#anyway nothing fancy as this is my first time doing this. i must study this ancient art further 🧙‍♂️...

[picory]

i made trolls stamps just for fun

[xo-cori]

can you do a dina x sub reader on a first date at some fancy restaurant but dina’s really flirty and touchy and loves making the reader nervous pleasee i need dom dina😵‍💫

magnetic, everything about you

pairing: dina woodward x fem!reader

summary: it’s unlike you to fall for anybody quite this hard. especially not on your first date.

warnings: kissing in public, lots of PDA in general actually, implied dom/sub dynamics

a/n: anon…….. this request changed my life. talking to dina b like uhhh ummm uhhum umm umuh uhhhhh um 😁

You aren’t made nervous easily.

In fact, you can’t remember the last time your cheeks have been this hot, or the last time you’d had this swirling feeling in your stomach, and it’s all because of her low-cut maroon dress and the way her arm hasn’t left your shoulders once after two glasses of wine. Her voice is smooth like honey, deep and sweet, and her smile is nothing short of infectious. She’s so close that you can smell the distinction between her perfume and her shampoo; a mix of roses and coconut that makes your head spin and your heart race.

This is awful, you think. She must be a succubus, or a witchy seductress; one who uses her powers to get what she wants. At this point, you’d be willing to give her anything. Whatever spell she cast is working.

The scenery of the restaurant around you seems to have disappeared. The chandeliers above that cast a warm light, the stained glass windows, all the distant chatter and conversation from tables around you. It seems that nothing matters outside of this booth, tucked away into a quiet corner, thigh-to-thigh with the woman of your dreams. She tells your stories of her friends, her coworkers, her family (mostly her older sister, you notice, they must be close). She makes your mind blank on any stories you could tell in return.

“Turns out, the car was unlocked the whole time anyways, so there was no reason for him to smash the window in the first place!” Dina laughs, and you offer a smile that might be brighter than the sun. Most people wouldn’t joke about their car getting broken into. Dina, though… Dina is different. A good different.

Conversation is easy with her. She could talk for hours and you wouldn’t mind, yet she makes sure to ask you just as many questions and ease you out of your shell. It’s only one of the many reasons you’re so whipped for this woman on your first date.

There’s a pause. A long one, and you would’ve tried to break the silence, but she seems to be studying you. It takes all of your willpower to not shrink under her prying gaze. She looks you up and down, causing you to raise your eyebrows expectantly. “What? Is there something on my face?” You wonder.

“Tell me if I’m wrong, but I think I make you nervous.” Dina says. “It’s not like you’re really trying to hide it.”

This is quite a blow to your self esteem, considering you had been trying to hide it. Very hard, in fact. “Someone’s cocky,” you tilt your head away from her, an attempt to deflect from the embarrassment you feel.

“I’m cocky for a reason!” She brings her free hand to take a gentle grip of your chin, forcing you to look at her. “Your face is all hot. That tends to happen when people are nervous, y’know.”

“Don’t be a smartass!” You exclaim, nervously moving your face from her grip and looking down at your lap.

“But you like it,” she points out. “Look at me.”

Your jaw tenses as you finally look back at her. Her arm, the one that’s around your shoulder, raises a bit so she can smooth out that tension with her hand. That signature smile of hers is still there, and it makes you melt into her touch. “You like it, right?”

After a moment of silence, you nod. “Yeah, actually. Is it obvious?”

“Very.” She says. “It’s cute, though. You’re cute.”

You aren’t sure what to say to this, of course, but you find yourself immediately regretting the first words you can find.

“Kiss me,” you whisper. “Please.”

Her dark eyes widen, and at first, you figured you’ve already fucked this all up; that is, until she scans the room, pleased to find that no one’s being nosy. Little do you know, she’d been waiting for this moment all night.

When she finally kisses you, you can tell. Her hand holds the back of your head while the other wanders to your thigh, securing you into place, though you wouldn’t dream of pulling away. You taste her cherry lipgloss and the red wine that lingers on her tongue. Mindlessly, you grab onto her shoulder, thankful that she wore a strapless dress so that you could feel the smooth skin above her collarbone. You’d do anything to be closer to her. You’d crawl right into her lap if you weren’t in public.

The hand on your thigh wanders up to your waist, flexing against your rib cage, causing you to arch your back and whine as her tongue caresses yours. The simplest of touches, yet your knees turn to jelly beneath you.

Although hesitantly, she’s the first to break away. Her lips are plump and her cheeks dark, which fills you with an odd sense of pride. “Oh, you’ve been wanting that for a while, huh?” She teases.

You just nod your head dumbly, still eyeing her lips, wishing they were still on yours.

“You don’t have any plans after this, do you?” Dina asks with a hopeful tone. Your heart does a flip inside your chest.

“No,” you tell her. “Do you?”

“Unless you wanna leave with me, then no. I don’t.” She shrugs, watching as another wide smile breaks across your face.

You squeeze her shoulder. “I guess we both have plans, then.”

The sparks still haven’t faded. Dina smiles right back at you and you share a quiet laugh, uncaring to those around you, and most definitely uncaring to the fact that you’re gonna be leaving your car in the parking lot for the night. You’re unsure what the night holds, but Dina’s got you wrapped around her finger, and she looks at you like she knows it.

[shares-a-vest]

🪱 🧠 Wiggly Wed-ursday 🧠 🪱

Let's just pretend timezones aren't real for a second and that it's still Wednesday for me. @kikidoesfanfic tagged me in this wonderful tag game weeks ago and I only remember when I see everyone else's on a Thursday my time. Also thank you to @penny00dreadful for the tag today which made me decide to finally do it!

I spend a stupid amount of time thinking about Steve's parents. So much so, that I have a fic in the pipeline that is from Steve's Mom's POV and lmao, my brain already wants to write a semi-sequel/companion piece (I swear to fucking christ I am determined to publish this fic this weekend – I am so sorry to all the people I have basically strung along with this long-gestating wip). We get like four sentences about Steve's parents the entire show ("she's super well-respected", "my dad's an asshole"). And while I guess you could argue that Steve's background isn't all that crucial in the show, he still grew into this fan-favourite character that ended up gaining more screen time than initially planned but... We still get nothing??? Steve's parents not getting a mention in extended material bugs me too (whyyy aren't they in that play!!!). Anyway, enough screaming and onto some brainworms. I am plagued by thoughts of Steve's Dad's POV – Somewhere between an outsider's POV and a character study. Does he notice when his son disappears for days at a time? Right on Spring Break when this young girl has been 'murdered'? Is he like the Wheeler's, watching the local news? Do he and Steve's Mom go to the town meeting? Maybe they sit at the back. Do they know who Claudia is? Maybe she awkwardly greets them, only to be left cold. She thinks they should be as concerned as she and Karen are. If their kids are involved in all of this somehow, Steve would be with them too. How about when the town splits in two? Steve's car must be gone from the house too, right? (Honestly, I lost track of everyone's vehicles in s4. steve changes into The Yellow Sweater, so he must have gone home). Do his parents know the Buckley's number? Surely they know of Robin. Do they go looking for him? What happens when they find him and his friends? Do they ask what the hell happened? What does he tell them?

Some general/possible fic ideas I have with all of this worminess:

Steve's POV, His Mom's POV, His Dad's POV all in the one event. Maybe it's Christmas or just some fancy party they are having. Maybe even the aftermath of some event/family drama.

Mr Harrington's POV of Season 4.

Steve's Parents meeting Robin for the first time. Somewhere between seasons 3 and 4. Robin's POV of this too.

Claudia's POV of Steve's parents.

I think I'll leave it there. Consider the end of this post me walking off into the sunset for the day, ramble-asking endless questions about Steve's parents.

No-pressure tags: @momotonescreaming @puppy-steve @sidekickjoey @tangerinesteve

@hellion-child @devondespresso

[arisenreborn]

WIP (one-shot) Wednesday

No tags, I lied, was tagged by @fangbangerghoul - thank you as always! <3<3<3

I just happened to be possessed by the spirit of writing at 2am again - so it's a much more wip-y wip in terms of I just tossed it out there, first draft - but it is more or less a complete one-shot. Tense is a little weird but I rolled with it. Soft fluffy banter (of the sleepy almost nonsensical variety) and fluff.

"Carry Me" - post-game, Olivia & Emrys (Arisen x Pawn), 924 words.

The hour has grown late again and she is sat hunched at her desk over a nigh-unending pile of paperwork. She will never be a noble -let alone Sovran- who does naught but eat fine food and dance at fancy parties. Even if those were two of her favored past-times. 

She yawns and rubs her eyes, but only looks up from her work when she senses movement in the room. His presence is unmistakable to her, and she smiles even before their gazes meet.

“While your dedication to signing parchment of great import is admirable, I do believe it is well and truly past time you took your rest, Your Majesty.” 

She cannot stop from simply smiling at him; she is far too tired to argue, or come up with a quip. Instead she is all too happy to watch as he gracefully stalks around the desk to her side.

Stubbornness has always been her damning flaw and saving grace, but for him it has grown so easy to yield. She lifts her arms up and he bends himself low so she might wrap them around his neck.

“Will you carry me?” 

A warm laugh rumbles in his throat. “I think you may have grown even more spoiled than I thought you were when first we met.” 

He dips his hands down around her.

“Did you truly think that?” She doesn’t really mind either way, the words simply drift up playfully of their own accord. 

His head bows close, his voice a warm whisper against her neck. “Never truly.” 

“Liar.” She laughs and nuzzles the side of her face to his. He grunts as if in mock-offense, but effortlessly lifts her up into his arms.

“Why, I think I might just be telling the truth.” He says this to her as if he was just discovering something new about himself - and not something he’d probably turned over in his mind a hundred-hundred times before.

He leans down and she reaches out her hand to dim the crystal lamp on the desk. Then he turns towards the sliver of light at the door of the study and moves out into the corridor.

“Is that so? This discovery must be shocking to you.”

“Hah, hardly!” He grins at her, the tiredness around his eyes does nothing to dull the mirth that shines in them. “From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were going to be the most infuriating bundle of contradictions I’d ever encountered in my whole life.”

She smiles first, and then slowly her brow scrunches up. But she is too tired to think further, simply choosing to accept that his every compliment is joined by a complaint. And each complaint only further conceals a deeper compliment - a deeper love. 

“I think that makes us quite alike,” she tells him, and he hums in agreement. Bringing her hand up to the side of his face, she strokes her thumb over his cheek. Her eyes are so heavy they burn with the effort of keeping them open, but the thrill of fondness and delight in her chest makes it hard to even consider sleep. 

In direct contrast, she feels so light and weightless in his arms, even the comfort of their bed might fail to tempt her into such an irresistible ease. 

“Now, tell me sweet things.”

“Was I not just doing that?” He snorts, nudging the door open to their room with his foot. 

“Tell me you’ll keep holding me like this.” She nuzzles her face into his neck and he laughs again.

“You are spoiled. But that ought to go without saying, don’t you think?”

She resists a yawn, but her eyelids have lost the battle. “Say it anyway.”

“Aye, I’ll keep holding you, all night long.” There's a pause before he continues, quietly, like a promise for only her ears: "I'll never let you go."

She can practically feel the warmth of his sentiment in the way his chest swells - and then the rumble of laughter when he adds: “Heavens know if I don’t you’re likely to assail me in my sleep.”

She laughs quietly, shaking her head and pressing her face into him. Her fingers slide up from his cheek into his hair as he lays her down into bed, all but collapsing into place alongside her and half-atop her. She laughs more, but it’s so tired it is nearly delirious, and ends in a sleepy, contented hum. 

“You know, I’m feeling quite tempted to steal the sovran.” He confesses, lips brushing against the softest part of her throat, and she sighs sweetly at the sensation.

“And where would you take me?” She rakes her fingers gently through his feathery hair.

“Nearest town that’s further than anyone knows us.” He grins and she can feel his teeth against her neck. “Far, far away from that nasty desk work.”

“Mmm, you have my permission.”

“Just like that?” He peppers slow, soft kisses up the side of her neck, along her chin, taking a detour to the tip of her nose, and the spot between her eyebrows. For a moment it is all she can do to sleepily soak in his affection - but at last she finally answers.

‘Just like that. Though I do have one request.” 

“Anything.”

“Can it wait ‘til morning?” 

He laughs and kisses her temple. “Aye, ‘til morning then.” 

He shifts and begins to pull the blankets around them, and she cannot help but to think how lucky she is. How lucky and how loved.

[babybulbasaur920]

Headcanons for Vilex (Vil/Felix)

Felix has more or less avoided Vil´s fits of overbearing-ness for the first two years of Felix's time at NRC

There was more or less an unspoken agreement after Vil saw what this man can make out of basically nothing

Leave him alone and he´ll work hard on his own, and get fancy, beautiful jewelry with gems mined from the Han-eul mountains, the most gorgeous ever

This went on until the VDC, when Vil decided Felix would help the crew, music and stuff. He thought Felix could do it

Anyways chapter 5 goes as it does

Felix and Yuu in the ¨we aren't going to be dancing, why must we eat the white people food?¨ club

Vil´s overblot goes as it does

As he's doing his major soul searching trying to reassess every damn thing, he happens upon Felix's hot shop, and they start chatting

At first it's polite small talk, about Felix´s projects and the jewelry making process. It then turns into more personal things

Vil hasn't had much time to just work through it all.

Even with Rook picking up the slack it takes a lot to be so perfect, and to look like it takes no effort to be perfect

Felix is blunt and slightly to the left (my baby is undiagnosed autistic, the tumblr kind, he'd be doing numbers on here) and its oddly refreshing to Vil, who hasn't given him much more thought than a handy kinda dude

They started dating not long and it's a trip for both of them

Vil never thought he'd be so down for someone, he always thought a partner would have to be actually perfect, not better than him of course 

If you told him a year ago he'd be so head over heels for a kinda short artisan with little filter, he'd laugh it off, but life comes at you fast and you never know. And now he's sitting in the cafeteria with one arm around him while trying to get him to eat, since using his fire and metal magic to craft actually burns a lot of calories, he has to eat a lot, but can just get so absorbed in studying or whatever Vil has to remind him to eat.

Felix has definitely kissed Vil all over like that one tweet

Felix kissing Vil all over his face: skincare

Holiday hcs since we just had those fucks

I just know Vils dad is like one of those sad beige moms

And christmas, or the twisted wonderland equivalent kinda sucked over at the Schoenheit house for that reason

And Vil keeps that going in Pomefiore, instead of beige we got purple, which is a step up but you get the point

But Felix came from a large family and the kind of village thats one big family, and it's ¨tacky¨ holidays all the way

We are talking about homemade decor (that still looks amazing,  all those jerks are pro artisans, what did you think would happen?), all the colors, cookie decorating with half the kitchen coated in flour, festive kidz bop, pjs, the whole messy nine yards

This of course becomes a problem, last year, Felix just did his room how he likes it, and his roommate was kind enough not to snitch, but now he and Vil are dating, he's asking for his opinion, and, he really hates how sterile this all looks

While dating Felix has sort of mellowed Vil out, seeing what's really important in life and all that, he still very much cares about aesthetics and everything looking perfect, and perfect, in this scenario makes Felix poke everything with a stick

Eventually they come to a conclusion, the dorm will be elegant as always but more fun

They do a whole thing about gingerbread houses, and it turns out Rook´s aunt has a dope recipe which he shares. It's actually pretty cool to see these guys fumble, the majority is rich fancy dudes who've never cooked in their lives 

Of course Felix´s is super elaborate (once again, who do you think you're talking about?). He's not much better at baking, but design is his thing. The whole thing is a victorian style house with candy cane railings, green cotton candy and powdered sugar as snowy bushes, a snowman made out of donut holes, and a garden using candy canes as trellis, those pull apart twizzlers as vines and actual candied flowers. How this man even got those things, no one knows (he bribed Rook, a true artist cannot be contained)

Tree decorating! Some students write home for ornaments that they particularly like, Felix makes some, Epel makes a whole popcorn chain (has to be supervised or he'll eat it, our gremlin child), it gets spray painted, so it doesn't attract bugs not all of it matches but the tree is beautiful and everyone in the dorm got to add to it

Vil has to fold, this **has** been better than how holidays normally are for him

The gifts:

What Felix gifts Vil: 

(he made them of course)

he put in it, a picture Rook took, of the group (him, Vil, Epel, Rook) (dont ask how Rook took the picture and was in the picture. we all know this man is some eldrich being) in front of the dorm tree

What Vil got him:

(i couldn´t find pictures of actual tickets so pretend they´re tickets)

They both love the netflix movie, so when Felix casually tosses out he once saw this as a play when travelling with his parents, Vil was intrigued. he found out that a theater not too far from NRC would be putting it on

Vil, when doing his homework on the play, saw it's a thing to dress up like you're going to prom, so he also got Felix a nice suit

[skippyisabramble]

WIP

hi blimps im still here. dead or not ill keep posting

silly little wip i’ve been working on. too lazy to make a fancy info thingy before it. I’m not sure if I’ll finish it because even though Khadija is a character I use regularly, this is not for a roleplay and more of a uhhh oneshot, I guess you could say.

I also must add a disclaimer that theres some pretty offensive language here but none of these are my genuine opinions. I write in the perspectives of my characters and Khadija is not the nicest by a long shot.

Oh and these guys are dogs djrnkfmymy anyway its below the keep reading :)

—

Ofelia was amongst the worst of all Khadija’s stepmothers. Her mother always muttered to her about how insufferable she was. Well, she had a lot to say about all the other consorts. 

Lavinia was more of a sharmouta than a woman of royalty. Snakelike Marica’s only redeeming quality were the three bastards she bore, and yet those three bastards brought nothing to the table. (A son who wanted to be more of a peasant than a prince, a daughter who’d only exceed in mopping floors, and another son who believed he was worth the title of King.) The palace would’ve been much more comfortable had Leona’s tongue been cut out long ago, and the same goes for Marica. Estella was only memorable for dying during childbirth, and that *golden girl* should have died with her. It’s a wonder how Cyriacus could love someone like her, even when shes dead and gone.

And Ofelia was just dreadful. The only thing she does is cry. Just speaking the name of another consort could bring her to tears. Hell, even a drop of a pin. With such thin skin, it was no one's fault but hers that she was so miserable in the castle. She was probably doing it for attention, and that made it even more sickeningly childish. And speaking of which, Aloisia thought of her stepchildren just as highly as she does their mothers. Even if they weren’t the princes she prayed for, Khadija and Djamila were worth more than all of them combined. Cyriacus should be thankful for such perfect girls; they were the best things to come to Shorus after Adelia being sent off. Nearly all of Khadija’s siblings were older than her, adults by the time she and her twin sister were born. But she knew one of them was her age. It was another sister, albeit half, and her name was Aletta. Her mother was none other than the palaces whiner, Ofelia. Khadija, Djamila, and Aletta were born within the same month. Khadija was unsure of who was older, but she did know they were days apart. 

But Khadija wasn’t keen on finding out. She didn’t care about Aletta. She didn’t like her. Why? Because Aletta was no good, nor worth her time, so her mother said. She and Djamila should best focus on their studies, not get involved with the likes of her, nor any of the consorts spawn. And Aloisia couldn’t be wrong, as if she were, she wouldn't be so certain whenever she said so. She always knew best, and her advice always made sense to Khadija. She never really spoke to Aletta, not really. The same goes for the rest of her half siblings. She met them, but never really spent time with them like she does Djamila. Especially since Khadija was newly weaned, now at the age of 2 months. She did meet them when she was a young baby, however. Viewing the newest born princess or prince was customary in Shorus, after all. Khadija remembers seeing one of her brothers, Ahsan, quite often. He was the first to introduce art, specifically paint, to her before she’d have to sit through dozens of paintings Aloisia commissioned of her. He once let her place a clumsy paw print on one of his newest paintings, but Aloisia wasn’t too happy he’d bring ‘chemicals’ so close to her daughter. From what she could remember, pale Runal was always kind, though he didn’t come around often. But his two pale siblings, Hassan and Fatima, seemed more curt than anything, especially Hassan. Aloisia doesn’t like Hassan too much. Shahnaz and Malik were nice, but she didn’t see them often.

While Khadija didn’t talk to Aletta, it didn't mean they hadn’t at all. Being the same age, it would be more likely that Khadija, Djamila, and Aletta would’ve met. Ofelia was hopeful that Aletta could have been friends with the twin sisters, and pushed the possibility. Khadija recalls brief glimpses of sharing toys with the other girl, who arguably looked quite similar to her and Djamila herself. She could recall giggling with the other girl as they played, but she was unsure at what. Aloisia wasn’t too fond of Aletta being daughters playmate, though. With how sensitive and emotional Ofelia was, it probably ended up in Aletta having some sort of compromised immune system, or worse; an ill-mind. Something like that being so close to her daughters would be disastrous. The older Khadija became, the larger the wedge between her and Aletta grew. She’d see her in the halls and say nothing. 

[helpistolethesecharacters]

I'll Be Your Romeo If You'll Be My Juliet

Lucius Malfoy x Male Reader

Word Count: 1911

This was a request from an anon for a Lucius x male reader.

I hope this is everything you wanted from your request anon, if it isn't, feel free to send me another request!

---------

It was time for the annual Yule gathering. The Black family had the honor of hosting it this year, and they had taken every opportunity to remind everyone of that fact.

The heirs, the ones that mattered anyway, had been almost insufferable on the lead up to the yule break.

Lucius had mixed feelings on the whole subject, not that he could let that show to anyone.

Luckily, it looked like his betrothed was of a similar mind. The lovely Andromeda Black had been as quiet as he had been lately. If they had had even the smallest bit of interest in each other, they might have brought their concerns up.

Lucius thought fleetingly of a world where they could be in love. They would spirit themselves away to an abandoned classroom where they could talk uninterrupted about all of the things that were bothering them. They would take comfort in not being alone. It would bring them closer together and they could fall in love all over again.

But reality was a cruel mistress, and rarely allowed for such flights of fancy.

As it was, Lucius and Andromeda were just two teens who had been promised to each other from before they had even been born. There was nothing more between them.

Lucius sighed silently as he exited the floo into the receiving room at the Black Manor.

He barely registered an elf banishing the soot from his dress robes as he moved out of the room.

