply. “I’m always curious how far Jungkookie’s stamina goes.”

Jungkook was losing it behind you, groaning, pinching your nipples and ramming his clothed crotch into your back. He was rock hard, desperate for friction. Yoongi continued to fuck you, pace increasing ever so slowly.

“I want to see you on your knees,” Yoongi sneered, “Face into the ground, ass in the air, cum overflowing out of you and falling to the floor.”

You gasped, jerking forward from the force of Jungkook’s movements, your lips against Yoongi’s ear and his against yours. Harder, rougher. His lips touched your ear, tongue tracing your earlobe.

“And then I’m gonna fuck you,” he murmured, voice low and deep. “Fuck you until you can’t walk or see straight, and then wait for you to recover, only to do it again.”

You moaned into his ear, softly, falling apart to his words and his tongue.

“Yoongi, please…”

That wasn’t Jungkook. That was you, breathlessly begging into Yoongi’s ear, so quietly that Yoongi was sure Jungkook couldn’t hear you.

He waited, pumping his cock in and out of you roughly, smacking your hips together.

“Please fill me up with you.”

Yoongi made sure to chuckle right into your ear before he slammed you down hard onto his hips, shooting hot strings of cum inside, cock twitching mercilessly against your walls. You moaned his name, hands tangled in his black hair, whining as he pumped you full. He always had so much. You suspected he let it build up on purpose.

He pressed his lips against your ear. You could feel his infuriating smirk.

“Mine.”

click here for part ii --

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#jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #bts smut #jeon jungkook smut #min yoongi smut

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i-is-a-fan-weeb · 3 years

Text

first off:Happy Birthday Percy!! And second:thank you to @percydarling for giving me the inspo for my first fic here! So here we go(also i set this in Percy's fourth year so yea) also TW in the tags

Penny walked into the empty Great Hall and spotted Percy sitting at the end of what is normally the Slytherin table,reading on of his many books on mythology.

"Hi Percy! What mythology sre you reading today?" Penny plumped down next to Percy

"Chinese." Percy simply replied,not looking up.

Percy has always been into mythology,ever since his Uncle Gideon brought a book on Greek myths when he was 4 and Percy read it while Gideon,Fabion and Molly talked downstairs. After that,the onky thing Percy wanted for his birthday and Christmas was a book on Greek mythology,before he branched out to other mythologies and muggle religions when he was 10. Then he asked for books on any myths and religion(Arthur got him an actual Bible on his 11th).

This year,Penny,Oliver and Marcus were planning to do more than that.

"Ooo,Chinese. You're so lucky your parents let you read mythology and explore other religions at home." Penny always complained about not being able to read mythology at home because her parent were over-religious muggles and it took her mother everything to not have her father disown her for being a witch. Penny also wasn't allowed to visit or write any of her friends over breaks either.

Out of nowhere,Oliver and Marcus sat down across from Percy and Penny.

"Hey Perce." Oliver took one hand away from Percy's boom and kissed the knuckles. Then he took the book away from Percy.

"Hey!" Percy cried out,reaching for his book,but Oliver,whose much faster,managed to keep it away.

"Na-ahhh. You're not getting this back until we're done." Oliver said,closing the book shut(but not before taking Percy's bookmark and putting it in Percy's place in the book)

"Done with what?" Percy asked,narrowing his eyes at his friends(and boyfriend)

"We have sonething to ask you." Marcus said

"If it's about me being tiebraker for whatever Quidditch match is coming up,the answer will always be no." Percy said,slowly sitting back down.

"What? No. The next Quidditch match is in November." Oliver said increduosly

"We wanted to ask you if you're ok with surprises." Penny tiredly said,already done with Oliver.

"Huh?" Percy asked,confused by this.

"Are you ok with surprises?" Marcus questioned,bored.

"Um,yeah I guess. I live with Fred and George so I got used to surprises pretty early on." Percy suspiciously said.

"Cool." Marcus said,before getting up and leaving,Oliver and Penny following behind.

Percy looked after them confused,before leaving himself.

A week passes,and Oliver comes into his and Percy's dorm,with two random people.

"Hello Penny,Marcus." Percy greeted his friends who are under the influence of Polyjuice.

"Come on." the boy on the right-who is Marcus-said inpatiently.

"Wha-"Percy didn't even get to finish his sentence before the girl on the left-who is Penny-grabbed his arm and pulled him downstairs,followed by Marcus and Oliver.

"Where are we going?" Percy asked as he got dragged by Penny

"You'll see." Oliver whispered in ear teasingly,kissing his cheek.

"Can you save all that romantic sh!t for when you are alone?" Marcus asked.

"Oh shut up."Oliver said said

"All of you shut up!" Penny whisper-shouted,and ponted to Filch and Mrs.Norris up ahead of them.

"The h3ll are we doing?!" Percy whisper-shouted back.

"Shhhh!!" Penny shushed him,and threw out what Percy presumed to be a dungbomb at Filch and his cat.

The dungbomb exploded and Filch and the cat ran away,Filch yelling about who knows what,Mrs.Norris yowling.

"Ok,coast is clear." Penny gestured,and she,Percy(still being dragged by Penny),Oliver and Marcus went in the direction Filch was previously(covering their noses) and out the grand doors.

"Where are we going?" Percy choked out,struggling to get his inhalor out of his pocket*

"I said you'll see." Oliver offhandedly replied

The four of them were walking out towards...Hogsmead?

"Why are we going towards Hogsmead? It's not even close to December!" Percy asked Penny,who didn't give him an answer.

Penny stopped outside of the Three Broomsticks,the Polyjuice finally worn off.

Penny dragged them inside(but not after Marcus took another small dose of Polyjuice).

"Hello,Madame Rosemerta!" Penny gleefully greeted

"Hello,youngsters. Your room is ready,and so are your guests." Madame Rosemerta said,vaguely gestering upstairs,before retreatingto the back room.

"What does she mean by that?" Percy asked,fed up with them keeping these secrets. No one gave him an answer,instead they went upstairs and went all the way down the hall to the very last room.

Marcus went up,the Polyjuice now officially worn off,and knocked some sort of special code.

A little boy with light brown hair and big brown eyes opened the door.

"Hey! We've been waiting!" Cedric Diggory held the door open,and Percy saw birthday decorations,a cake on the table in the middle and a bunch of presents in a corner.

"W-what?" Percy asked quietly.

Penny,Marcus,and Oliver went up and joined Cedric and Adrien Pucey around the table,and they alk started singing "Happy Birthday".

Percy just stood there amazed and confused.

"But-but it's not my birthday?" Percy dazedly said

"We know its not you birthday,which is why we did this!" Adrien said

"We wanted to do something for you because we can't celebrate with you." Cedric said excitedly

"So,you all snuck out of the castle and risked getting expelled,for 𝘮𝘦?" Percy asked

"You act as if we haven't done it before." Marcus snorted

"Yeah,but that's different. Penny and I know which rules to break and how to break them. This is breaking who know how many rules,and Cedric is only a First year,he can't get expelled already." Percy protested.

"Just sit your cute a$$ down and eat some cake." Oliver grabbed Percy by the wrist and sat him down around the table.

"Madame Rosemerta said she'll cover us,as long as we pay for the Butterbeer." Cedric said

"What about this room?" Percy asked

"Madame Rosemerta said we could use it anytine we wanted,no charge unless we damage something." Penny said

"So you and lover boy over here can do what you want behind closed doors." Marcus added

"We have a dorn for that." Oliver countered

"Ew!" Adrien and Cedric exclaimed at the same time

"This is a private room Percy,no one except us and whoever we want to invite can come in." Penny quickly explained

"So,this is some sort of late birthday treat-for me?" Percy asksd quietly

"Yes for you." Oliver said,kissing his boyfriends cheeks

"Can you not do that while I'm here?" Adrien asked,while Cedric stuck out his toungue in disgust.Oliver rolled his eyes.

All of them had a good time eating cake and drinking Butterbeer.

"Here." Oliver handed a gift to Percy.

"What is it?" Percy asked after opening thebpresent which turned out to be a sort of old book.

"It's a Qu'ran. It's another muggle religion book." Oliver explained. Percy's pale,icy blue orbs widened in excitement,almost childlike.

"Here! Here's mine!" Pennt excitedly gave Percy another book-shaped present. Percy opened it,and it turned out to be a empty notebook,with a dark purple cover.

"I put a charm on it,so we can all communicate without having to tire our owls! And I can talk to you all over breaks!" Penny was practically jumping on the tips of her toes in excitement

"Perfect!" Percy exclaimed,and looked up to see everyone pulled out colorful notebooks;Marcus had a dark red,Oliver's was bright green,Penny's was a cheerful yellow,Adrien's was a deep pink and Cedric's was a dark blue.

Percy opened up the rest of the presents-Marcus got him two books,one on how to get away with mûrd3r and the other on how to hide a body.Cedric got him a book on how to speak Latin,a book on how to speek Greek and a book on Russian folklore. Adrien had gotten him a book on Italian myths and superstitions.

"Thank you. Thank you guys so much."

"Don't mention it." Marcus wrapped his arm around Percy,giving the ginger a small grin.

"No,seriously don't mention this to anyone. We can't let the whole castle know that us Slytherins are hanging out with the all of you." Adrien said in a serious yet still sad tone.

"And Fred and George would go the extra 10 miles to make Percy's life even more miserable than the already do." Oliver said grimly

"Enough of this sadness! It's Percy's late birthday and we are going to celebrate it happily!" Penny stomped.

Everyone murmered their agreements and went back to celebrating Percy.

They stayed for another hour before they decided to leave.

As Cedric and Adrien downstairs,Oliver,Percy,Penny and Marcus stayed behind.

"Soo,you wanna do a slumber party?" Marcus asked

"Ok!" Percy exclaimed giddily.

"Who's turn is it?" Penny asked.

"I think it our turn." Oliver gestured to him and Percy

"Ok." Marcus said simply and went downstairs,Penny following him. Leaving Percy and Oliver alone.

"We should-" Percy was cut off by Oliver smashing his lips onto Percys. Percy was at first in shock,but quckly melted into the kiss. The two boys stayed like that for what felt like forever before Oliver slowly pulles away,not really wanting to let go.

"Happy birthday,Percy." Oliver said,putting his face into the taller boys chest.

"Thank you." Percy murmered into the Keepers soft,brown hair.

"Ahem." Oliver and Percy quickly jumped away from each other at the sudden sound,but relaxed when it was only Madame Rosemerta leaning against the doorframe.

"I know you two have hormones and stuff,but please not in my private rooms." She said

Both boys muttered their apologies and quickly walked out

"You forgot your presents!" Madame Rosemerta called out. Oliver quickly ran back up the stairs and ran back down with Percy's gifts.

"Thank you for letting us use this room!" Percy called up to Madame Rosemerta

"Of course! I know what it's like having to hide a relationship!" Rosemerta called down from inside the room.

Percy and Okiver walked the rest of the way back down the stairs and met Penny and Marcus outside.

"What did you think,Perce?" Penny asked,now her and Marcus back to their Polyjuice forms.

"It was great. Honestly,thank you." Percy said gratefully.

"No problem. We know ever since Fred and George took the spotlight,your birthday has been forgotten about." Marcus said grimly.

"What did I say about sadness today!" Penny stomped her foot angrily in the ground.

The four walked back to the castle in a comfortabke silence,snuck back in with no problems and manage to get into Gryffindor tower with out a hitch.

"Here." Percy handed Penny and Marcus some spare pajamas that they all kept in their dorms for whenevr they have sleepovers.

After Penny and Marcus changed and brought out the blow-up matresses that they also keep in their dorms,they all stayed up late and talked and ate some junk food and got drunk off of Firewhisky and Brandy that their House Elf friend Dottie had brought. They stayed up and laughed and had a great time. They all eventually fell asleep at different times(Marcus being the lightweight he is fell asleep first).

Percy will never forget that day.

*Ok so i headcannon Percy to have allergic asthma(if u dont know what that is look it up,i aint google) and that he has like a crap ton of allergies bc who else doesnt like torturing their comfort character? Also before anyone asks,i do have a headcannon that a student that was way before Molly and Arthurs time,much less Percys,also had asthma but couldnt bring her inhalor bc it was muggle technology,so she petitioned for muggle health devices be allowed into hogwarts,and evetually they were allowed but only for health purposes. Im not telling you who that student is tho hehe.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PERCY WEASLEY! And once again thanks to @percydarling for giving me this suggestion!

#harry potter #percy weasley x oliver wood #percy weasley #happy birthday percy weasley #cedric diggory #adrien pucey #penny clearwater #penelope clearwater #marcus flint #madame rosemerta #the three broomsticks #perciver #my first fic on here!!#not my first fic ever but my first fic here on tumblr dot com!!

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lottiebagley · 3 years

Text

Snow covered courtyards- Oliver Wood

When he'd asked her to the ball he'd been certain she would say no. They'd been friends for a while but never particularly close, simply in the same year and house and therefore knew each other through mutual friends.

He'd always thought she was kind of unattainable, she seemed to always look perfect, she was smart and funny and kind and top of her classes. He never knew why but she always avoided Oliver a little, he spent nights laid in bed listening to Percy's snoring and racking his brains for any reason she might avoid him, an insult from years ago, a history between him and one of her friends but nothing quite came to mind.

It wasn't until a few weeks before the ball that he realised that maybe the reason she avoided him was because she wasn't quite as unattainable as he'd thought. He'd laughed at first when his best friend shrugged that she probably just had a crush on him, mouthful of cereal and a slightly bemused look on his face.

After that conversation he slowly allowed his brain to convince himself she just might like him back. After all why else would she blush when he catches her eye? why would she go to every quidditch game no matter how awful the weather? why would she giggle a little with her friends when he passes?

And so, Oliver Wood let a little spark of hope light in his heart and he began to plan how he would ask her to the ball.

He thought about asking her after they won a quidditch match when he was high on adrenaline but he didn't like the idea of being muddy and sweaty and with the fucking Weasley twins, their relentless teasing playing in his mind before it even happened.

Next he thought about making some production out of it in the great hall like he'd seen a few other people do, but he knew she'd hate being the centre of the entire school's attention.

He contemplated asking her at a party, figuring some liquid courage might make the prospect of asking his dream girl on a date a little easier, but didn't want her to think it was some drunk decision.

He settled on approaching her with a bouquet of flowers and just asking it, after all, he knew he was a good looking guy and most people found him charming if not a little intense. What he didn't think about though was that most people didn't make his heart beat too fast, his hands go clammy, and his words come out a stuttering mess.

Oliver announced to his friends one morning that today was the day he'd ask her out, they'd grinned widely, given him a pep talk, mocked him a little for his nerves and sent him on his way and Oliver had every intention to ask her out.

It was then that Oliver learnt the age old lesson.

Girls travel in packs.

No matter how hard he tried she was surrounded. Between classes, at meals, in the common room, christ even on her way to the bathroom. Whenever he saw her she'd have a gaggle of girls with her all of which would eye him with curiosity and smirks when he attempted to approach.

It took Oliver a further three days of attempting to catch her alone, his friends seeming to find the entire situation funnier by the hour, before it had happened. He'd caught a glimpse of her with Cedric.

Oliver Wood hated Cedric Diggory, hated that he was so often compared to him, hated that he had swoopy hair that made girls swoon, hated that he too was a good quidditch player. His newest reason though to despise the boy who showed him nothing but kindness was that he didn't clam up around her. He talked to her with ease and made her laugh.

If he'd done a little digging, Oliver would have easily found Cedric was a family friend and she viewed him like a brother. Through exasperated mutual friends sick of both their pining he'd have probably also learnt she had a massive crush on Oliver and had turned down multiple boys in the hopes Oliver would ask her to the ball.

He didn't dig though. Instead he scowled in the direction of Cedric and her, they were laughing by the quidditch pitch as the Hufflepuff practice ended and the Gryffindor's arrived for their own. She had been on her way to the greenhouses to grab a book she'd accidentally left there when Cedric had jogged over, unknown to Oliver actually asking if the Gryffindor had plucked up the nerve to ask her out. She had brushed her friend off, thinking it would be a miracle for Oliver Wood to fancy her back.

"Hurry up Wood, she's a good one, she'll get swept up all too soon," Fred smirks as he passes Oliver on his way into the changing rooms.

And with Fred's words in his mind Oliver grabs the bouquet of flowers from the office and marches towards her, Cedric spotting him coming and quickly taking his leave.

"Hi," He calls, cursing himself for not thinking to say her name when she doesn't even turn around, not used to him approaching her, "Hi-Y/N,"

She turns then, still clad in her uniform, hair blowing in the light wind and a small smile on her face.

"Oliver-uh-hey," She blushes a little as she falls over her words

"You're a really hard girl to get on her own," He comments. Fucking christ why does he sound like a stalker? The question spins in his mind but she seems to not think anything of the comment, instead blushing a little

"Oh- my friends and I are kinda inseperable," She shrugs lightly, not wanting an awkward silence so instead opting to ramble "They only aren't here now cause they are busy. Meg's at detention, Ali's with her boyfriend and Katie's tutoring some second year in potions. I'd have waited for one of them to be with me because honestly I kind of hate walking alone- not cause I'm weird or un-independent or any thing, I just, well I get a little anxious and feel like people are staring at me and-" She silences herself, suddenly coming to her senses and realising how crazy she's making herself sound. "Sorry,"

"Don't be. I think it's cute when you ramble," He admits, blushing as red as his quidditch robes when he realises what he's said.

"Did you need something or have I just embarrassed myself over a polite hello?" She questions, he chuckles a little making her feel mildly less uncomfortable.

"I was actually wondering if you wanted to go to the ball?" He questions. He feels a weight off his shoulder's once the question has been asked. Like suddenly even if she says no at least he could tell himself he tried.

"With you?" She questions, she realises she probably sounds more idiotic by the second but can't quite convince herself to believe her long term crush would actually ask her out.

"Uh-yeah," He's taken aback by the question and feels stupid for even thinking she'd consider it and suddenly the even if she says no bullshit is just that, because shit if the girl in front of him with wide eyes and a nervous smile doesn't say yes he thinks his heart might break in his chest.

"Like a date?"

"I was hoping,"

"I'd love that,"

Oliver feels like the luckiest person on earth. Watching as she blushes a little, but her smile is wide and god if he doesn't want to kiss her right there.

"Great,"

"Good,"

"Cool,"

"Yeah,"

Neither of them is quite sure what comes next and the interaction seems to run even more awkward. "You'll pick her up!" Oliver rolls his eyes at the sound of George Weasley, although thankful for the prompt, she blushes, peering behind him to see the entire Gryffindor quidditch team watching them.

"I'll pick you up," He confirms

"Right," She nods

"At 7? Outside your dorm?"

"Sounds good,"

"Okay," He grins brightly, still thinking this entire thing is his mind playing some cruel tricks on him.

"So you should go, your team awaits," She reminds, he nods, partly wanting the interaction over before he can make even more of a fool out of himself or ruin something before it even has a chance to start and partly wanting to live in this moment of pure joy for the rest of his life.

"Right, so I'll uh- see you at the ball- and- uhm- around before obviously," He stutters a little

"Great, I'll see you in both those places," She confirms, realising only after she's spoken how idiotic she sounds.

"The flowers Wood! Christ you're bad at this!" Fred shouts

"Always thought he had game," Harry comments

"We all did kid," George agrees.

"Sorry about them," Oliver apologises

"It's okay," She smiles gently, waiting patiently as he stands staring wondering why her eyes are flickering from him, to his team to his hands and-

"Oh right, these are for you," He confirms, passing the bouquet over and grinning when she blushes a little

"Thanks Oli,"

"Any time," He nods

When she pulls open her dorm door Oliver is certain time stops.