"Heir Malfoy, a pleasure to have you in our humble home this evening. And of course you as well Lord and Lady Malfoy!"

Lucius nodded at the welcome and stood obediently by his parents' side as he waited for the greetings to end. Sometimes he tired of all the stiff pureblood airs and graces.

After the obligatory back handed compliments they moved off into the party proper. With a last terse command to not embarrass the family name, courtesy of his father, Lucius moved away to see if he could find someone a little closer to his age.

He absently took a glass of sparkling cider from one of the floating trays that dotted the ballroom. The Blacks really had outdone themselves this year. The room was done in shades of white, sliver and blue. It really was stunning, but nothing seemed to be able to knock Lucius out of the numbness he had slipped into.

It had started at the start of that school year with the arrival of a transfer student. The other boy was their age, and the most enchanting creature that Lucius had ever laid eyes on. He had watched his sorting with longing, but the dratted hat had put Y/n into Ravenclaw. It wasn't really the end of the world, Lucius shuddered to think if he had been put into Gryffindor, or worse, Hufflepuff. Unfortunately, Lucius was already betrothed, but even if he wasn't, Abraxas Malfoy would never allow him to sully the Malfoy name with a male partner.

So Lucius had had to swallow his feelings as best he could. It hadn't worked very well, so he had allowed himself to pine from afar just a little.

He was jolted out of his daydream by the object of his thoughts. Lucius inhaled his mouthful of cider at the sight of Y/n.

He looked amazing in his dress robes, dressed up all fancy for the ball. Lucius thought to himself that if this was the cause of his death it would be worth it.

He was aware, once he managed to stop choking, of three things. One, everyone was looking at him, two, his face was probably red enough to shame a Weasley's hair, and lastly, that Y/n had the brightest e/c eyes possible.

He was struck with the awful thought that this was probably the first time that Y/n had known that Lucius existed.

'Well, that was a fantastic first impression,' Lucius thought to himself. He pointedly looked everyone who would meet his gaze straight in the eyes. As he had thought, it was enough to discomfort them into looking away.

Lucius raised his chin and moved off into a different area of the ballroom.

-------------

Ever since Y/n had realised that Lucius Malfoy was at the party as well, he had been jittery. The other boy was always looking at him. He had been the cause of enough distraction before this, when he was just someone who lurked at the fringes of his awareness while he studied in the school library. Now, Y/n was sure that he would never be getting rid of the image of Lucius in dress robes. How was he ever going to be able to concentrate again?

He shook himself slightly and tried to focus back in on whatever it was that the Greengrass heiress was talking about. He was supposed to be making connections here, maybe paving the way for a betrothal contract. As the first Pendragon to be seen in this and the previous generation, there was a lot of pressure to make the right political connections. A marriage to someone who was already politically powerful in this community would go a long way toward putting them back on the map in this magical community.

It was the Gods eternal joke that he was the only one that could do this. He only had one other relative, and his uncle wasn't exactly all there anymore. His parents had made it clear that this was their only chance to become the powerful family that they had once been.

Sure, potions had made it possible to have a male pregnancy, but it was still looked down on pretty harshly by most purebloods. Y/n had no idea how he was supposed to get his family back to its former glory, when to do it he would have to marry a girl. Why did he have to be gay?

------------

Lucius was slowly going out of his mind. He had moved around the party doing his best to ignore Y/n, but he couldn't get him out of his head. The other boy was still standing where he had first spotted him, entirely surrounded by everyone their age.

What was worse was that these were people Lucius had grown up with. He had known these people for his whole life, and it was this that allowed him to see what was happening.

They were all flirting with Y/n.

Lucius was almost certain that some of them, most notably his friends, were only doing it to irritate him and not because they were genuinely interested in Y/n.

He had been shooting furtive looks over at the group for the last half an hour, and still they kept it up. Lucius just didn't know what to do. Oh sure, he knew what he wanted to do, but he also knew that there was no way he could actually pull it off.

For one thing, if he showed his hand by going over there and making a fool of himself he would face serious consequences when he got home. He was sure he would already be in trouble for his incident earlier that night, but if his father heard even a hint of a whisper that his only heir was gay, well, Lucius wasn't sure he would survive that particular punishment.

He was pulled up short at the realisation of where he was. He was in a room with some of the biggest gossips in the magical world, all of which could just about smell weakness. He shot his eyes around the room and realised with a start that it was already too late.

He recognised the look in his fathers eyes when he met them. Someone must have said something about his preoccupation with his classmate to Abraxas. Lucius swallowed, noting his suddenly dry throat.

He looked away from his father, toward Y/n and his friends. There might be a way to salvage this, pretend to have been watching another of his friends. He would still be in trouble for lusting after someone who was not his betrothed, but much less than if it had been the very male Y/n.

There was a commotion over by one of the doors, but Lucius was too busy thinking. He was realising that he was done. He couldn't live like this anymore, and he was done pretending that he could.

He squared his shoulders and moved over to his friends.

"Excuse me, may I borrow Y/n for a moment. We won't be long."

He didn't even bother waiting for a response, just grabbed a hold of him and started off in a random direction. The only thing in his mind was getting as far away from other people so he could have this discussion in peace.

He pulled Y/n out of the ballroom and down hallway after hallway until he decided they were lost enough that only a house elf would be able to find them.

He turned back to the other boy after making sure that the area was empty. They were both panting a little after their impromptu jog.

Y/n was looking at Lucius cautiously.

Lucius surged forward and connected their lips.

They were gasping for breath again when he pulled back.

"You know we can't do this."

Lucius cut him off before he could continue.

"I'm done. I'm done being the perfect heir for parents that don't care to know the real me. I'm done pretending that I'm not head over heels for you. Most of all, I'm done holding back from the things I want just because society wants so badly to tell me no."

He pulled in a deep breath, still standing in Y/n personal space. Neither boy had moved back.

"I want you, Y/n, and I think you've known that for as long as I have. If I haven't missed my guess, you want me too. I'm certainly not alone in all the looks I've sent your way, and I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn't at least find out if you could feel the same way as I do for you."

Y/n sighed and shifted back a step.

"Those are pretty words Lucius, easy to say them here, alone in a secluded corner of someone else's manor, but how will you feel walking into Hogwarts next week, and letting everyone see. How will you feel when your parents cut you off?"

"I'm not totally helpless Y/n, I'll find a way to survive. I know for sure that if I have you by my side there isn't anything that we can't face."

He softly took Y/n's hand and stroked the back with his thumb.

"So what do you say? Can you feel the same way I do?"

Y/n shut his eyes in resignation.

"You know I do."

They stood at the end of their silent hallway for some time, just holding each other.

"You know this will be the second scandal of the night?"

Lucius pulled back to look at Y/n.

"What do you mean?"

Y/n looked at Lucius, shocked.

"What do you mean, what do I mean? Didn't you hear, just before you pulled me out of there, one of the older Blacks ran in and caused quite the scene. By the looks of things Andromeda is missing. From what I managed to gather, she's run off with that muggleborn from Ravenclaw, you know, Tonks-something, or something-Tonks."

[milkiane]

broken promises

pairings: fred weasley x reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of war, death eaters, mentions of death, mentions of alcohol, mentions of food, mentions of an angry padfoot, tiny fluff, and most importantly: angst angst angst

word count: 7498 ;-)

note: i hope you have the box of kleenex and a tub of ice cream i asked you to bring, because shit’s about to get real !!

how does one narrate a well-structured story when your life has been an absolute mess? well, i guess you could start from the night you met him.

take me back to the night we met.

it was rather unusual to see an upcoming sixth year amongst the flock of first years. you were studying at hogwarts for the first time, and you were quite glad that your dad, also known as the infamous sirius black, finally let you move in with him in 12 grimmauld place, as he claimed to finally have his life together.

you were formerly from the states. moving in with your aunt (a cousin of your father’s), and studying in ilvermorny as soon as you turned 11, explaining the prominent american accent amongst the british ones.

as soon as the sorting hat decided which house you would be in, professor mcgonagall, an elderly witch in long green robes and a pointed hat, told you to meet her at the deputy headmistress’s office after the feast.

you wished that you'd asked where the office was because now you were getting lost within the numerous hallways, stairs, and rooms of hogwarts. you knew how huge this school was, but you didn’t expect it to be too enormous to get lost in.

you were currently passing by a hallway full of paintings who were having an animated chat with one another. you let yourself smile softly, admiring the magic between the hallways. some of them greeted you, which you gladly returned.

you were about to take a turn in the hallway to your left when someone suddenly yelled, “hey, wait, no!”

“wha-?” but you were too late, as soon as you stepped foot in that corridor, you were immediately drenched in orange and purple slime.

too shocked to move, you stood there frozen. the guy who yelled, stood frozen as well, grimacing as you carefully wiped the slime off your face.

fred closed his eyes in mortification, expecting you to be mad. he anticipated yelling or scolding, and maybe even if you considered beating him to the pulp. when it didn’t come, he peeked an eye out open to see you levitating the slime off your body, and before he even knew it, he, too, was drenched in slime.

you laughed, and he swore he never heard anything so angelic until he got a fleeting speck of it. he didn’t even mind the slime dripping off him when he finally got to see a proper look at you. if he was going to be honest, he never really paid attention to the sorting ceremony. he and george have been talking about all the pranks they’re planning to pull, so this was the first time he caught the sight of you, and oh sweet baby merlin, he thought, you were stunning.

he snapped out of his trance when you decided to speak up, “so, is this some sort of welcoming tradition for the new-comers?”

“oh, only for the ravishing ones,” he smirked, giving himself a mental pat on the back for immediately coming up with the witty one-liner.

you rolled your eyes, fixing your brand new y/h robes. fred looked at you with curiosity, “what are you doing here, anyway? students don’t normally roam around here, most especially newbies. that’s why i waited for good ol’ filch whereas george was grabbing the dung bombs,” realizing that you probably had no idea who filch or george was, he stopped talking, giving you some room to talk.

“ah, well-”

“miss black! there you are, i had to question a few students and paintings about your whereabouts. th—“ she stopped speaking, glancing at the redhead behind me, “mr. weasley! what- what is the meaning of this? why are you drenched in goop?”

fred grinned, sending a wink your way, “that’s my cue! see ya ‘round, gorgeous. oh, and you, too, minnie!”

you and the deputy headmistress stared at his retreating figure with amusement. professor mcgonagall led you to her office and let you choose from the various optional classes and introduced you to a student who’ll give you a tour around the obsolete castle.

our friendship will never die, you're gonna see it's our destiny.

it has been two days since that fateful night when you met a certain redhead. you were trying to recall the directions towards the charms classroom when someone ran past you, harshly bumping your shoulder, and consequently making you drop your things. a distant yelp from behind you was heard, “oi! george, you prat!”

“godric, ’m sorry, didn’t notice you,” he said, picking up your fallen books and pouch of quills and ink. you looked up and recognized the fiery red hair and deep brown eyes.

“y’know, i should really anticipate the day when we’ll run into each other without you dousing me in slime or bumping into me when you're running away from someone,” you laughed, taking the books from him as you stood up with your pouch in hand.

“what d'you mean?” he tilted his head, evident confusion occupying his face.

you observed him, seeing if this is some kind of joke that he was playing. when you’ve seen no mischief swimming in his eyes or a smirk, you knew he was serious.

“oh, come on, weasley. i don’t reckon getting drenched in slime would be effortlessly forgettable,” you asked.

“i remember you, just not when you were, erm, drenched in slime. i saw you at the sorting ceremony. padfoot's daughter, yeah?” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. he rummaged through his head for where he could’ve possibly seen you. he felt bad that he didn’t know what you were talking about.

you sort of thought you left an impression. well, seeing as you were a victim in one of his pranks. “well, yeah, that, too, but i was talking about when i was in a hallway you claimed was deserted? then professor mcgonagall found us? no?”

he frowned, but just as his lips turned downwards, he started chuckling. weird.

“what’s so funny?”

“we haven’t particularly met.”

“what d’you mean? i’m rather sure that i wasn’t dreaming when that happened,”

he laughed, running a hand through his hair, “don’t worry, you weren’t,”

you were confused, to say the least, but then another voice from behind you spoke up, “that’s because it was me who you met that crucial night, goop,”

you looked up at him just in time as he swung an arm around your shoulder. you looked back between the guy who bumped into you and the guy who drenched you in slime.

back and forth.

forth and back.

red hair. red hair.

twin. twin.

“oh. OH!” you exclaimed, “twins! oh, merlin, this is embarrassing,” you laughed sheepishly. of course, that just had to happen.

they both laughed along with you. fred removed his hold on you and stood beside his twin, “yes, twins.”

george chuckled, offering you his hand to shake, “‘m george weasley, the bloke who drenched you in slime’s twin, and i sure won’t be forgetting about you now.”

i chuckled, shaking your head, “would you two be so nice and show me the way to charms? ‘ve got a few more minutes before classes start,”

“‘course, we’ve got nothing better to do than escort a pretty girl to her class, anyway,” fred, at least you thought it was fred, winked at you, making you huff amusingly.

the three of you walked together towards the desired destination as they, too, had charms, when curiosity got the best of you and asked, “hey george?”

he looked down at you, blame the evident height differences. “yeah?”

“why were you even running away a while ago?”

his eyes widened and fred smirked, taking his frozen state as an opportunity to smack his head, “tosspot left me with snape when he caught us, he got to run away whilst i got a weeks worth of detention,”

you snorted, “first rule of pranking is you don’t get caught, and here i thought you two were experts,”

“oh we are, darling! snape’s just timed well-- greasy prat’s been waiting for the chance to punish us.”

“well, if you’d let me, i’d be willing to be an apprentice for this little mischievous escapade of yours,” you offered, smiling as they both looked at each other with compelled looks.

“alright, freddie? reckon this is a start of a revolutionary friendship,”

“a start of a revolutionary friendship, indeed, georgie.”

“well, now that we’ve established our apprenticeship, ‘tis lovely to meet you both, i’m y/n black.” you smiled, taking each of their hands. they grinned mischievously, “glad to have you with us, miss black,” and before you knew it, they dragged you to the classroom by your arms.

each night i ask the stars up above, why must i be a teenager in love?

“you fancy him, don’t you?” you shifted your gaze away from fred and glanced at george, who was looking at you with a pointed look.

you knew that you could trust george, he’s your best friend, and you are his. you knew that he wouldn’t tell a soul, even fred, despite him being his twin.

you sighed, “yeah, yeah, i do,”

he nodded, a thoughtful look on his face, “do you ever plan on telling him?”

“no. it’s obvious that he doesn’t like me back. he sees me as his best friend and i certainly don’t want to ruin our dynamics, george.” you whispered as you saw fred making his way towards the both of you.

“what’re the two of you whispering about?” fred whispered, moving his head in between you and george.

you smiled, “fred. but don’t tell him that! we don’t want to feed his egotistical attitude if he ever finds out,”

“oh? well, why’re you talking about,” he looks at his surroundings as if he didn’t want anyone to hear, “fred?”

“we were debating whether he’s the most handsome twin, or if it’s george.”

“and who’d you say?”

“george, of course,”

fred gasped dramatically, earning a harsh glare from madam pince, “you wound me, woman! how could i possibly live with the betrayal?”

you giggled silently, scared that madam pince might consider giving you her wrath, “sit down, you wanker, madam pince might kick us out again.”

“are you actually scared of the librarian?” george chuckled.

you look at him with wide eyes, “how’re you not? if looks could kill, she’d give he who must not be named a run for his money!”

“SHHH!” speak of the devil. you cowered away in between the twins as they made fun of you.

“it isn’t funny!” you whispered, tilting your head so your hair curtained your face.

“i don’t know, goop, it’s quite hilarious,” george continued snickering. ‘goop’ has been their nickname for you ever since your first encounter with fred, it was supposed to be a one-time thing, the nickname, but they sort of just stuck with it.

fred cooed, “aww, don’t worry that pretty little head of yours, i’ll— georgie and i will protect you from pince’s frenzy,”

you rolled your eyes trying to express irritation, but the smile on your lips have betrayed you. you were about to respond when you’ve been interrupted by a couple of giggling second-year girls.

the three of you snapped your heads towards them, confused.

“s’there anything you’d like to share, ladies?” fred asked, wiggling his eyebrows, making them giggle more. you and george shared a glance and smiled.

the three of them looked at you, making you dumbfounded, “is he your boyfriend?”

your eyes widened in surprise, but you decided to play along and joke, “which one?”

they giggled, pointing at fred.

you both looked at each other with raised eyebrows and small smiles.

“yes.”

“no.”

you looked at each other once more, you with a mix of stun and disbelief, fred had a huge grin on his face. and george? george just rolled his eyes, displeased with the obliviousness of his best friend and twin who clearly got the hots for each other.

“we’d make such a cute couple, no?” fred asked, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

you looked at the girls and gave them a wink, “hmm, i don’t know… i’m not particularly fond of having ginger babies.” they giggled. gee, what was wrong with them and giggling?

he rolled his eyes and leaned forward, gesturing for the second years to come closer. fred smiled at them and whispered, “i’m not her boyfriend, i’m her husband,” they gasped, grabbing your attention, you tried to make out what he was saying but to no avail.

“yeah, we’re married, and now you better start calling her mrs. weasley whenever you see her, yeah?” fred grinned mischievously before leaning back to his chair. you looked at him in suspicion, but he paid you no mind as he opened up a book that you both know he won’t read.

you shook your head, checking your watch for the time, “i better get going, i promised to help hermione with differentiating runes,” you kissed the cheek of both boys, but lingering a bit with fred. when you pulled back, you waved at the girls.

they giddily waved back and said, “goodbye! see you around, mrs. weasley!”

you stopped in your tracks, slowly turning around to glare at the sniggering twins. you scoffed, turning back around and leaving the library, avoiding the gaze of the frightening librarian. as soon as you were out of sight, you let out a chuckle, feeling your cheeks heat up.

fred watched you gradually get smaller as you left the library. he would be lying if he said that he didn’t wish to be in a relationship with you, but he didn’t want to make a move— afraid that you’ll reject him and your friendship would be broken. he adores your friendship too much to risk it.

george watched as his brother stared at your retreating figure with love and longing. he shooed away the girls so that he could talk to him without any disturbances.

he repeated the question he asked you moments before fred arrived, “you fancy her, don’t you?”

he snapped his gaze to his brother, eyes wide and brows raised, “huh?”

“y/n. d’you fancy her?” he repeated, this time facing his parchment to continue writing the order forms.

“why? do you?”

“no. now, answer my question.”

fred sighed, “i’m head over heels for her, georgie,”

george just smiled at his brother, mentally counting all the galleons he’ll be able to receive within the month— he knew you’d get together sooner or later, but george definitely wished it‘d be sooner because he doesn’t really fancy losing tons of galleons.

we used to steal your parents' liquor, and climb to the roof. talk about our future, like we had a clue.

after weeks of pining after each other, and a very satisfied (and a few galleons richer) george later, you can finally say that fredrick gideon weasley was now your boyfriend. all you had to do now is to tell your father.

the weasleys were staying over at 12 grimmauld place for the holidays, much to yours and fred’s pleasure.

the ‘adults’ (they still didn’t want you and the twins to join despite your age legality) were still having the meeting and it was quite late. you just had to wait till everyone was sound asleep before sneaking out of your room and wait for fred in the lounge.

once you’ve heard the satisfying shut of each door, you quietly tiptoed around your room with your fluffy socks on, determined not to wake ginny and hermione up.

once you opened the door, you were met with the sound of another door opening. you froze, hastily thinking of some sort of excuse as to why you were still awake.

you didn’t see nor hear any signs of movement so you peeked your head a bit, and saw fred doing the same. you quietly giggled, carefully shutting the door as you made your way to fred.

“hi goop, missed you,” fred mumbled, fuzzing his head in the crook of your neck.

you laughed silently, “fred, we just saw each other three hours ago.”

“i know, but that was too long. it felt like forever,” he smiled, “now, c’mon, we need to celebrate,”

“celebrate? for what?”

“for successfully sneaking out, of course,” he said, steering you around the house, hand in hand. “now, d’you reckon your dad has a stash of fire whiskey somewhere?”

you hummed, removing the hold of his hand and rummaged through the kitchen's cupboards, “aha! there y’are,”

fred turned his gaze towards you as you shook the whiskey in his face, “let’s go,”

he grabbed the shot glasses and a blanket that was laying around in the couch before letting you drag him away.

“c’mon, freddie,” you whispered, slowly opening the attic ladder, hoping that kreacher was nowhere to be seen.

you both went in, careful not to step on any creaking floorboards. when you reached the window you opened it and handed the whiskey to fred, “give me a minute,”

“be careful!” he exclaimed, nervously watching you climb over the ledge.

“always am,” you winked before raising yourself and onto the roof, “give me that and climb,”

fred did so, and as soon as the both of you were up there, he threw the thick blanket over the both of you, and cuddled with each other.

a couple of shots later, the both of you were giggling, talking about all the pranks you’ve managed to pull through the years you’ve been in hogwarts. the laughter soon died down and the sounds of breathing, the wind, and the engines of the muggle vehicles were the only things that were heard.

“do… do you ever think about the future?” fred asked. you stared at him, he wasn’t looking at you though, he was gazing at the twinkling stars up above.

“yeah… they mostly contain you, though,” you whispered, placing your head on his chest as he pulled you closer.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

“me, too,” he smiled, kissing your forehead.

you sat up and kissed his nose, “c’mon, red, reckon we’ve had too much to drink,”

the both of you packed up everything you’ve used, carefully made your way down, kept the firewhiskey, and washed the glasses. too tired and drunk to go to bed, the both of you retired on the couch, sleeping in each other’s arms.

as soon as the sun crept up through the window blinds, you groaned, rubbing your eyes to get rid of the sleep. once you’ve gotten used to the blinding light, you looked up and smiled at your sleeping redhead.

you slowly slipped out of his grasp, kissed his forehead, and walked towards the drawers to look for painkillers. you haven’t even drunk that much.

fred woke up a little while later after feeling the warmth of your body heat disappear, he yawned quietly, taking in his surroundings and remembered what happened last night. he was quite giddy, to say the least. he has been after hearing that you thought of having a future with him.

he stood up and saw you at the kitchens, drinking a glass of water. he made his way towards you and slipped his arms around you, hugging from behind.

“g’morning, love,” his morning voice still never fails to make you flustered.

“morning, freddie,” you smiled. he moved around you and grabbed a cup of water for himself. as soon as he made sure his morning breath was out of the way, he smiled at you, “it’s nice that your voice was the first thing i heard today.”

he leaned against the counter as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

fred gladly complied, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. you slowly bit his bottom lip, emitting a low groan from him.

sirius just woke up and was desperately in need of a cup of black coffee, no pun intended, he chuckled. he grabbed his hair brush from his vanity, brushing his tousled hair as he silently went down, careful not to wake anyone up.

as soon as he entered the kitchen, he was met with the sight of the weasley boy groping his daughter’s arse. his hand stopped mid-brush.

“get your hands off my daughter, weasley!” he growled, making his way towards the poor bloke.

the both of you immediately jumped away from each other, eyes wide. this isn’t how he’s supposed to find out!

fred was scared shitless, if he might say, so he carefully backed away as sirius approached him like a predator.

fred ran. yes, ran. and sirius? he chased him around the kitchen with his hair brush in hand.

“‘m sorry, sirius, don’t kill me,”

“how dare you come into my house and snog my daughter!”

“no, sirius, ‘m sorry!”

“then you strut around and grope her arse like that,”

“sirius! said ‘m sorry, put the hair brush down!”

“didn’t molly teach you any manners?!”

“she did, she did, she’s a wonderful mother. sirius, no!”

in other times, you would’ve stopped the chaos whilst sirius, who was still in his dog-printed pajamas, chased a very pale fred around the kitchen with a hair brush.

but you didn’t, so you were laughing your arse off. you wouldn’t want to miss the chance to laugh your arse out with what’s happening. you knew your dad was a sweetheart, he wouldn’t actually kill fred, right? … right?

soon, every member of the order and the children, frantically went down with their wands drawn out, looking around for trouble, but they, instead of seeing any death-eater related attacks, saw a very angry padfoot manhunting a 6’3 ginger twin with a harmless hair brush, and a wheezing y/n.

“mum, hide me! he’s gonna murder me with a brush!” fred immediately took cover behind his mother. she and the other adults sighed exasperatedly but smiling nonetheless.

“thought someone was getting tortured with how freddie was screaming bloody murder,” george snickered.

“get out here and face me like a man, fredrick!” sirius growled, but stopped a bit and asked, “or is it george?”

fred cowered away behind his mum, “george, george! ‘tis definitely ‘im!”

george’s eyes widened and yelped, “‘m george! he’s fred!”

“dad! stop that, fred and i are dating,” you said, wiping your tears away.

sirius was taken aback, lowering his weapon, “what?”

“we were supposed to tell you today, but i guess you were just too eager,” you teased him, making your way towards fred and intertwining your hands together. fred looked slightly hesitant but smiled sheepishly at your father.

sirius just squinted his eyes at fred, racking over the tall redhead, “you better watch your behavior, boy, or you might as well just sleep with an eye open.”

you knew your dad loved fred, he’s been asking about him the moment you’ve told him about your blooming friendship and the pranking adventures you have had. he admires the bloke, fred reminds him of his younger self, minus the playboy endeavors and the family issues. he approves of the boy, but that doesn’t mean he fancies waking up to him snogging his daughter.

sirius slowly approached fred, opening his arms for a hug, but fred flinched, making everyone laugh. when he realized what sirius was trying to do, he laughed nervously, hugging him back and awkwardly patting his back. he was about to pull away when sirius tugged him back in and whispered, “i’m serious, fred. one wrong move, and i’ll be damned to be back in azkaban,”

fred shuddered slightly, but nodded nonetheless, “i’ll never hurt her, sirius, she means the world to me.” he smiled, both of them looking at you as you laughed with george and remus, retelling them what happened.

i don't promise a lot, but i'm keeping my word.

it has been at least a year and a few months since your father has passed, and fred has been with you through it all. you were spending your holidays at the burrow with the rest of the weasleys (plus harry, remus, and tonks).

you were currently in the living room, gossiping about boys (well, you were talking about fred) and the latest scandals in hogwarts with ginny.

“gin, i mean, have you seen the way harry’s been looking at you during dinner?” you asked, watching as her face grew red.

“he has not! ‘m convinced that you inhaled too much of fred’s perfume to be talking ‘bout something as poxy as that, y/n.” she laughed, fiddling with her sleeping robes.

“can you blame me? he smells so good. now, don’t tell me you haven’t had a sniff of thou chosen one’s essence?” you giggled, “c’mon gin! the both of you are meant to be, you’re soulmates, a stubborn one, at that.”

“we’re not, y/n! you and fred’re the proper definition of soulmates,”

you smiled softly, “it’ll take time, ginny. i can see the way he looks at you, it’s the same way i look at your brother,”

she sighed, “let’s just hope you’re right,”

“i’m always right,” you joked, waving at fred as he made his way towards the both of you.

“what’re my lovely girlfriend and sister talking about?” he smiled, kissing your cheek.

“soulmates,” ginny shrugged, looking away from harry.

“soulmates? what a load of bollocks,” fred’s face twisted in disgust, before whispering in your ear, “we’re definitely soulmates though,”

your face started to heat up and you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face, “yeah?”

“yeah,” he pecked your lips, throwing an arm around your shoulder and turning to ginny, “yeah!”

“i reckon he’ll marry you on the spot if he can,” she rolled her eyes, smiling as well since she heard what fred said.

“oh i would’ve done it the moment she drenched me in slime, but it has to be special, y’know?” he said, peppering your face with kisses, “flowers, confetti, diamond ring, grand gestures, all that sort.”

“freddie, i’ll marry you even if you propose with a toy ring,” you beamed up at him, kissing his nose, “because i’ll love you forever and always.”

“i’ll love you forever and always, too, goop,” he said, looking at you with pure love and adoration, “and that’s a promise.”

i'll say, "will you marry me?", i swear that i will mean it.

and fred did mean it as you’ve been together for four years now and counting.

“we’re in this together, goop,” he said, which leads to where you are now, fighting off the death eaters and co, side-by-side.

“stupefy!” you shouted, knocking off the death eater charging towards percy.

“thanks,” he breathed out, you nodded, “no problem.”

“incendio!”

“ascendio!”

“incarcerous!”

“stupefy!”

“petrificus totalus!”

you saw fred and percy handling a group of death eaters beside you as you finished off one, but what edged you off was one of them raised their wand, but it wasn’t pointing at any one of you. it was pointing at something behind you, you looked back just in time as he yelled the spell.

“fred!” you pushed him, mustering up all your strength to bring you along as the wall from behind you collapsed.

you coughed, “stupefy!” successfully throwing back the man.

you detach yourself from fred, “fred, fred?” you patted his cheeks, he was still breathing.

“c’mon darling, you have to wake up,” you cried, looking up for a bit as percy kept the remaining death eaters distracted.

“marry me,” fred whispered

you let out a breath of relief as you looked down, “w-what?” you wiped off the dust in his face.

“marry me,” he said more clearly, slowly sitting up to cup your face.

you slapped his arm, “you could’ve gotten yourself killed, you numpty!”

“but… i didn’t?” he yelped, rubbing his arm to soothe the pain, “not the answer that i was expecting but, alright,”

“marry me, y/n,” he kneeled down on one knee, grasping your hands, “i know that this isn’t exactly the proposal i’ve had in mind, hell, i don’t even have the ring, but i love you ‘till the ends of the earth and i’m asking you once again, y/n black. will you do the honors of being my future wife?”

you cried, nodding your head as you didn’t trust yourself to speak up. you pulled him in a hug as you sobbed against your shoulder, “i love you, too, fred, forever and always,”

he kissed you, he kissed you like it was the last thing he’ll ever get to do.

“erm, guys, i’m terribly happy for the both of you, and i hate to say this but we’re in the middle of a war!” percy warned.

“c’mon, goop, we’ve got a war to win,” fred kissed you one last time before the both of you ran off to help percy.

and i realized, no, we're not promised tomorrow.

they said that a couple’s wedding day is bound to be the best day of their lives. a new chapter to write. a new door to open. a new voyage to venture. tons of possibilities.

you were standing in front of a length-view mirror, admiring yourself in the reflection. you were wearing the wedding dress of your dreams, your hair was styled into a sophisticated up-do, and your makeup was elegant.

“hey, sis-in-law, you ready?” george peeked his head through the door, “wow, i-”

“hi george,” you smiled, wiping off the tears gathering in your eyes, “oh, merlin,”

“freddie’s gonna go bonkers,” he hugged you, pulling back to admire you once again, “c’mon.”

you and fred granted george to be his best man and the one who’ll walk you across the aisle, and for the first time in your six years of friendship, you swore you never saw him hug you so tight with tears in his eyes.

as soon as you arrived in front of the closed archway, george stopped to look at you, “you sure you don’t want to back out, goop? fred farts in his sleep sometimes. ‘ve got the keys of the flying ford anglia in case you ever need an escape plan,” he joked.

you giggled, “i think i can handle a farting fred, georgie. i’ve been your best friend for too long, you’ll never know how much i’ve been through,”

he chuckled, “if that’s the case, then let’s go get you and loverboy officially married,”

as soon as the door’s been opened, you suck in a breath, awestruck with how the decorations were perfect— all thanks to molly’s orders and hermione’s organizing, guests in their assigned seats, and most especially, your husband-to-be clad in a black and white tuxedo, tears gathering in his eyes. everything was so magical.

you were expecting that today would be the happiest day of your life, you were expecting to exchange your detailed vows with fred, you were expecting for the long-awaited “i do’s”, you were expecting to seal the deal with a kiss, you were expecting to have a wedding ring as an eternal promise displayed on your left ring finger, you were expecting to listen to george’s embarrassing stories of you newlyweds, you were expecting to start your future with fred.

what you didn’t expect though? was that as soon as george gave you away, as soon as you were standing in front of him, fred apologized and ran away, tugging at his tie.

your smile disappeared.

the guests gasped, turning their attention to you as ron and arthur chased after him. tears started to pool in your eyes, releasing a shaky breath. you hardly noticed that the guests were anticipating your reaction or that the weasleys were ushering them into the venue where the reception was supposed to be. you were just staring at the place where fred once stood, expecting him to come back and say that it was all a prank.

but he didn’t, and that’s what broke you the most.

you collapsed on the floor, sobbing on george’s shoulder as he whispered some comforting words.

you’ve waited, and waited, and waited.

you sat on the step board, still in your wedding dress, tear-stained face, and messy hair. george offered some company, just sitting beside you as you stayed silent, rubbing your back soothingly as the guests bid you goodbye with sad smiles.

george was mad. no, that was an understatement, he was fuming. he knew how much fred loved you. he knew all the plans he had in store for the both of you. he knew all the words fred will say in his vows. what changed?

as soon as everyone had cleared out, you refused to leave from where you were. you refused the food they gave you, or the clothes to change into. you were positive that fred would come back. he promised.

“c’mon, y/n, please, let’s just get you home,” george said, offering you his hand.

“no, i-i’ll stay, george,” you said, your voice cracking, “i’ll wait for him, he’ll come back. he can never do this to me, he wouldn’t.”

but you were wrong. he never came back. he broke his promise.

by the time the clock struck 7, george have had enough of your stubbornness. he understood how you felt, of course, but he didn’t want his best friend to wait all night for someone he knew wouldn’t come back.

so the both of you walked, he shrugged off his suit jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders. you didn’t want to come back to the burrow, but you had to pick up your godson and be on your way. you didn’t see fred there either. you ignored everyone and all their pitying stares. you didn’t even hug molly back when she wanted to comfort you.

you just carefully detached yourself from her, grabbed your godson, and went out. you and george were walking in silence as he carried the boy, walking the both of you towards the apparition point.

george sighed, he knew he wouldn’t be seeing you for a while, and he wanted to give you some space, so brought the sleeping kid to your hold and kissed your forehead, “owl me whenever you need me, yeah?”

you forced a sad smile, “thanks georgie, i’ll see you around,” and apparated away to 12 grimmauld place.

you said you'll grow old with me.

“uncle georgie!!” teddy, your godson, immediately abandoned his coloring book and leaped in the arms of george.

“hey, little man!” he laughed, watching as teddy’s hair turned into the same shade of red as his. it always happens ever since he decided that george was his favorite uncle (don’t tell harry!), and he’ll never change it to his original hair color until the next day.

you smiled, placing your cup of coffee down to greet your best friend, “hey, george,” you kissed his cheek.

“‘m just checkin’ in, how’re the both of you?” he asked, ruffling teddy’s red hair.

“good! mum—“ he stopped, “erm, i mean, auntie y/n will finally bring me to di-gonley later!”

your heart stopped for a moment when he called you ‘mum’. this hasn’t been the first time that it happened, he usually gets too preoccupied to notice, but you never mentioned it nor talked to him about it as he still missed his biological mother. “it’s diagon alley, lovey, and yes, we’ll be leaving in a few,”

you walked away from them and grabbed your purse, “go ask uncle georgie if he wants to come join.”

he beamed, grabbing george’s hands, “can you please come with us, uncle georgie? please, please, please?”

george sent him a faux look of contemplation, “hmm, i don’t know, teddy. d’you think auntie y/n will buy us some ice cream?”

teddy gasped, and wobbled his way to you, “auntie y/n! will you buy us some ice cream? uncle georgie said he’ll join if you do!”

you playfully glared at george, making him chuckle, before returning your gaze to teddy lupin, whose face was now in what you’ll describe as his, ‘i’m-a-very-adorable-boy-please-give-in’.

“oh, alright, let uncle georgie help you wear your shoes,”

as soon as the three of you were good to go, you floo’ed your way to diagon alley. you never apparated when you were with teddy, he usually gets sick when you do, so you had to fixate a floo network in your muggle flat. it was an incredible hassle, especially with muggle neighbors. you had to use multiple silencing spells while the wizards in charge were doing it.

it’s been a while since you’ve been to diagon alley, you’ve avoided it at all costs, especially after… that … anyways, teddy has been seriously adamant on going ever since george told him all about it and his shop.

you knew that you couldn’t fend it (and him) off forever, so after mustering up every courage you had, you agreed. you reckon that it was worth it, seeing your godson, the boy who made your life full of hope and happiness again, incredibly bubbly and cheerful, it eased your nerves a bit.

fred knew that his twin was off to go somewhere. george always tells him, but he never mentions where he’s going or who he’s meeting, just that he had places to be. so to busy himself, he went to florean fortescue’s ice cream parlor to cool off.

while waiting for your order of three cones of ice cream, george offered to bring teddy to flourish and bott’s since he knew how much teddy loves coloring books and bedtime storybooks.

once fred passed by the street, he opened the entrance with a satisfying ring of the welcoming bell. he breathed in the sweet smell of the countless flavors of ice cream. he scanned through the shop for a place to sit when it suddenly stopped at the sight of a familiar h/c. he froze, no, it couldn’t be, right?

“three servings of ice cream supreme for y/n!” the man hollered.

no…

you stood up and made your way towards the front, and fred had gotten a glimpse of you. you looked gorgeous, you always were, fred thought. you were using a hairband, something you used to despise as it always hurt the back of your ears, doing its job to keep your hair away from your face.

you took your order just in time to see your companions for the day, oblivious to the stare of another certain ginger.

“mum! uncle georgie bought me a new book! ‘tis about dragons!” a tiny redhead exclaimed with glee.

fred felt his heart drop, ‘mum’? ‘uncle georgie’? red hair…? again, it couldn’t be, right?

“edward remus! lower your voice, darling,” you chuckled, setting your ice creams down on your table.

“oops, sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, covering his mouth.

before you could even reply, a voice from behind you has spoken up, “erm, y/n?”

your breath hitched in your throat. “no,” you whispered.

george grimaced, grabbing your ice creams and a very confused teddy’s hand, “we’ll be at the shop if you want to leave,” he whispered to you before leaving the both of you alone (minus the parlor’s customers and employees).

you frowned, following them out, and steered away from your ex-fiancé.

“y/n, wait!” fred followed you out and grabbed your hand.

you whipped around to face him, pulling your hand away from his hold, tears pooling in your eyes, “what do you want, fred?”

“was that your kid?” he asked casually, trying to hide his nervousness.

“no- he’s teddy, lupin and tonks’ kid, i’m his godmother. he forgets that i’m not his biological mum sometimes, and if you were wondering why his hair was red, it’s because he loves george.” you said, “now, ‘m gonna ask you again, fred, what. do. you. want?”

“i- i just wanted to talk,” he mumbled, looking down at his shiny shoes to refrain from looking at your crestfallen expression.

“seriously, fred? you want to talk?” you scoffed in disbelief, “alright, let’s talk, let’s talk about how you left me, let’s talk about how you broke your promise, let’s talk about how you broke me,”

fred winced at your wavering voice, “‘m sorry, darling,”

“are you really, fred? because- because it’s been almost two years and you—“ you sighed, wiping away your tears to no avail, it’s still falling. instead, you asked him the question that’s been on your mind ever since, “why did you leave me?”

“i was scared,” he started, cracking his knuckles. a mannerism of his when he’s feeling anxious.

“scared of what exactly?” you urged, determined to know what he was so afraid of that he had to run away on your wedding day.

“of you…” he mumbled, looking up at you. he wished he hadn’t because he didn’t know it was possible for you to look even broken than before.

“me?” your voice cracked, “so it’s my fault, now?”

fred shook his head, getting frustrated at himself, “no, no. i was scared that, if you married me, you’d get hurt because i might not live up to your expectations.”

“bullshit, fred!” you cried, earning a few looks from the bystanders, you didn’t care, and nor did fred, “why? don’t you think i’m getting hurt right now?”

fred felt his tears in his eyes, “i’ve had so many doubts, so many questions, y/n,” you were about to reply when he raised hand, “and no, it wasn’t about you, just please, listen,”

he sucked in a breath, “y/n, what if i said yes?”

“we would’ve been happy, we wouldn’t be here in the first place,” you whimpered, feeling the heartbreak you’ve once experienced over and over again, “did you even really love me?”

“i did, i still do, but you deserve so much better than me, y/n” fred whispered, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you again.

you shook your head, “stop lying, fred."

“no, y/n! what if i said yes and i wouldn’t be able to keep my vows?”

“well, fred, you didn’t even get to marry me and you already broke the promise! now, tell me, did that answer your questions?” you asked, “did it, fred?”

fred let a tear fall, “no, no it didn’t. it just made me realize how hard it was to lose you,”

you sniffled, staring up at the sky to keep the tears in bay, “i loved you, fred! i loved you and you left me. i loved you… and i still do, and i hate myself for it because no matter how hard i try to convince myself that i’ve moved on, i haven’t. fred, i still look for you in everyone in hopes that i could somehow get some closure… and it doesn’t help that i see you in everything as well; i remember you when i see a plate of pancakes, knowing how you love them with chocolate, i remember you when it rains because we used to dance around in it like there’s no one around. it hurts, freddie. it hurts because i see you everywhere because we used to do everything together.”

“and i regret it, alright? i regret letting you go. it has been eating me alive ever since. i couldn’t function well without you,” he whispered, “and all i’m asking is for forgiveness, y/n.”

you just stared at him, hiccuping as you continued to cry. you wanted to leap into his warm embrace and forgive him. you wanted to take him back. you wanted to kiss him. you just wanted to be in his arms again. you just wanted to be with him again.

but he hurt you. he hurt you in many ways you’ve never expected. he broke you. the same guy who swore to your father that he’ll never hurt you. the same guy who promised to marry you and spend the rest of your life with.

fred saw the hesitation and hurt in your eyes so he sighed, “i’m sorry, goop. i’m sorry for being such a coward. i was never ready to say goodbye… i never was,” he took one last glance at you before leaving you once again.

you sobbed as you watched his figure retreat slowly. you didn’t care if there were people looking at you with concern and pity. you didn’t care if someone had accidentally bumped into you. your mind was too busy with the thoughts of fred, so you apparated back into your flat, trusting george to take care of teddy for a while.

fred’s heart broke even more as he heard your distant sob. he let the tears gathered in his eyes fall. all he wanted to do was to bring you in his arms and shower you with his love, make up for all the lost time, but he knew that he deserved the pain. he deserved it because he hurt you, he broke you, and he can never forgive himself for that.

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[twstarchives]

Let Me Go!!

Card: Dorm Uniform - SSR Characters: Epel, Rook, Vil, Idia

Chapter 1

—INTERIOR HALLWAY—

Epel: Um... This is where the film studies club meets, right?

—CLASSROOM—

Epel: Excuse me...

Rook: Hello, Epel-kun! I see Vil asked you to lend a hand here.

Epel: I’d say it’s more like I was forced... Did he ask you too?

Rook: I’m helping on my own accord. The pleasure is all mine if I’m able to be with Vil.

(Clap, clap!)

Vil: Film studies club! Everyone gather around.

I’m going to discuss the details for when we begin our next student-produced film.

I’ll hand out the script first. Everyone, take one each.

Epel: Whoa, this script is so thick. They must really go all out with their activities here...

Vil: The next film we’re producing will be about time travel.

It’s set in the present day. The students of Night Raven College use a time machine...

And travel to the era of the Great Seven’s Fairest Queen of All.

Rook: The era of the Fairest Queen of All... How très bien!

What a fascinating idea, don’t you think, Epel-kun?

Epel: Hah... I guess.

Vil: The leading role is still undecided. I’ll let you know once I’ve chosen them.

Now, the time machine is the key item in this story... Epel!

Epel: ! Yes?!

Vil: I’m putting you in charge of designing it.

Epel: What?! I-I’m just the help. Why am I in charge of something so important...?

Vil: I’ve deemed you the most suitable for this.

Epel: (What gave him that idea?! I’ve never designed anything in my life. I want to say no...)

Vil: The time machine will use a magical wheel as a base. You’ll be customizing the exterior.

This way, we can shoot driving scenes.

Epel: You said magical wheel...?!

Vil: Yes. I’ve already arranged for one to use in our shooting.

I’ve asked Ignihyde’s dorm leader, Idia, to modify it, so you will work with him to complete it.

Epel: Got it!

Vil: ...You sounded very genuine there. Well, if you’re feeling motivated now, then that’s fine.

The theme of the time machine’s design should be “something beautiful and fitting for the setting.”