She looks like an angel, her makeup perfect, hair flowing in curls with a small section pinned back as to see her face clearly, Oliver is certain nothing else has ever looked as beautiful. She's dressed in a golden gown that shimmers in the light and makes her look like a princess.

"You- I mean- it- you look beautiful," He stammers over his words and his face goes redder by the second but she smiles at him

"Thank you Oli," She smiles up at him and when their eyes meet both of them feel their hearts hammering in their chests.

"You ready?" He questions, she nods, smiling when he grabs her arm in his and they walk together to the hall.

The hall looks like something out of a fairytale. Seeming to glow an ice white, lined with glittering trees and a glance at the ceiling showing a sky full of stars that gleamed in the air.

"You want to dance?" Oliver questions, eyes falling to the already slightly crowded dance floor, the students dancing to the waltz that plays.

"Think you might loose a foot if we try," She admits, glancing at the girls who swirl around the floor effortlessly and feeling a little self conscious she can't do the same.

"It'd be worth it," He grins, pulling her along with him.

"Hey Oli?"

"Yeah?" He questions as they come to the edge of the dance floor

"These heels are really high. Please don't let me fall,"

"I've got you," He assures, smiling when he notices her physically loosen the panic in her eyes dissipating.

It takes them a few stumbles and a couple of toe treads but eventually they pick up the dance. He watches with a grin as she stares at her feet in focus and with time, and a few glasses of the punch Fred and George spiked, she relaxes, feeling at ease in his arms and becoming more comfortable with the slightly confusing dancing.

Oliver whispers commentary about the ball that makes her laugh and he loves the way she talks with such excitement that he can't help but follow along with every word. He's pretty sure in that moment he could die happy and she's almost certain this is the best night of her life.

As the minutes tick into hours they become more and more comfortable with each other, sure there's still an awkward teenagers with crushes layer to the conversation, but they learn they have a lot in common and find it easy to make small talk that they both actually enjoy.

"Do you wanna go get some air?" She questions at around 11, the dancing has changed from formal waltzing to jumping around to the band who'd been hired for the event and they were both hot and a little sticky from the crowd.

He nods in confirmation and smiles to himself when she immediately takes his hand in hers to pull him along behind her, she seems to have no idea he'd follow her to the ends of the earth if she asked.

She takes him to a small moonlit, snow covered, empty courtyard.

"Anyone would think you wanted to get me alone," He teases lightly, she blushes a little but playfully shoves him

"Maybe I did," She shrugs, he grins cockily "Or maybe it was a little crowded in there and I'm a polite date who didn't want to just abandon you," She isn't quite sure where her newfound confidence around Oliver is coming from

"I'm going to go with the first option," He grins, she laughs a little before shivering at the cold December breeze that wraps around them. He's quick to shrug of his black formal jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders and blushing when she leans up to press a kiss to his cheek in thanks.

"You wanna dance?" She questions, he laughs a little at the idea of leaving a ball to go and dance but nods.

Her arms wrap around his neck as his circle her waist, he hums gently and she smiles a she glances up at him. Oliver Wood looks like a god in the moonlight and she thanks her lucky stars that it's her who got to be in that moment with him.

They dance slowly, eventually pulling each other closer. She laughs when he twirls her under his arm and he grins when her hands begin to brush through the ends of his hair.

"Tell me something," She speaks quietly, his arms pulling her even closer.

"What do you wanna know?"

"Anything about you," She decides, he takes a deep breath, figuring now's probably the best moment he'll ever get to tell her this.

"I've had a crush on you since first year,"

"You have?" She sounds shocked and he can't help but laugh at the idea of her not realising he's practically head over heels for her

"I have," He confirms with a grin

"Why'd you never say anything?" She questions. Her heart feels like it's beating a million miles a minute and she's almost certain he can feel it

"You kinda avoided me," he shrugs

"Yeah I did," She laughs

"Why'd you do that?"

"I was scared to make a fool out of myself," She admits

"Yeah I get that," He nods

"You do? You always seem so- I don't know- at ease,"

"Around everyone but you I kinda am," He shrugs, she blushes a little at that. "You wanna know something else?" He questions.

They're still swaying a little but there's not much movement at their feet, instead the entire thing looks like a loving embrace and she figured to an extent it kind of was.

"Sure,"

"All night I've thinking about if I were to try and kiss you. If you'd kiss back or you'd pull away and laugh in my face and I'd have made a fool of myself," His words leave her breathless and his charming grin only makes it better

"There's only one way to know for sure," She whispers.

His lips crash to hers in the moonlit courtyard, the snow falling around them. It's slow and gentle. Holding years of emotion and there's no need to rush, in that moment they both know they have forever to hold each other this close. It's a little toothy from both their wide grins but as his hands cup her cheeks she's sure nothing has ever been as perfect as this moment and the boy she's sharing it with.

MASTERLIST

#harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter #harry potter masterlist #oliver wood #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood x y/n #oliver wood imagine

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blackjacktheboss · 4 years

Text

the photo • mob au

For as long as Percy can remember, he has had dreams of becoming a husband and a father, of giving himself over completely to love and the service of it. But every dream he has ever had can not even come close to the reality of being married to Annabeth, and getting to have a child with her. That child being Ruthie, the human embodiment of a ray of sunshine that warms you on a cool summer day, only makes things even more surreal.

“Daddy, are you listening?” she shouts up at him.

Percy shakes his head, clearing it momentarily of his romantic thoughts. “Sorry, Monster, I got distracted. What’s up?”

“I said,” she chides with an attitude. “Do you think that mommy will like the strawberries?”

“Oh, she’s gonna love them, baby,” he answers. “I mean, you picked them yourself. How could she not?”

The five year old smiles with pride as she scoots the bowl containing the fruit closer to her dad and the picnic basket he is packing. He throws in a nice loaf of bread he picked up from the baker in the early hours of the morning, and matching bottles of champagne and sparkling apple cider.

“Now,” he says, admiring his own handiwork with his hands on his hips. “You said you wanted to bring a book to read with mom.”

Ruthie’s eyes get big and she bites her bottom lip. “Mhmm!”

“Do you need my help getting it?” he asks.

She turns and breaks into a sprint. “NO, I GOT IT DADDY!”

A few minutes later she returns with a book in her arms that she holds close to her chest.

“What did you pick?”

“It’s a surprise, daddy, I can’t tell you!” she says with an offended frown.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he says, averting his gaze. “How rude of me.”

“I forgive you,” Ruthie says nicely. “Can my puppies come with us?”

“Of course they can, it’s a picnic!”

Ruthie smiles, and jumps in place excitedly. “Do the New York whistle! Please, daddy!”

Percy laughs, and winks at his daughter. “You got it, kid.”

He sticks his thumb and index finger in his mouth and takes a deep breath, exhaling into a shrill whistle that cuts through the cavernous estate. Ruthie giggles as she pins her book under her arm to cover her ear, always delighted by her dad’s whistling ability. Soon, the sounds of paws clacking against the hardwood floors get closer and closer until two huge black dogs are tripping over each other to say hello to Ruthie, who again giggles in delight.

“Puppies!” she shouts.

“More like ponies,” Percy says under his breath. “Everyone ready to go outside?”

Blackjack barks at the mention of his favorite word and Ruthie barks along with him, earning a delighted giggle from Percy in turn. He turns to grab the picnic basket, grunting as he pulls it off the counter and has to contend with its hefty weight.

“We may have packed too much,” he admits, as his kid and dogs look up at him expectantly.

“Seems just right to me,” Ruthie says with a shrug.

Percy’s heart swells as he looks down at the little girl who seems to be a carbon copy of the love of his life, and almost can’t believe how damn lucky he really is.

Percy shrugs right back. “Well, you are the boss.”

Ruthie twirls and heads out of the room, her dogs closely in tow. “Picnic time!”

A huge red blanket adorned with white lace flowers that was made by a woman in town is spread across the open green hilltop that overlooks the sea. An olive tree with a thick, twisted trunk towers over them, her branches providing shade from the warm August afternoon.

Ruthie runs around with the dogs, her bubbly laugh filling the air. Her laughing soon turns into cheering as she notices the lean figure of her mother walking towards them. Ruthie takes off towards Annabeth, jumping into her arms and excitedly turning back to Percy to wave and alert him that they are on their way to the picnic.

As he watches them approach, Percy’s head is again filled with an endless stream of thoughts about the life he has built with Annabeth. One chance meeting in Montauk had changed the trajectory of his entire life, and he will always be in debt to whatever confluence of events allowed it to happen.

Growing up, he loved watching his mom tell stories about his dad and he will never forget the way her eyes always lit up whenever he came up in conversation. While his father’s love was intangible in many ways, it was also the very thing his entire existence was predicated on. It is something he has held close to his heart like a prayer, and as he watches his family walk towards him, he hopes with everything that he is that he is doing his father’s legacy justice.

“You’ve got that starry look in your eyes,” Annabeth says with a suspicious squint as she sets her daughter down. “Are you over here being sappy?”

Percy can’t help his dopey smile. “Always. But with the perfect wife and daughter, how could I not?”

Annabeth rolls her eyes as she sits on the blanket, blessing Percy with a chaste kiss that is over too soon for his liking.

“How was work?” he asks, his eyes still dazed and dreamy.

“Surprisingly good,” she answers as Ruthie climbs into her lap. “Everything is set for our return.”

“Is Nana gonna be there?” Ruthie asks, leaning her head all the way back against her mom’s chest to look up at her awkwardly.

Annabeth places a quick kiss to Ruthie’s forehead. “Of course she will. She’s gotta see her best girl.”

“Uncle Grover is gonna be there too,” Percy adds.

Ruthie wraps her arms around herself, dipping her head in shyness. “Everyone loves me so much.”

Annabeth wraps Ruthie up in a bear hug and places a dozen kisses to her cheek. “So so so SO much, Honeybee.”

For a moment, the family simply sits in bliss, enjoying each other’s company and the perfect island day. But with an active five year old, that can never last long.

“Mommy, it’s time for strawberries and reading,” Ruthie declares as she stands and grabs the berries from the basket. She then walks to the far end of the blanket, lifting the corner to reveal the book she has chosen.

“The book was a secret?” Annabeth whispers to Percy.

He raises his eyebrows and nods, whispering back. “Privileged information. A family tradition.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes but laughs all the same, watching expectantly as Ruthie marches back to her and hands her a copy of Pippi Longstocking.

Annabeth takes the book, carefully running her hand over the cover. “Where did you find this?”

Ruthie shrugs. “My room.”

“Was it yours?” Percy asks.

Annabeth looks up, smiling as her eyes shine with tears. “It was a gift from my mom the first summer we spent here. I thought I lost it.”

Ruthie stands with her hands behind her back, slowly twirling from side to side. “Will you please read it to me please?”

Annabeth swallows and nods twice. “Nothing would make me happier.”

Annabeth leans on her side, opening the book, and Ruthie lays down to curl into her mom’s side. Percy is overwhelmed, and wonders how a man can possibly survive when his heart is living outside of his body, split up between the two most important people in his life. On instinct, he reaches for his camera and quietly stands to be able to get the perfect picture of his loves.

The camera clicks and Percy knows, without a doubt, that the shot is a winner.

#mob au #ruth eleanor jackson #my edit

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driftwork · 2 years

Text

hotel memoirs

Sometimes late at night just before the night staff took over the running of the hotel and the bars began to close, I used to spend time in the lobby of the big hotel where the visitors from more economically secure nations come to stay. On one such visit, before going up to my room to sleep, I stopped off for a drink and a sweet after seeing a Mid period Godard movie, at the last retrospective before socialist films were banned. A neatly dressed dandy traveler entered the bar from the reception hall, carrying in his hand a small case of soft leather, a night porter took his suitcase of matte black ribbed aluminum off to his room or suite. The traveler paid and thanked the night porter and without paying him any further attention sat down on a leather chair and gently gestures at the waiter to get his attention. The dandy takes off his dark blue gloves and puts them down on the leather case. He looks at them for a a few moments before opening the case and taking a small notepad out and a book. The traveler is dressed as I said in grey, a colour that in earlier decades would have been called discreet, even though it is late at night and the city is gradually disintegrating under his attention, he is wearing a perfect and rather beautiful purple tie with iridescent threads running through it. After ordering a drink from the waiter I examined his shoes and feet, leather walking shoes with elegant knots, tied I imagined for some reason by a servant. The traveler stretches out his legs and inspects some more things in his small case, useful things like scissors, a small knife, pens, chargers, cigarettes. The traveler seemed like Buchner's schizophrenic who has strolled into the hotel and whose organs have entered into an intense becoming with all the elements of his class and nature, to the extent that the distinction between self and non-self, inside and outside, man and nature has no meaning [...] [The traveler searches through his pockets for the book of matches he'd brought with him from last nights hotel. He imagined that he'd arrived earlier in the day. ] He orders some tapas to eat with his bright green Margarita. Using a silver pen he is writing in his notebook. Perhaps its not the conference he is attending, perhaps he is an accountant, or a creator of AI systems, or a designer of the new dirigibles that are capable of carrying thousands of passengers across vast distances, slower than aircraft but faster than ships. Writing his plans on perfect paper, in exclusive notebooks that are worth small fortunes. As he leans forward and puts the pen and notebook down I can see the unfamiliar characters of the language, unreadable by a human. The book seems to contain profane calculations only fungi might understand. The traveler puts a cigarette between his thin lips and his face turns olive yellow as he inhales the smoke. "Here for the conference?" I ask the traveler. Imagining that he'd arrived from the east earlier in the day, was staying a few days for the conference taking place on Equaliberty before leaving. The traveler smiled and nodded refusing to speak, perhaps because the question I'd asked was too commonplace to be answered without compromising oneself. Perhaps he is here to present a paper on the politics of disintegration, the rise of new fascist political groups, the printing of counterfeit monies, or simply to speak of an american princess has had sex and is expecting, I have stretch marks and am beautiful the singer announces. I think he looks like a secret agent for the neo-managerialist parties. “Are you here for the conference?” He asked me. “No, I have a week of meetings at the head office, since I have some free time this week I thought I might go to a few sessions..” We didn’t speak again. Eventually we didn’t even acknowledge the others existence...

#series 2 #fiction #everyday practices

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erensangel444 · 3 years

Text

pretty young thing

DO NOT INTERACT IF NOT 16+ thank you <3

miya atsumu x reader x milf!oc

possible part 2???

the way i want this fic to be my reality. is there any milfs or dilfs that want me because bae i’m right here :-)

this fic is atsumu + milf!oc x fem!reader, if you guys would want to see some gender neutral fics just let me know in my asks inbox! i’m open to any suggestions, if you want a fic that’s specifically tailored to you whether that be race-wise, gender-wise, any disabilities, etc,. just let me know!

likes/reblogs/comments are always appreciated:D

this fic has been proofread but if i missed something just let me know!

a/n: so for the milf original character(atsumu’s wife), i imagine her to be the mom from erased, because she is one fine mf. i would love to place my head in between her mommy milkers and [REDACTED]....horniness is a disease.

warnings: language(most of my fics do contain language), smut: cuckolding??, sharing of lingerie(but no gross mentions), kissing, mentions of sex, slight mentions of spit.

word count: 3.8k

summary: it’s always fun to be someone’s little plaything.

you were broke, and in desperate need of money. college tuition is no joke, and that was what motivated you to pull the paper strip from the poster on the lampost. you had always been told you were good with kids so you figured babysitting would be an easy way to get money. you slipped the piece of paper containing the phone number into your back pocket, throwing your hands into your coat pockets as you headed home.

you had paced back and forth in your cramped kitchen, the slip of paper in between your fingers. before you could overthink anymore, your phone was in your hand as you dialed the number on the slip of paper.

“hello?” a deep voice interrupted the ringing you heard on the other line. “um h-hi” you cringed at your slight voice crack, “i’m calling about the babysitting offer, i picked up one of the slips outside of a cafe,”. it was silent for a moment before the person on the other line spoke, “oh yeah the fliers, babe!” he yelled, causing you to pull the phone away from your ear slightly.

“got someone for the babysitting job,” “really!” you could hear soft cheer in the background, causing you to smile slightly. you could hear shuffling for a moment before someone began talking on the opposite end of the line, a woman this time. “hi! i’m his wife,” her voice was sweet and soft, “did you tell her our names?”. though you couldn’t see it, atsumu shook his head sheepishly behind the phone.

“of course you didn’t, gotta come behind you and do all the hard work,” she grumbled jokingly, causing you to laugh softly. you swore you could hear a murmur of “last i checked you don’t mind being behind me sometimes,” a slight whine of “tsumu!” following in a chastising tone.

“sorry about that,” she apologized before continuing. “you can call me mrs. miya, if the interview goes well then we’ll be getting very close!” “i’m y/n,” you offered up your name, bouncing back and forth on the heel of your foot due to how nervous you were. “would you like to come by sometime tomorrow? i’ll send you all the details,” mrs. miya offered.

“that’d be great, thank you.”

their home was beautiful, arguably one of the of the prettiest one’s you’d seen. the stucco was a cream color, a beautiful walkway leading up to a set of dark oak doors. there were wall length glass windows looking into various rooms on the first floor of the house, green curtains slightly impairing the view into the home.

you stepped up the stairs of the walkway, ringing the doorbell. you opened the door to be met by a breathtaking man, but you internally shook your head at the thought.

he was happily married.

“hi, y/n?” he smiled. you nodded with a smile of your own, mr. miya opened the door further, motioning for you to come inside. you bowed your head slightly in thanks, stepping inside, mr. miya shutting the door behind you. you stood off to the side, the papers mrs. miya had told you to bring clutched tightly in your hands.

“follow me to the kitchen,” mr. miya smiled at you, to which you nodded in response, a soft smile on your face. their kitchen was beautiful, a dark oak wood floor accompanied by white walls. the cabinets were an olive green color, a few plants neatly hung from the ceiling.

your train of thought was broken as a cheer of your name sounded from across the room, “y/n!”. you turned at the sound, mrs. miya standing up from her chair at the kitchen table. you walked over, mr. miya behind you, smiling at his wife. “nice to meet you,” you smiled. mrs. miya offered her hand, to which you obliged, shaking her hand.

“oh who am i kidding, i’m a hugger,” she pulled you in for a hug. “is this alright?” she whispered into your ear, her hand rubbing at the small of your back. the best you could do was hum out an affirmation, hoping the large gulp you had taken wasn’t noticeable.

you pulled away, your cheeks feeling hot. mr. miya laughed softly from beside you, walking over to his wife, his arm falling to wrap around her waist as he spoke, “now what did we say about hugging strangers?”. mrs. miya just smiled in response, “i have a feeling she won’t be a stranger for too long, dear,”.

they shared intimate eye contact for a moment, causing you to look down at your shoes. “y/n, sit, please,” mrs. miya offered. mr. miya rushed over to your side, pulling out a chair for you. you ushered out a soft thanks, sitting down. “so, we’ll get started with some simple questions, no pressure” mrs. miya started. you nodded in response, shuffling slightly in your chair.

“any previous experience babysitting?”

the questions had lasted for about 40 minutes, the couple asking about your age, school experience, previous job occupancies, what you thought your wage should look like. the questionnaire had lasted barely an hour, but you had been at their home for three.

you had spent two hours conversing with the couple, learning about their life, and them learning about yours. mrs. miya had told you the story of how she had met atsumu, the details causing you to laugh. “he fell in the fountain trying to serenade me,” she laughed. “hey, you promised not to tell anyone that part!” mr. miya whined jokingly, playfully elbowing his wife.

you smiled at the couple, enamored by how in love they were. “what about you?” mr. miya asked, causing you to tilt your head and hum in a questioning tone. “are you in a relationship?” he clarified. the question caused your cheeks to heat up, but you answered nonetheless, “no, i’m not dating anyone right now,” your voice had gotten quieter, “i just ended a relationship about 6 months ago, so i’ve been weary about getting back out there,”.

you stopped there, worried you were boring the couple with the details of your love life, but when you looked up from fiddling with your hands, the pair of them showed that they were listening to you intently. “love’s hard,” mrs. miya said simply, reassuring you. you nodded in agreement before atsumu spoke up, “don’t stress about throwing yourself back into the dating field, you’ll know when your ready,” he bounced off of his wive’s words.

“hell,” mrs. miya spoke, the word sounding foreign coming from her lips, “maybe you’ll find someone when you’re not even looking for them,”

you’d had left their house that day with butterflies in your stomach, but you couldn’t figure out why. you had been over to babysit a couple times, and every time you arrived at their home, those butterflies reappeared. the butterflies magnified when atsumu caught you looking at him or his wife, or when their hands would brush against your body trying to get past you in the kitchen.

this was your fifth time babysitting, the miya’s home and the couple themselves becoming more familiar.

you rang the doorbell, playing with the rings on your fingers. hearing the doorknob turn, you looked up to be met by mrs. miya’s smiling face. “hi y/n!” she grinned, holding the door open for you to come inside. you smiled back, letting out a soft hello in response to her greeting.

you stepped inside their home, the feeling more familiar yet so strange at the same time. she led you to the kitchen as you walked behind her. they had explained that they were going to a work gala for mr. miya’s job. on your interview day, they had explained their professions, mr. miya being a professional volleyball player, and mrs. miya being a psychiatrist.

you had known they were going to a work gala, meaning you knew they would be dressed to the tee. if you knew this, then why were your eyes raking over mrs. miya’s figure in the way they were? her hair was pinned up, gold earrings being flaunted. from what you had seen at the door, she had on red lipstick, matching the insatiable red of her dress.

speaking of her dress, it hugged her figure so well. her hips were accentuated in the fabric, which fell down the entire length of her body. she had on gold heels to match her jewlery, her look being perfected.

before you could admire her any longer, you stopped suddenly, mrs. miya slowing in front of you. atsumu was leaning on the wall near the entrance of the kitchen, smirking at you. “she looks stunning, huh?” his voice having an all too-knowing tone to it.

you couldn’t help but blush, shame rushing through you. you had been caught ogling his wife, you couldn’t help but be embarrassed. “no need to get shy,” atsumu said softly, walking over to his wife who had now turned back to look at you.

you had expected her face to exemplify an expression of disgust, and yet, that sweet, saccharine smile was still on her lips. “y-you look you beautiful mrs. miya,” you said shyly, “you too, sir,”. atsumu was donned in a tux, his hair gelled slightly and brushed back to either side. “thank you, y/n,” mrs. miya offered her appreciation for your kind words.

atsumu was still staring at you, something unreadable behind his eyes. “you’re scaring the poor girl tsum’ say thank you,” mrs. miya chastised her husband. “thank you, y/n,” atsumu drawled. you couldn’t help but notice the way your name fell off his tongue, captivated by the way he could make it sound so desirable.

“money’s on the table,” mrs. miya spoke, “haru’s on the couch watching adventure time,” mrs. miya chuckled, causing you to smile. “we’ll be back around 11,” atsumu said, grabbing his wife’s hand. mrs. miya said her goodbyes, her husband doing the same.

you watched as mrs. miya placed a kiss on her child’s head, atsumu smiling down at his son. it was a heartwarming scene. “be sure to lock up,” atsumu said as he and his wife headed towards the door.

he looked over his shoulder at you, smirking, before speaking once more, “thanks again for the compliments, y/n,”.

you had sat down next to haru and watched adventure time for a good hour. eventually, you had gotten up to make him mac and cheese. he was a sweet kid, his parents raising him with wonderful manners. you ran a bath for him after dinner, the boy begging to bring his toys in with him.

you obliged, adding bubbles to the bath and one too many teenage mutant ninja turtles. once he had dried off from his bath, he got dressed for bed, brushing his teeth. he said his goodnight, and made you promise that you would tell his parents that he said goodnight to them too. you smiled down at the boy, holding out your pinky.

you switched off his lamp, “door closed or open?” you asked, “closed please,” he said softly. “alright, get some sleep,” you smiled at him, shutting his door. you had walked downstairs, sitting down on the living room couch. you mindlessly scrolled through your phone for a bit, double-tapping photos. you saw headlights flash through the window, the couple arriving home.

you figured you’d wait for the doorbell to ring before unlocking the door, in order to show atsumu that you had locked up as he had said to. you sat for a minute more, confused on why the couple wasn’t already at the door. you figured they may have been sitting in the car talking, your attention falling back down to your phone.

30 minutes, and long one’s at that, had passed. you didn’t want to invade on their privacy, but you were tired and ready to go home. you peeked out the window, and the car was in the driveway.

the windows were fogged, and the car seemed to have a slight shake to it. a hand slapped against the backseat window, and as your mind put 2 + 2 together, you quickly averted your eyes from the scene.

you couldn’t help the arousal that began to form in your lower area. you could feel your cheeks heat up as you sat back down on the couch, crossing your legs and rubbing your thighs together.

two minutes later, the doorbell rang. you rushed to the front door, taking a deep breath before unlocking the door. sex was written all over the both of them, atsumu’s gelled back hair now slightly falling over his forehead, his cheeks flushed a light pink. mrs. miya was in a similar state, her cheeks tinged a darker shade of pink then atsumu’s.

“sorry we’re so late,” atsumu smiled, his hand falling to the small of his wife’s back. he led her inside, walking to the kitchen and you followed. “how was haru?” mrs. miya asked, a slight breathlessness to her tone. “oh, um he was really great, he’s really well behaved,” you answered.

mrs. miya smiled at that, throwing her clutch down on to the table before sitting down. “water, hon?” atsumu asked from across the kitchen, mrs. miya nodding before letting her face fall into her hands.

atsumu set a glass of water down in front of his wife, the woman muttering out a soft thank you. he opened the liquor cabinet, grabbing the bottle of bourbon and a crystallized cup. “bourbon, tsum?” mrs. miya scolded slightly, atsumu just shrugging in response.

“i n-need to get this dress off,” mrs. miya said, seemingly growing slightly more unsettled. “atsumu’s drunk as a fish,” mrs. miya groaned, flailing her hands in the direction of her husband, “bet he wouldn’t even be able to find the zipper,”.

she turned towards you, her voice softening, “would you mind coming up and unzipping me? sorry to keep you longer, i just need to get this dress off,” she huffed out a sigh. “of course, i don’t mind,” you said politely, following mrs. miya out of the kitchen.

you turned back to see atsumu leaning against the counter, tipping his glass of bourbon towards you with a wolfish grin.

mrs. miya took off her other earring, setting the gold piece down in her jewelry box. their bedroom was close to how you had expected, elegant but comfortable and homey. “sorry it was such a long night,” mrs. miya said, her back still turned towards you as she fiddled with the clasp of her necklace.

“it’s alright, i really don’t mind,” you watch the clasp of the necklace open and close a few more times before you offered, “did you want help?”. “yes,” mrs. miya sighed, “that’d be great, thank you,” she turned back to smile at you.

she had unpinned her hair, most likely in the car, brown locks falling over shoulder. her hand grabbed her hair, brushing it over her left shoulder. your finger pulled down on the little gold clasp, separating the link of the necklace.

you lifted it over mrs. miya’s head before setting it down beside the jewelry box. “thank you,” she smiled, “o-of course,” you replied meekly. “would you mind getting my dress now,” mrs. miya asked. “oh um, yes,” you cringed at your awkwardness, your hands falling to the neckline of her dress.

you grasped the zipper between your pointer finger and thumb, pulling down. you had to tug a little harder as you got further down the dress, but eventually the item of clothing pooled at mrs. miya’s feet. you forced yourself to look somewhere else, eyeing the photo of mrs. miya and her husband at the beach.

“can i ask you something?” she paused for a moment, “just between us girls,”. you hummed out an ‘mhm’, looking down at the ground now. “do you think atsumu will like this lingerie? i was on the fence about it when i bought it,”. at her words, you couldn’t help but let your eyes rake up her figure.

the lingerie was blush pink, and lace, acting as a subtle parallel to mrs. miya’s skin. you became more and more aware of how hot the room was becoming, had it always been this hot? you looked up, mrs. miya facing you now, her eyebrows raised in question. “so?” she asked plainly, that sweet smile still on her lips.

“i-it’s lovely, mr. miya will love it,” you stuttered, forcing your eyes away from her body. mrs. miya walked over to the full length mirror on the other side of the room, her hands brushing over her body. “i don’t know, i think i feel weird cause i’ve only seen it on me,” she hesitated before her smile grew and she clapped her hands together.

“you have to try it on, i think i need to see it from another perspective,” her eyes were glinting in delight. “oh n-no, i couldn’t,” “please, i’d really appreciate it,”. you bit on your bottom lip before simply nodding. mrs. miya’s hands raised to the bra clasp but you stopped her before she could remove the bralette from her body, “i-i’ll! i’ll try it on the bathroom,” you quieted down towards the end of your sentence, your cheeks flushed with heat.

“oh okay,” she said, “walk right through the door, i’ll pass it through in just a second,”. you opened the barn door that led to the master bathroom, closing it behind you. you took a deep breath, rationalizing what was going on at the moment. a knock broke you from your rushing thoughts, “here you go,” mrs. miya’s soft voice sounded through the wood of the door.

you opened it, a green robe covering her body now, “i-i’ll put it on, and be-” your voice cracked slightly, “be out in just a second,”. mrs. miya nodded in understanding, smiling before you shut the barn door.

you unbuckled your jeans, folding them neatly before setting them on the countertop of the sink. you pulled your shirt over your head, folding it and placing it on top of your pants. you were embarrassed with the panties you had chosen to wear today, zebra stripes and hot pink hearts covering the fabric. you pulled your panties off, putting them under your jeans and out of sight.

your bra came off next, and you flung it atop your clothes. you huffed out a deep breath, pulling the white lace panties onto your body. you couldn’t help but think that mrs. miya had just worn these, the thought sending shivers down your spine. you put the bralette on next, slipping it over your arms before clasping it in the middle.

you looked over your appearance in the mirror, shaking away any insecurities. you walked over to the barn door, pulling it open little by little. you could see mrs. miya’s head turn expectantly and once the door no longer covered your body, her eyes lit up. “wow,” she sighed, and you couldn’t help but want to curl in on yourself.

your embarrassment must of been visible, mrs. miya quickly reassuring you, “you look fucking amazing,”. the curse word sounded so foreign falling from her lips, yet you reveled in the harshness of the word coming from her lips. “t-thank you,” you said quietly.

mrs. miya’s voice was cut off by the sound of the bedroom door opening. you quickly realized what that meant, but before you could even react atsumu’s eyes were locked on your face and falling down your figure. “got started without me, huh?”.

you felt like crying, embarrassed that mr. miya was seeing you like this. “atsumu!” his wife chastised. a single tear fell down your cheek, your throat burning and yet there was that hint of something you felt deep inside of you.

“i-i’m sorry y/n, we should’ve been more upfront with you,” mrs. miya said walking over to you, her hand brushing away the tear that had fallen down your cheek. more...upfront? what did she mean?

atsumu could sense your confusion, that slight smirk still lingering in his expression, “what my wife is trying to say is that,” atsumu started, walking closer to you, “we think you deserve a reward, been so good tonight, waited here for so long too,”. mrs. miya’s hand that was on your cheek was now rubbing your shoulder.

your hair had been tied up since earlier, and atsumu’s mouth latched onto the exposed skin of your neck, sucking on the skin. he pulled back slightly, admiring the reddish-purple mark blossoming on your body. he plunged in once more, leaving lingering kisses along your neck, your cheek, your jawline. mrs. miya was kissing your shoulder, her hands gripping your hips.

“atsumu stop for a moment,” atsumu grumbled, but pulled away nonetheless. mrs. miya grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at her, “is this alright? if you want to stop we can, we’ll forget it ever happened,”. your bottom lip was pulled between your teeth, your entire body feeling as though it was on fire.

“but if you want this, we need to hear it,” mrs. miya finished, her eyes glazing over your expression intently, searching for any hesitation. “w-want this,” you said quietly “want you both, please,” you whimpered. you heard atsumu chuckle lowly from behind you before your line of vision was shifting from mrs. miya to her husband.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” he said, his voice gravely. “we’ve been wantin’ to do this since the first fuckin’ day,”. next thing you knew atsumu’s lips were on yours, the distinct taste of bourbon flooding your senses. atsumu pulled away, a line of spit connecting your lips, before he moved back to your neck, sucking another hickey into your skin.

“so greedy tsumu’,” mrs. miya said, turning you to her once more before her lips locked with yours. her lips tasted sweet, her tongue slotting over yours and easily winning dominance. she pulled away flashing that sweet smile at you once more. they were going to be the death of you. mrs miya walked you back towards the bed, pushing you down onto the soft mattress.

“gonna be good for us, right?” she mumbled into the skin of your stomach, kissing down the length of your body. “look at her babe, she’s already fucking drooling,” you heard atsumu speak from above you, his body towering over yours.

mrs. miya pulled away from your skin for a moment, looking up at your desperate expression. “look so pretty,” she sighed, her hands playing with the waistband of the white lace panties. “gonna look so pretty when your full of tsumu’s cock too, huh?”. you whined at the thought, your hips thrusting up into nothing

“told ya we wouldn’t be strangers, tsumu,”

OKAY I KNOW KINDA A CLIFFHANGER ON THE SMUT I DONT MEAN TO EDGE YALL LIKE THAT :{ but i really wanted to get this out. maybe i’ll do a part 2 depending on how this part of the fic does??? thank you for reading love you<3

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oh-for-merlins-sake · 4 years

Text

WAR | gw

a/n: hi all! this is my first stab at a george weasley x reader fanfic and i hope you like it! i had oodles and oodles of fun writing it and i can’t wait to write more. feedback is always appreciated (if anyone’s happened to find this)! i would be profoundly honored to dedicate this piece to @ickle-ronniekins who i’ve been secretly reading for months now, and who’s inspired me to start writing again! cheers! x

pairing: george weasley x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

warnings: mild swearing, mild teenage angst.

┈┈┈┈

“If Wood snaps at me one more time about that stupid bloody bludger I missed, I may just whack him off his broom with one,” George grumbled, scooping a spoonful of porridge into his bowl.

“You’d think we were playing for the World Cup the way he’s been acting,” Fred complained.

Gryffindor was fresh off a losing Quidditch match with Slytherin, which did not sit well with their captain, Oliver Wood. Granted, it was Wood’s final year as Captain, but that didn’t necessarily mean that the House Cup was a life-or-death matter as he’d been treating it. Much to his team’s dismay, this meant that he was particularly critical of every minute mistake and trivial trip-up.

As the twins grumbled and griped about Wood and his overbearing spirits, Marcus Flint, Slytherin captain, strode into the Great Hall, boasting about their recent victory.

“As if Wood needed something else to set him off,” Fred said with a dramatic eye roll.

Flint continued arrogantly prattling on near the entrance, making sure that every student who made their way in that morning could hear all about the knockout game they’d had.

“Wish there was a way to shut him up,” Fred continued.

As Wood defiantly stood from the table to storm over to Flint and share a piece of his mind, inspiration struck George.

“Oh Freddie boy, there surely is a way!” He grinned mischievously before whipping around and aiming a quiet Langlock jinx at Flint.

Just as the spell shot from the tip of his wand, Flint rushed over to the Slytherin table at the beck and call of his girlfriend, causing the jinx to fire at an unsuspecting, innocent victim: you.

George felt his insides twist and turn at the sight of you grasping for your mates in a pure state of panic.

“George!” Fred scolded.

“I wasn’t trying to hit her, you prat!”

“Well, fix it!”

“I don’t know how!”

You clawed at your mouth in a desperate attempt to translate your current predicament to your mates now that your tongue was currently locked against the roof of your mouth. As your mates whirled around you in confusion, you spotted the flustered twins as they bickered relentlessly and poorly obscured their gestures towards you. You violently pointed in their direction in an accusatory fashion, which your mates understood without hesitation.

If looks could kill, they would’ve been murdered on the spot.

“You barbaric prats!” Your best mate shrieked before escorting you to the hospital wing.

Fred and George grimaced at one another and gulped down their fears of what was to come.

┈┈┈┈

“I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning, have you?” George anxiously asked Fred as they crept into the Great Hall.

“I haven’t,” he confirmed, claiming a spot at their table. “If she comes after us, I will kick your arse into next week, understood?”

George repeatedly scanned the room for you as he fidgeted with the toast on his plate. He was much too fretful to consume even a single bite of breakfast.

When he’d finally decided that you might not be coming to breakfast that morning (perhaps you were still in the hospital wing?), he gave up and dug in. It wasn’t until Fred dropped his utensils with a loud clang that George snapped his head up to find you barreling into the Great Hall with a look of fury and determination.

“Shit!” Fred and George immediately scrambled for their book bags, cursing at one another to hurry up already!

“You pathetic little morons!” You picked up the pace and brandished your wand. “Opuggno!”

You sent gargantuan heaps of porridge hurdling out of their bowls and in their direction. As they each made a frantic attempt to dodge the porridge, they accidentally collided with one another, setting them in perfect place for your attack.

“I’m going to bloody murder you, George,” Fred grumbled as porridge began seeping into every crevice of his body.

George wiped the goop out his eyes to find you hovering over them, wand still at bay.

“I dare you to jinx me again — see what happens,” you threatened.

George stammered for a response but couldn’t seem to find the proper words.

“That’s what I thought,” you stated triumphantly.

You swiftly turned on your heel, strutting towards your friends who were jovially applauding your attack.

“You chose the wrong one to jinx, mate,” Fred spat, climbing to his feet.

“It was an accident!” George exclaimed in exasperation.

“Which is what your death will look like once I’m done with you!”

┈┈┈┈

“Y/N, do you really want to spend your time this year vigilantly fending them off? I think they’ve been punished enough, don’t you?” Your best mate, Caroline, complained as the train pulled into Hogsmeade.

Truth be told, she was probably right.

The remainder of your fifth year was spent casting foul looks at the twins whenever they approached you, and — okay, maybe you sent another jinx or two their way since the porridge fiasco, but you were quite frightened when they jinxed you! You weren’t familiar with the Langlock jinx; you almost thought someone was suffocating you! Not to mention the awful feeling of Madam Pomfrey un-sticking your tongue, or the dreadful side effect of altered taste that lasted a month after.

One thing that retained its sweet taste, however, was revenge.

But perhaps Caroline was right. After all, they’d certainly been walking on eggshells around you since then. It was highly unlikely they’d cause you any more trouble.

You sighed, hauling your trunk off the train. “I guess you’re right.”

The two of you claimed a carriage up to the school grounds, happy to breathe in the fresh, crisp air after the exhaustingly long train ride in.

“You don’t think I was too hard on them, do you?” You asked.

“Well,” Caroline said as the carriage rolled along the path, “Perhaps a tad.”

“All right, I’ll bloody apologize,” you decided.

“Good! You’ll feel much better once you do!”

Shortly upon arrival, you noticed Fred and George hopping out of the carriage that sat a few ahead of yours, and you figured now might be the best time to end this war before they fled too far away.