Your deadline is in three days at noon. Is that clear?

Epel: Yes, Vil-san!

(I was so reluctant about having to help out the film studies club... but I didn’t expect there to be a magical wheel involved!)

(That feeling of the passenger becoming one with the vehicle as they ride on... Just watchin’ it gets me all excited.)

(Maybe if I made a design that makes Vil-san’s jaw drop, he’d even let me take it for a test run.)

(Okay, I’m gonna do my best!!)

—IGNIHYDE DORM - LOUNGE—

Epel: I’m Epel, a first-year from Pomefiore. You’re Idia-san, right? Let’s work hard together.

Idia: Ugh... The glittery Pomefioran is here, hurray...

O-Oh, um... Vil-shi explained everything to me. We’ll use this lounge to work...

Epel: Okay, thank you.

Oh, that’s the magical wheel we’re going to modify there next to you, right? It’s so cool...!!

Idia: Hah... I only agreed to this ‘cause Vil-shi said he’d compensate me...

But working with other people... really makes me irritated by the second.

I need to finish this and go back to my room ASAP before my sanity gauge runs out.

Epel: (I know Vil-san’s taste pretty well since he’s been training me for months ever since I enrolled here.)

(I need to aim for a fancy design that goes with the setting and also satisfies Vil-san.)

Idia-san. Let’s do our best designing this magical wheel...!

Idia: Yeah. Let’s get this done as fast as we can...

Chapter 2

—IGNIHYDE DORM - LOUNGE—

Epel: It took all night... but it’s done! Idia-san, the coloring for the magical wheel is all finished.

Idia: Congrats on getting it done. You told Vil-shi you’d show it to him once it was finished, right? Shouldn’t you call him?

And end this so I can be alone.

Epel: Yes, I’ll go do that!

Epel: Here’s the magical wheel, painted to look like a time machine.

The design was inspired by the peacock engraved into the Fairest Queen of All’s favorite chair.

Vil: ......

Epel: Um... Vil-san?

Vil: Epel. Are you satisfied with this design?

Epel: What do you mean, am I satisfied...?

Vil: I ordered you to design something “beautiful and fitting for the setting.”

However, this piece conveys nothing from the creator’s heart.

You wouldn’t consider this design “beautiful,” would you?

Epel: ...! Well, I...

Vil: To me, this looks like you only tried to match the setting.

Redo it, Epel. And don’t think about coming back to the dorm until it’s finished.

Epel: What?! Vil-san, wait a seco— ...He’s gone.

...Dammit! How can he be angry that I made it exactly as he said...?!

But I get to work with a magical wheel, which I love so much. No way am I giving up after failing once!

I need to make something that I think is beautiful, that matches the setting,

And something that would make Vil-san satisfied, right?

I’m gonna do it!!

...... But what would that be...?

—IGNIHYDE DORM - IDIA’S ROOM—

Idia: Hehee! I got that kitty accessory I wanted! It’s a rare strength item that boosts my speed by 100!

Hehehe, now, the boss from this ultra-hard quest... You should tremble in fear of my dodging power.

(Running footsteps!)

        (Epel barges in)

Epel: Idia-san!

Idia: Eee! E-E-E-E-Epel-shi! It’s rude to come into someone’s room without knocking!

Epel: Oh... S-Sorry.

It’s just, we have to redo the time machine...

Idia: Hah? He rejected that flashy design?

Epel: Yeah... So please help me make it over again!

Idia: (I can’t believe Vil-shi. He should’ve done this himself if he was going for something specific. Why’d he leave it to someone else?)

(I can’t stand them taking away my gaming time anymore. I gotta get this done now and chase out Epel-shi...)

H-Hey, Epel-shi. Do you have anything you’re good at?

Epel: Huh? Why are you asking?

Idia: ‘Cause wouldn’t this get done faster if Vil-shi just made it himself instead of having you make it over again?

But he still put you up to it... So shouldn’t you consider that maybe you’ve got some kind of secret talent?

In online games, leveling up skills you’re good at makes getting through the game easier.

Epel: But I’m just good at things like carving apples. I can’t really use that in desig——

(...Hm? Apples...?)

I figured it out!!

Idia: Ee! I-I-It scares me when you yell out of nowhere! Wh-What did you figure out?

Epel: I figured out what I can make that’s as beautiful and fitting for the setting as I can!

Idia: I-I’m glad to see you came up with an idea. Well, let’s get on with it then.

Epel: Huh? But you stayed up all night last night. Are you sure you shouldn’t rest a little...?

Idia: Heh, staying up all night is nothing to me. I stan a group of idols who look elderly but with hearts eternally 17...

And even Moirai on the Edge can do live performances for 72 hours straight.

We’ll prevail over this ultra-hard quest!

Epel: M-Moi...rai? I-I don’t know what that means, but let’s work hard!

(This time, we’ll make a design that Vil-sanーno, that anyone would approve of!)

Chapter 3

ーーThe day the time machine is due.

???: ...el... Epel!

—IGNIHYDE DORM - LOUNGE—

Epel: *Yawns*...?

Huh? Ahh! When did I go to sleep?! And Vil-san, what’re you doin’ here?

Vil: Your deadline is today at noon, so I came to check up on how you were doing. Honestly, I cannot believe you were sprawled out asleep on the floor.

So? Have you finished the time machine?

Epel: Oh... I did. Take a look at this!

There’s a story where the Fairest Queen of All made a poisoned apple, right?

So this time, I used that as my inspiration.

The color of the whole body represents a ripe, red, shining apple.

Like one you reach out to take without even realizing it... Anyway, I made sure it looked delicious!

Vil: Hmm... Go on.

Epel: Right. The other thing I worked especially hard on was this design that’s hidden when the machine is stopped, and only gets revealed when it starts up.

I’ll turn it on to let you see.

Vil: ! You painted the tire kept inside... Is that a skull?

Epel: Yes! One of the stories mentioned that a skull rose up before the poisoned apple the Queen made turned red...

So I added a symbol that can’t be seen from the outside unless you start it up.

This time machine is as “beautiful and fitting for the setting” as I can make it right now!

Vil: ...Allow me to ask you one thing. Why did you change to a poisoned apple?

Epel: Um... When I tried to use a peacock in my design, I honestly couldn’t tell if it was good or bad...

But then I thought, no one would be able to resist a design that makes apples look appealin’...!!

Vil: ......

...Heh. You finally came up with a design that reflects you.

Epel: ...! Yeah!

Vil: Now, I will leave you with the keys to this magical wheel.

Epel: Huh? Why me?

Vil: I’m heading back to our set. You’ll deliver the machine to the film studies club yourself.

You have until noon to bring it, just as we discussed. Don’t be late. Understood?

        (Vil leaves)

Epel: ...If he was in such a rush, he could’ve just taken it himself... Wait, hold on?!

Does this mean I can ride it back to the set... maybe?

AHH~! ALL RIGHT!!

Idia: Ugh... Epel-shi, you’re too loud... Your voice is ringing through my sleep-deprived head...

Epel: Oh! S-Sorry, Idia-san.

I’ve always wanted a magical wheel... And I get to ride one I designed myself. I just can’t believe it...

Alright, let’s get to the school building!

—MAIN STREET—

Film Studies Student A: Hm...? What’s that? There’s something coming towards us from the front gate.

Rook: That is a magical wheel. And the one driving it is... Monsieur Cherry Apple, Epel-kun.

Film Studies Student A: It’s so glossy, like a real apple... And his Pomefiore uniform looks so nice. It’s beautiful!

Film Studies Student B: Driving that machine, Epel-kun’s got a radiance that’s different from his usual frail beauty.

Film Studies Student C: Yeah. That piercing cold look and his unconsciously curled-up lips... I’m so drawn to it; I can’t look away.

Rook: Did you hear that, Vil? Everyone is praising Epel-kun!

Vil: Hehe, these potatoes’ reactions are perfect.

Epel: Oh... There he is! Vil-san! Just as promised, I’m here to deliver this.

Let me stop the machine... Okay. Well, I’ll get going now.

Vil: Hold it, Epel. Stay right there.

Film studies club, your attention! I have an announcement to make regarding our next film.

For our undecided leading role... I’ve decided to cast Epel right here.

Epel: Wh... What?!

Vil: You all saw how he looked riding that time machine, yes?

I believe there’s no better person out there more suited for this role. Are there any objections?

Rook: It’s true, the sight of him riding that time machine up here almost felt like a scene from a movie.

Film Studies Student B: Yeah! Hats off to you for how dashing you looked. I’ll let you have my seat today.

Epel: W-Wait a second. I thought I was just helping with the design——

Vil: I’ve already made up my mind. I’ll thoroughly train you to be an actor, so do prepare yourself.

Now, you must do a costume fitting. Costume committee, take Epel to our club room.

Costume Committee: Okay!

Epel: I-I still haven’t said anything about doing th—let me go!!

Vil: ...I see now how drastically the sparkle in his eyes changes depending on whether he’s interested or not. Honestly. He’s a difficult apple to deal with.

Rook: Epel-kun was shining like a completely different person than he was yesterday, yes...

But perhaps were you anticipating this finale from the start?

Vil: Well, now. Who’s to say?

[btsmosphere]

Big Enough for Both of Us | JJK

~summary: his jumpers are going missing. And ending up on you. An annoying amount of books, some very cold weather and an admin mix-up later, will things change between you and Jungkook? Jungkook x reader (she/her pronouns) ~word count: 4.7k ~college au, fluff, getting together Rating: pg13 Warnings: one (1) swear, suggestive conversation and misunderstandings ~a/n: another bingo square, this time for ‘oversized hoodies/sweaters’ as an early Christmas present for you all!

You were shivering as you turned the keys to your locker, barely balancing the stack of books in your arms as you did so. Not wearing a jacket today was something you were sorely regretting, muscles groaning in protest from the cold and the weight you had lugged here.

The squeak of the old locker was the most welcome things you had heard all day, already preparing to shift the cursed pile of books off your struggling arms.

But as the door clanged softly open, all you could do was stare.

Something was already there.

Despite the pressing problem of the books weighing you down, you paused to look up and down the corridor. No one. Frowning, you peeked around to see the front of the locker door. This was definitely your locker, right?

Number 267. That was right.

Only, you had never used this locker before in your life. It had taken you until now, in December, to open it for the first time, even though you had started at college months back.

So the piece of black fabric sitting there, neatly folded, innocuous enough in any other situation, was a real curveball for you.

As you pondered, the top book on your tower decided to make a break for it, arms reminding you just how tired they were when you moved to catch it. Sighing, you leaned forwards and let them fall from your arms, right on top of the sweater.

You were pretty sure it was a sweater.

Whoever had this locker last year probably left it there by accident. It probably stunk by now, too.

Whether that was the case or not, you never got to investigate. A buzzing from your phone alerted you that your first lecture was about to start, your friend Namjoon asking where you were. So, without a second glance at the jumper, you slammed the door and rushed away.

It wasn’t until two classes later that it resurfaced in your thoughts.

The heating must have been broken in that class, or else your professor just liked to see you suffer. Throughout the lecture, you had been slowly freezing, resorting to rubbing your hands over your arms to ease your goosebumps.

And now that you piled out of the hall into the already dimming light, you found it was colder still.

The library was halfway across campus, and you were due to meet Namjoon there to make a start on your essays. Right about now, that mystery sweater did sound very tempting. And you did have to go back to your locker anyway to get the books, right?

Placing the stack by your feet, you stared at the material. It had been a bit flattened by the weight that had sat on it all day, but it looked clean at least.

Reaching in, you picked it up at the shoulder between one finger and thumb and leant in to smell it.

The first sniff returned a pleasant surprise. Nothing. Holding it in both your hands now, you brought it right up to your face, almost touching, and tried again.

It actually smelled good.

Come to think of it, it felt very soft between your fingers too.

Cold clutched so tightly onto your bones at this point that you couldn’t wait to get another layer on, so you stuck your arms inside. Sighing, you noted it must be quite new given how soft it still was.

You had got lucky.

Shaking the sleeves down, they fell way over your hands. The hem also came very low, nearly to your knees, but honestly, that felt like a bonus.

And so, lifting up the pile of books, you felt a little lighter (and much warmer) as you stepped out to meet Namjoon with your new big, soft jumper.

“I would say sorry I’m late, but I blame you,” you quipped as you slid into the chair beside Namjoon, depositing the books onto the desk with a loud thud, “were this many really necessary?”

Looking up at you from his own book, Namjoon had the decency to look a little apologetic as he laid eyes on the huge stack.

“Ah – yes – sorry,” he stuttered, “they did all look helpful. I suppose we’d better get through them all today so we can return them?”

Even his dimpled smile couldn’t stop you from groaning and flopping down onto your folded arms. Laughing, he pulled the first book off the pile, undeterred.

“I need coffee for this,” you mumbled.

But as you made to get up, Namjoon tugged you back down by your sleeve.

“You should make a start,” he fixed you with a look, “let’s go to the cafeteria later.”

Closing your mouth, you eyed up the intimidating pile of books. Of course, Namjoon knew you all too well, and was right. If you didn’t start working now, you could procrastinate for ages.

But you did want that coffee…

“If we wait til later, Jungkook will be there!”

Namjoon’s words had left his mouth the moment he saw you preparing to speak, and had snatched the argument right from your lips.

“Wh-what?” you spluttered, “What does that have to do with it?”

A knowing smile rested on Namjoon’s face as he placed a book in front of you.

You flipped it open and got to work.

Namjoon’s wish to get through all the books by closing time was a distant daydream. Half the books still sat untouched, and your essay still had a way to go.

Nonetheless, you weren’t going to stay slaving away all night. You made sure Namjoon remembered his earlier promise of coffee… although you didn’t mention the part about Jungkook.

Naturally, he was there anyway. Namjoon smirked as he left your side with his coffee order, waiting for you to stop staring at his friend and notice he was gone.

It took longer than you would care to admit.

Jungkook was a music student, and since Namjoon fancied himself a producer, he spent enough time in the department that he essentially was too, meaning he had a group of friends there as well as from his own course. And of course the boy you had been silently crushing on in the cafeteria since day one was one of them.

Unfortunately for you, Namjoon hadn’t prepared you for this when he decided to introduce you one day, and you had practically forgotten your own name as you found yourself suddenly in front the gorgeous Jungkook.

And just to add insult to injury, he had been really sweet to you.

Really, he was just asking you to fall for him.

You had promptly decided to stay away from him as much as you could help it. Until you were ready, you told yourself.

Which wouldn’t be anytime soon, given the way your cheeks combusted as he smiled over at your table. While Namjoon waved back, you studied your coffee cup very intensely.

“He’s gone,” Namjoon let you know, swinging back in his chair to take a swig of coffee.

Which was too hot.

And was now all over the table.

After your initial jump from your seat, all you could do was laugh as your friend started frantically mopping up the liquid, using already sodden napkins.

“Do you need some help?”

At the voice behind you, your jaw snapped shut.

Jungkook walked past you, grin splitting his face as he laughed at his hyung too.

“Thanks, Jungkook,” Namjoon chuckled.

You ran off to get more napkins.

On your return, you quickly helped clear the rest of the mess, rescuing your own drink from the pool on the tabletop. Seeing Namjoon had his things together, you also scooped up your bag. But no books.

Looking around for the godforsaken pile, you found them sitting in Jungkook’s arms.

“Oh, thanks,” you muttered, “I can take those, if you want-“

“It’s okay,” he beamed (would he ever stop smiling, he might make you drop down dead-).

“We’re getting the same bus, so I might as well bring them tomorrow,” Joon clapped his shoulder, “saves you breaking your arms again, right Y/N?”

“My arms weren’t breaking!” you scoffed, folding them against your chest.

“So you want to take them?” Jungkook raised a brow at you.

You blinked at him.

Then huffed and rolled your eyes.

“No…”

Laughing loudly, Namjoon led the two of you out of the cafeteria.

It was a good thing Jungkook carried the books. If this morning was anything to go by, you wouldn’t have enjoyed another walk with them.

Hugging your borrowed sweater around you a little more, you picked up the pace.

How Jungkook could have been outside in just that t shirt blew your mind. It was freezing.

“Can I borrow your locker key?” Namjoon whispered from the seat beside you.

“Why?” you hissed back, keeping your eyes forwards.

“Mine’s full,” he replied, “and we still have all these books.”

“We really had to get them all out at once, didn’t we?” you sighed, already digging in your bag for your keys.

“Someone else might have done otherwise!” Joon protested.

Underneath the desk, you passed him the keys.

“Number 267, okay?”

“Thanks.”

Once again, you had made very poor clothing choices. To be fair to you, the weather was supposed to have gotten warmer, so you had only put on a thin jumper. The outfit certainly looked good, but other than that, it was a bad idea. Tomorrow, you would put on a coat. Or maybe that jumper you had found yesterday…

Dashing between buildings to fetch the books again, you were convinced you might get hypothermia. The wind was biting across the already chilled air, sky an unforgiving grey above.

Inside, you fumbled with your key, fingers stiff with cold.

You hadn’t seen Joon since your first lecture, except when he ran past your study spot to throw your keys at you – literally – on his way to the music studios. You were lucky to still have both your eyes.

But maybe he had thought of you, because there beside the books, was a sweater.

Perhaps it was a mirage – could you get them from cold instead of heat? Reaching out to touch it, you concluded it was definitely real, but must be some kind of miracle. Dropping your bag to the ground straight away, you shoved the jumper on and huddled into it, bunching the sleeves around your frozen hands.

It was dark green, and you were sure you had seen Joon wearing a jumper like this before.

Thanking every deity out there that your friend had predicted your habit to dress poorly for the weather, you hauled the books out of the locker and set off for your study session.

Today you arrived first. Pulling out your phone, you sat back and waited for Joon to turn up.

When he did, you looked up from your phone to find he had stopped in front of your desk, staring back at you.

“You are a lifesaver,” you said, setting your phone aside and sitting forwards.

Blinking, he shook his head. “What?”

Frowning, you repeated yourself.

“I said you’re a lifesaver… for the jumper,” you clarified, “I was so cold, I could barely open my locker-“

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“What do you mean? Did you not leave this for me…” you frowned.

“No.”

You both stared at each other.

“Okay. Well, whose is it then?” you asked, pulling your chin to your chest to look down at the jumper you had on.

“Where did you find it?” Namjoon ignored your question, sitting down at last.

“It was in my locker, with the books,” you explained.

“But it’s not yours?”

“No!”

“It was there when I put them in this morning, though, I thought it must have been.”

“What the hell?” you struggled to find any other words.

“I guess someone else left it for you,” Joon shrugged.

Incredulous, you watched as he pulled out his laptop and opened it, unbothered by the strange apparition of your jumper.

“You think someone broke into my locker to leave me a jumper?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed, “but can you pass me the one by Hastings-“

Sighing, you dropped the matter and pulled his requested book from the middle of the stack, choosing the top one to start on yourself.

Though you let it go long enough to get through a bit more of your essay, you were absolutely going to put the jumper back after you were done. Knowing you were wearing someone’s sweater, you felt the gazes of everyone walking past as if they somehow knew, and were about to denounce you for being a sweatshirt thief in the middle of the library.

But, as it happened, the cold weather was hellbent on dissolving your goodwill.

There was no. way. you were going outside in any less layers than you currently had on. The trip to your locker brought you to that conclusion soon enough, and so you chucked the books in and hugged the sweater tighter.

That night, the shapes of the two jumpers you had ‘borrowed’ so far seemed to stick out in the dark. It may not be anything dramatic, but since they weren’t yours, you couldn’t keep them.

Thankfully, the morning brought actual sun with it.

And your phone told you it would get warmer still.

Your phone lied.

That morning, you had worn the green jumper, intending to take it off and return it to the locker when you reached campus and the day had warmed up.

In the event, nothing of the sort happened. You had bumped into Namjoon and one of his friends from music, Yoongi. The three of you had talked outside until it was time for class, so you headed straight for your lecture with Joon.

Your next step outside was when you knew you had messed up.

All trace of sun had disappeared, sky darkened with cloud again. Any heat this morning held had gone away too.

But you were determined. You huffed as you pulled the sweater over your head later on, placing it back into the locker despite the way you were already shivering from the walk over.

In the library, the pile of books dwindled steadily down, but you got no warmer. Seriously, this place needed to invest in some better heating.

Screw morals, you were getting that jumper back.

“I’ll be back,” you muttered, sliding away before Joon could reply.

Apart from that, you made the walk to your locker in record time, probably since no books weighed you down.

As you approached the building you were aiming for, the door swung open. On seeing you, the emerging figure slowed down and held the door behind them. Speeding up, you reached the door at a slight jog before you even noticed who it was.

Jungkook.

“Hi Y/N!” he said brightly.

“H-hi!” you smiled back, “how are you?”

“Good thanks,” he smiled too, leaning against the door, “just heading to the cafeteria.”

“Oh, Joon and I should be along soon,” you nodded.

“Cool, I’ll see you,” he flashed his grin again.

Finally greeted with the warmth of inside, you looked over your shoulder at Jungkook’s retreating back. Why on earth was he in a t shirt? Shaking your head, you made your way to your locker with a smile.

Look at you go! A normal, nice conversation with Jungkook! And hopefully you could put an end to the relentless study session if you told Namjoon you were expected to go and get coffee with Jungkook.

Clinking, your key turned in the lock and you pulled the locker open with a sigh of relief-

A new sweater.

Interesting.

Tilting your head to the side, you stared at it as if it might get up and explain itself any moment.

Rather than the green one you had abandoned earlier, a burgundy bundle lay there instead. Sighing sharply, you decided you had come all this way for warmth, after all, and if someone was going to insist on putting jumpers in your locker, then you were going to wear them.

Which is how you found yourself enveloped contentedly in the latest of the apparently continuous line of warm, cosy sweaters, sipping coffee from between you sweater paws at a table with Namjoon, Jungkook, Jin and Taehyung.

Perhaps you weren’t entirely used to being in someone else’s jumper yet, because you kept feeling uneasy, as if the others at your table were looking at you with sideways glances.

Shaking it off, you smiled along with the conversation. You were definitely imagining it. Even if you didn’t talk to them that much, Namjoon’s friends were always lovely to you.