“Weasley!” You called, cautiously approaching them.

They simultaneously whipped their heads to face you, eyes widening at your presence.

“Relax, I’m not gonna hex you,” you chuckled.

“To what do we owe the pleasure then?” Fred asked, sternly crossing his arms.

“I wanted to apologize,” you mumbled, glancing up at each of them sheepishly.

“Well, well, well, would you look at that, Georgie! She’s come to apologize,” he teased.

“Oh, just shut up and listen,” you laughed. “I’m really sorry for all of those... gratuitous spells...”

“Oh, you mean like the time you glued my shoes to the floor?” George recalled.

“Or the time you jinxed my quill to bite me during Charms?” Fred reminded.

“Yes, exactly that... I’m sorry,” you said. “Truce?”

They glanced at one another and playfully pondered your request.

“I dunno, Freddie, should we give her another chance?” George asked, a grin tugging at the edge of his lips.

Fred tapped his chin with his index finger and contorted his face in feigned contemplation.

“Hurry up, won’t you — before I change my mind!”

“All right, all right — truce,” Fred decided, shaking your hand.

“Truce,” George echoed, doing the same.

You felt a weight lift from your shoulders as you all laughed at your previous antics and wandered up the hill with Caroline (who was also quite relieved at the reconciliation).

“For the record,” Fred said, “I never jinxed you. That was all sweet Georgie here!” He ruffled George’s hair with his knuckles.

“Thanks, you prat,” George hissed, shoving Fred off of him.

You laughed and poked George in the ribs. “It’s okay! We’re starting over, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “Starting over.”

┈┈┈┈

As the months trickled by, you found yourself spending an increasing amount of time with Fred and George. Whether they were intruding on your late-night study sessions in the library, (“Would you put that bloody book down already!”) or you were all in a fit of laughter by the Black Lake, you genuinely enjoyed their company and couldn’t believe it took you this long to do so.

Despite your growing friendship with Fred, something just clicked with you and George. He often snuck food out of the kitchen for you during those late-night study sessions; and he’d make sure you made it to Herbology before scurrying off to Transfiguration (often resulting in a late arrival); he’d also crumple up silly doodles of Snape during Potions and chuck them onto your desk.

One thing he hadn’t manage to do was ask you to the Yule Ball.

“Mate, you’ve got to ask her soon, or someone else will,” Fred urged.

It was blatantly obvious to Fred that his brother was head over heels for you — no question about it. He also felt quite confident that you felt the same; in fact, he’d likely bet a few galleons on it. Why George couldn’t muster the courage to simply ask you to the ball was beyond him.

So, there the two sat, bickering in the courtyard while you were busy finalizing your Charms essay in the library.

“I’m working on it, all right?” George retorted. “I just haven’t figured out how.”

“Oh, I see,” Fred began with a tinge of sarcasm, “Because saying, ‘Hey, Y/N, would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me’ is simply unsatisfactory.”

George rolled his eyes, fiddling with the strap of his book bag. “I just want to make sure I’m doing the right thing,” he murmured. “Don’t want to make things painfully awkward, y’know?”

“You mean in case she says no?”

George nodded as they made their way back into the castle.

“You’re bloody mad if you think she’d turn you down,” Fred said.

As they approached the library to scoop you up for Charms, they noticed you were already headed there with someone else.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Fred groaned as you turned the corner.

“Is that —”

“Pretty Boy Diggory...”

George was already sprinting to catch up, beckoning Fred to do the same.

“What did I tell you, Georgie,” Fred grumbled to himself.

By the time they could slow down and casually approach you, you were standing just outside of the classroom, giggling away with Cedric.

“I’ll see you later?” Cedric asked, a slight blush on his cheeks.

“Can’t wait,” you said softly.

He placed a kiss to your cheek before you bashfully ducked into the classroom.

George suddenly felt his stomach sinking to his feet. He thought he might churn if he looked at Cedric any longer. And was he imagining it or were his limbs actually going numb? Maybe he should crawl behind a statue, curl up into a ball, and stay there for the remainder of his education. Yes, that sounded quite appealing in this moment.

Cedric gleefully greeted the twins as he passed them on his way to class, “Morning!”

“Morning,” Fred mumbled, refusing to take his eyes off of George.

Fred nearly dragged George into class, who now sat at his desk, colorless, emotionless, and utterly defeated.

You swiveled around in your chair to face them, waving excitedly.

If you were being honest, you had desperately hoped that George would’ve asked you to the Yule Ball by now, given that there were only a few days left. Once you’d realized that he wasn’t going to ask you (what a foolish thought that was anyways), you figured you might as well scout out other options. When Caroline had causally mentioned that Cedric couldn’t keep his eyes off of you in Herbology, you considered him a perfectly pleasant substitution.

But he wasn’t George.

You were fairly confused when the twins failed to eagerly return your greeting, but you didn’t have much time to ponder that before Professor Flitwick began his lesson.

You slowly turned back around, quite befuddled at their behavior.

Had you done something wrong?

┈┈┈┈

“Quit your worrying — you look beautiful!” Caroline gushed as the two of you skipped down the stairs.

“Thanks,” you said, squeezing her around the shoulder, “So do you!”

You gently lifted the hem of your deep indigo dress as you carefully descended the last of the steps. You straightened the sheer, sparkly layer of tulle that gracefully sat atop your dress and scanned the room for George.

You knew you ought to be looking for Cedric, but George had been acting rather odd since that day in Charms — almost like he’d been avoiding you.

Fred still sat with you by the Black Lake after class, swapping sweets with you, and even tackled his Transfiguration homework with you one night in the library. But encounters with George seemed few and far between since then.

You couldn’t help but wonder if it may have been the result of something you’d been dreading: he’d found his date to the Yule Ball, and they’d been inseparable since.

Cedric called your name, snapping you back to reality.

“You look stunning,” he said, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it.

You blushed and returned the compliment, coyly glancing around the room for any sign of Fred or George. You spotted Fred with Angelina making their way into the Great Hall and — there! You caught another head of fiery red hair ambling along beside of him.

Thankfully, Cedric had been momentarily distracted by a few of his mates to notice you standing on your tippy toes in a failed attempt to catch sight of whom George was with.

“Shall we?” Cedric asked, extending his arm for the taking.

You absent-mindedly intertwined your arm with his as he escorted you into the Great Hall. It was only during your opening dance with Cedric that you laid eyes on George’s date: Katie Bell.

You subconsciously frowned as you noticed George was far too preoccupied with the floor in front of him to notice you in your pretty gown, hair flowing behind you, twirling around — all in an effort to impress him. What was worse was the fact that Katie was practically sitting on him with how close she was... barf.

Before you knew it, minutes had turned into hours, and you were considerably exhausted by Cedric toting you around, introducing you to this person and that one. Keeping up a cheerful attitude while George danced around the room with someone else was particularly draining. But a Triwizard champion had no business mingling with a mope! So you kept up appearances.

But if Cedric spun you in one more circle, you thought you might just lose your dinner.

Unbeknownst to you, George would’ve agreed with your internal thoughts. He too was exhausted; exhausted by Katie’s constant, mindless chatter and her forced laughs at any and every comment he made. And as if watching you fawn over Cedric for the past few hours wasn’t bad enough, it didn’t boost his spirits to listen to Fred snapping at him every chance he got, practically begging George to intervene.

When you noticed Angelina and Katie heading for the girl’s room, you excused yourself from Cedric and his mates.

George was going to talk to you, damn it.

As you swiftly approached their table, Fred kicked George underneath and blurted, “She’s coming this way!”

“Fred, George! Fancy seeing you here!” You exclaimed in an overly cheerful tone.

You plopped down into the chair beside of George and took a swig of your Butterbeer. He furrowed his brows and crossed his arms.

“You look nice,” Fred complimented in an attempt to encourage George to say something similar.

“Thank you, Freddie, so do you,” you stated plainly.

An awkward silence ensued as George fiddled with his glass, avoiding eye contact.

You cleared your throat and tapped his shoulder. “How’s your night going, George?”

He seemed startled by your touch. He straightened up, pondering how to converse with you when he was so positively peeved by you prancing around with Cedric.

“Oh, it’s going fine,” he’d decided on. “Katie’s really wonderful — have you two met? I’m sure you’ve seen her around; very pretty, a little taller than you. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but she’s also a wicked Quidditch player! I know you said you’d like to hone your Quidditch skills sometime — sure she’d be chuffed to teach someone with zero experience. Also fairly sure she’s top of your Herbology class, so I guess you two must have met by now!”

“What are you playing at?” You snapped.

Fred’s eyes widened as he grabbed his glass and announced, “Going to get a refill!”

“What d’you mean?” George asked innocently.

“Yes, I’ve met Katie Bell, and yes, I know she’s wonderful. I’m sure that’s why you asked her,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“How’s your night going with Pretty Boy Diggory? Seems like a drag to me,” George sneered.

“It’s actually been quite lovely,” you lied. “Really knows how to treat a lady, I must say! You know, when he asked me, he gave me a sunflower, which is my favorite! He’s also very charming, and witty, too.”

“Well, I’m glad someone finally asked you,” he spat.

“Excuse me?”

“I was starting to worry you might never find someone!”

“Says the bloke who couldn’t score a date until the day before!”

Tears were welling up in your eyes and you begged them not to spill over. Just as you were about to deliver your next jab, Cedric made his way back to you.

“George,” he greeted with a polite nod before turning to you. “Thought we might sneak away to the gardens, love. What do you think?”

“I would love to!” You exclaimed defiantly. You tossed back your Butterbeer and slammed your empty glass on the table before placing a hard kiss to Cedric’s lips.

“Have a nice night, Georgie!”

If George had been thinking a little more clearly, if he hadn’t just had a tough row with you, he may have thought better than to do what he did next.

“Furnunculus!” He hissed, wand clearly aimed at Cedric.

You gasped as boils began erupting onto Cedric’s face, rapidly spreading down to his neck. You turned to see George storming out of the Great Hall, tucking his wand into his robes. You quickly dragged Cedric out into the corridor.

“Madam Pomfrey will be able to fix you right up, dear. I’m so sorry about this!”

It was quite difficult for Cedric to do anything other than moan in agony as you escorted him to the hospital wing.

As soon as Madam Pomfrey assured you that Cedric would be well in no time, you made your way back down to the Great Hall, only to find that the festivities were wrapping up. You spotted George sulking up the stairs with Fred and practically leapt up the steps towards him.

Once you were close enough, you spun him around to face you.

His eyes widened as you whipped out your wand and said tearfully, “This is the last time you ruin my day with a stupid jinx.”

Before George could say anything, you ambushed him with a gnarly Bat-Bogey hex. Tears streamed down your face as he flailed around.

Fred sighed at you. “Can’t you two just grow up already?”

You pushed past him and sprinted down the stairs. You felt like the oxygen in your body was slowly leaking out of you; you desperately needed fresh air. As you burst into the courtyard, you collapsed onto a bench with no one to cry with but yourself.

Your ears were ringing violently, and you felt dizzy and helpless as you tried to catch your breath. This is not how you’d envisioned your night.

You wanted nothing more than to fall into George’s arms and to confess to him how you’d felt — how you’d felt for the past few months now. You wanted to tell him how the only thing you could think of the entire night was how you’d give a thousand galleons to be the one twirling around with him instead of Katie. How dreadfully boring you found Cedric compared to him. How sorry you were that you didn’t wait for him.

You were heartbroken and alone.

You weren’t sure if the two of you would ever recover.

┈┈┈┈

“He’s staring again,” Caroline mumbled.

“Well, staring won’t get him very far, will it?” You said, twiddling with your quill as you flipped through your Herbology notes.

Christmas break was over, and it was time to get ready for your N.E.W.T.s, so whenever you had a free moment to brush up on your studies, you took advantage of it.

Caroline had pointed out several times during this train ride how often George would glance your way and seemingly battle with himself about coming over to talk to you.

After the Yule Ball, the two of you made it a point to avoid each other. While at surface value it seemed that you two were avoiding each other out of spite, truthfully, you were both avoiding each other out of sheer embarrassment. You both knew you’d overreacted, and you both knew you should’ve just come to terms with your feelings for one another right then and there. But no, just as Fred had implied, you’d both acted rather childishly.

The remainder of that year saw Fred and Caroline constantly devising ways to get you and George to talk to one another, but each attempt was met with failure.

That summer felt awfully empty without George, even if Fred had mentioned him in a letter every now and then.

When neither of you initiated conversation during the first half of your final year, you became increasingly anxious at how long you’d have to cope with the consequences of your immature behavior.

“What do you expect him to do, Y/N?” Caroline asked.

“I dunno,” you earnestly replied, “I guess I just want him to be honest with me. I’m tired of this ridiculous back and forth and tip-toeing around what could be.”

“Well, were you ever honest with him?”

You loved Caroline, but sometimes you despised her brutal honesty.

“No,” you sheepishly admitted.

“Well, all right then.”

Just as you resumed your light reading, you noticed your quill transforming in your hand. You gazed at it in confusion and watched in awe as it slowly became a beautiful, bright sunflower.

Caroline chuckled lightly as the heat rushed to your face. You glanced up at George, who peered at you apologetically from his seat and bashfully waved at you.

You couldn’t resist breaking out into a ridiculous grin as you warmly waved back.

George let out a small laugh as you turned back to Caroline.

“That seemed pretty honest to me,” she triumphantly stated.

“Oh, hush, you,” you giggled.

Once classes resumed, your time was fairly consumed by your studies. You rarely saw George outside of Charms, and that wasn’t exactly a prime spot for conversation, given that this year you were practically sprinting from the greenhouse to get to Charms on time. You often tried to catch him in the Great Hall or in the corridor, but your schedules outside of Charms seemed so misaligned.

But, boy, did you long to talk to him.

Every once in a blue moon, you’d find another sunflower mysteriously appearing on your desk, or on top of your book in the library, or quite literally replacing your breakfast plate. You began viewing these occurrences as George’s way of communicating with you when your schedules seemed hell-bent on keeping you apart.

When you finally enlisted in Dumbledore’s Army, the universe sang in celebration.

It wasn’t until your first meeting that you realized you might actually stand a chance of sitting down and having a conversation with him. Maybe not during the meeting, but certainly on the way out!

After an exhilarating lesson, you felt adrenaline coursing through your veins. You’d successfully conjured a Patronus and expertly countered some spells that Caroline sent barreling your way. There was only one thing that could make this even better.

“George!” You called to him as he began shuffling out of the room.

He stopped in his tracks, turning to you with his jaw slightly slacked. He playfully pointed to himself, turning around then back again. “Are you talking to me?”

You laughed lightly, which he returned. You cautiously approached him, struggling to make eye contact.

“Listen, George — ”

“Y/N, I — ”

You both laughed again.

“Go ‘head,” you said.

The last few stragglers made their way out of the Room of Requirement until it was just the two of you. Even Fred and Caroline had long gone.

“Y/N... I’m really sorry about... well, about everything...” There was a hint of sadness in his voice that you’d never heard before.

“George — ”

“No, really. I’m sorry I acted like such an arse last year. It’s just, when I saw you with Cedric — ”

It felt weird hearing his name now.

“I felt sick. I had always known that you were different — that you were special. But I never fully acknowledged that until I saw him kissing you in the hallway. I wanted to evaporate into thin air and pretend I’d never existed. I couldn’t bring myself to even come within a few meters of you because it just felt like a wicked punch to the gut.”

You frowned in sympathy. If only he’d known how you’d felt.

“And then at the Yule Ball,” he continued, “Blimey, did you look bloody beautiful. I’d never seen anything so angelic in my life. And to see that tainted by him gushing over you and parading you around nearly killed me. I would’ve given anything for you to be dancing with me instead.”

“George — ” You tried to speak again.

“Please, let me finish,” he begged. “I acted like a right prat that night. I was angry that he’d beaten me to the punch. I was angry that you’d ended up with him and not me. I let my anger overwhelm my senses and thought that maybe if I made you feel just as angry as I’d felt, that maybe you’d realize I’d been there all along. But instead, it was a pathetic idea, and instead I made you feel small. And Merlin, Y/N, I don’t ever want to see you look at me that way again — not in my whole life.”

He gripped your shoulders, and you were worried he might be able to hear your heart pounding in your chest, begging to burst from inside of you and profess its love once and for all.

“All I care about is what makes you happy. And if that was him, then I should’ve let it be. I’m sorry about what happened, I’m sorry I can’t bring him back, but Y/N... I would give up everything I own — which I know doesn’t seem like much — just to make you happy. If I have to conjure up a thousand sunflowers every day for the rest of my life just to see you smile, then you’ll never go a day without one.”

Your head was reeling and you could have sworn the room was spinning profusely around you. You clutched his hands on your shoulders for balance and felt a single tear roll down your flushed face.

“George, I’m so, so sorry,” you blurted out as you began to cry.

His body collided with yours as he embraced you with the force of a million supernovae bursting through the universe.

“I’m so sorry,” you repeated, burying your face into his chest.

“It’s okay, Y/N. It’s okay,” he whispered.

You pulled away. “No, George, I need you to know — I would’ve given everything to be your date that night. Day in and day out, I daydreamed about what it would be like to be your date to the Yule Ball. I desperately wanted to go with you... but as it got closer and closer, I gave up. I went with the first person who asked me, and I am so sorry. I should’ve waited for you!”

George gently held the sides of your face, wiping your tears away.

“And those things I said about him,” you continued, “I only said them because I was hurt that Katie Bell got to dance with you and hold you and laugh with you, and I wanted nothing more than do those things myself. I didn’t feel anything for him, George! I only wanted you. And I’m sorry that I hexed you after that, and I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner — ”

Before you could utter another word, George crashed his lips onto yours, and you nearly melted in his arms. As your lips moved in synchrony, fireworks exploded in your heart and a symphony of bliss echoed inside your head. This was the feeling you’d been yearning for; this was the little piece of your soul that had been missing; this was you and George Weasley and nobody else; this was pure, unadulterated, head-over-heels love.

You both laughed as you peppered kisses across each other’s lips.

“Is this our formal peace treaty, Weasley?” You teased.

He pressed another kiss to your lips before biting his lip in thought. “Bound by one condition, I suppose.”

“And may I ask what that condition might be?” You giggled.

“Be my girlfriend, yeah?” He murmured against your lips.

“Oh, all right!”

George draped his arms around your waist, scooping you up as he continued indulging in the sweet taste of your kisses.

It seems as though two of you did recover.

The war was over.

#george weasley #george wealsey x reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #george weasley imagine #fred weasley #fanfiction #george weasley fanfiction #fred and george #fred and george weasley #weasley

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marmosa · 4 years

Text

short fuse.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: zero proof reading, ha sorry

A/N: hey guys, so i’m swamped with work rn so my writing process is totally stunted, so i’m sorry about the wait for a new fic. aside from that, i hit 118 followers??? that’s absolutely insane to me that 118 people wanna stick around to see more of my work, it makes me undeniably happy and so proud. So thank you, thank you, thank you. i wanna celebrate somehow, but i’m running dry on ideas. i shot a soulmate!au fred by my best friend and she was keen on it, so i’m leaning towards that, but i do want to celebrate in a way that caters to you guys. so my inbox is open for suggestions and requests while i handle personal obligations. sorry this was a bit of a long a/n, but i just wanna thank you all again so very much for choosing to stick around. it means a lot to me. thank you and enjoy <3

***

“I haven’t got a single clue as to what you’re talking about, she says! That’s a load of rubbish if I’ve ever heard it!”

[y/n] finally laxed and looked up from her hand, furrowing her brows as she continued to blow a soft gust of air onto the drying layer of nail varnish. Her eyes trailed along with Fred who was pacing around her dormitory, his face flushed in anger as he ranted on about some girl in his potions class who happened to piss him off earlier that morning.

“You’d think after Snape chewing our heads off about a less than perfect presentation she’d at least pull some of her weight! And I’m no academic mind you, but I would really prefer to avoid another one of my mum’s howlers this week,” he huffed, finally sitting down in one of the loveseats with an aggressive thump.

“If it’s angering you this much I suggest you either speak to Snape, but he’s insufferable so chance are that’ll bust. How do you feel about me hexing her?” [y/n] offered, offering him a small consoling smile, trying her best to lighten his mood.

It didn’t seem to work as the cloud of frustration continued to thunder above his head, the crease in his forehead more prominent than ever. He dragged his hand down his face and let his head loll back with a grunt, “I appreciate the offer but if I’m forced to another insufferable detention with Snape I’m going to do something awful.”

“What happened to the Fred who spends detention pranking Snape until he’s decided to stop giving you detention simply to avoid having to deal with your pranks again?” [y/n] queried, looking back up from the thumb she’d just fixed up.

“He went and died,” Fred grumbled, sinking further into his chair and frowning.

“Oh shove it, come here,” she waved him over, giving him a demanding stare when he remained deflated in his seat, “I said come here!”

He groaned like a petulant child and slid out of his chair, dragging all his weight as he shuffled over, plopping down onto the floor with a thud strong enough to shake the nail varnish container, earning himself a narrow glare from [y/n].

“Let me paint your nails,” she hummed, grabbing his hand and placing it in front of her without so much as a nod of confirmation.

He remained silent as she got to work, coating his nails in a fine layer of a lovely light blue, humming a small tune to herself as he continued to have the anger peel off him ever so slowly. As soon as she finished the first hand he silently gave her the other, resigning to blow a small gust of air onto the drying paint.

“You’ve gone all quiet, d’ya like getting your nails done?” she mused, grabbing one of the many q-tips spilled across her surface to wipe away at the still wet polish that dripped off the side of his thumbnail.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he mumbled, back-tracking when she squeezed his hand to emphasize that she was just asking him a genuine question, “a little, yeah.”

“Well then you should ask me to paint them more often! I think I did a pretty good job and look-!” she held up their hands together, pressing hers right under his just enough to where you could still see his nails, “we match!”

Fred couldn’t carry his anger anymore, a smile finally creeping its way onto his lips, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he returned the kind gesture. His heart decompressed, his posture relaxing as he blew off his remaining steam.

“See, all better- ah! Don’t move yet, they’re not dry,” she chastised him, bringing his hands back down flat against the surface, earning herself a shocked grimace from him, “sorry, I’d just hate for it to smudge.”

“S’alright,” he blew out a breath of air, his eyes scanning her appearance as she fussed over his nails just to make sure they were still intact.

He felt another smile coming on as he admired her. A concentrated crease in her brow, her hair out of place from the morning past, robes long discarded as she got comfortable despite the school uniform. It was impossible, he thought, to not be in love with her.

“What’re you lookin’ at Weasley? Planning to kill me in cold blood are ya?” she teased, finally content with her scan of his nails.

“If you keep biting at me with all that sass, maybe I will be,” he replied, sticking his tongue out playfully and scrunching his nose.

“Well if you wanna keep coming to me to vent you’re going to have to get used to sass. Besides I’ve known you for ages, this isn’t new, is it?” she queried, cocking her head to the side.

“It certainly isn’t,” he shook his head, “doesn’t mean you should keep doing it. But I rest my case.”

“Good, because we’re gonna be late to class, come on now.”

***

“I like the color mate, where’d ya get that fancy thing done?”

Fred looked up from the parchment in front of him, glancing over to Oliver who’d seemingly already finished up with his charms notes, “oh, it’s uh, [y/n]’s. She painted them for me before class.”

“Nice. Hopefully it doesn’t get ruined at practice today, which is after class don’t you forget it,” Oliver added, nodding his head as if he’d just aided Fred in avoiding a perilous fate.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Fred chuckled, rolling his eyes at Oliver’s typical attitude.

Oliver seemed content with that answer and went back to his work leaving Fred be. Before he could focus back on his work he felt a piece of paper pelt the back of his head, anger twitching in his temple at the annoying gesture. He glanced behind him and saw the crumpled paper on the floor, looking around the class to see a group of Slytherin quidditch players sitting around laughing amongst themselves.

Fred glowered at them and picked up the paper, unfurling it to see a few insults and some shitty grade-level doodle that insinuated Gryffindor was going to lose the upcoming match later that week. Anger bubbled within him once more as the small gesture relit the fuse [y/n] had supposedly managed to completely put out earlier that day.

Without so much as a side glance he stuck his arm out just enough to where the Slytherin’s could see it and Flitwick couldn’t, muttering a small incantation and feeling the paper burst into flames and reduce itself to ashes in his palm within seconds.

The Slytherin’s had gone and picked a poor day to get on Fred’s nerves as it didn’t take long for another few pieces of paper to be pelted at the back of his head. Unfortunately he had quite literally had it, his stool scraping behind him bringing everyone’s attention to him in the silent class as he thundered over to the Slytherin’s.

He approached them with fury biting into every step he took, his arm surging forward as he grasped the collar of one of the upper year players, a nasty glare painted onto his features.

“You’ve got something you wanted to say to me you slimy bastard?” Fred seethed, his other hand clenched at his side, ready to swing had things decided to take the turn he was anticipating.

“Yeah, didn’t you read the papers?” The Slytherin boy replied smugly, not frightened enough for the immanent danger he was in.

“I would’ve, but none of you are literate enough to form an understandable sentence,” Fred bit back, his brows set heavy on his face, anger practically rolling off him in waves.

The other boy didn’t seem to enjoy having his intelligence insulted, his own chair scraping behind him as he stood up, though it was comical to onlookers just how much taller Fred was than he.

“What’d you say to me, Weasley?”

“I said you’re a piece of shit who’s dumb as rocks.”

That was it. Fists started flying and a ruckus had immediately begun, some students cheering while others called Flitwick’s attention, begging him to intervene in the situation. Being as tall as he was, Fred didn’t have much difficulty tackling the other boy to the ground, taking a sharp swing to his face that landed with a uncomfortably loud thump. The kid cried in pain at that and was finally overtaken by his fighting spirit.

It want on like that for a while, the other kid managing to get in a few hits too, punching Fred in the mouth and landing a nasty kick to the stomach, before Professor Flitwick and another teacher who’d been panic called in finally stopped the brawl.

“Mr. Weasley, enough!” McGonagall snapped, standing in front of him as Oliver and two other Gryffindor’s corralled him to the side and away from the boy who was groaning in pain on the floor.

“But professor he-,”

“Forget detention, you need to be taken to the infirmary this instant! Wood, escort him there immediately and please try not to track blood in the corridors,” McGonagall sighed, exasperated with having to deal with yet another issue, turning on her heel to go attend to the obviously more battered student.

As Fred’s adrenaline finally subsided, pain started to seep into his face and chest, the feeling of fresh blood spilling out of his nose finally registering to him.

“C’mon mate, we’ve got to go before it gets worse,” Oliver insisted, trying his best to forcefully move Fred who was rooted in his place without hurting his injuries.

“Yeah, yeah, right,” Fred nodded, a far away quality to his voice as he and Oliver left the class to head to Madame Pomfrey’s.

***

“Is Fred here? Where is he? Oh, Fred!”

He looked up from the cup of medicine he’d just downed, his face recoiling in disgust at the flavor, eyes sealing shut as he forced it down. When he’d finally recovered from the rancid taste he saw [y/n] barreling towards him, panic glued to her features, her robes billowing behind her.

“Hey, [y/ln],” he grinned, setting the glass down and wincing in pain as he went to uncurl his hands, the knuckles still split open and raw as he waited to have them wrapped up.

“Don’t ‘hey [y/ln]’ me, what were you thinking?” she chided, grabbing a nearby chair and pulling it to the side of his bed, “you look terrible.”

“Hey,” Fred pouted, endeared at her display of worry for his wellbeing, “But you honestly should’ve seen the other guy.”

“I did and as mad I want to be, you did do quite a number on him. But your hands! Oh dear me,” she sighed shakily, jumping up to go collect some gauze, tape, and disinfectant.

“They’re not that bad,” he mumbled as she grabbed one of his hands, guiding it in her direction ever so gently.

“You always say that,” she clipped, taking a cotton ball out of its container on the nightstand and soaking it in disinfectant, “now just brace yourself, it’s going to sting.”

Before Fred could get a word out he was hissing in pain, collapsing his shoulders inward as his body shivered with the sting. She cooed sweet words under her breath, quickly replacing the cotton ball with gauze to protect the now freshly clean wound. After repeating the same process over again she set his now wrapped hands in his lap, discarding of the used things and returning the tools to their designated spot.

“All better,” she smiled, reaching forward and squeezing the uninjured part of his hand kindly, rubbing her thumb over the tightly wound gauze.

Fred’s heart swelled as he watched her, the fight feeling all the more worth it to have her fawn over him, “Yeah, all better.”

“Madame, he should be free to leave shouldn’t he?” [y/n] asked as Madame walked over, a tray of tools and medications in her hands.

“I’d wish it so. Mr. Weasley please remove your shirt so I can get a good look at your injury,” Pomfrey instructed, setting her tools down on the nightstand, “and [y/n] please move to the other side so I can get to work.

[y/n] passed him a wide-eyed glare as she maneuvered to the other side of the bed, her worry quickly being shoved to the side as he revealed his toned abdomen right in her face. Had circumstance not have been so worrisome, she probably would’ve been all over him, however the school infirmary was the last place she was going to do something like that.

She cast her gaze down, pretending to occupy herself with picking at her nails as she desperately tried to focus on anything but him. She could see him looking at her quizzically, but she still refused to cave and play into her not to so pure thoughts.

“Alright, luckily there isn’t more than a bit of nasty bruising and some small fractures. I’ll go get you another dosage of medication but it’ll require that you stay the night in the infirmary,” Madame Pomfrey nodded, lifting her tray and scurrying away, continuing onto the next ailment she had to attend to.

“Stay the night, rubbish,” Fred groaned, letting his fall back against the railing of the bed with a small thunk, his chest rising and falling softly as he stared at the ceiling.

“Don’t get any bright ideas, you’re staying here or I’ll give you different reason to,” [y/n] deadpanned, folding her arms across her chest as she finally looked up at him.

“And what will you do? Hmm?” He smiled smugly, sitting back up and folding his arms over his chest, his muscles flexing with the movement.

“I-,” her brain ran blank as she quickly averted her gaze, her leg bouncing conspicuously fast, “I don’t know. Something bad probably.”

“Something bad,” he repeated with a lilt, quirking his head to the side, “ is that ‘something bad’ bothering you, [y/n]?”

Her eyes proceeded to grown wider if that was at all possible as she fumbled to find a witty response to snip back at him, but it was no use, she was all hot and bothered and at a loss of words. She resigned herself to a small shake of her head, casting her eyes down to her lap.

“Oh,” he hummed, a smugness practically dripping from his voice, “I get it, you like what you see don’t you?”

“Okay you know what, I think you’re in good hands and you’re going to be just fine on your own and now that I know you’re not dead, I’m going to head back to my dormitory now!” She jumped up, her chair scraping across the floor with an uncomfortable screech as she turned on her heel to leave.

“Now hold on-,” he interjects, grabbing her wrist the best he could with his restricted mobility, tugging her back slightly, “I was only kidding, you know that. I appreciate you coming to check up on me.”

He watched her decompress, her eyes glancing down to where he held her wrist with a tiny smile pulled onto her lips, “Of course, any time Freddie. Now if you’ll excuse me, I actually must go for homework purposes, but I might be back later. Take care.”

“Take care!” he called after her.

***

Fred cozied himself into the covers, the gentle pitter patter of the rain outside the many infirmary windows becoming the background to his thoughts as he tried to fall asleep. With a sigh he rolled onto his back, folding his hands over his chest as he found himself uncapable of falling asleep.

He was bored out of his mind, usually when he found himself in similar circumstances in his dorm he had something on hand to occupy his busy brain. However the infirmary didn’t really provide much to do unless he wanted to get up, steal a stethoscope, and start playing a one-sided game of doctor.

Before he could roll back onto his side and pull the covers closer to his chin to try and force himself asleep, a small outburst of noise drew his attention. As alertness spiked in him, he quietly reached for his wand on his nightstand, wrapping his hand around it and drawing it back under the covers, his mind starting to recite as many defense hex's he could think of.

As he prepared himself to turn around he felt a hand clasp his shoulder and before he could start screaming to try and grab everyone and their mother’s attention, another hand placed itself over his mouth followed by a shushing command.

He turned his head and felt a sudden wave of relief flooding over him as he registered the faux perpetrator, his heart then picking up pace for the same reason.

“Hey,” [y/n] smiled softly, he eyes sunken in a sleepy sort of way. “I’m gonna move my hand, don’t scream.”

Fred rolled his eyes, but nodded none the less, “you could’ve given me a heads up that you were coming, I would’ve tried harder to look more presentable.”

She looked up from her open bag at her side, her brows pushing together as she stared at him with a confused yet amused look, “you look just fine, Freddie. What’re you on about?”

Fred struggled to bite back a laugh, shaking his head as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, the blanket bunching around his waist, “Nothing, nothing- hey, what’d you even come here for anyway? Couldn’t resist being away from me for so long?”

“You wish, Weasley,” she rolled her eyes, thanking her lucky stars that there was a chair nearby and she wouldn’t have to make any extra noise bringing it over, “I’m here to paint your nails.”

“Oh,” he glanced down at his hands, noticing she was, in fact, right about the presumed notion that he needed a repaint, “Are they still gonna be blue?”

“Well, I brought the lot of the varnish with me, I was just going to let you pick,” she smiled, setting the bag down into his lap.

His face beamed as he rolled the tote bag down, revealing the pile of nail varnish containers, a childish grin spreading out on his face as he browsed the collection. [y/n] smiled to herself and prepped the nail varnish remover to get rid of the cracked and chipped polish already on his fingers.

“Can I mix ‘n match?” he quipped, holding up two colors to the moonlight to get a better look at them.

“If you’d like,” she shrugged, “it’s up to you.”

“Sick! Can I do one hand black and one red?” his voice buzzing with excitement.

“Certainly, hand them over and we can start,” she chuckled, taking the two colors and setting the rest at the foot of the bed

She pulled one of his hands to her gently, swirling the cotton ball over his nails to remove the polish. A giggle escape her when he scrunched his nose at the bitter smell of the acetone, the fumes making him blink rapidly as he got used to it.

“Well that’s mad, it feels like that stuff should’ve melted my fingers off,” he breathed incredulously, shaking his head to get rid off the weird buzz that had fanned over his brain.

“It certainly does and unfortunately the effects don’t change, you can never really get used to it,” she sighed, grabbing his other hand, continuing to wipe away at the blue.

The two feel back into silence as she feel into her focused stupor, her lips pursed to blow a small gust of wind to dry the remaining acetone while she shook a bottle of varnish in her other hand. Fred watched her with wide, adoring eyes, absolutely enamored with how dedicated she was to the task at hand. He let her continue on without interjecting, for the first time that night the silence was inviting and he quite enjoyed just hearing the clink of the cap against the bottle and the intermingling of their breaths.

“You have nice hands,” she noted absentmindedly, capping the black varnish and beginning to help it dry, missing the look Fred gave her at the suggestive nature of her compliment.

“Thanks,” he hummed, redirecting his attention to the shiny layer of red on his right hand while she continued to blow air onto his left.

“Of course,” she hummed, “now let me see both of your hands, I don’t want it to be messy.”

Fred complied and shifted his body so he was facing her, setting both his hands in her own while she inspected his nails, her focus so dedicated to her task that she yet again missed the adoring look he was giving her. A smile quirked at his lips as she absentmindedly ran her thumb over his hands, triple-checking that the varnish was indeed dry.

“Well, I suppose that does it,” she nodded, satisfied with her handy work, “d’ya like it?”

“More than anything,” he beamed, “are you going to leave now?”

“Only if you want me to, I don’t have classes tomorrow morning so I have no problem staying up,” she shrugged, secretly wishing he’d request her company.

“That’d be lovely, I was having trouble sleeping anyway,” he nodded.

“Same here. I can imagine it was only harder for you with your injuries,” she noted sadly, glancing over at his still wrapped hands, the gauze looking like it was fresh.

“It’s not too bad, Madame Pomfrey gave me some painkillers so I’m doing alright. Besides it’s not so bad since I have you,” he added, fiddling with the folded covers around his knees.

Her eyes widened a bit as she processed his confession of sorts, her heart picking up pace in her chest at his vulnerability, her next words coming out in a hush, “That’s sweet, Freddie.”

“I’d hope so,” he whispered, raising his brows as he bobbed his head in an awkward sort of nod.

[y/n] reached forward again and took one of his hands into hers, boldly lifting it to her lips and pressing a chaste kiss to his bandaged knuckles, squeezing his wrist gently. It was all too much for Fred, she’d been too kind all day and here she was sitting in front of him now, kissing his hand and smiling at him all too innocently for how badly he wanted to kiss her then and there.

But he was at a loss of words and she was at a loss of restraint, trailing her lips up so she could press another kiss to the inside of his wrist and then the small divot of his elbow, slowly but surely pulling him forward towards her. Fred didn’t mind it though, he leaned into her with every advance, his breath coming to a stand still in his throat as she neared his face.

Her chair pushed behind her with a faint scraping noise as she stood up to accommodate for their height difference, his hand now intertwined with her own down at her side as she looked him straight in the eyes. The tension in the air was palpable and though she had been taking the initiative all day, he didn’t need anyone to tell him twice just what he needed to do.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked barely above a whisper.

“You most certainly can.”

Though he felt himself surge forward with urgency, the entire thing was as slow and sultry as they could get it. Their lips molded together softly, gentle kisses passed between each of them, quiet endearments passed between each pause for breath before going in for more. Fred cupped the back of her head with his free hand, hers doing relatively the same as she lifted her knee to his side so she could stabilize herself.

The kisses quickly became deeper, not necessarily desperate, but long and drawn out, both of them wanting to melt into the other for eternity. [y/n] wished so desperately that the circumstance were different enough to where she could curve into him, be able to feel over his arms and chest and relish in every inch of him that she’d fallen in love with. Fred similarly thought the same, his hand squeezing hers every so often to remind himself that she was there and this was happening and she was his.

When they pulled away, [y/n] pressed her forehead to his, letting their hands unwind so she could cup his face and he could caress her hips. Their breaths mingled in the buzzing silence, heart’s thumping in their ears as they relished in one another’s presence. She turned her head to the side to pepper kisses against his cheek, tilting it downward to trace loving kisses along his jawline too. He let out a breathy chuckle, feeling bad that he couldn’t just pull her into his lap and show her as much affection as she was showing him, but he knew deep down their current options were limited.

“I adore you Freddie,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the divot where his ear met his jaw, her fingers moving to card through his hair.

Fred couldn’t believe how utterly at a loss for words he was. It was so unlike him to not have a witty word or two to put in, especially after such a moment that begged for its tension to be resolved. But after the rough day he’d had, he thought it fine to let himself receive rather than give, even if just this once.

“You’re amazing, [y/l/n],” he chuckled softly, moving his hands so they were rubbing her back gently, her shirt riding up every so often with his movements.