Eventually, the cups lay empty and the boys were discussing meeting the others in the studio. Noticing the branches outside the window swaying wildly, you decided you could put off the walk home no longer, or the weather would only keep getting worse, knowing your luck.

“See you later,” you excused yourself to a round of small waves and smiles from the others.

All the others, except, strangely, Jungkook. He had always been very easy-going with you, so you tried not to read into it when he only gave a tiny smile before ducking his head again.

On your way out, you noticed Yoongi coming in and exchanged a nod.

But with you on your merry way, you had no idea of the situation you had left behind.

Jungkook’s cheeks were burning as he tried to ignore the pointed stares of his friends. Lips pulled in between his teeth, he tentatively looked up, through the hair hanging into his eyes.

“Kook…” Namjoon was the first to speak, eyebrows raised as he watched the younger boy.

“What?” he squeaked, chewing at his lip right after. Who was he kidding? They all knew ‘what’.

Looking over to Tae and Jin brought no solace, both looking equally confused and expectant. Silence stretched out between them as Jungkook tried to string together a coherent thought with all eyes on him.

“So when were you going to tell us you’re hooking up with Y/N?”

Jungkook choked on thin air. Looking up, he saw Yoongi sauntering across to their table, thankfully grabbing the attention away from Jungkook.

“What do you- I’m- we’re- we’re not-“

“It’s alright Kook, you can tell us,” Jin offered, eyes wide in an attempt at being consoling. It wasn’t helping.

“There’s nothing to tell!” he insisted.

“Doesn’t explain why she was wearing your jumper,” Tae interjected.

“Has been for days,” Yoongi helpfully chimed in next.

Jungkook hid his head in his hands.

“I thought she just left for a study break,” Namjoon piped up next, “I can’t believe you two! On campus, really?”

“We are not sleeping together!” Jungkook hissed, succeeding in shutting him up, “I don’t know why she’s wearing that!”

“Sure,” Yoongi scoffed.

“You’ve had a crush on her for so long, I swear we’re happy for you,” Tae leant forwards, “I’m just offended you didn’t tell us.”

“What?” Jungkook was getting more frustrated.

“It’s no secret you like her,” Jin agreed.

“You knew?! Why didn’t you say anything?” Jungkook stared at his friends in disbelief.

“To let you deal with it yourself,” Jin mumbled eventually, “are you- are you telling us you seriously still haven’t done anything about it?”

“I haven’t,” Jungkook admitted.

“You have a crush on Y/N?” Namjoon asked incredulously.

“What’s the deal with the jumpers then? I’m lost,” Yoongi said.

“Hello!?” Namjoon interrupted, “Kook has a crush on Y/N?”

Groaning, Jungkook dragged his hands down his face.

“Yes, Joon. I like her,” he muttered, “and I don’t know, Yoongi. I don’t know how she keeps getting my jumpers.”

“Well, ask for them back then,” Jin shrugged, sitting back.

Jungkook just sighed.

“Oh my god, he likes it!” Tae gasped in glee, an infuriating grin splitting his face.

Jungkook was sure he wouldn’t get cold walking home if his cheeks maintained this temperature.

“Hold on…” Namjoon suddenly leaned forwards, “the other day, she asked me if I had put a jumper in her locker. We thought someone had left it for her.”

“It was in her locker?”

“Yep.”

“Well, that’s weird. I didn’t put them there.”

“This is ridiculous,” Yoongi groaned loudly, “I thought Kook had finally sorted this stupid crush. I couldn’t care less about the damn sweaters. Let’s go to the studio, Jimin and Hobi are waiting.”

“What are you doing?”

You almost jumped out of your skin. Having just picked your books up from your locker (how the pile was still this big, you had no idea), you turned around to find none other than Jungkook stood staring at you.

Clutching the stack tightly to avoid a landslide after that jumpscare, you looked up at him. A light crease made itself known between his eyebrows.

“Just… getting these books,” you gulped. Now it had started beating again, your heart wouldn’t seem to shut up at such close proximity to him.

He continued frowning at you, expecting more, but all you could think about was how cute he was, even when he was annoyed. How is that even possible?

“That’s my locker.”

That startled you from your stupor. It was your turn to frown now, taken aback by his statement.

“…no, it’s not,” you said slowly, “that’s my locker.”

“Look,” he said then, before pulling a key from his pocket. Holding it up, you clearly saw the familiar number 267 glinting back at you.

Frown growing deeper, you struggled to balance the books in one arm while the other fumbled for your own key. As you flattened your palm, he leant in to see it.

“267,” he muttered, staring between yours and his. “what the…”

“That’s odd,” you frowned, “I guess we should talk to reception, but I, uh, I have class-“

“Y/N,” he slid into your way as you took a step, “um…”

As you waited for him to talk, he hesitated, tongue slipping out momentarily to wet his lips as he rubbed a hand at the back of his neck. At last, he took a breath, barely looking at you, and spoke.

“People have been asking me, ab-about us-“

Your eyes grew five times bigger in a millisecond. Did Jeon Jungkook just use the word us, talking to you?!?

“-they’re asking why you’re wearing my jumpers, and-and I guess I know why now, but-“

Oh.

Oh no.

No no no no no no no.

The jumpers you had been taking the liberty of stealing belonged to Jungkook?

Oh hell no.

“Shit, I’m sorry- uhh, I’ll get them all back to you, I swear,” you hurriedly spoke, backing away from him, “but I really need to go class, so, um, I’ll see you!”

And with that, you were walking as fast as your legs could carry you, far away from the most embarrassing situation since the time your pants had ripped when you were twelve. People had been asking Jungkook about you? They thought you were together?

You felt awful. All through your lecture, you could barely hear your professor over your internal screaming. What must Jungkook think about this? About you?

Ditching the pile of godawful, cursed books with Joon, you hurried to your locker, hoping that no one would be in sight so you could shove the jumper away. You were wearing the first one you had found. You could return the rest later.

Yes, you would be freezing, but you would have to deal with it.

Roughly pulling it over your head as you reached your locker, the corridor mercifully empty, you threw open the door.

But something was already there.

You wouldn’t have paid it any attention, except there was a note sat on top. And it had your name on it. Underneath the note sat something dark blue and suspiciously hoodie-shaped.

Eyeing it warily, you read the note.

Y/N, I’m sorry, I should have explained better. You don’t have to put the jumpers back, or even stop wearing them. In fact, if you keep wearing them I would be very happy. I brought this for you – it’s the biggest hoodie I own and I hope you like it. I need to tell you something, and I’m clearly better at writing it down than saying it to you, but I want to say it. I really like you, Y/N. You don’t have to feel the same, but you can at least keep the sweaters and stay warm. JK xx

This couldn’t be real. Eyes darting to and fro re-reading the message, you reached out to take the paper between your fingers. Apparently, it was real.

Letting it drop back onto the blue hoodie, you looked around you to find the hallway still empty.

Now this wasn’t fair. Jungkook couldn’t make your all your dreams come true and then hide somewhere. You had to find him.

Stuffing the first jumper you stole away, you pulled out the new gift and tugged it on. Not only was it huge, but it was so soft. When you found him, you were going to find out what detergent he used.

Either way, you spared little time to enjoy the warm hug in jumper form, instead racing off to track down Jungkook. Zipping through the cafeteria proved fruitless, and you even stopped in the library. Joon was in there, but you didn’t stop, just chucking Jungkook’s note in the face of his complaints and moving on.

You had never actually been in the music studio before, but you found it easily enough.

Practically running inside, you stopped, breathing heavily, in the entrance. Only three people were in there, and of course none of them were Jungkook.

Jimin, Hoseok and Yoongi looked around at you in surprise.

“Where’s Jungkook?” you panted.

Yoongi had barely lifted his hand before you had already taken off in the direction he pointed. Pushing the door wide open, you finally laid eyes on the person you had been looking for.

When Jungkook looked around from where he stood in front of a microphone, a piece of paper clutched in his hand, all the words you were going to say to him suddenly left your mind.

“What detergent do you use?”

The question fell uselessly from your lips, only making him more confused.

“What?”

“Oh, nevermind-“

Letting the door fall shut behind you, your feet didn’t stop moving as you crossed the room until your lips crashed into his.

Arms instinctively coming up to hold you, his eyes widened at first but quickly slid shut as he realised what was happening. You were so desperate to find him, and now you couldn’t wait to feel him, lips ravenous as your hands tangled in his long hair.

He tasted so good, making you groan into his mouth as his lips fit so perfectly against yours, incidentally granting him access to slip his tongue inside. There was barely a hair’s breadth between you as he tugged you in, hands fisted in the fabric of his own sweater that swallowed you up.

Finally recovering from the shock and elation of kissing you, he cupped the back of your head, tilting his own to deepen the kiss as he held you steady. And it was a good thing he did, or he would have swept you clean off your feet.

Even as you broke away from each other, staring in shock at your own boldness, your heart continued its raging party in your chest. You could only stare into his brown eyes, totally lost and awed at what just happened.

“Nice hoodie,” Jungkook whispered, the first to break the silence.

“Y-yeah,” you nodded, “thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it.” He looked at you then, big eyes hopeful and oh god you just wanted to kiss him again and see him smile forever-

“Can I take this as your reply to my note?”

“Yes, Jungkook,” you smiled, and the grin that burst onto his face was the most glorious you had ever seen, “I like you too. I really, really like you.”

“I really, really like you too, Y/N,” he grinned, lips connecting with your forehead in a brief, sweet peck, “and I’d like to see you in my sweaters more often.”

Thank you to everyone who reblogs my work!!

I now have a follow-up drabble for this oneshot here!

Taglist: @aianloveseven​ @preciouschimine​ (message to be added)

Find my other work on my masterlist

[forever-rogue]

Patricia!! First of all congrats on a new follower milestone! Those are always so exciting and asking and you deserve every one of them! Could I possibly request 39: “I wish we could stay like this forever” and 80: “let’s run away together” from promo list 2 with Oberyn? I love how you write him and would die to see what you do with this 🥺 ily Patricia! And congrats again! ❤️

Anything for you, my love! Enjoy 🥺

(also not necessary but I am a fool - this could totally be read as a slice of life in INO)

Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader ; warnings: references to sex

Pedro Characters Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

The warmth, golden light filtered in through the sheer curtains, and the fresh, salty smell of the ocean and sound of chirping birds hit you all at once. It was a late, but beautiful and blissful morning and you were loath to get up. All you wanted was to stay here forever, wrapped up in the arms of your beautiful lover. Almost as if he sensed that you were up, you felt him grinning against your skin as he pressed a flurry of gentle, saccharine kisses to your chest and collarbones. You mumbled something into the soft pillow, something about wanting just five more minutes of sleep, but he just chuckled. 

“Sleep is for the dead, sunshine,” he murmured as he worked his way up your neck and stopped at your lips.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," a small huff of air escaped your nose as you pouted at him, slowly opening your bleary eyes. You found his soft brown ones, crinkled sweetly in the corners as he grinned at you, studying your face intently, “good morning.”

“Speak for yourself,” you teased him, “it cannot be a good morning if I am being woken up at such an ungodly hour!”

“Ungodly hour,” Oberyn laughed - a twinkling, beautiful sound - before laying back down and pulling you on top of him. You made a small sound of surprise at the sudden motion, but quickly quieted down when you felt his warm, bare body against yours. His golden skin on yours was delicious and warm, soft and strong at the same time, a perfect juxtaposition - just like him. You laid your head onto his chest, “it is almost the afternoon, sweet girl, it’s hardly ungodly.”

“Why can I not enjoy the day in bed with my prince?” you sighed softly, running a hand through his dark curls, “why should I allow the world to part me from my lover in such a manner?”

“Unfortunately the world requires us to be present,” he chuckled as kissed the top of your head. You huffed lightly although you understood what he meant. You'd always known - from the moment you had met the handsome prince.

“And what’s more important? The world or me?” you joked as he grazed his fingers up and down your spine, leaving a wake of gooseflesh under his fingertips. You sighed into his touch before pressing a few kisses to his bare chest.

“You, of course,” he promised, “and you have me always, first and foremost. But sometimes the world needs their prince.”

"And what about me?" you said softly as his large hands landed thoroughly on your backside, giving the firm flesh of your ass a squeeze. You giggled wildly before turning to look up at him and grabbing his jaw, "play fair!"

"I am," he insisted as you kissed him, "you will always manage without me. For the world needs their prince, but what is a mere prince to the queen?"

"Shut up," you groaned at him before moving to sit up so you were straddling his lap, his body humming with gentle love under yours, "you are not even a prince - only a mere fool!"

"A fool for you," he insisted softly as his hands found purchase on your hips. You beamed at him, golden as the sunlight and causing his heart to melt, "let me show you how a queen - my queen - is treated."

"Oberyn," you gasped slightly as his hands wandered up your body and to your breasts, "I thought we had to get up and rejoin society?"

"I've changed my mind," he grinned, "the prince needs you instead."

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Its beautiful here," you were sprawled out on the lush, soft blanket, soaking up as much sun as possible. You were near the edge of the stunning lake, secluded and alone, as you listened to the soft lapping of the waves onto the shore. It was so serene and blissful, for a few moments you almost forgot that a world outside of this place existed. 

Oberyn hummed in content as he popped a few fresh, plump berries into his mouth. He grabbed a particularly plump looking strawberry and held it out to you, dangling it just in front of your lips. You made a show of taking a large bite from the berry, letting the juice dribble from your lips and down your chin.  He tuttled lightly before using his thumb to collect the juices and holding it out to you. 

Grabbing his wrist, you pulled his thumb into your mouth before sucking it clean before slowly releasing it with a loud pop. He grinned at you, before pulling you in for a kiss. 

"You are a very tantalizing little thing," he licked across your bottom lip, savoring the sweetness that lingered. You grinned against him before pulling away and lying back down on the blanket. Oberyn watched you for a few moments before lying next to you, his large hand grabbed yours and he defty laced your fingers together, "you're thinking much too loudly."

"I am doing nothing of the sort," you shrugged innocently, keeping your eyes closed in order to shield them from the sun - and Oberyn. He had a knack for being able to read every thought and feeling almost as if he was able to see into your soul. Naturally, there were a million things running through your mind at once, but you weren't going to tell Oberyn any of that - not yet anyway, "perhaps you're being too analytical."

"It wouldn't be the first time I've been accused of such a thing," he snorted in laughter, "but I, my sunshine, am also able to read to you - easily. Tell me what's going on in that pretty head of yours."

"And if I refuse to speak my peace?"

"Then I shall be forced to pull it out of you," he insisted softly as he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a delicate kiss to your knuckles. Sighing contentedly, you rolled onto your side so you could properly face him.

And he was beautiful - so stunning in his golden glory. He was older now, than when you'd first met him, calmer after everything he'd survived in King's Landing, even more wise and world weary than the best men. Which you supposed he was; a man with words as sweet as roses or sharp as hawthorne - it was easy to see why everyone fell at his feet, but he still reminded them of why he was the Red Viper.

The soft brown of his eyes, flecked with gold in the light, always seemed to betray him.  At least to you anyways. His hair was longer these days, softer much like him, lightened by the sun and flowing into luscious curls. His facial hair has greyed slightly (from keeping up with all of the kids he always claimed), and he was more...him. 

You'd always loved him, from the day he seemed to save you from a life of uncertainty and domineering men. But it has been a privilege to watch him grow, to see him become the best version of him - it was always thanks to you, he claimed, a guise you greatly disputed. But you loved him - your husband - more than the moon and all the glittering stars in the night sky. 

Playing with you a lock of his soft hair, you continued to brush off the insinuation that anything was wrong, "nothing is the matter, Oberyn. I am merely enjoying the private company of my husband."

“And yet there is so much going on in that mind,” he mused, as you shrugged innocently, “so much buzzing, I’d think we were in Honeyholt and tending to the bees. My dear sunshine, you should know better by now - when have I ever let such a thing go?”

“You are incessant,” you groaned lightly, but appreciating the care and concern nonetheless, “it is silly - a mere folly that should not even worry me and alas, here I am.”

“If it matters to you, then it is not a mere folly,” he promised, “you can tell me anything.”

“I know,” you agreed with a small. You sat up slowly pulling your knees to your chest as you looked out into the sparkling water. Oberyn followed suit before moving to sit in front of you, putting his hand under your chin and turning your face up to his. He almost left you breathless with his easy beauty and warmth, “it’s just...I like this. Just you and me, no one else around, no worries, no duties. I...I hate to think once we return home it will all cease to exist - you will be forced to your duties, as I understand you must, and I? Well, I suppose I will be your dutiful wife, hoping and wishing for a chance to see her husband.”

“Then I suppose we should run away, shouldn’t we?”

“I...Oberyn...what?”

“I’m serious,” he insisted softly as you just laughed at his idealistic ways, “let’s run away together, even if just for a while. No one has to know...and when we are ready we shall return.”

“That is a temporary solution for a permanent problem, my love,” you gave him a weak smile before pulling out of his touch, “what about when we return to Dorne?”

“Always so serious, my sunshine,” he chuckled softly as you huffed at him, “you must ruin every little surprise, mustn’t you?”

“I have done nothing,” you insisted, sticking out your tongue at him, “all I do is care about my husband and I am teased and punished for being woeful and caring!”

“You have not been teased -”

“I have too, Oberyn Martell!”

“I will make it up to you, sweet girl,” he praised with a glint in his eye, “however, whenever, and wherever you should fancy. Now - will you let me finish?”

“I have not been-”

“Your prince demands it.”

“Well your queen insists that she hasn’t been doing anything of the short,” gave him a little smirk, “but go on and tell me about this so called surprise.”

“When we return home to Dorne, things will be different,” he promised as you raised your eyebrows in question, “I have been thinking, and don’t even say a word, and I think it’s time for me to...take a step back and let Doran and Arianne, as his heir, handle things from now. I am getting tired...weary, of all these tasks that should be left to the next ruler. Besides, Arianne is more than ready to take over. I think I should quite enjoy a quiet, leisurely life.”

“Oberyn,” your mouth dropped and formed a small o as you studied him to try and see if he was being honest. A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth before he broke out in a wonderful grin. You leaned over and kissed him, unable to stop yourself, “do you mean it? Please tell me this isn’t some sort of cruel joke.”

“I would never do such a thing,” he whispered as he pulled you into his lap and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “I just think...it’s time. Besides, there is nothing more I want than to spend my day with you, and the girls - think of all the things we can do. There are still ways to help our people, but we will do it together.”

“You continually amaze me,” a single tear, this one of nothing but happiness and love had rolled down your cheek as you pressed your forehead against his, “and I will never know what I did to deserve you, and I will be forever grateful to the universe for bringing you to me.”

“Now you’re just flattering me,” he reached up and gently wiped away the tear, “for it should be the other way around. I take it as though you are not opposed to the notion?”

“Not at all,” you smiled softly, “I could have asked for nothing better.”

“Then what do you say?” his hand found the back of your neck as he gave you a gentle squeeze, “shall we run away? To Essos - the Summer Isles - far away from everything? Only to return when we decide we are ready to?

“Yes,” you eagerly agreed, delighted by the prospect of spending the days and nights at your husband’s side, without a care in the world, “I want nothing more.”

“Then it is settled,” he promised, “now, will you let me show you every way in which I love you?”

“Oberyn!” your face flushed with warmth as you looked around to make sure no was within ear shot, “we are out in the open! Anyway could...see.”

“And that is not our problem,” he shrugged simply, “we have told them not to disturb us, hopefully they heed our advice. But now, sweet girl, you are all mine.”

“Always,” you promised softly, “I am forever yours.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[billiebeanhoward]

Silence - Multi Character

A/N: hello this has been an enormous project for me to do. Thanks for @stayevildarling for the prompt and for the help with this. Apologies, it's a long one. Tenses are a bit fucked but just go with it.

Prompt: Each character receives a mysterious invitation to visit a Hotel Cortez in LA to prove they're not alone in their struggles

TW: alcohol, mention of murder / death, cigarettes, swearing, mention of character death, hints at suicidal ideation,

Word Count: 4480

Tag list: @stayevildarling @okpaulson @mrsdeanhoward​

Working at Kineros Robotics for the vast majority of her life, nothing really fazed Wilhemina anymore. Especially with the bullshit her bosses come up with daily, but when the redhead finds a strange invitation on her desk that morning, she never thought her life could get any stranger. The invitation that was written, well, typed, on very fancy looking stationary, held coordinates to a Hotel she never wanted to visit in her existence, but when she sees there is a list of nine other women's names, she assumes they're women, anyway; It piques her curiosity regardless and later that evening takes the rest of the weekend off work so she can drive the few hours to the Hotel.

Never been one for tardiness, the redhead arrives a mere twenty minutes early, the receptionist with ridiculous glasses asking her if she had booked a room to which she banged her cane and left towards the bar without a word.  Conversation, socialising has never really been her strong suit, you can really blame her mother for that. She had been isolated from the outside world for most of her life growing up. Thinking back, she's glad for it. People are despicable. The bar isn't too shabby, not that she could complain, dark, quiet, she quite enjoys the ambience. Her cane clanks, hitting off the floor as she makes her way over to the bartender.

"And what can I get you, this fine evening?" she, she assumes, smiles politely. Nice enough.

"Anything purple?" her nose scrunched at the ridiculous request that leaves her mouth and she scolds herself silently moments before the bartender points a finger at her.

"You know what? I have just the thing," she turns around to pour the drinks, Wilhemina watching her every move, "So what brings you here?"

"Is that any of your business?"

"Oh, no, not at all." she shakes her head, "Enjoy your drink," Wilhemina eyes the mysterious neon concoction in front of her momentarily, before spotting a straw holder in the corner of her eyes and she reaches out to grab one when a hand grazes over her own.

"Oh, sorry," a British woman with a blonde pixie cut says quickly, pulling her hand away. "You look familiar, do I know you from anywhere?"

"No, I assure you, you don't."

The blonde put the green straw into her whiskey? before sipping it, "My name's Audrey, Audrey Tindall. I know what you're thinking..." Does this woman ever shut up? "I'm not related to the royal Tindalls, no."

"Did I ask?" Wilhemina cocks her head a little towards her and she quickly shies away, "Get out of my sight," The blonde scurries off to the other end of the bar while Wilhemina tries to enjoy her drink.