“As are you,” she hummed, finally pulling back to admire her lover’s face, her thumb tracing over his jaw, nose, and lips, an adoring gaze melted onto her features.

“Thank you. For all you’ve done for me today,” he added, wanting to emphasize just how appreciative he was of her, knowing he’d hopefully be able to truly make it up to her later.

“That’s what you do for people you love, right?” she smiled, biting back a giggle when his face drew into one of bashfulness.

“I suppose so,” he returned the smile, pulling her face back down for one more savored kiss, a sigh escaping her as she melted into his embrace once more, “now what do you suppose we do for the next couple hours, that is if you intend to stay?”

“Well see,” [y/n] shrugged, “now scoot over that chair is ghastly, I don’t want to sit in it anymore.”

“And were back,” Fred chuckled, obliging her request to make room for her on the bed.

“What?”

“Oh it’s nothing,” he shook his head.

“Yeah, nothing, sure,” she rolled her eyes, crossing her legs under her as she got comfy across from him.

“It is nothing!” he scoffed, kicking her before crossing his legs underneath him.

“Rubbish.”

“I warned you what would happen if you kept giving me sass didn’t I,” he quirked a brow, folding his arms over his chest.

“Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t, we may never know,” she lilted, batting her eyelashes innocently.

Fred exhaled and lolled his head to the side, unable to hide the grin on his face, “whatever, now, I bet you’re wondering how the fight went!”

“Oh yes! But spare the nasty details, I can handle it, I’d just prefer not to.”

“Whatever you say, love.”

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x [y/n]#[y/n]#mar writes #harry potter #hogwarts #gryffindor #slytherin #infirmary

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mischiefandspirits · 3 years

Text

Six Eggs in the Nest

Bruce returns from his trip through time to discover that not only had his kids grown, but so had his family. An old face had reappeared in his absence.

Part of the Six for the Age of One AU

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How are you feeling?”

…

“Come on, Bruce,” Clark sighed. “As subtle as it might be, your heart rate still changes when you wake up.”

Bruce grunted, not opening his eyes.

“Good to know your trip through time didn’t affect your language skills.”

“What did I miss?”

“Nothing of note on the League’s front,” J’onn reported and Bruce finally opened his eyes to see the martian was looking over Bruce’s vitals.

“Just business as usual,” Diana agreed from the doorway.

Bruce turned to Clark, who was sitting in a chair next to Bruce’s hospital bed. “Gotham?”

Clark gave a soft smile and answered the unasked question, “The kids are fine. They’d be here, but I guess Ivy and Freeze got into a fight just as they were about to leave and Penguin tried to use the distraction of the fight to move cargo or something.”

“I checked in with them just before you woke,” Diana said before Bruce could get worked up. “In Oracle’s words, I threw Harley at Ivy and Nightwing, Signal, and Corvid smashed Freeze’s helmet so that fight’s basically won. Batwoman reported that her team had taken down Penguin and were supervising the cargo’s transport to the evidence locker before heading in.”

Bruce nodded, relaxing. “I’d assume Batwoman is Stephanie. Nightwing… Dick?”

“Yeah,” Clark said, looking smug. “And Corvid is Damian. Tim’s going by Ghost Bat now.”

“When you disappeared, they all stepped up to become heroes worthy of your legacy,” Diana said. “You would be proud of how strong they’ve been.”

“I am proud.” He simply wished he’d been there to see them through the transition. “How long was I gone?”

“A year,” J’onn said, apologetically and Bruce nodded.

That was longer than it had been for him, but not by too much. A year though…

He’d missed most of the kids’ final year of high school. He’d missed their graduation. He’d missed helping them sign up for college.

Was Duke enjoying his literature studies? Did Stephanie go through with her plans to start the pre-med track or make good on her jokes about taking a year off? Was Damian able to decide between a business or veterinary medicine major? Had Tim figured out what he wanted to do? Did Dick change his mind about not continuing school?

And little Carrie was still so young. Would she even remember Bruce?

“What’s the cover story for Bruce Wayne’s disappearance? And Batman’s?” Bruce asked, pushing the rest down. “I’ll need to figure out how to spread out my appearances so no one becomes suspicious.”

The three shared a look and Bruce’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s not that simple,” Diana said slowly.

“I’ve been standing in for Bruce Wayne with Timothy’s help,” J’onn said. “It was Duke’s idea. Richard had taken up your mantle, but he wasn’t able to convince those who really knew Batman so I was going to pretend to be you until enough time had passed that we could fake your death without it being connected to the change in Batman. Then Timothy and Damian found evidence that you were alive so we’ve kept up the ruse.”

Bruce nodded. It was a good idea, even if Bruce didn’t exactly feel comfortable knowing the martian had been impersonating him for so long. Something else caught his mind, though. “If Dick is Batman, why is he also going by Nightwing?”

“Dick was Batman for a while, but… someone else is Batman now,” Clark said, uncertainly.

“Who?”

“We don’t know. The children won’t tell us,” Diana said. “They’re as stubborn and secretive as their father.”

“About six months ago Batman just… changed,” Clark explained. “We didn’t notice at first since Richard was still the one showing up for Justice League stuff, then Nightwing appeared in the news. It was pretty obvious Nightwing was Dick. We thought that maybe he was setting up his own hero for when you came back, but Batman was seen working with Nightwing and all the rest of the boys. He’s also more…”

“Vicious?” J’onn offered. “And dramatic, but in a grim way. His fighting style is firmer as well, in a way Dick couldn’t manage no matter how much he held himself back. His Batman is more genuine than Dick’s. To the point that, from what we’ve gathered, those who realized he had replaced you already think you’re back.”

“We tried asking Dick the next time he came up for a meeting, but all he’d say was that he wasn’t ready to see us,” Diana added. “Clark went to Gotham -”

Bruce glared at the kryptonian.

“I know, I know. Your kids caught me within minutes and Stephanie gave me a lecture you’d be proud of. And don’t act like you’re not burning with curiosity. Do you even have an idea who it could be?”

“Did you find out anything?” Bruce redirected and Clark shook his head.

“I couldn’t see much because the cowl is as lead-lined as you always had it and he got out of there fast once Stephanie intercepted me. He was tall and broad like you and what skin I saw was fair, so he couldn’t be any of the boys.”

That… didn’t add up. Who would the boys have trusted with Batman? “I need to get home.”

All three looked like they wanted to argue, but J’onn unhooked him from the monitors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cave was empty when Bruce teleported in, though the still-warm cup of tea next to the Batcomputer’s keyboard and the lit-up screens showed that Alfred had recently been monitoring the comms before stepping out for a moment.

“- anything yet?” came Robin’s -- Nightwing’s -- voice when Bruce hit the button to unmute the main comm line.

“Wonder Woman said he was still unconscious when she checked in,” Oracle answered.

“Batman, Batwoman, and I will be at the cave in a minute. The two of us can head up immediately and report back,” Ghost Bat offered.

“Speak for yourself,” Batwoman huffed. “You can hang around Wonder Woman smelling like a sewer all you want, but I need a shower.”

“You will wait for us or I will give all your sweatshirts to Goliath as nesting materials, Ghost!” Corvid snapped.

“Nah, Goliath can do better than G’s hoodies. Besides, he’ll just go steal some from Metro. I’m pretty sure half the ones he’s got now are clone boy’s anyways,” laughed a voice Bruce didn’t recognize. Batman’s, he assumed. Something about it nagged at him, but he couldn’t place it. He was sure he knew the person though. Was he altering his voice for the suit like Bruce did? It didn’t have the growl, but maybe he was just making his voice deeper. If his voice was higher…

Bruce was torn out of his musings by a snarl. He turned to see a large groenendael stalking towards him. Behind the dog was a massive pillow with five other dogs atop it. A Great Dane was stretched out regally at one end, wagging his tail but otherwise not paying Bruce any attention. A lab and a pit bull were flopped over each other limply in the middle, fast asleep. A German shepherd was standing on the other end, just as alert as the groenendael without the aggression. A Chihuahua was similarly eyeing Bruce from her spot tucked under the Great Dane’s chin, kept quiet and still only by the larger dog’s presence.

Bruce wasn’t surprised the dogs had invaded the cave in his absence. He could only hope Goliath and Wiggles had continued to be cut off in their separate portions of the cave and Alfred the Cat hadn’t been allowed to torment the bats.

He knelt and held out his hand. “It’s alright, Jane. It’s just me.”

The groenendael quieted at his voice and continued approaching him. The closer she got, the more relaxed she became until she was close enough to cheerfully lick and nuzzle at his hand as an apology for growling.

“It’s okay, girl. You’re doing a good job protecting the cave while everyone’s out.”

Ace was at his side in an instant to sniff him over for injuries and nose his neck in a greeting Bruce easily returned. Titus yawned and turned away as things calmed down, which allowed Ami to leap to her feet. She gave two quick yaps at Bruce, then stomped over to curl up on a corner of the pillow. Haley and Hazel slept on.

A moment later the roar of an engine echoed through the cave, heralding the arrival of the Batmobile. Bruce’s spot was slightly hidden from the vehicle bay, so he had the chance to observe the three that climbed out.

Batwoman’s suit wasn’t too dissimilar to the one Barbara had donned during those two short years she’d held the mantle. All Stephanie had altered was swapping out the red on the bat, belt, cape lining, and wig for her signature eggplant.

Ghost Bat’s suit was black, sleeveless, and made from the same lightweight armor Tim and Dick always used. A grey bat was across the chest, the color matching his gauntlets. He wore a cape and cowl like Batwoman’s, though the cape lining and wig were grey. The wig was also cut short to match Tim’s chin-length locks instead of Stephanie’s chest-length curls.

Batman’s suit, at first glance, looked exactly like Bruce’s. On closer inspection, though, it appeared thinner, closer to the medium bulk armor Damian and Stephanie used. There were also knives hidden across the suit and the cape was shorter than Bruce kept it. His build appeared to be just as Clark described, but Bruce knew the suit enough to tell it was making him look broader in the shoulders and the boots’ soles were altered to make him look shorter. Bruce estimated him to be a few inches taller than himself and around Duke’s width. The visible portion of his face was a pale beige, distinctly different from Dick’s olive tone or the other boys’ darker skin colors.

“- soft and roomy!” Ghost was arguing. “It’s no different than you stealing Bruce’s!��

Batman shot him a perfect Bat-Glare, as the kids called it. “I don’t have any of his sweaters!”

“That’s because after you steal them, Alfred always washes them and puts them back in B’s closet,” Stephanie snorted, pulling down her cowl. She gave him a wink when he turned the glare on her. “Just because you only wear them to bed doesn’t mean we don’t notice. Also, Tim’s stolen horde isn’t just Kon’s. He also got some of mine, Cassie’s, Duke’s, Damian’s, and yours in there. Dick’s and Cissie’s aren’t baggy enough and Bart’s are scratchy. He’s also got one of Kori’s because he took it thinking it was Babs’ and now he’s too embarrassed to give it back.”

“STEPHANIE!” Ghost shouted as Batman snapped, “Is that where my green hoodie went?”

Stephanie snickered as she turned to head deeper into the cave. Her eyes caught Bruce’s and she froze.

“What’s wrong?” Batman asked and he and Ghost followed her gaze.

“Kids,” Bruce said after a moment of trying to figure out what to say.

Batman stiffened and Stephanie smiled. “Hey, B.”

Ghost shot forward, but stopped just before he reached Bruce, looking like he was barely holding back from throwing himself at Bruce.

Bruce took the decision away from him by pulling the boy into a hug. He pulled down the cowl to press a kiss to the top of Tim's head as the boy started to shake slightly with silent tears.

“So B’s here,” Stephanie said and he heard her voice echo through the comm in Tim’s ear.

“What!?”

“He’s supposed to be resting on the Watchtower.”

“Of course they couldn’t keep Father contained.”

“We’re on our way.”

“You’re here,” Tim whispered and Bruce pressed another kiss to his head.

“I am. I’m so sorry for being gone.”

“Tim’s the one who found you,” Stephanie said as she walked up. “Or, well, he’s the one who made it possible for the JL to find you.”

“I heard. I’m so proud.”

“Damian helped,” Tim muttered, burying his reddening face further into Bruce’s chest.

Bruce rubbed his back for a few seconds, then pulled away so Tim could pick up the Chihuahua nudging up against his ankle. He made sure Ami was helping Tim calm down before nodding at Stephanie. However, he soon found his gaze shifting back to the unknown factor.

Batman was still standing where he’d been the last time Bruce checked. He looked frozen in place, only his hand having shifted so that it could rest on Jane’s cheek. The groenendael was staring up at him as she licked and nuzzled at his wrist and hip in an effort to draw him back from wherever he was, though Bruce doubted he could feel it through the suit.

She must have realized it too as a moment later she stood up on her hind legs with her forepaws on Batman’s chest so she could lick at his chin instead, snapping him out of it enough that he looked away.

It was then that Stephanie glanced over her shoulder to see what Bruce was staring at. “Shoot.”

“What?” Tim asked, tucking Ami to his chest. He looked at Stephanie, then Batman, then his eyes shot to Bruce. “Oh. Crud. We really meant to do this slowly.”

“Are you two going to introduce me?” Bruce grunted.

His eyes were still on the stranger, but he could see both eighteen-year-olds open their mouths to respond. Before they could, Batman nudged Jane off and reached up to pull down his hood.

Bruce’s breath caught in his throat.

“Hey, Dad,” Jason said, running his fingers through his black and white hair.

Ace nudged Bruce’s side, just under his ribs.

He took a breath, then another.

“What part of do this slowly didn’t you get, Jay!”

“We all know he wasn’t going to rest until he figured out who I am. I’m just ripping off the band-aid.”

“This isn’t my Earth,” Bruce said.

The three shared a look and Tim pressed into Bruce’s other side. “It is.”

“My Jason is…”

“Dead?” Jason finished. “Yeah, it, uh, didn’t take. Sorry to disappoint.”

“Not the time, Jay!” Steph sighed. “Come on, Old Man. You look awful. We’ll explain once you’re sitting down.”

Bruce’s hands itched to grab Jason. To grab him and pull him close and never let him go again.

He kept his hands to himself as he followed the kids to the meeting table. They had just enough time to get settled when the elevator dinged and Alfred stepped out with a fussing Carrie in his arms.

The butler took in the group, then gave Bruce a pointed look. “You are meant to be resting.”

“I had to check on the kids.”

“Of course you did.” Alfred came forward to deposit Carrie into the arms of her honorary grandfather then set a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, Master Bruce. We’ve all missed you.”

Bruce nodded and looked down at the toddler.

She blinked up at him before smiling and poking his cheek. “Boosie back!”

“Yeah, Sweetheart, I’m back,” he said, voice hoarse.

Three motorcycles shot into the cave, the boys on them quickly jumping off. Bruce set Carrie on his knee as he took in his rapidly approaching sons.

Nightwing’s suit was similar to Ghost Bat’s, though his had sleeves and he had just a domino in place of the cape and cowl. The suit was black with a cobalt V across the chest that resembled a bird. The wings stretched all the way to the shoulders then ran down the sleeves to end at the tips of his middle and ring fingers. The blue color carried over to his domino mask and the trim of his boots. A pair of escrima sticks poked out from behind him and black pouches were connected to the waist of the suit like a built-in utility belt.

Corvid’s suit was black with a matching utility belt and carried the same moderate bulk Damian preferred. A long, hooded jacket sat over the suit, sleeveless and colored sapphire with white trim. It sat open, revealing the white outline of a bird stretched across his chest. The suit was finished off with a black domino mask with equally black lenses and tall emerald boots.

Signal’s suit looked the same as it had when Bruce was sent away, and Bruce took comfort in the fact that not everything had changed.

Stephanie ducked down for a quick hug, then removed her daughter from Bruce’s lap so she wasn’t crushed when Nightwing threw himself into it a second later.

“You’re so stupid for running off from the Watchtower, but I’m glad you’re back.”

“I’m fine,” Bruce said, holding the boy close with one arm as he reached out to grab his youngest’s hand.

Corvid squeezed back as he glanced over Bruce, then let go and left to take a seat.

After giving Bruce a quick hug around Nightwing, Signal went to grab his own seat as well. He pulled off his helmet and looked pointedly at Jason before turning back to Bruce. “Guess it’s storytime, huh?”

“You couldn’t even keep it a secret for five minutes?” Damian tisked after he’d removed his mask.

“He was ripping off the band-aid,” Tim mocked.

“We all know how obsessive B gets when someone puts a mystery in front of him,” Jason huffed, throwing his hands in the air.

“It is something you’ve all inherited from him,” Alfred hummed as he began to set cups of tea in front of everyone except Carrie, who got a sippy cup of warm milk.

Dick squirmed around so he could remove his mask and accept his cup of tea, then made himself comfortable in his father’s lap.

“You’re getting too old for this,” Bruce teased, wrapping his arms around the eighteen-year-old, and Dick shushed him.

“Where should we start?” Stephanie asked.

#batfam #batman #bruce wayne #Jason Todd #Robins are the Same Age AU #fanfiction #64ao1

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durmstrange · 4 years

Text

The Only One - George Weasley

Welcome to my newest George blurb! This one gets me in my feels :)

Enjoy!

word count: 1,984

It was quite known throughout the Gryffindor house that you were the sister of Oliver Wood.

Everyone knew he loved Quidditch, but his love for Quidditch did not even come close to his love for you. He was fierce and unrelenting when it came to you. If he had even so much caught wind of a someone who liked you or caught you with a someone who looked at you the wrong way, he would always investigate to every degree he possibly could. You loved and hated this about Oliver, but appreciated it nonetheless.

Although Oliver was protective, it was not to the degree that you couldn’t have a social life. In fact, he quite liked seeing you with friends in your year who made you smile and laugh. Your happiness was all that mattered to him in the end.

Fortunately, that came in handy with your relationship with George. For some time now, you and George had this unspoken and unacknowledged thing going on between the two of you. He was your person, regardless, even if you hated labels. Obviously, it was hidden as a platonic friendship as well, given the fact that Oliver had yet to catch wind of anything. You dreaded the day that it ever came.

One day, on your free period, you sat with your legs crossed on the Quidditch stands, watching Gryffindor practice dutifully and relentlessly, which was something you did rather often. There was parchment in your lap that you were writing on every so often, trying to work on the essay due the next morning, but it wasn’t working out like you had hoped it would.

You liked Quidditch. In fact, you would go as far to say that you loved it. However, you were not a fair flier, so you remained in the stands rather than in the action. Besides, you were sure that Oliver would never let you play, even if you wanted to. He would call it, among other things, “too dangerous”, but that really meant that he knew how awful you were at flying. Through and through, you settled for watching it because, to you, that was just as good as playing.

As practice came to the end, you stood, giving a stretch and gathering your belongings up into your arms and moving towards the rickety old stairs of the Quidditch Pitch. Before you could even made it down four steps, you spotted George running up the steps towards you, a wide smile on his lips. You came to a stop, smiling as well, and glancing down below him to see if anyone was following. He was alone.

“(Y/N)!” George called excitedly and threw his arms around you, enveloping both you and your things in his arms. He lifted you, spinning lightly as you laughed, before setting you down on the step above him.

As you settled down, you shook your head at your beloved partner. “What is all of that about?” You questioned him with a laugh and smile playing on your lips. George beamed at you, a look you saw quite often, but always enjoyed.

With a swift movement, George pressed his lips to yours, dropping his broom and pushing your books from your hands as he gripped your hips, pulling you against him. He kissed you hard, which George rarely did, and you were rather surprised at his actions. Nonetheless, you kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and entangling your fingers in his hair as you listened to your bottle of ink roll down the wooden steps.