-

"Mom, what's this?" Ally looks over her shoulder, her arms elbow-deep in her sink as she washes up the dishes from dinner.

"Not sure, Ozzy. Can you read it for me, Sweetheart?"

"To whom it may concern, You are not alone.

34.0443° N, 118.2508° W

Ally, Audrey, Bette, Billie, Cordelia, Dot, Karen, Lana, Sally, Wilhemina. What does it mean, Mom?"

Ally empties the sink and clears away the dishes before wiping her hands on a towel, "I really don't know, does it say anything else? Give it here," she holds her hand out and he passes it to her as she studies it curiously.

-

"Karen!" The woman turns her head towards the door at her friend with a little smile on her face, "Guess who has mail?"

Her eyes widen in anticipation, "No, you're joking! Me?"

"Of course you! Open it." Mickey smiles as he passes it to her. She excitedly rips open the envelope, careful enough not to destroy the contents and unfolds the paper curiously. "Well, What does it say?"

"A bunch of numbers and names, Mick I think this is just junk,"

"No, Karen, the first mail you get in years, it can't be junk. Let me see," she passes it to him and in the dimness of the room, he looks at the letter. "They seem to be coordinates for somewhere,"

"Like for treasure?"

"Exactly, well, you never know, but could be someone who wants to murder you for all we know. But look, it says You are not alone."

"Course I'm not alone, fuck face, I have you."

-

Cordelia sets aside her paperwork for the evening, cradling a cup of hot coffee in her hands, she sighs as she takes a look at the monstrous pile of work ahead. She nudges her glasses further up her nose as the door of her office swung open. "Madison, how many times have I told you to knock?"

The younger blonde rolled her eyes as her arms crossed against her chest, "And why would I do that?"

"I could have been doing... something." the Supreme says before taking a sip from her coffee.

"When exactly was the last time you got laid, Cordy?"

This time the Supreme rolls her eyes before glaring at the younger witch, "And when was the last time you got laid, Maddy?" she snaps back, Madison slumps her shoulders, the smirk that graced her lips disappearing quickly, "What do you want?"

"I forgot to give you this when the mail came this morning," she absentmindedly threw a letter down on the desk before storming out.

Cordelia once again rolled her eyes at the girl, eyeing the mysterious envelope before picking it up.

-

Wilhemina looks down at the watch on her wrist whilst trying to figure out who exactly she's supposed to be meeting. The bar is seemingly quiet, and she stays seated at the stools near the bartender, Liz, who had told her her name, although she definitely didn't ask. Liz is a talker and a very annoying one at that, although Wilhemina is quite enjoying her company right now, or rather lack of as she attends to other women at the bar. A thought enters her mind at that moment, the name Audrey did ring bells, although not any ridiculous royal ones. She pulls the letter out of her blazer pocket and adjusts the glasses on her nose. There. The second name. Audrey. Was that her? Great. Now she does have to actually go off and talk to the chatterbox. She rolls her eyes before sighing, picking up her cane as she makes her way over to where Audrey is sitting, she seems to be sitting next to a brunette who did look quite familiar.

"Oh, hey!" Audrey greets, getting up from her place at the booth seemingly for Wilhemina to seat next to her. Wilhemina quickly turns around grabbing a chair from behind her and drags it to towards the table closer to the brunette instead, "Oh," the blonde says before pulling out a packet of cigarettes from her purse. "Do you mind?"

"I do actually, yes," Wilhemina says and the brunette turns to her.

"Are you here because of the letter as well?" Wilhemina nods and the other woman brings out her hand towards her for her to shake it, "I'm Ally, Ally Mayfair-Richards?"

"You're the one that was in that cult weren't you?" Wilhemina says. This has got to be the most interesting thing that has happened all night.

"Oh." Ally pulls her hand away looking around slightly awkwardly, "So you don't know me from my senator work? How did you know about the -"

"I saw it on this silly show I watched on the True crime channel."

"Right. So must know a lot about me then," she sips from her wine and Audrey annoyingly, despite Wilheminas dismissal, lights up a cigarette. "What's your name."

"Wilhemina Venable."

"Oh your name is Wilhemina, it's such a -"

"I'd prefer to be referred to only as Ms. Venable." Fine. Wilhemina has now made this awkward, thanks mouth. Change the subject. "Seven more women to find," she states, looking at the two, her hand gripped tightly around her cane. "Is this some sort of gangb-" Nope. "Right, I'm going to get another drink, excuse me."

"Sally that girl, what can I get you?" Liz asks a blonde that is definitely stuck in the '90s. Her hair is fully crimped, her outfit choice, however, is far more ridiculous, fishnet tights, a very short skirt, revealing shirt. Stop staring.

"The usual," she mumbles before diverting her attention back to the woman beside her. "So, are you from Tennessee? You're the only ten I see," Wilhemina almost spits her drink out as she hears the conversation between the two.

"No actually, I'm from Massachusetts." the brunette says, nodding slightly, clearly slightly uncomfortable.

"Oh, it's pretty close though, right."

"No you blonde idiot, it's a 17-hour drive," Wilhemina says and the blonde turns to look at her and this time she looks at her face.

"Did I ask you?"

"No, course not. I just like correcting idiots,"

"Well, I'm sorry we all couldn't afford to go to private schools," the blonde then storms off somewhere else, Wilhemina genuinely doesn't care. The brunette, however, slides closer over to Wilhemina.

"Thank you," she smiles.

Wilhemina's face turned to one of a fish, "What for?" The other woman continued sipping from her drink before leaning a little too close for comfort to Wilhemina before taking a deep breath.

"Is this.." she pauses, Wilhemina only furrows her brows at her, "Is this a 'girl' bar?" she asks curiously, "I'm only asking because..."

"Good question," the redhead smiles as she looks around the room, only women are seated, mainly bundled together with Ally and Audrey," Maybe this woman is one of the names on the list too. "Surely hope not," she mumbles. She doesn't want to make conversation but it seems she needs to. "What brings you here?" she continues to drink the nuclear waste that Liz calls a drink and looks at the brunette. She seems familiar too.

"I... This is going to sound really weird."

"Not as weird as that, I assure you," she points behind her and the brunette turns around to see a woman with two heads walk through the door with the frizzy blonde talking to them.

"Probably just as... How is that possible? That's fascinating." The brunette brings up her purse and pulls out a notepad."I'm a writer, you may have read my book. It's quite popular among women." She speaks but Wilhemina isn't listening. Distracted by the definition of fucking weird that just entered the room.

"You girls here for the "meeting"?" the frizzy blonde asks them and the head on the left nods. Creepy.

"Nice," she grabs a cigarette, it hanging from her mouth lazily as she spoke. Ok, so far there are Audrey, Ally, writer girl, the one Liz called Sally, the two-headed beast... Wilhemina looks around and spots another blonde speaking to Audrey and Ally. So extra blonde. And a homeless woman sitting at the back end of the bar.

"If you're here for the meeting, come over here!" extra blonde calls out over to her table and Wilhemina rolls her eyes, her cane clanking loudly as she walks over to the table. "I'm Cordelia Goode. Supreme of my coven in New Orleans."

"Ally Mayfair-Richards, I came here from Maine. Had to find a babysitter before I drove all the way here,"

"Audrey Tindall. Had to get a flight back from England."

"Lana, Lana Winters." the writer girl added.

"Wait.." three heads turn to her. "How is that possible?" Ally spoke.

Lana shrugged, an uncomfortable smile gracing her lips, "What do you mean?"

"You're... young?"

"Oh, wow, am I that old?"

"I- no of course not."

"What's that?" Wilhemina turns her head towards the left of the beast as she stares down at Sally's cellphone.

"Oh, come on I've been stuck here since the nineties and even I know what it is." she rolls her eyes.

The right one furrowed her brows. "90s?"

The two of them stared into space for a moment, their expressions changing every so often as if they're in a conversation and Wilhemina shakes her head and diverts her attention to the homeless one toddling over to the rest of the group. She looks paranoid, looking over her shoulders as if someone is following her.

"The rest of the introductions?" Audrey says, bringing the letter out and Lana handing her a pen from her purse before she ticks off the names of people here. "What's your name, sweetheart?" she asks the homeless one but she doesn't answer, peeking into the massive tote bag on her shoulder before Wilhemina hits her ankle with her cane to gain her attention.

"I'm not telling you my name. I don't even know who you are," she states

"Why are you sitting with us then?" the right one says before the homeless one gives them a look.

"I know people like you, fuck faces, huge assholes," she mutters

"I'm Dot, this is Bette, "Right one says almost headbutting the other

"I can introduce myself, Dot,"

Dot turns her head to look at her, "Well you were taking your sweet time,"

"Okay, we're only missing Billie and Karen."

Sally chuckles, her cigarette still hanging from her mouth, "That's definitely Karen," she points over to a blonde with wavy hair, pink blouse, pearl necklace and a pencil skirt and fake nails. "I actually thought you were Karen until you said your name is Audrey," she looks to Audrey and Wilhemina purses her lips trying to stifle her laugh.

Audrey looked offended as if someone ran over her mothers already dead body. Her nostrils flaring as she leans over the table towards Sally, "And what do you mean by that?"

Before anything happens and all hell breaks loose in the Hellmouth they already were in, the homeless one squeaks up. "I'm Karen."

That's it. Wilhemina laughed. "What's so funny?" Cordelia asks the redhead who continued chuckling as she tried to drink her acid.

"Nothing, continue."

Lana finally pieces the puzzle together, "That's Billie."

"Congratulations, would you like a gold star. I'm sure Mommy senator here has plenty for you." Wilhemina chuckled at her own joke because it was funny. The other women did laugh too. Billie made her way over somewhat gracefully, her hands flaring as if she's trying to pick up a watermelon. Karen probably has one hidden in that Mary Poppins bag of hers.

"Good evening, girls. I'm Billie Dean Howard, Medium to the stars." she flutters her fingers around like one of those stupid ASMR videos that Wilhemina has not ever watched before and took a seat beside Bette and Dot.

"Were you the one who sent the letters?" Bette asked, her fingers fiddling with the hem of the dress she shared? with Dot before Dot slapped her fingers away.

"No, I assume you're all here for the same thing. As am I. Unfortunately, it had to be here though,"

Cordelia sighs, shifting uncomfortably in her seat seeming to know what the hell Billie was actually talking about. "I know, it's like they're screaming in the walls."

Liz comes over handing Billie her drink while giving a pointed look towards Sally, "What? I didn't kill everyone here, y'know."

"Your reputation says otherwise." she turns to the rest of the group, "Enjoy your stay,"

"Does anyone actually know what this is about... Wait I know you, I've seen your face on the side of a bus," Audrey says excitedly

"And I know you, Ms Audrey Tindall. Making a big name for yourself I see after My Roanoke Nightmare." Billie smiles at her and Wilhemina gives a look of impressive to the two blondes.

"Oh god don't. My shrink is still drilling it into my head that it wasn't real."

"What wasn't?" Lana asks curiously, her notepad in hand as she continued to write notes.

"You haven't seen the show?"

"What show?"

Wilhemina diverts her attention towards Ally's and Cordelia's conversation although it seemed to be about cheating exs so then she focuses on what Dot, Bette and Sally were saying.

"It's 1952 where you're from?" Okay, now that is interesting. "How did you get here?" Sally points her phone in their faces.

"Can you please get that thing out of our faces! It's scary," Bette says,

"We killed our mother and you're saying that's scary." Fine. She stood up and made her way to Karen.

"Don't want to talk to you." she mumbled, seemingly comfortable slightly curled up in the seat.

"I don't want to talk to you either." Hmm, maybe the homeless one isn't too bad after all.

After a few extra drinks, everyone seems to be in a better mood, laughing, joking, much to Wilhemina's dismay, and even still trying to make conversation with her. Which she has done. Gotten to reluctantly know more about those with who she was almost forcefully made to be made acquaintances. Sally stood up on the chair, wobbling slightly as she tries to regain her balance. "Ladies, Unfortunately, Liz is closing up for the night." most women whined but Wilhemina was genuinely happy she finally got to go home. Was this it? What exactly was this about? "But... We can take this party up to my room,"

Wilhemina almost growled to herself, the thought of being at home a lot more comfortable than being in a hotel room with nine other women. All women stood up and followed Sally to the elevators. Billie and Cordelia following behind as they chatted.

Wilhemina slowed her pace a little mainly because she felt like her back couldn't handle it but also because she wants to know what the two blondes are talking about. "If the letters weren't really from you, then who was it?" Cordelia asks

"I genuinely thought it was you, dear. Seems like a 'you' thing to be bringing in people of all backgrounds, especially lonely ones at that,"

"I'm not lonely. You don't even know me." Karen pipes up defensively, still holding her bag close.

"No, not at all." Billie shakes her head, "But I do know when one is feeling lost and doesn't know how to get back up," she says before rushing off to get to the others.

Wilhemina's steps slowed as she enters the elevator, not one for taking the stairs. She opens her mouth but Cordelia is quick to speak, "I like your hair," the redhead raises an eyebrow at the blonde, a hint of a blush rising on her cheeks.

"You're drunk, Ms. Goode,"

"Oh, please. Call me Cordelia. I'm nothing like my mother." she says before her expression turns somewhat sorrowful. Her mouth opened, slightly agape seeming as she wants to speak but she doesn't. So Wilhemina decides it's humane of her to change the subject.

"You know Ms. Howard?" she looks down at the floor, the elevator dinging indicating their arrival on the floor where Sally's room is located.

"Oh yes, she's not a witch though," the blonde slightly stumbles out, almost tripping on her heels when Wilhemina rolls her eyes reaching her arm out to catch her.

"I didn't ask," she states, although she is due for another awful round of dosed up fuckery that is her medication she fights through it, tries to anyway. Liz's miracle drinks seem to be working fine as an atomic type of painkiller. She allows Cordelia to loop her arm around her shoulder, hers around the blonde's waist as they walk down the hallway towards the room Karen just strangely snuck into as if she's there on a heist.

"You know of my story then?" Lana asks seemingly gobsmacked towards the other women, "And not from my book, from my talk show? One I don't even have yet?"

"How exactly did you get here?" Audrey asks curiously as she sits down on the bed, crossed legged like an elementary school child.

"I received the letter, like the rest of you. I took the train. Fell asleep, woke up at the station and everything was different but I couldn't really explain it. Then I asked around about the coordinates and someone guided me to this hotel."

"The same thing happened to us," Bette smiled at her but Dot was quick to scold her

"Don't listen to my idiot of a sister, we've never been on a train in our lives. We woke up, found the note at the foot of our bed and started to get ready for our show."

"Show?" Billie asks before closing her eyes for a brief moment. "Does the name Eudora mean anything to you?"

"We work fo-" Bette starts

"No, absolutely not. Bette, we're leaving."

"But we've been having so much fun, Dot."

"No,"

"She says she forgives you."

Tears well up in both their eyes for a moment as they sit back down on the bed. Wilhemina slowly helps Cordelia sit down on the armchair beside them and awkwardly perches on the arm of said chair.

"She forgives you Bette for what you did but," she closes her eyes before facing Dot, "She doesn't forgive you for what you tried to do to your sister."

An awkward silence filled the room, only to be heard are the sniffles from the twins and the lighting up of cigarettes before Sally broke the silence, "You know, I would probably do anything to have a sister and you tried to kill her?" Dot looks away ashamedly.

Bette, sweet Bette, she seems so childlike, she just smiles, "I would do anything to make my Dot happy,"

"I would rather kill myself than let anyone treat me the way she treats you." Sally rolls her eyes "And I'm dead," she brings her hand to the side of her mouth as if she's revealing a huge secret.

"At least she's not alone," Ally says, sipping on more wine. "I'd do anything for my son, the way Bette clearly would for her sister."

"And let her kill herself?" Audrey remarks, "That's not love."

"Wouldn't you kill for love? Fight for others."

"I'd rather be a lover than a fighter, because all my life, I've been fighting." Lana says, "I've lost the love of my life and had been through so much I ca-" tears escape her eyes and Audrey curls up beside her, wrapping an arm around her frame.

Karen opened her mouth wanting to speak, most of them probably expecting her spewing profanities but instead, her face was calm, "I've never felt a feeling of comfort. All this time, I've been hiding. Where I'm from the stupid fuckfaces who live there..." There we go. "All they do is just think I'm some mad homeless woman -"

"Aren't you?" Wilhemina blurts out, a smirk gracing her lips and Karen glares at her.

"That's not the point, you fucking, purple, fucking, dragon bitch."

Wilhemina tilts her head, impressed with the insult. "Carry on."

"I don't want to anymore."

"I never had someone to call my own," Bette says, her usual smile now a frown as she fights back her own tears

"I'm so used to sharing." Dot mutters, looking down at her fingers. Billie reaches out to hold their hands to comfort them.

"Love only left me alone," Audrey says,

"I've found peace in the violence, can't tell me there's no point in trying," Sally says, cigarette hanging from her mouth as she speaks, mascara running down her face

Wilhemina thinks it's her turn to speak, Cordelia looking at her intently from the seat. "I'm in need of a saviour," it feels like she confessed her deepest darkest secrets. Words she would have never thought she would say out loud to anyone. She sees Billie lift her head as if to speak "But I'm not asking for favours," she says, Billie nods understandingly.

"My whole life, I've felt like a burden," Cordelia pipes up, her chin quivering as she spoke. "I think too much, and I hate it"

Ally pulls a small face, finishing her wine before she spoke, "I'm so used to being in the wrong. I'm tired of caring."

"Loving never gave me a home" Karen speaks again, probably feeling a lot more comfortable with the group now. Which is surprising as she acted as if they would kill her.

"I'll sit here in the silence," Billie says. She hadn't said anything. She gave a small smile before lighting up a cigarette. Wilhemina only groans, now her clothes probably stank worse than an ashtray at the amount the four women had smoked like a chimney. "I'm at one with myself. I've been quiet for so long."

There's silence for a few moments. Not uncomfortable at all, surprisingly. Although plenty of tears, small sobs escaping and a few hugs. This was needed. Everyone felt seen, even in the silence of the room. They felt heard. They all understood and could relate one way or another to each other and, maybe the letter was right. You are not alone.

But the one question is... who was the one who had sent it?

Maybe someone out there who cared enough for each woman individually and knew their struggles maybe even up to a personal extent. Maybe whoever sent it just wanted the women to know that they are loved and people do care.

Maybe it was you.

-

The night was slowly coming to an end, the women started to say their goodbyes when Lana had an idea, "Sally?"

Sally lifted her head from where it lay on Cordelia's shoulder as the two blondes were almost fast asleep. "Hmm?" Wilhemina stood, collecting her cane ready to leave but Cordelia's hand stopped her, grabbing onto the hem of her blazer.

"Give me your cell number, I have an idea." the brunette gave Sally the pen and paper and Sally wrote her number down, passing it back. "If I remember you'd hear from me again," then the brunette vanished. Magic tricks aside, most of the women were either too drunk or half-asleep to even react. Sally's phone began ringing loudly, Wilhemina picked it up, disgusting fluffy case in hand as Sally snatches it from her.

"Hello?"

"Sally? It's me, Lana. Put me on speaker." the familiar yet different voice said. The women looked, Wilhemina observing from the door until she noticed Bette and Dot aren't there either.

"Lana, it's you?" Audrey says, tears in her eyes, "God I've missed you." It's been less than two minutes you dramatic blonde. Wilhemina rolls her eyes as Lana chuckles down the phone.

"I've missed you too, Audrey. It's been fifty-five years since I had last heard your voice."

Wilhemina, now confused, was ready to leave. She pried the sleepy blonde away and left. On the way back to her home, she magically bumped into Billie. "What do you want?" she almost snapped.

"We're wondering if you'd like to meet back up at the hotel again next week." the blonde smiles, of course, cigarette in hand. Wilhemina sighed, as much as she hates to admit it she really did enjoy the company in comparison to her lonely nights at home in the silence.

"Okay," she says, Billie, raising an eyebrow at her expectantly.

"Okay? That was easy,"

"Don't think it'll be any easier than this, Ms. Howard, I'm a busy woman."

"Hm, I'm sure."

"If Ms. Winters is.. a woman of age now, What happened to the Tattlers?" Wilhemina asks out of curiosity, Billie purses her lips as she thinks of an answer.

"They're gone. They're at one with the silence."

"Good night, Ms. Howard." Wilhemina opens the door to her car.

"Good night, Ms. Venable," Billie says but Wilhemina can literally hear the smile that's on her lips as she says it. "Oh, Cordelia wants me to give you her cell," Billie hands the redhead her number through the crack of the window. "Then you don't have to be at one with the silence for so long. Neither of us do. We have each other now, just remember that. All thanks to Y/N."

[samstree]

The One with the Coastal Customs

Geraskier, 1.8k, Fluff, Crack, Secret Relationship, Kaer Morons at their best, humor, Jaskier takes one for the team

Inspired by Friends. Read on AO3

Breakfast at Kaer Morhen is full of chatter as always. With Ciri and Yennefer joining them a few days ago, loud arguing and laughter always fill those once empty halls.

Jaskier picks at the rye bread on his plate, not paying attention to Lambert’s clearly exaggerated monster story, though Ciri seems completely entranced, prompting him to go on with anticipation.

His mind is still full of last night’s visage of Geralt pressing him against the wooden door and kissing him senseless. The witcher had to come to his bedroom after everyone else turned in so no one noticed. After the whole mountain incident last year and Geralt’s following apology, they thought it wise to keep their blooming relationship in secret for a while.

Let’s not tell everyone in a rush. Geralt was the one who proposed the secrecy. Whatever we have here is ours, Jask. I don’t want them to interfere or mess it up. You are too important to me, He said. Besides, what could go wrong?

Jaskier, at the time, agreed to it whole-heartedly. The witcher was so sincere that day, his golden eyes flowing with adoration and vulnerability that Jaskier could not deny him anything.

Despite some inconveniences, Jaskier has to admit it does make things excitingly hot. He almost feels like a naughty student sneaking out of class to make out with a lover again.

Jaskier’s hand comes up to touch the skin on his neck, the same spot where Geralt nibbed and sucked gently last night and left him a sobbing mess. Next to him, Geralt catches his motion with a look before a faint smile quirks up the corner of his mouth.

“Grape juice?” the witcher passes him the pitcher with the most unaffected tone in the world but his other hand travels up Jaskier’s thigh teasingly.

He has to choke in a gasp.

“…and bam! The third wyvern drops dead.” Lambert ends the story proudly, “And that’s why I’m the best witcher at this table. You have a lot to learn from me, princess.”

Ciri giggles as Geralt and Eskel chime in to call out all the lies in that tale. The room erupts in jabs and loud arguments.

Yennefer is the only one who remains silent throughout the whole meal. Her violet gaze only falls on Jaskier once, piercing with intent, before looking away like nothing happened. Even though their exchanges are a lot more amicable these days, the sorceress tends not to acknowledge Jaskier’s existence very often.

From the corner of his eyes, Jaskier sees Vesemir leave for the library. The older witcher still has work for him to finish today.

“Right, duty calls.” With a screech of chair, Jaskier stands so he can leave too. “I’ll see you later.”

He rests his hand on Geralt’s shoulder and leans in for a kiss. Geralt’s lips taste like the sweetness of grape juice and Jaskier revels in it for a moment before pulling away.

Everyone at the table is staring at him.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Jaskier freezes on the spot, a million thoughts going through his mind. Is it time to announce it to the world? They are ready for everyone to know and get involved, aren’t they?

But with one look at Geralt, he abandons the thought. The witcher has gone pale, and stiff as a statue. Panic starts to creep into those beautiful honey eyes, so subtly anyone else would have missed it.

Geralt is not ready.

Jaskier swallows. Well, there’s nothing to it.

He turns to Eskel, who’s holding a spoon mid-air and studying him with confused surprise.

“Eskel. See you later too.” He cups the older witcher’s jaw and presses their lips together. Eskel, the sweet man, even holds on to his wrist by reflex. He ends it with a pop before going around the table, careful not to trip over a chair.

Lambert can only be described as dumbfounded when Jaskier leans in, and incredulous afterwards.

“Have a nice day, Lamb.”

Yennefer looks at him with the same scrutiny. Wait, why is she looking smug? Fuck, the mage is looking scarier than the day they met. This one he might regret the most later.

“My favorite witch. It’s so good to have you here.” Jaskier opens his arms dramatically before going in, the familiar lilac and gooseberries filling his senses. Oh, her lips are so much softer.

When he stands to straighten his doublet, the whole table is still looking at him in silence. Geralt is tense as a statue while Lambert’s mouth hangs slightly open.

“Right.” He pats Ciri on the back and runs away from the scene, keeping his footsteps as steady as possible.

 *

Ciri is the first one to break the silence.

“What the hell just happened?”

“Language.” Yennefer berates her, seemingly unfazed.

Geralt swallows a lump. If Jaskier is willing to go such length to keep the promise, he can try to look inconspicuous for a moment.

A blush is creeping up on Lambert’s face, but he tries to hide it with biting words. “Geralt, what the fuck is wrong with you bard?”

“Watch your language too.” Eskel’s voice is steady with amusement. “Why do you mind it so much anyway? He’s being friendly. It was nice.”

If Eskel wipes his lips casually with a pleased look, nobody mentions it.

“In what world is that friendly?” Lambert scowls.

“It’s –” Geralt clears his throat, “He went to the coast last year. In the south. Must have picked up some local customs. That’s…um…how they greet each other. In the south.”

Lambert stares at him. “Doesn’t feel southern to me.”

Geralt gulps down all the juice in his cup. When he puts it down, Yennefer is studying him like a predator might a prey.

“Interesting custom.” Her violet eyes sparkle with curiosity.

Geralt has never been more grateful for his witcher trials for allowing him to remain calm under extreme pressure. His heart still beats slowly without revealing anything.

They are fine as long as it doesn’t happen again.

 *

It happens again.

Jaskier sucks at Geralt’s lips with heated passion, drawing a soft moan out of the witcher. Neither of them pays any attention to the flurries of snow falling into the empty courtyard around them.

“I’ve missed you today.” He moves down to Geralt’s jawline, and then his neck. “Where’d you go?”

“Had to repair the wall at the back, or the whole keep crumbles.”

“Hmm. Should have let it.”

Jaskier captures those lips again just when he hears people entering the courtyard, and pushes Geralt away with force.

It’s too late.

Eskel and Lambert stare quizzically at Jaskier, their training swords in hand. Behind him, Ciri is also in full gears, ready for lessons. The way she tilts her head in bewilderment is such a spitting image of her dad.

“Well.” Jaskier pats Geralt on the bicep. “Thanks for helping me clean the stable. That’s…nice of you.”

Roach snorts in the stable behind them.

He walks towards Eskel and kisses him again, and then Lambert. Boy he’s just noticing how tall the younger witcher is. Jaskier has to tiptoe a little bit. “I’ll be off then.”

When he passes Ciri, the girl just moves out of the way like he’s the plague. “See you, uncle Jask!”

Jaskier nods at her, carrying himself as naturally as possible, and enters the building.

 *

The gwent is going great. It seems that Geralt is going to win again.

Jaskier yawns. He’ll never see the appeal of the game, so he just reaches over Lambert to grab the lute. Maybe a little practice will be good–

“Okay, bard. You need to cut it off.” Lambert stops Jaskier’s motion with a hand on his chest.

Jaskier blinks.

“I don’t care whatever–” Lambert gestures around Jaskier’s whole being. “– coastal customs you picked up from the south. It’s not…how we do things around here. We are not in the south and it’s fucking weird. So quit it.”

“Okay?” He blinks again.

“I know you like witchers more than the average man out there,” Eskel adds, “and you want to show us. I appreciate it, Jaskier, but it might not make us the most comfortable.”

“What now?” Jaskier looks around the room. Yennefer and Ciri are sitting by the fire with some magic book spread out between their knees, watching the situation unfold.

“Quit the kissing, bard.” Lambert scowls.

Eskel smiles politely. “Yeah, it’s best if you did.”

Oh.

Jaskier can see the two witchers are clearly not at ease. Lambert’s face is a ripe tomato and Eskel is acting way too formal with all the niceties.

“Okay. Of course.” Jaskier raises his hands in defeat. “I will stop assaulting you with the overly familiar foreign customs. Message received.”

“Thank the gods. It was disgusting.” Geralt deadpans.

Jaskier looks into those golden eyes he loves so much and wonders if he can express ‘I’m gonna put a pillow over your face tonight’ with a neural glare. The bastard only raises an eyebrow in challenge.

“If you do need to let it out somehow, Jaskier, maybe your friends at that fancy academy of yours are open to it.” Yennefer says, chill as the winter sky, “Or some of your lovers.”

Maybe Jaskier’s eyes are deceiving him, but he swears the sorceress glanced in Geralt’s direction when she said ‘lovers’.

The ladies resume their discussion about spells and magic, and the gwent game continues. Geralt does end up winning.

Jaskier plucks his lute, imagining a million ways for his witcher to make it up to him later.

Oh the sacrifices he has to make for this ridiculous man.

 *

“The sacrifices I have to make for you, my dear.” Jaskier rests his head on Geralt’s shoulder, cuddling up to his witcher’s warm body.

“What sacrifice? I thought you were enjoying it.”

“They are quite good kissers though, especially–” He cuts himself off. It’s best not to discuss your lover’s brothers that way, or ex-lover, for that matter.

“Then what are you moaning about?”

“But my reputation!” Jaskier protests, “My name will be tarnished forever. Jaskier – barker and molester of witchers. None of you will ever let me sing your heroism anymore.”

“Hmm. Don’t you forget about Yen.” Geralt’s voice rumbles deep in his chest.

“Oh yeah. I’m surprised she didn’t turn me into a toad on the spot.” He plays with Geralt’s long hair. “By the way – I just have this inking – do you think, perhaps, Yennefer might know? About us?”

“Oh she knows.”

Jaskier bolts upright, looking at Geralt incredulously.

“Since when?”

“The day she arrived?” Geralt guesses, “I’m sure she took one look at us and figured it out. It’s not my fault she’s so smart–”

Jaskier picks up a pillow and throws it at Geralt’s smug face.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

Geralt finally breaks out laughing. He catches the bard’s feral attack and pins him into the mattress. Jaskier’s angry little pout is too adorable Geralt has to kiss it away. Uninterrupted this time.

“Is it worth it though? All the sacrifices?” Geralt's breath ghosts over the skin at Jaskier's throat.

The bard only glares at him for a moment, before letting out a sigh long-sufferingly.

“For you, my dear. Always.” He pecks Geralt’s soft lips one more time. “As long as no one turns me into a toad.”

[gryffindors-weasley]

Thoughtful Affection

Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Summary: Colin always finds himself kissing you without second thought behind it, but sometimes there are kisses shared more thoughtfully than that.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: just fluff, kissing

A/N: A sweet little idea inspired by my lovely Mille @iliveiloveiwrite <3

Colin Bridgerton was undoubtedly the sweetest man you have ever known, and certainly romantic without question. Not a day would go by where he hadn’t made it abundantly clear that he was utterly in love with you, the mere thought of that happening having been one that was preposterous. He loved you so wholly, even, that he found himself doing so as if it were second nature.

One

You stretched for the first time in hours as you awoke that morning, muscles stiff and tired from having laid tangled in one spot for far too long with the love of your life. The day had been utterly melancholy from the very moment you cast your eyes upon the window, trickles of raindrops having trailed down the chilled window panes lining the walls of your room. Not to mention, the heavy patter that had consistently pelted against your home was far too obvious to ignore.

Days like those had been rather perfect, however, providing ample enough reason to stay within the warmth of ruffled blankets and sheets in the arms of your love for that much longer. Besides, who wants to work on a day like this very one anyway?

Your attention is soon brought from the window to the very grip that had squeezed tighter around your waist, a chaste kiss pressed just below your jaw. The action brought the softest of smiles to your face, a laugh falling from your lips at the tickle against your skin. Ruffled curls of brown hair had brush over your cheek as he lifted his head, his eyes barely open and you were quite sure he had barely even been awake. Regardless, the sight was entirely sweet either way.

His cheek was rosy from having been pressed against his pillow, his hair dipping over his eyes. The very tips of your fingers combed through his hair gingerly, trailing down to trace lightly over his cheek, to smooth over his chin. You hadn’t missed the way he leaned into your touch, nor did you miss the smile tugging ever so sleepily at the corners of his mouth. He fought desperately against his fatigue to open his eyes, his smile widening within the first moment of seeing you.

His lips were quick to press on yours, languid and gentle and the first of many that day. It was an act without thought behind it, routine one might say. Each and every morning without fail, a kiss is shared in the first fleeting moments of the day. One is always inevitably turned to two, two to four, four until you’ve managed to pull yourselves from the comfort of your bed to start the day ahead. It always proved to be a hefty task, but one you never minded in the slightest.

“I thought you were trying to take your leave from my arms, love,” he mumbles, a soft laugh to follow as his nose nudges against yours.

“As if you’d let me,” you murmur, smiling blissfully at the feel of his lips pressing along your cheek.

“Can you blame me?” He asks, words muffled against your skin as a shiver runs through you. It was one he very much notices, tugging the blanket up further though the warmth of his arms would always undoubtedly suffice.

You simply sigh in amusement, your sigh turning to a laugh as his fingers dance across your hip. The simple sound had made his heart flutter, though he will admit it wouldn’t take very much for you to do just that.

“Surely we must—” he starts, interrupted by a yawn, “we must not have plans if the weather is so awful, right?”

“That would simply be ridiculous,” you mumble, sleep having had its hold on you once more.

A kiss is pressed blindly to the corner of his mouth, a hum leaving your lips as you tuck yourself against him comfortably. No further words needed to be spoken to know that the morning would be spent in that very bed, the way you’d rested your head in the crook of his neck was telling enough.

“I love you,” he whispers softly, tenderly.

“I love you.”

Two

The day had been rather busy compared to most others, Colin’s study having looked as though a tornado had swept through the room without a moment’s notice. Papers and maps had lay sprawled nearly anywhere the eye could see, some crumpled and some lay neatly stacked on the mahogany desk. Some are hanging to signify their absolute importance and some remain scattered on the floor without care to pick them up in the current moment.

Several books from the towns library sit stacked on an area of free space, though there was minimal real estate left on the large desk to begin with. You had to step in before he tipped over a half empty bottle of ink onto a map he’d been so keen to use.

“Colin, you don’t have to be quite so stressed, love. I’m sure taking a moment to breathe will be just fine,” you sigh, a smile playing on your lips when he stops shuffling through papers and spares you the fondest of glances.

“I want this trip to be perfect, darling. I shall relax once I am in better standing with this planning,” he huffs, running his hand through his hair for what was surely the hundredth time.

You sigh softly and purse your lips, watching him lick the tip of his finger to scan through a book at the top of the pile. Black ink smudged and stained the cuff of his shirt, and you knew that simply wouldn’t come out at this point, his jacket strewn over the back of the chair. He was ever so hard on himself when it came to the planning of your travels; he felt everything must be perfect though it really didn’t need to be. It could be a trip as spontaneous as the journey to the bakery in town and you’d still cherish it for days and weeks to come. But Colin had been stubborn, insisting it should be wondrous.

You watched as he sorted through the pile of books he’d accumulated, watching his cheeks stain pink and his chest heave with a soft huff. It was a sight entirely too precious.

“You are terribly cute when you’re flustered, do you know that?” You ask, brushing the hair out of his eyes. It was then that he paused his actions if only for just a brief moment, his hand coming up to rest warmly over top of your own. His smile was something most enamoring, dimpled and sweet as he dropped his quill to the desk.

“And darling, you are terribly cute all the time,” he says, the pad of his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. His shoulders slumped as he kissed your palm, parting from you to grab his jacket. “I must return to the library, there’s just one more book that I know I will need, I promise.”

You sigh softly and tilt your head, a smile gracing your lips nonetheless. “It is almost closing time, you know.”

He slips on his jacket and grumbles at the sight of the ink stains on his shirt. “And that is just why I must make haste.”

He smiles tenderly as he kisses you goodbye, catching the corner of your mouth in his hurried state but he is ever so quick to dip down and kiss you fully, his hand lingering in your own for a few moments longer. He doesn’t want to leave, he never does, but he knows he just won’t relax until he retrieves the very book weighing heavy on his mind.

“Hurry back?” You call after him.

“Assuredly, my love!”

Three

The Bridgerton family home was quiet for perhaps the first time that day, it’s bustling and energetic family members having since gone to bed for the night. Everyone had come together for a visit back home, only Hyacinth and Gregory having yet to leave the nest. It was nice to be in everyone’s presence once more, having brought you back to the times you’ve spent with the family ever since you’d been a child. Yet, even years later, having married the love of your life and moved to your very own estate, it felt as though nothing had changed.

The two of you found yourselves tucked away on the terrace that’d overlooked the garden, the stars above you beaming bright as they speckled across the sky. It was tremendously beautiful, and you’d argue it was the best place to gaze above you in all of London—the second being the gardens of your own home.

You could see the tops of every flower, their beauteous scent wafting your way each and every time the breeze blows. Said breeze brings with it the sound of the leaves in nearby trees, wind chimes singing in response to the weather. Not a single cloud hung in the sky as you focused your attention upwards, the cool spring wind washing over your skin as your hand lay enveloped with Colin’s. Your head rested on his shoulder, his rested on your own as he was content to just merely sit with you. This was all he ever truly needed. Not fancy soirées or expensive dinners, not elaborate outings and ballroom dances. This is all he wanted.

Simple moments were most cherished, ones where few words needed to be spoken. Just your presence alone was something that makes him forever content, no matter what it is you’re doing. You hadn’t needed to even be paying attention to him, really, just having you there was leaps and bounds better than not. That fact had always remained true for all the time that he’s known you, he knows that for certain.

Your free hand had been busy fumbling with the button on his shirt cuff, an action entirely absentminded yet one that had brought the softest of smiles to his face nonetheless. He didn’t even mind the way your hair blew and tickled just under his nose; the minor inconvenience was worth it so long as you were comfortable. Even the cement of the balcony you sat on wasn’t enough for him to be displeased.

“Have you ever wondered just how many stars there are in the sky?” You ask softly, curiously, a laugh leaving his lips.

“I suppose it has crossed my mind a few times,” he murmurs, amusement in his voice as he gives your hand a squeeze. Your own smile is instant at the feeling, at the very sound of his laugh for that matter. “Do you wish to know something?”

You hum in response, shifting your head to look at him better. His smile was tender as he thought of the words residing on the very tip of his tongue, his fingertips dancing overtop the back of your hand. You hadn’t missed the breathy laugh he exhaled, though you weren’t privy to the look of utter fondness on his expression.

“I love you a thousand times for each star that sits in the sky,” he murmurs, his declaration certain and true. “And a thousand times more.”

Your heart flutters at his words, his foot nudging yours to accompany his statement.

“Do you wish to know something?” You ask, lifting your head to look at him fully.

“Enlighten me,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

You grin adoringly at him, at the way his eyes sparkled in the glowing moonlight and the way he looked at you as if you were the center of the very universe. “I love you a million times for each star that sits in the sky. And a million times more.”

It was far too dark out to see the way a soft crimson stained his cheeks the very same way yours had been. But not enough to miss the way his gaze upon you became impossibly more loving as he blinked at you slowly, tiredly. It was rather late after all, the day having been busy with a family that’d been a handful, a wonderful handful at that.

“You really are something, do you know that?” He beams, his expression amused.

“I do indeed.”

He laughs then, quiet and sleepy as his nose bumps against your own and his breath fans warmly over your skin in contrast to the chill of the air. “Should we go to bed now?”

You sigh softly, contently, hand squeezing his. “I’ll meet you there in a moment.”

He simply nods, taking in a few more seconds with you until you part briefly. Then, a kiss is pressed to your lips, chaste and fleeting and one given without second thought. A good night kiss is one always shared without fail, no matter the circumstance.

“Good night, darling,” he murmurs.

“Good night.”

One

The ballroom once filled with boisterous and jovial guests had since been quieted upon the end of the event, concluding the need to be ever so proper and talkative with each and everyone who’d commented on your estate. Scuff marks had remained on the floors from the hours of dancing and socializing, empty cups of lemonade remaining on once lavishly decorated tables. Flowers had been plucked from their arrangements from suitors and gifted to debutants, a few of their petals remaining scattered across the hardwood floors in a snow of soft pinks and creams.

It had been an event most successful, better than you could have imagined for only having hosted twice prior to that evening. Though you will admit, you did have the help from the lovely Mrs. Bridgerton. You owe every compliment to her if you were being honest, for she had a certain style that had been unable to be recreated, unable to be outdone. All of London would be in agreement with such a statement. As beautiful and seamless as everything had been, you would be lying if you said it hadn’t been a relief it had all come to a close for the night.

The room seemed to triple in size now that it’d been just the two of you, Colin having shooed away any and all who’d tried to clean up. It was far too late for even the two of you to be awake, and he felt as though no one should have to clean up such a grand mess at that late of an hour. It would simply be cruel.

“We did it,” you sigh, twirling to face him with a tired smile. “I think perhaps this just might have been our best ball.”

He smiles adoringly, dimples absolutely adorable as they make their appearance. “You did it.”

A blush burns your cheeks as he takes your hands, pulling you close for the first time in what felt like ages that night having been tied up in socializing. His blue velvet jacket had since been discarded, draped over the back of a miscellaneous chair. The top few buttons of his shirt had been undone, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You were tired as you wrapped your arms around his neck loosely, your smile soft yet fond all the same. “You flatter me, my love.”

“You must know, I am simply telling the truth,” he murmurs, dipping down to press a kiss to your cheek, one to your jaw, and one just under your ear. You laugh out softly and push at his shoulders, biting the inside of your cheek in a pitiful effort to hide your smile.

His arms tighten their hold around you, twirling you once and leaving your squeal to echo in the room. Your laughter mingled between the two of you, breath dancing warmly on flushed skin in the closeness of your proximity. There was not a moment that went by with him that had been dull, you were sure of it, and you knew there never would be.

“Well, I am simply telling you that I love you,” you say, your grin beaming. “Tremendously.”

His smile is pressed to your lips as he kisses you, tender and true as he lips meld with your own. Your laughter dissolves into the moment of affection, the feeling letting loose a thousand butterflies to flutter within his stomach. It was gentle and languid, the utmost of love poured into one single kiss. When he parted he decided he wasn’t quite finished yet, pressing one, two, three more kisses upon your lips.

“I love you,” he whispers, “tremendously,” kiss, “assuredly,” and another, “entirely.”

Your grin turns soft as your eyes flutter closed, the moment having been all too dizzying and full of bliss to do just anything else. There you stood, in your very own home with the love of your life. It was wonderful, it was enchanting, it was a life so beautifully yours.

—

Tags: @dreaming-about-fanfictions @heloisedaphnebrightmore @writeroutoftime @awritingtree

[wheresmynaya]

Hate to Date Ch.7 | Brittana

A/N - And just like that, Lockdown 6.0 is upon us LOL. Good news, more time to write. Bad news, boredom looms. Anyway, thank you to those who have left lovely reviews and/or have gifted me with a coffee through ko-fi. I hope you all know that those emails are some of the first I read when I wake up in the morning - instant happiness! 🥰

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

Being ambushed by parents ends up turning into a trend for Santana when the following weekend Maribel decides to make a spontaneous trip to New York. Apparently there’s some banquet dinner Eddie is attending which Maribel’s accompanying him to.

The invite was extended to Santana as well, but those dinners are always super boring so she blew it off with an excuse about spending time with Brittany instead since their schedules have been so busy.

What she didn’t expect is for Maribel to make an unexpected pit stop at hers and Puck’s place beforehand, hoping to at least say hi to the happy couple.

Problem is – half of said couple isn’t here.

“Mami, we’re just really busy with this assignment,” Santana tries – hoping that it would be enough to deter her mom for awhile considering Brittany isn’t around. “It’s really getting down to the wire, can’t we see you tomorrow?”

“Ay Santana, I’m already on the way,” Maribel replies in a huff. “It’s only a quick visit and we’ll be on our way.”

“Can’t you just like…skip it and continue on your way?”

“I haven’t seen you since New Year’s and I came all this way to see you – “

“You’re not even here for me, you’re here for Eddie.”

Suddenly there’s a pause and Santana wonders if that little comment just got her into some hot water.