He pulled away, a wild look embedded in his eyes, and it was almost foreign to you. “You will never believe what happened out there!” George told you excitedly as he held your shoulders, making you laugh once more.

“What happened, Georgie?” You asked him, using his nickname.

“So, a few lads were talking about you in the stands, watching us all so closely, and someone had mentioned that perhaps it was because you fancied someone on the team, and of course that git Dean, you know I love him, suggested that it was him. Naturally, Oliver was furious, but he did say that there are very few people he would allow you to be with!” George said excitedly, and the smile that grew on your face was simply unable to be matched. Incredulously, your mouth fell open. “He used to say he would never let anyone even close to you, but now there is a chance he would!”

You threw your arms around George, hugging him tightly against you. “Do you think we can finally tell him?” You asked George just above a whisper, and he nodded, giving you another kiss on your lips. It was truly unbelievable to you. Your brother was not the type to settle and let someone into your life like this, and it was so invigorating for it to be happening to you. For a moment, your smile faltered, and you looked at George oddly. “What… What do we tell Oliver we are?” You asked him quietly, finally speaking the words you had been wondering for so long but never asked.

George fell silent as well, the same odd look on his face as he began to think as well. Then, when he finally looked at you again, his face grew red. “I would tell Oliver that you are the love of my life and what makes me happiest and the best part of my day,” George murmured to you and your heart accelerated considerably at his words, and you felt tears prick at your eyes. George was your person and he was absolutely perfect to you.

“Let’s tell him that, then, yeah? Because I feel that same about you, George. Life would not be complete without you,” you told him and he smiled, gave you a nod, and in that moment, you could possibly float away in pure ecstasy.

George was your person and you did not have to hide it any longer.

~.~

After a fair bit of begging, you convinced George to remain in the Great Hall as you broke the news to Oliver. Nervously, after stepping through the portrait entrance, you spotted Oliver on one of the couches by the fire, looking over a book for one of his classes.

Slowly, you approached the couch, and stood next to it as he looked up. “Hello, (Y/N),” Oliver greeted with a smile.

Shifting lightly, the frown on your lips wouldn’t fade as you glanced at portrait. “Don’t be mean, please,” you begged in a scared voice. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

Oliver closed his book and shifted on the couch to face you more. “Well, spit it out, then.” There was a playful smile on his lips that you feared would soon fade to an angry frown. To avoid stalling any longer, or backing out of the plan, you spoke.

“George and I are dating.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt like you were going to be sick.

Oliver’s face paled, and he clutched the book he had in his hand tightly. “Weasley?” Slowly, you nodded. “For how long?”

Oliver stood, and immediately, you move to stand in his way of the exit. The few people in the common room watched with wide, concerned eyes. “Er, probably a year or so,” you admitted to your brother as his face began to redden.

“I am going to destroy him,” he hissed and threw the book he held onto the couch roughly. He began walking towards the portrait, and you couldn’t help but stand in his way, putting your hands on his chest.

“Stop,” you snapped loudly. You never truly raised your voice for any reason, and never raised your voice to your brother. With wild, angry eyes, you shoved him back, making him stumble slightly. “You will not touch him, bother him, or speak a work to him unless it is to congratulate him for having such a great girlfriend. I love him, and I am damn sure that I will do absolutely anything to protect him from you.”

Oliver’s face, still red, contorted into further anger. He remained silent, spinning on the balls of his feet, and stormed off towards the boys’ dormitories. You stood there, pressing your lips together in anger, and glared mercilessly at the group of first year students watching from across the room. “What? Never seen siblings argue?”

With that, you turned as well and left through the portrait, and towards the Great Hall. You had never seen Oliver so angry before, and it had made you uncomfortable for the most part, but your anger overpowered any other feeling. As you came into the Great Hall, George’s eyes found yours immediately, surrounded by friends the both of you knew, and he looked at the anger on his face.

As you marched up to him, he watched your every move, and it wasn’t until you were close enough to hear his voice did he speak. “How did it go?” He asked, worried that he already knew the answer.

Without a word, as George was half-turned to you in his spot at the table, you took his face in your hands and kissed him hard. The others around him whooped and clapped loudly, and George smiled widely into the kiss. Once you broke, there was a smile on your own lips, and you spoke, “As expected.”

George laughed, his eyes crinkling in the corners, and held your hand in his. “He’ll come around, (Y/N). You’ll see,” he assured you as his eyes traveled to the entrance of the Great Hall. His smile faded gently, and he ducked his head. “Perhaps after getting a good hit in on me.”

You paused, turning to watch Oliver come up the aisle towards the two of you. With narrowed eyes, you stepped between Oliver and George and crossed your arms over your chest.

Oliver, towering over you like a giant, pressed his lips together in a thin line. “I’m not happy with this,” he muttered as he looked at George, who put a hand on your hip and pulled you to the side. He stood, roughly two inches taller than Oliver, and crossed his arms as well. “But, if its going to be anyone, I am thankful it is you, Weasley.”

The smile that formed on your face was wider than its ever been, and you threw your arms around your brother in a tight hug. “Oh, Oliver, it means the world,” you gushed.

He hugged you back even tighter, his eyes not once leaving George’s. “Just know, I will not hesitate from doing something so awful that I am expelled from this school if you hurt her.” Oliver’s tone was menacing, sending shivers down your spine. You let go, surprised at his words.

George nodded stiffly. “You don’t have to worry.”

You watched as Oliver let the Great Hall as quick as he had arrived, practically stomping the entire way out. From then on, Oliver acted as if nothing happened between he and George, except for being a little harder than normal on him during practice, which was only a small price to pay for getting your love.

#george weasley #george wealsey imagine #george wealsey x reader #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley oneshot #hogwarts #harry potter #Harry Potter fanfiction #Harry Potter fanfic

257 notes · View notes

skrltwtch · 3 years

Text

Silverware

Prompt: on a first date and A is a werewolf and doesn’t know the cutlery is silver (Source in master list)

Word count: 4,897 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural

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I buried my nose in the bouquet of lilies and roses Jake had bought for me. It was the perfect emblem of summer with its warm, sunny hues and fresh, tangy scent — and the perfect segue to the next part of our date. The first part was a visit to the local farmers market, out of which we were now walking. Coming here had been his suggestion. It was something different from the usual first date stuff like coffee or a movie, and I liked it a lot, notwithstanding my initial reservations. I liked him a lot after what I’d seen of him at the market. I felt like the place helped bring out a certain spark between us. For one, there was constant talk about planning for date number two using what we’d seen and bought. If that wasn’t promising, I didn’t know what was!

‘Thank you, Jake. I love it,’ I said about the bouquet.

‘You’re most welcome,’ he said, a broad grin brightening up his face. ‘And thank you for the flavoured olive oil. Makes me kind of wish we didn’t have this dinner reservation …’ His grin turned sheepish in nature. ‘But that’s what’s making me look forward to our next date.’

See?

‘Do you want to call for a taxi or walk?’ he said.

‘What time’s our reservation?’

‘6:00 p.m. on the dot.’

My watch came alive with a flick of my wrist. ‘Let’s walk, then. I want to walk off all the cheese I sampled.’ I’d sampled a lot. In my defence, it was almost that time of the month — and that other time of the month. ‘Do you know the way?’

‘Google Maps can teach me.’

The route Google Maps recommended was scenic. London Bridge looked lovely at this time of day. Its appeal was heightened tenfold with Jake by my side. Could you believe we met on Tinder? It still felt unreal to me. Getting this match used up all my good luck for the year, and we were only at the halfway point. Well, if it meant burning the roof of my mouth most of the time I ate to be able to quit the dating scene for a reasonable amount of time (“once and for all” seemed a little ambitious, though that would be nice), who was I to whinge about the hand fate had dealt me?

The restaurant was located within the Four Seasons. We had been overdressed for the market. Now we were … dressed. I was flattered as fuck that he picked such a lavish place for dinner for a first date. I hadn’t the faintest clue what it was about my profile and our conversations that made him think of a high-end French restaurant helmed by a Michelin-starred chef in a five-star hotel. I did try to talk him out of it (gently). It wasn’t about the cost. Food was one of the things I was more than happy to splurge on. It was just … I never had anyone think this highly of me before, and I wondered if that’d change if … and when … he knew the truth about me.

The host led us into the main dining room and to our table. An amuse-bouche and warm bread came together with the menus. The prices were as expected of the type of establishment this was. Everything sounded good, though this was my first time coming across some of these words. Looking up what each one meant would add to the time something would take to reach our table, and my stomach would sooner eat itself out of desperation.

‘Please don’t hold back,’ said Jake, sensing my indecision. ‘The price is not an issue.’

I did have to hold back. The coincidental timing of this month’s full moon and crimson tide amplified every-fucking-thing I could possibly feel to a divinely hellish degree in the days leading up to them. As it was, I could easily polish off a five-course meal by myself. If Jake wanted this date to go in a less chaste direction after dinner, hell would freeze over before I’d even dream of talking him out of it, first date etiquette be damned. Was the fact that he was such a goddamn catch helping anything? Absolutely fucking not.

‘No, it’s not that. I can’t — I can’t decide what I want,’ I said. It was technically true. I was torn between the beef (never mind that it was £98) and veal … and both of them at once. ‘What are you having? Maybe I can get some inspiration from you.’

‘I was thinking the turbot … or the pigeon. Yeah, I can’t make up my mind either. I’m leaning toward the pigeon …? No, the turbot. Or the scallops …? Fuck. I need an adult.’

‘Let’s choose for each other.’

‘Promise not to hate each other’s choices — or each other?’

‘Pinky promise.’

We locked our pinkies together. I hoped touching him would never grow old.

Once our promise had been sanctified and we separated from each other, Jake signalled for the nearest available waitstaff. One came over almost instantly. The restaurant was bustling with activity, a far cry from however long it had been since we arrived. She took our order in a cordial fashion, not making a bigger deal of how we were ordering for each other than it should be. I chose the scallops for him; he chose the veal for me. I convinced him to start our evening with the langoustine; he sweet-talked me into ending it with the rhubarb. The waitstaff validated all our choices with a knowing smile.

‘I’ve been meaning to ask — and I hope I’m not stepping on your toes here,’ Jake started when our table was just the two of us again. ‘How did you get that scar on your arm?’

It was a matter of time. And bless him. I would never be offended by being asked about the memento of what’d changed my life forever. I would be offended by an adverse reaction to how exactly my life had been changed forever. I raised my arm, giving the scar in question its time in the limelight: brownish-pink, leathery circles arranged in the shape of a crescent, the ones at both ends abnormally large and ragged-looking.

‘My ex-boyfriend’s dog bit me,’ I said. More like my ex-boyfriend was the offending canine. ‘That’s not why he’s an ex, in case you were wondering.’ I’d wanted to be turned. He’d been more than happy to lend a helping set of fangs. Sadly, the idea of us being cute werewolves together was yet another one of those things that simply sounded nicer on paper. It wasn’t all sour between us. We’d sometimes meet for romps. It got lonely sometimes, and it wasn’t like there was an online forum for werewolves to socialise or whatever. I doubted he’d have known of one anyway: he was literally an American werewolf in London.

‘Did it hurt? It’s such a huge scar. Did anything happen to the dog afterward?’ He held up his hands. ‘Am I being nosy? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.’

I smiled in the hope that it’d soothe his worries. ‘You’re not being nosy. It was … okay for what it was.’ Euphoric. ‘The dog’s fine. It wouldn’t be fair to punish it for an instinct thing.’ Yup.

‘That’s good to hear. I think it’s a bad-ass scar. And I didn’t think it’s why he’s an ex.’

‘Thank you. Most people did. Yeesh. Give me some credit.’

‘I’m not most people … I hope.’ He smirked. The apples of his cheeks turned pink.

He really wasn’t. And I wanted so badly to tell him the truth there and then to see if that’d still hold true in the face of a bombshell like that. I had yet to tell anyone about my lycanthropy: if movies, television shows, books, etc., were anything to go by, I’d assume most people would react with fear or disgust, or both. Chris had been thoroughly flabbergasted when I reacted the way I did to learning why he always turned down my suggestions to go stargazing on nights with full moons. I got what I wanted … eventually.

Maybe I should tell Jake sooner than later. Separate the wheat from the chaff. Then I wouldn’t have wasted my time having pined for someone who thought I was some kind of freak of nature.

That conversation — or rather, thinking about that conversation would have to wait, as our starter, bearing a strong resemblance to a flower arrangement with colours befitting the season, had arrived. Food was always the perfect diversion. So would the inevitable back-and-forth about who could have the third and last langoustine. Splitting it was not an option, for one piece was as big as my thumb. I loved the portion sizes of frou-frou fancy food. So much bang for one’s buck.

‘Bon appétit,’ said Jake. ‘That’s one of … four French phrases I know. The other three are “bonjour”, “omelette du fromage”, and — I can’t say the last one in a public place.’

‘Is it by any chance … “voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir”?’ I made no effort whatsoever to lower my volume — or maintain a straight face. Brazenness blazed through my cheeks.

He put a hand on his chest, feigning surprise. ‘Well!’ He tittered. ‘Since you asked ever so nicely, and in French … This is why your choices tonight have been shellfish, isn’t it?’

‘You got me.’

‘Looking at their portion sizes, I don’t think your plan’s going to work very well. Not that I’d need the help of — shut up, Jake.’

‘Keep going, Jake’ was what I’d have said and wanted if my stomach hadn’t started getting on my case for letting good food get cold. (‘Rubbery lobster? Gross!’) There was something hot about someone like Jake — a posh, proper Englishman, the polar opposite of Chris … okay, no, stop bringing him up, stop thinking about him, goddammit — talking openly, confidently, about his prowess. Such words … coming out of his mouth … in that accent … I quickly pressed my legs together to quell any desires. Which hunger of mine was responsible for this?

Wanting to satiate the one appetite I could at this very moment without earning myself prison time for my troubles, I said, ‘Bon appétit, Jake’, and picked up my fork … which promptly fell onto my plate with the fucking loudest clang. The smell of burning flesh tickled my nostrils — my burning flesh. My fingers were sizzling where the fork touched them. Sizzling! I prayed it was only my nose that could pick up this delectable aroma.

I stared at the cutlery. Trust a high-end French restaurant helmed by a Michelin-starred chef in a five-star hotel to use real silverware, not that cheap silver-plated shit. I prodded the fork handle — and withdrew my finger immediately. Not one of my finer moments. Please don’t tell me Jake saw it.

‘Is everything okay?’ said Jake.

Ah, fuck.

‘Yeah,’ I said, examining my palm. Good news: the burn hadn’t healed and wasn’t healing as quickly as my wounds and injuries (not that I had many of them) did after I was turned, so that was one less question to dodge. I didn’t want to keep lying to Jake. I didn’t like that I had been. How would I explain the absence of a second-degree burn that existed mere seconds ago anyway? Bad news: was this never going to heal because of what caused it? I had been so careful with silver since I was turned. How would I explain a perpetual second-degree burn? Would it out me as a werewolf to people who knew what to look for? Was now really the time for Twenty Questions?

Noticing Jake had been waiting on me to provide some kind of elucidation on my well-being, I said, ‘I guess I have a silver allergy. Can you believe it? Who’s allergic to silver?’

He didn’t need to say, ‘What kind of allergy burns someone?’ for me to hear it in my head.

‘Can you eat, then?’ he said.

I shook my head. As far as I was concerned, silver was lethal. No ifs, no buts, no maybes. If a perpetual second-degree burn was the worst thing to come out of fleeting contact with the metal, so be it. I’d consider myself a lucky lycan indeed.

‘Pardon me,’ Jake said to the waitstaff who’d come with our entrées, ‘would you have any disposable cutlery perhaps? My lady’ — he did not — ‘is allergic to the silverware.’

The waitstaff did an excellent job of not acting like this very dashing gentleman had just dropped the barmiest string of words on her during her entire employment in this line of work. Even I didn’t quite believe it myself. ‘I’ll see what we have, sir, ma’am,’ she said, cool as a cucumber. After she finished setting down our food, she collected all the silverware on my side of the table and left.

‘I don’t think whatever she comes back with would help with your veal. I could cut it up for you?’ said Jake.

Oh, my God. Getting burnt by silver must be the universe’s way of course-correcting the unusual jackpot I’d hit with him. Good Tinder matches were a myth!

‘No, it’s fine. Thank you. I’ll manage … somehow,’ I said. The wooden cutlery the waitstaff had returned with didn’t inspire confidence in me to not fling a piece of meat or a utensil at someone while cutting into my food.

‘We could swap dishes. I’d be fine with the veal. It was in my top five earlier.’

I suffocated a sigh. His scallops looked more like an appetiser than a main. But what choice did I have? I could either eat the veal like the animal that put me in this position or go through the restaurant’s entire supply of wooden cutlery with nothing to show for the effort in my belly and possibly injure someone in the process. Neither option would do any favours for my image in the eyes of the guy I liked and whose bones I’d like to jump at some point, enhanced animal lust or not.

So, I agreed. I tried to draw out the meal for as long as I could. Between the teeny serving and the unwieldiness of the wooden cutlery, I was having a miserable time. Dinner had become a silent affair, a far cry from everything prior to this point. Contrary to the vibe I was putting out, the food had nothing to do with my dour mood. For the first time since I was turned, I wasn’t happy about what I was. Could I never truly lead a normal life? Did I have to lie to every potential suitor and fret about whether they’d accept that other side of me on top of all the intricacies of dating?

There ought to be a dating app for verified supernatural creatures.

‘How’s the veal?’ I said. I had to speak up: I wasn’t being fair to Jake by acting like a sullen teenager over something he had zero control over, and the silence was deafening.

‘It’s — I might’ve done you a favour. How about my — your scallops?’

‘As good as three bites can get. I can’t tell if it tastes funny because of the wooden fork.’

‘This has been a disaster, hasn’t it?’ He flashed a wry smile. ‘Can I be honest? I have no idea what possessed me to pick a place like this for a first date.’

‘It’s a nice place. And it hasn’t been a disaster.’ If anything, I was the disaster. As always.

‘How was the market?’

‘The market was great. I had an amazing time.’

‘Thank God. I’ll take one out of two.’

I reached across the table and placed my hand on top of his. He made things extra saucy by interlocking his fingers with mine. ‘Jake, it’s fine. Today has been wonderful. I should be sorry for making things awkward with my … allergy.’ Nope, that still sounded silly.

‘What? No, don’t be. It’s not your fault.’

It … kind of was.

‘How about ice cream after this? My treat. I’m certain the rhubarb will be so very pretty and so very … nothing.’

He hit the nail on the head. The food we had would do wonders for my Instagram feed while having done nothing for my diet. I appreciated his offer, though I was afraid it would take more than ice cream to fill me up properly … Then again, that was a problem that rested solely in my dominion, not his, and it was one I intended to solve by trawling the likes of Deliveroo and Uber Eats in the comfort of my underthings at home — the one true way to enjoy food.

I asked for the bill the second dessert arrived. I wanted to leave here as soon as possible. I had quite enough of the wooden cutlery. I felt like a child using them. And like I told Jake earlier, I was on the fence about whether to attribute the food’s slightly off taste to them or my unrefined taste buds. Even the rhubarb wasn’t spared. Dessert was supposed to be my safe space, dammit!

I footed the bill in its entirety despite his objections. It helped that the waitstaff presented it to me because I’d been the one who asked, and that I was quick with my card. Sisters watching out for each other, everyone. The plan was then to go about the rest of the evening as if it had slipped my mind to ask him for his half or even bring it up in the first place. It was the least I could do for putting a wee damper on dinner with my … me-ness. He was going to treat me to ice cream anyway. There. We were even now.

The best-laid plans of mice and men often went awry: Jake snatched the bill folder and, taking out his phone, said, ‘Do you have Paym, Pingit, or PayPal? Why am I only noticing now that they all start with P?’

I admitted defeat: ‘Paym.’ It might be harder for him — or anyone — to believe I had none of those apps than that I was a werewolf. Did I want to put that to the test? No.

My phone buzzed with the confirmation that my plan had been a dud. ‘Thank you. Now let’s blow this popsicle stand and head to a real one.’

We left and worked on our next destination outside the restaurant. The staff had to want us out of there as much as we wanted ourselves out of there. The time of day meant we had limited options: ice cream parlours in London seemed to think people would lose the mood for sweet treats the moment the sky turned dark and the air cooled. Inanity. We had to return to where our date started for the one place that was open at this hour. It was just as well: I needed the walk this time to clear my head after what happened at dinner. It hadn’t seemed to dull the shine of his opinion of me, at least. He was as chipper as ever. Unless he was a good actor and paid up as soon as he did so he could ghost me after this and find himself a date that didn’t have some bogus allergy to silver …

Me? Over-thinking things? Never.

‘Do you want to do takeout or eat in?’ I said when we found ourselves less than fifty metres away from the parlour tasked with plying us with ice cream for tonight without a say in the matter.

‘Let’s do takeout and walk back to Borough Station. Full circle.’

The place was crowded: the most logical outcome for the only ice cream parlour open at this time near a tourist hotspot in the middle of summer. Customer turnover was quick, however, and we left with our orders within fifteen minutes. As tempting as their sundaes and waffles — towering, decadent creations of sugary indulgence — looked, we went back to the basics after our overly sophisticated dinner. Unlike before, what we wanted came to us in a snap: for myself, a speculoos gelato; for Jake, a gelato, too, but make it salted caramel.

And this time, we could help ourselves to each other’s food. With permission, of course.

‘A fraction of the price, but infinitely better,’ I said.

‘I hope the same can be said of our second date.’

‘And what would that be?’

‘Dinner at Chez Walker. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?’

‘I do think so.’

‘It would have to be the weekend after next, though.’

‘Why? Got another date next Saturday?’ I had a firm enough grip on reality to recognise and accept that a guy like him had to be neck deep in matches.

‘No … next weekend’s the full moon. I thought you’d know.’

I stopped dead in my tracks. ‘Why would I?’ I buried my stammer under a bemused scoff. Like, why would anyone — any not-werewolf, which, as far as Jake was concerned, was what I was — care to know when the full moon was?

He, too, stopped walking and looked me dead in the eye. ‘Imogen, I know what you are.’

I wiped my palms on the front of my dress. They were suddenly so sweaty. So sweaty. Why were they so sweaty? Could he see that they were so sweaty? I tried to defuse the situation the best — and maybe only — way I knew how: ‘Are we quoting Twilight? I’ll have you know that I liked the book when I first read it in 2007. And I thought the movie wasn’t too bad either.’ This was true, and I wasn’t ashamed of it. Any female millennial who said they had felt nothing for Edward Cullen was a filthy liar.

‘I’m not ashamed either to say I read the book and watched the movie. But I’m serious.’

‘Okay … say it, then. Go on.’ Was that how the line went? I wasn’t going to look it up now. On a list of things that mattered in this moment, accurate movie quotes was nowhere near the top twenty.

‘You’re a werewolf. And I know how this sounds, so don’t humour me or —’ His tone had taken on a jittery lilt, uncharacteristic of someone who ought to be humoured, ridiculed (what his next word had to be), or — my worst-case scenario — feared.

‘How did you know?’

His mien changed in a manner that suggested that wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. Fuck it. Chris had trusted me enough to tell me the truth after a handful of dates, and he did it because he liked me a lot and he wanted to get it out of the way as soon as possible so that we could move on in some way. (Me asking him to turn me was the real curveball of that conversation.) The least I could do, really, was to extend that same courtesy to Jake. I liked him. I liked him a lot. If he had a problem with what I was, it was better that I found out now that he did than many months down the road. There was no element of compromise to my … condition.

‘You mean I’m —?’

‘Right? Not crazy?’ I showed him my palm. The burn had taken about an hour to reach the healing stage normal people would reach in a week or so. ‘Yeah.’

‘Damn …’ He cleared his throat. ‘How did I know? I was brought up on a steady diet of horror movies and read way too many young adult supernatural books in the day, more than I’d care to admit. That, and my ex-girlfriend’s second uncle was killed by a werewolf.’

‘Shit.’

‘I’m kidding — about the last part. The first two are true. My ex-girlfriend was a vampire, and one of her uncles — I can’t remember which one; it could’ve really been her second — was with a werewolf when we were together. Vampires and werewolves get along quite well, actually.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

‘How the tables have turned … I’m not.’ He went through his phone with his free hand and, upon finding what he’d been looking for, passed it to me. ‘Look.’

On the screen was a photo of him with his arm around a hazy figure in clothes that were otherwise in focus.

‘Drove me quite mad at first, thinking something was wrong with my phone. Then she went a little … overboard once, and the rest was history. She shared everything about her world — your world — with me. And I’m also in several online paranormal communities, so there’s that. It’s not all as hush-hush as one might think. It just takes an open mind.’

I returned his phone to him. ‘How did you figure me out?’

‘Your “allergy”. I had my suspicions about your scar. Your reaction to the silverware confirmed them. Allergies … don’t do this.’ He took my hand and stroked my palm. The sensation of his fingers on the raw skin was … electric. ‘I’m sorry I put you in an awkward position and you weren’t ready to tell me. What I said … just slipped out. I understand. It has to be fucking terrifying. It’s okay if you don’t want to see me again after this. But I want you to know that what you are doesn’t change a thing about how I feel about you. How you were turned is none of my business. The whole thing is, really. I did an arse thing. I’m an arse. First with the goddamn restaurant, now this. Way to fucking go, Walker,’ he said to himself quietly.

I flung my empty gelato container into the nearest bin, and then my arms around him. I helped throw away his for him, too. ‘You’re not an arse, Jake. This doesn’t change anything about how I feel about you, too. I like you a lot.’ His cheeks flushed deeply under the moonlight. ‘I was freaking out about this whole thing during dinner because I like you a lot. I am so relieved that we’ve gotten to lay our cards on the table.’ I fanned myself with my hand. Don’t cry, Imogen! ‘And because I don’t want there to be any more lies between us, it was my ex-boyfriend who turned me, and he did it because I wanted it.’

‘Oh. Yeah, it still doesn’t change a thing.’ His lips landed on my forehead in a peck. ‘Okay, I never imagined the topic of our exes would come up so often during our first date. Oh, well. Guess they had more of an impact on us than we’d like to think.’

‘Yeah’ — I chuckled, ‘let’s keep walking.’

I peeled myself off him. Our hands remained intertwined. Like dinner, the remaining walk — as short as it was — to the station was a quiet one. Unlike dinner, it was more so that we were simply basking, revelling, in the afterglow of our attraction to each other and each other’s presence. The world felt right again, just as it did at the farmers market.

The next time we spoke was on the train platform. ‘Thank you for the lovely time,’ I said, ‘and for being such a sweetheart.’ I waved my bouquet at him. It still looked pristine despite all the walking we did. ‘For everything.’

‘Thank you, too. I had an amazing time with you today. I can assure you that Chez Walker will serve larger portions than what we had earlier.’

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

‘The weekend after next, then?’

‘Yes,’ I said, grinning. ‘I’d be down for any time before the weekend, too, if Chez Walker is open then.’

‘I’ll speak with the chef.’

He moved in for a goodbye kiss, which I seized wholeheartedly. His smell and the sound of his heartbeat flooded my senses. I could feel his heart beating against his chest under my touch, thumping, thumping away for every second our lips lingered on each other’s. I had to contain myself and keep things G-rated and light, as such kisses were wont to be, though my instincts were screaming, baying, at me to get to satisfying at least one craving tonight. I was the one to break off the kiss for fear of going too far.

‘Just in time,’ said Jake, his eyes doing that thing they did whenever he smiled. ‘My train’s here. I’ll see you next week?’

‘I thought you said you’ll speak with the chef about next week.’

‘I realised I don’t care what the chef thinks. He’ll be fine with it anyhow: he doesn’t have to bust out the good silverware.’

‘Goodbye, Jake.’

‘See you, Imogen. Message me when you get home?’

‘I will.’

We waved at each other, right before the train doors swallowed him up. My train came soon after, too. I spent the entire ride home wondering not what to fill the void that was my stomach with, but what fresh hell the universe had in store for me in return for scoring me a guy like Jake.

#exophilia #terato #werewolf #monster love #monster romance #mine

19 notes · View notes

imagine-that · 4 years

Text

Snowball

Warnings: absolutely none, just a super cute, fluffy, wintery fic

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

AN: this is for @potterverseimagine ‘s 300 writing challenge, I used prompt #11 “You look freezing. Let me warm you up.” This is honestly one of my favourite ones I’ve written so far so I hope you guys like it too. Also, Fred is one of the main loves of my life right now so I kind of write a lot of him (yes all of them are fictional.)

As class is finally dismissed, you run through the halls, quickly making your way outside to the courtyard where your boyfriend had asked you to meet him.

Then again, when you really thought about it, he hadn’t so much asked as he’d told. From what you remembered, which was most of it, it was more like he’d said “You, me, the courtyard after class.” And winked in an overdramatic manner, his typical move.

Obviously you’d agreed, your curiosity getting the better of you.

As you spot his red locks of hair, you quietly tiptoe through the snow behind him, putting a finger to your smiling lips as one of his brothers notices you. You excitedly put your hands over his eyes, suppressing your giggles as his brother watches in amusement.

“Guess who.” You sing song, masking your voice awfully.

“Hm I wonder who it could possibly be?” He says sarcastically, a grin on his face. “Could it be y/n?” He asks thoughtfully, making you giggle.

“Afternoon Freddy.” You greet, confirming his suspicions as you peck him on the cheek and he removes your hands and turns around, grinning proudly at you.

The snow is falling in big, fluffy flakes all around the three of you in a beautiful manner but you’re too focused on the look across your scheming boyfriends face.

“I know that look... What’re you up to?” You ask with an eyebrow raised, arms crossed over your chest.

He looks over to George for permission to share, though you know he most likely would’ve told you anyways and his brother nods towards you, telling him to continue.

“What would you say if I told you we were going to start the biggest bloody fight Hogwarts has ever seen?” He asks with a mischievous grin, his brother showcasing a matching one.

“I’d say that you’re crazy and need to reconsider your choices.” You respond with a sigh.

They look between each other, both glancing back at you with a shrug and an apologetic smile.

“Merlin... why do I spend so much time with you two gits?” You ask, shaking your head with a smile tugging at your lips.

“Because you love me? And tolerate him of course.” George says, coming over and slinging an arm around your shoulder.

“Ah yes, how could I forget.” You respond sarcastically, laughing and rolling your eyes at his joke.

Fred scoffs in amusement. “As if. We all know I’m the better looking one.” He says, pulling you away from his brother and back into his arms.

You chuckle to yourself, squeezing him in a hug tightly.

“True, true. Now, please explain what exactly you two did?” You ask, almost scared to know what the answer to that question may entail.

“Well...” Fred says, grinning the way he did whenever they were up to something.

Before he can say anything more, students come flying through the doors to the grounds, some on brooms and some on foot, a bit of every house included. They’re all wearing their winter coats and gloves and hats and scarves, clearly prepared to spend time outdoors.

You stare at the students flooding through the doors, completely confused. You obviously knew that the majority of them were meant to be in a lesson, the twins and yourself included. The only reason you’d opted to come and meet him rather than get to class early was because you didn’t take much of a liking to potions.

“For Godric’s sake what did you two do?” You demand, pointing an accusatory finger at the boys.

“Something wicked of course!” Fred smirks, looking around at the chaos.

“Something bloody brilliant!” George adds.

Soon enough, you can hear Filch running anxiously down the hall, if you can call what he does running.

“Students out of class! Students out of class!” He cries to any staff member who will listen.

“We’re well aware you idiotic ninny!” Professor McGonagall exclaims, rolling her eyes as he stops to catch his breath, looking disappointed by the lack of action being taken.

“What’s happeni-.” You start but you’re quickly stopped as a ball of white goes flying past you, smacking Cormac McLagen directly in the face.

His face contorts in shock, clearly having not expected it.

A second later, another few whip through the air, one hitting a younger Slytherin boy and one hitting Cho Chang on the shoulder.

Everyone starts frantically forming balls out of the snow, tossing them at their friends and foes. The air fills with laughter as students get hit and dodge.

“Now I see what you mean by fight!” You shout at Fred, smiling from ear to ear as you throw one of your own at Fred. To your dismay, he easily dodges it and the ball instead hits George.

He gives you a look that makes you instantly regret the toss.

“Oh no....” You squeak, running over to Fred and hiding behind him, holding on to his arms to keep him there. “Protect me Freddy!” You order, squealing as you start getting pelted with them at least three or four at a time.

“Oi! I thought we said no wand tricks!” Fred says to his brother with an eyebrow raised teasingly.

George merely shrugs in response, continuing his previous tactic.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you love!” Fred declares, staying his ground in front of you.

Still, George manages to hit you with every last one he sends your way, your hair practically white from all the snow falling into it.

You adjust your hat, pulling it even further onto your head to cover your already rosey ears.

“Harry! We draw the line at the cloak, no one else has one it wouldn’t be fair!” George shouts as one flies at him out of nowhere. Thankfully, no one else around seems to hear him but you laugh to yourself as Harry appears out of midair with a defeated look across his face.

You all spend the afternoon pelting the snowballs at each other, some using their wands to do it in multiples, some flying around in the air on their broomsticks and dropping the snow on unexpecting students on the ground but no matter how everybody is doing it, you’re all having fun. You could swear you’d even seen Professor McGonagall throw a snowball or two, though you knew she’d never admit it if asked.

Even Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy seem to be enjoying themselves, even if they were mostly attacking the first years. Seeing as it was only snow, no one seemed to care.

The one time anyone almost gets in trouble is when the twins throw a snowball each at Filch, in nearly perfect sync with each other, both of them landing on their target. He grumbles on and on about detention or expulsion but professor Dumbledore winks at them, waving them back over to the fun.

Some students grow bored of the snowball fight but no one heads in, finding other ways to enjoy the beautiful winter day. You catch glimpses of snow angels, watch the younger students use anything and everything the can find to go tobogganing with, shooting down the hill at high speeds and several others figure out fun games for everyone to enjoy.

As the sun begins to set and the sky grows darker, more and more students make their way inside, all either tired of the snowball war or too cold and hungry to continue. Only when professor Snape is hit across the face by one thrown by one of the Gryffindor quidditch team members on their broom are students ordered back into the castle, of course by the potions teacher himself.

But that isn’t before Oliver Wood, fly’s overhead, dropping an oversized ball of snow directly over you. You shriek as the rush of cold hits your body, soaking you even more than every other one combined.

“Wood!” You cry, glaring up at him.

He shrugs with a playful smile. “It was requested.” He says simply, waving and flying off before he has to face your wrath.

“Let me take one guess who requested that...” You say as you turn to face Fred, the two of you happening to be two of the only ones left outside apart from the odd Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw passing by to get to their dinner.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He says innocently, coming closer to you and playfully tugging your hat down over your eyes.

You scoff, leaning into his chest and wrapping your arms around him, using one hand to push the brim of the hat back up.

“Mm you smell good.” You murmur into his jacket.

He chuckles, gently pulling you off of him.

“Let’s go back inside you nut.” He says, holding your hand in his contently.

As others file into the great hall, famished from the afternoon of fun, you and Fred push your way through the crowd and he gently pulls you along behind him as he says the Gryffindor password, only having to repeat it a few times as the lady insists on singing even louder. Finally she gives up and lets you two inside.

“You and your brother sure know how to make a scene.” You tease, grinning over at Fred as he smirks.

“Yes, yes we do. And we have bloody good fun doing it.” He responds.

You laugh. “And how did you come up with this particular idea, might I ask?” You question, head tilted to the side as you wait for an answer.

“Figured everyone could use a way to enjoy themselves before their O.W.L.S and their N.E.W.T.S. Or at the very least, make a few people laugh when we get the chance to hit professor snape or filch in the face with a snowball of course.” He explains.

“I don’t think I even want to know how you managed to pull it off either.” You say with a grimace.

“We partially got Dumbledore’s permission! That should count, even if it is only partially.” He counters, letting go of your hand and walking over to the boys dormitory entrance.

“Wha- hey! Where are you going?” You ask, your brows furrowed and your lip jutted out in a dramatic pout.

“Y/n, I don’t know if you realize but I’d rather not eat in soaking wet robes.” He laughs, smiling at your slight neediness.

“But Fred!” You whine, giving him a look you hope is just adorable enough to work, your y/e/c eyes twinkling hopefully.

He chuckles, giving you a sympathetic look. “I’ll be back in just a moment darling.” He promises. Before you can protest even a little bit, he’s walked away to his dorm, leaving you with your mouth wide open in shock.

You sink into the couch, waiting for him to return. A moment later, he hops into the spot next to you, coming to wrap his arms around you but immediately pulling away as he notices your overly rosey cheeks and your chattering teeth, your figure shivering heavily.

“Merlin y/n, You look freezing. Let me warm you up.” He exclaims, using a simple fire charm and starting a roaring fire in the fireplace in front of you, the lights dancing around in the darkened room.

You try to argue but he ignores you, pulling off his sweater and forcing it over your head.

He stares at you admiringly for a moment, making you smile like an idiot.

“What?” You ask through giggles.

“Nothing just that I think I might need a new sweater because that one is clearly better on you.” He compliments and your lips curl upwards, his words making you feel warmer already.

He runs back into his dorm before you have the chance to actually tell him so though, and comes back with his entire comforter trailing across the floor behind him.

He goes behind you, draping the blanket over your shoulders and wrapping you up in it in a hug from behind.

When he finally sits back down, he wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you over to him and onto his lap, blanket and all

“There. You don’t look nearly as blue as you did. Only a hint of the colour that I can see.” He says, grinning as you give him a pointed look, still shaking from the cold. “Might just help if you changed out of these sopping wet clothes love.” He adds, knitting his fingers in and out of your own.

“Oh fine.” You grumble, standing up and trudging off to your own dorm, quickly peeling off your clothes from earlier and changing into a fresh set of robes, pulling Fred’s sweater back over your body once you’re finished.

You eagerly head back, jumping into his arms and snuggling up to him in his lap.

“You were gone for a moment!” He states with a laugh.

“Yes but it was a moment too long.” You murmur into his chest.

“Ah yes well, I suppose a moment away from me must feel like an eternity.” He responds and you gently jab his shoulder with a roll of your eyes.

“Yeah yeah. I love you you idiot.” You giggle, moving your head up and placing your lips on his, kissing him deeply.

“I love you too darling. Really missed me that much though eh?” He teases with a grin and you laugh again.

“Always.” You whisper, resting your head back down on his shoulder. He pulls the blanket over both of you, pulling you even closer to him, your body pressed up against his chest.

“I suppose this is one good way to warm up.” He jokes in a hushed tone, the feeling of his breath tickling your ear.

“It’s the perfect way to warm up.” You correct softly, nuzzling your head up to him even closer and shutting your eyes.

Even though neither of you had eaten anything since lunch, you both drift off blissfully in each other’s arms, staying warm and cozy by the firelight of Gryffindor tower with wide and content grins practically etched on your faces.

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