“Why don’t you want to see your mother?” Maribel asks instead. “Are you hiding something from me? You and Puck aren’t up to something again, are you? Roping in Brittany?”

Santana’s eyes go big and it feels like she’s just swallowed a handful of sand. Her heart rate’s picking up and she’s struggling to come up with an answer. She feels like she’s got a hot spotlight on her; thank God her mom can’t actually see her right now!

“We’re not,” Santana finally says. “Like I said, Brittany and I are just a little busy with this assignment…but I guess we can take a break for you.”

“That’s my girl,” Maribel praises. “We’ll be around in about twenty minutes.”

Santana gulps, “Great. See you then.”

Once she hangs up, she grabs the nearest pillow and yells into it. The muffled screams have Puck running out of his room so fast that he clips the doorframe with his shoulder. A loud thud echoes throughout Santana’s room as Puck stumbles and looks around frantically.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asks.

“We’ve got a Code Red,” Santana tells him.

His eyes drift down to her lap then back up as he starts to grimace, “Oh. Do you like…need things?”

Santana scrunches her brow but then she realizes what he’s talking about.

“No, not that Code Red,” She explains. “Mom’s on her way. I need to get Brittany over here ASAP!”

“Oh shit!” Puck curses and takes off to the living to start tidying.

The last time Maribel came around for a surprise visit, she basically tore Puck a new one. Long story short, his version of clean isn’t the same as Maribel’s and they spent an entire afternoon together going through the various cleaning products that should be used around the house and what they should be used for.

Meanwhile, Santana rushes to make the call. She just hopes that Brittany won’t give her a hard time for this, hopefully she answers the damn phone!

“Hi?” Brittany answers questioningly.

“Hey,” Santana replies.

“Did you butt dial me or something?”

“What? No.”

“You just – you never call me.”

“Yeah well…I don’t have much time to explain, but I need you to come over like right now.”

“Uhh, I’m kind of in the middle of something.“

“Brittany, please,” Santana begs. “My mom’s on her way over and she’s fully expecting you to be here too.”

“Oh! Okay, yeah. Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“Because I’m freaking out, that’s why!”

“Okay, well don’t freak out. It’ll be fine. How much time do I have?”

“Not much.”

“Great. Thanks for the warning.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “Look, it took me by surprise too.”

“Alright well, find your cool. We can’t have her suspecting anything’s up.”

Santana nods, already feeling a little calmer. “Just hurry, okay?”

“I’m on my way now. Don’t worry.”

\\

When Maribel comes knocking on Santana’s door, the brunette loses all cool once again because Brittany’s still nowhere in sight. Santana’s looking at Puck, but he has no idea what to do either. Maybe they can stall until she gets here, but how? Maribel would totally think something’s up if they refuse to let her inside!

“Just let her in?” Puck whispers, “We can say Britt went to pick up our take-out?”

“And further confirm that I don’t fucking cook here? No way.”

“Well, what else can we do?”

“I don’t kn –“

“Santana?” Maribel calls out from the hall after another knock. “Hello?”

Puck’s eyes go wide, “She can hear us.”

“No shit, she knows I’m home.”

“Okay, okay. I’m thinking, fuck! Why am I so stressed out?”

Santana and Puck go back and forth trying to come up with some way to stall, but it’s impossible under the pressure.

“I think we have to let her in,” Santana tells Puck in a grave tone.

Puck looks at her uneasily, “I think so too.”

After checking her phone once more for an update from Brittany – there isn’t one – Santana goes to let Maribel and Eddie in. They’re both dressed to the nines, must be a fancy banquet dinner.

“Hi!” Santana greets, attempting to mask her uneasiness.

She’s quickly embraced in a motherly hug while Puck compliments his coach on his sick suit.

“How are you, mija?” Maribel asks as she cups Santana’s cheek. “You’re looking a little pale.”

“Am I?” Santana feels the nerves rattling within her. Where the hell is Brittany?!

“Yes,” Maribel looks her over. “You’re not getting sick are you?”

Santana swallows dryly, “Just tired.”

“Because exams are coming up,” Puck clarifies.

“That’s right,” Santana nods. “Lots of studying to do if I want to ace them.”

Maribel nods, seemingly pleased by Santana’s work ethic.

“Yeah, plus her and Britt have also been super busy with this assignment they’re doing together,” Puck adds. “It’s a lot.”

“Ah yes,” Maribel looks around. “Where is Brittany?”

Santana clenches her jaw and looks to Puck. There’s a guilty smile on his face as he secretly mouths out a sorry. Still though, she has to think on her feet.

“She’s in the bathroom,” Santana replies. It’s not her best work, but it was the first thing she thought of. Maybe they can work with it?

“Yeah, I think she had a bad salad for lunch,” Puck tries again.

Santana glares at him and mouths a shut up that goes unnoticed by Maribel and Eddie.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate,” Maribel frowns.

“Those salads are always a hit or miss,” Eddie confirms. “I try to stay away from them.”

“Don’t listen to Puck. It’s nothing like that,” Santana assures them. “Anyway, exam prep; super intense, long nights, tedious studying. I’m so ready for it to be over.”

Maribel looks apologetically at her, “Don’t work too hard.”

“That’s not what you taught me,” Santana quips.

“I know,” Maribel smiles. “I hope you’re at least wearing your glasses when you’re meant to. You know what all that reading can do to your eyes.”

“I am…”

“And rest, you still need it,” Maribel insists. “A tired mind won’t retain a thing.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell her.”

The four swivel around to find Brittany coming out of Santana’s bedroom. Her cheeks are a little pink – probably from the run over – but she’s her usual cool and collected self as she saunters over.

Santana’s never felt so relieved to see the girl! Question is though, how the hell did she pull off such an entrance?

“Brittany! Hi,” Maribel greets happily. “Are you feeling okay?”

There’s a glimpse of confusion as Brittany looks to Santana for an explanation.

“Mami, I told you she’s not sick. She was only in the bedroom to finish up a call with her mom,” Santana lies.

“Yeah. That was my bad, Mama Lopez,” Puck speaks up.

“Right,” Brittany quickly catches on. “Just my daily phone call with mom. Sorry about that, we can get carried away.”

“Oh don’t be,” Maribel smiles then glances to Santana. “Where’s my daily phone call?”

Santana fights the eye roll, “I’m clearly not as great as Brittany.”

“Now that’s a first,” Brittany smirks as she curls her arm around Santana. “I think you’re plenty great though.”

Santana finds herself blushing, “Thanks.”

There’s another pleased smile on Maribel’s face as she admires the couple. It’s a look Santana has rarely seen when it comes to her past partners and it makes her chest fill with pride. Even months later, her and Brittany still got it!

“Well, as promised this is only a quick visit,” Maribel tells them. “We really need to get going now, but while I’ve got you here: when are you coming home for a visit?”

Santana and Brittany exchange a look. They weren’t looking to make a visit for another few weeks, at least until after Spring Break. Free time is hard to come by now that they’re getting closer to the end of the semester.

“You know Abuela would like to see you both again,” Maribel adds.

Santana’s brows rise, “Would she now?”

“I think she’s warming up to things,” Maribel says vaguely but Santana gets it. “Wouldn’t hurt to come see her though. You know seeing pictures of you two together on Facebook has become a highlight for her.”

“Told you we’re cute,” Brittany jokes as she hugs Santana to her side.

“I should’ve known, she likes every single one them,” Santana quips.

“She wants to spend time with you,” Maribel explains and looks to Brittany. “She wants to spend time with the both of you.”

Santana quirks a brow at that, “Really? Has something changed?”

Maribel only shrugs. “You’ll have to ask her for yourself.”

Santana and Brittany glance at each other, both suddenly curious about Abuela’s change of heart.

“How about you come down for Spring Break?” Maribel suggests.

“Uhhh,” Santana stammers as she looks to Brittany, “We’re going to have to talk about it first. Brittany might have to – “

“Spring Break is fine with me,” Brittany shrugs.

“I thought you were planning on going home?” Santana lies – trying to get Brittany to catch on. “Spend time with your family?”

The blonde only shakes her head, “Nope. I’d rather stay here with you.”

Santana feels herself deflate; usually Spring Break is her time to finally let loose but she guesses there’s not much else she could get up to since she’s fake dating Brittany. She might as well just use the time to reinforce that she’s capable of being in a long term relationship.

By then, her and Brittany would be together for four months – that’s the longest relationship yet! Surely, that’ll have to mean something to her family.

“Well sure,” Santana sighs in defeat. “I can’t imagine spending my Spring break any other way than by returning to Lima.”

Maribel gives her a gleaming grin, “Perfect.”

\\

Once Maribel and Eddie head off to their banquet, Santana and Brittany collapse together on the couch. Puck hands them both a beer before cracking one open for himself and taking a seat opposite them.

“Way to sell it,” Puck raises his bottle. “Great work! It was cool to see you two in action like that. I can see why everyone eats this shit up. You’re pretty believable.”

“Glad you enjoyed the show,” Santana quips.

“Looks like I came right on time too,” Brittany says.

“Yeah about that,” Santana looks to Brittany. “How the hell did you get into my room?”

“The window?” Brittany shrugs. “I’m surprised it wasn’t locked.

Santana’s eyes go wide, “You climbed through the window?”

“Well yeah, how else would I have gotten in? Through the vent?” Brittany jokes.

“Good thing we’re on the first floor,” Puck chuckles.

Brittany nods and clinks her bottle with his. Meanwhile Santana just stares at the blonde with her jaw slack. Not only did she run over here, she went through the effort of climbing through the window too!

The girl is crazy.

Santana doubts she would’ve gone to the same extent. No way she’d try getting her ass through a window, that’s just too much. But still, she supposes some thanking is in order.

“Well, I appreciate you going through all that,” Santana says bashfully. “I didn’t expect my mom to just pop up like that so…thanks for coming here so quickly.”

There’s a half-smirk on Brittany’s face and Santana anticipates her poking fun at how Santana’s actually thanking her for something, but it doesn’t come. Brittany just continues smiling as she clinks her bottle with Santana’s.

“That’s what fake girlfriends are for,” She tells her.

\\

Over the following days, Santana and Brittany often run into each other at the library. It’s not Santana’s preferred place to study but it’s hard for her to concentrate sometimes with Puck around.

Although Santana and Brittany are in the same place, they often sit separately.

Brittany keeps to her lone table in the study area while Santana sits somewhere in the upper level because she likes the view of the exit. It’s kind of like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, that tunnel being the designated hour she makes herself study.

However, on one particular day all of the tables in the upper level are occupied. Santana finds herself scowling at the randoms before making her way down to the level beneath – where the study area is kept.

Like always, Brittany’s sitting alone near the back and Santana finds herself walking over to her without a second thought. She wasn’t planning on sharing the table with her, just maybe say hi and leave her be, but as Santana approaches the table she finds something unexpected there:

Spanish for Dummies

Intrigued, Santana’s eyes roam the table and find all sorts of similar books on the Spanish language mixed in with Brittany’s actual coursework. Then Santana takes a peek at Brittany’s laptop, trying to figure out what has her so consumed that she’s yet to notice her standing there.

There’s a little green owl going over conjugations – Spanish conjugations – and Santana watches as Brittany jots down notes as she mouths whatever words she hears through her headphones. Santana’s completely dumbfounded and pulls up a chair, the motion finally causes Brittany to jolt and turn.

Blue eyes spark with surprise before the headphones quickly come off. The girl looks like she’s just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, but Santana can’t help the fascination.

“Santana!” Brittany gasps. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“It’s the library,” She answers simply. “I’m here to study.”

“Oh, duh. Of cour – “

“Are you teaching yourself Spanish?” Santana interrupts.

Brittany looks from her screen to the books on the table to Santana. She seems a little timid as she minimizes the program on her laptop. Santana wonders if she’s going to attempt to lie, but there’s too much evidence against her. There’s no way she could convince Santana that she’s doing otherwise.  

“Yeah,” Brittany admits with a nervous laugh. “I am.”

Santana quirks her brow, “What are you doing that for? Surely not for fun?”

Brittany shrugs, “The shows on Univision are great but I’m tired of reading subtitles.”

“Really?” Santana doesn’t seem convinced. “That’s like…a lot of work. Besides, I thought nerds like to read?”

Brittany gives her an unimpressed look, “Well…I also figured that if I knew a little Spanish then it’ll give Abuela and I something to bond over. I remember your aunts mentioning this one show she likes so I’ve kind of been binging it.”

“You’ve been binging telenovelas?” Santana asks in disbelief.

“Well yeah, the drama is addicting.”

“Oh wow,” Santana sits back. “So you’re serious about this?”

“Aren’t you?” Brittany replies.

“Yeah, but this is a new level.”

“Don’t you want to be as convincing as you can be?”

“There’s convincing and then there’s this,” Santana jokes. “Your over-achiever tendencies are showing again.”

“You jealous?” Brittany fires back. “I know how much you love it when your mom compares us.”

“I’m not jealous,” Santana turns up her nose.

Brittany smirks, “Just checking. Afterall, this whole thing was your idea.”

“Technically it was Puck’s.”

“Whatever,” Brittany says. “I’m going to do all that I can to make this work because I’m committed. You continue doing…whatever it is that you do.”

Santana tenses her jaw at the jab. It reminds her of the game they played before– the constant one-upping of each other – and she wonders if they’re still playing it.

She thinks about how she accidentally introduced herself to Brittany’s parents as her girlfriend. She remembers how Brittany now has to keep up this façade with them too thanks to the slip-up. She thinks about who this Artie guy is and why Brittany’s parents were wondering where he went.

But most importantly, she thinks about how underwhelming she is as a girlfriend.

She’s nothing like Brittany; she isn’t kind and sweet and she isn’t someone people take home to meet their parents. Santana’s the girl that helps you get over your ex, she’s the one college girls experiment with, she’s down for one night stands, down for no-strings-attached kind of hook ups – she’s not actual girlfriend material.

And oddly enough, she kind of feels bad that Brittany’s stuck with her for the time being. This fake relationship thing wasn’t meant to go beyond convincing Maribel, but that’s exactly what’s happened now thanks to her big mouth.

“You really don’t have to do this, you know,” Santana says after the guilt starts setting in.

“I want to,” Brittany tells her.

Santana sighs; yet another reason why they’re so different.

“Learning a language just to get Abuela to like you?” Santana explains. “Don’t you think that’s kind of going overboard?”

“Not really. It’s kind of fun.”

“Fun?”

“Well yeah, I’ve always wanted to learn another language,” Brittany replies. “Why not start now? Plus I meant what I said about the subtitles thing. It would be so much easier not having to read.”

Santana chuckles as she shakes her head, “How do you find the time? I’m swamped with studying and assignments and cheer practice. Here you are learning another language for fun.”

“I kind of have a photographic memory.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “Of course you do.”

“I’m joking,” Brittany smirks. “I have a bunch of techniques that help cut down on the amount of time you’re actually studying so you don’t spend all your time doing it. I could…teach you some if you want?”

Santana lifts her chin, “I don’t need a tutor.”

“I didn’t say you did,” Brittany laughs. “Why are you always so quick to be on the defense?”

Santana crosses her arms and looks away, “I’m not.”

“Uh-huh,” Brittany grins. “I’ve got a study session with Puck on Thursday. I think it’s actually going to be at your place. We can not share study tips then if you want?”

Santana lets the offer roll around in her head but she doesn’t want to seem too eager.

“I might be around, depends if practice lets out on time.”

“Okay,” Brittany nods then looks at her laptop screen before glancing back at Santana who has yet to move. “So are you sitting with me now or…?”

“Oh!” Santana jolts to stand up. She gathers her bag from the ground and looks around for an empty table, but they’re all occupied.

“I’m not kicking you out, you know,” Brittany tells her without looking away from the screen. “You can stay if you’d like.”

Santana looks around indecisively. She’d rather study alone, but that doesn’t seem to be an option at the moment. She can’t go home either with Puck around, so she guesses staying with Brittany is the next best thing.

“Okay,” Santana replies. “I’ll stay.”

“I’ll clear some space for you,” Brittany says.

Santana moves to the opposite end of the table while Brittany gathers her things in order for Santana to have more room on the table for hers. They sit silently like that working on their respective things for awhile, getting lost in their work.

Brittany ends up leaving the table for a moment and Santana barely notices until she’s placing a coffee in front of her.

“Oh thanks,” Santana smiles at the unexpected gesture.

Brittany doesn’t say anything, just returns the smile as she sits back down.

Another moment later when Santana gets peckish, she pulls out a bag of trail mix. She barely gives it a second thought when she places it between them so that Brittany can have some too if she wants.

\\

When Thursday comes around, Santana ends up leaving cheer practice on time for once. She’s quick to get out of there so that she can wash up and change out of her uniform before Brittany arrives, but she finds that the blonde is already there by the time she gets home.

“What up, Lopez!” Puck calls out to her as he sits with Brittany at their tiny dining table.

Brittany looks up too, her eyes moving from their work to Santana who lingers by the front door. There’s a small smile that begins to curl her lips and Santana finds herself returning it with her own little grin.

“Hi,” She greets as she kicks of her tennis shoes. It was meant for Puck but it seems that it’s directed at Brittany.

“Hey,” Brittany replies.

“How was practice?” Puck asks, just now lifting his head from the work before him.

“Got bumped up to flyer,” Santana says casually although it’s pretty exciting news. She comes around to the kitchen for a drink, “Erica apparently has brittle bones from what Coach says.”

“No way!” Puck cheers, “That’s so awesome!”

“What’s a flyer?” Brittany asks, looking between the two.

“The girls that do stunts in the air,” Santana answers.

“Oh,” Brittany’s brows rise. “That’s…isn’t that kind of dangerous?”

“You worried about me?” Santana teases as she comes around to sit on the stool next to them. She crosses her legs, her cheer skirt hugging her thighs tightly. “Didn’t you say cheer was boring?”

Puck grins as he looks to Brittany for a rebuttal, but the blonde looks stumped.

Actually, the blonde looks distracted.

When Santana realizes that she’s staring at her legs, it’s like a personal victory for her. It was only a matter of time before the skirt wins!

Puck notices the distraction too and glances between his friends, a knowing smirk starting to form.

“Anyway,” Santana says as she finishes off her glass of water.

The sound of her voice breaks Brittany from her trance, but blue eyes are dark with something Santana’s familiar with but has yet to see on her. It makes her smirk; she’s missed having that kind of power over someone. It’s the sexual magnetism, it never fails her.

“Might hit the shower now,” Santana adds before looking to Brittany. “You going to be here much longer?”

Brittany nods, “Yeah. I only got here a little before you did.”

“Okay,” Santana can’t help the flirtatious tone now that she knows she’s got Brittany wrapped around her finger. The teasing is the most fun she’s had in awhile! “Maybe you can show me some things once you’re done with him?”

Brittany gulps, “Yeah sure.”

Puck notices what Santana’s doing and interrupts, “Uh…what’s happening right now?”

“Can it, Puckerman,” Santana waves off although her smile remains devilish. “What’s the point of having a fake girlfriend if I can’t fake flirt with them too?”

Brittany’s face goes a little red as she finally snaps back to reality.

“You call that flirting?” Brittany jokes.

“Fake flirting.”

Brittany shakes her head as she smirks, “I still don’t understand how you pick up any girls.”

“Judging by the look that’s been on your face since I walked in, I think you do.”

Puck looks back and forth between the two again like he’s watching an intense tennis match.

“How about I order a pizza for later?” He suggests in attempt to break up the bickering before it escalates.

“Sounds good,” Santana says without taking her eyes off Brittany.

“Yeah,” Brittany nods. “Sounds awesome.”

“Cool,” Puck replies and looks to Santana. “Go shower now. You’re distracting everyone.”

“She’s not distracting me,” Brittany said pointedly.  

Santana quirks her brow and smirks, “Keep telling yourself that, Britt-Britt.”

She lets her hips sway in that well-practiced way as she leaves the room. She doesn’t have to look to know that Brittany’s yet to stop staring and she struggles to hold back the laughter as she gets ready for a shower.

\\

Despite the teasing game she played earlier, Santana sits in Puck’s place at the tiny dining table across from Brittany with a scowl on her face. This studying thing? She’s had enough of it.

“This is pointless. Education is pointless. I’m gonna become a stripper instead,” Santana huffs.

“You'd probably make so much money!” Puck jokes from his place on the couch.

“Probably? Please,” Santana lifts her chin. “I'd make it rain every night!”

Puck laughs and throws his arm over the back of the couch to look at the pair.

“What do you think, Britt?” Puck presses with a smirk. “Think Santana would make it rain?”

Santana smirks too and looks to Brittany for answer.

“I think…I'm kind of hungry,” Brittany says. “How far away is the pizza?”

Santana’s smirk falls at the way Brittany deflects the question. Since Santana’s return, Brittany’s been a little quieter. Santana figured she’s just stuck in study mode and that she’d loosen up eventually, but she’s still waiting.

“I should probably head over now actually,” Puck realizes after checking his phone.

“Take me with you,” Santana jokes. “I think my brain is turning to mush.”

Brittany sighs, “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“You know that’s a struggle for me.”

“True,” Brittany jokes. “Hey, if we finish this chapter tonight I’ll let you use my pretty pens to take notes?”

"Tempting, but I don't need your pretty pens,” Santana says flatly. She rests back in her chair and stares at the ceiling. “What I need is alcohol and several orgasms. I clearly didn't think this fake dating thing through. I've never been so sexually deprived.”

Puck goes to grab his keys, “And on that note – I’ll be back in a few.”

Meanwhile, Brittany just snickers to herself but she isn’t laughing with Santana and it has the brunette frowning.

“What?” Santana questions as Puck leaves.

Brittany shakes her head, “It must be so hard for you to keep it in your pants for once.”

“You have no idea. Who knew that the last time would be the last time. I sure didn’t!”

Brittany shakes her head again and goes back to her work. It makes Santana feel a little on edge and straightens up in her chair.

“I'm obviously joking,” Santana adds and it makes Brittany look up. “What's it to you if I wasn't though?”

“What are you talking about?” Brittany asks.

“Your interest in my sex life.”

Brittany scoffs and looks back to her work, “I'd hardly call it an interest.”

Santana folds her arms across her chest, “So you're secretly some kind of prude?”

“It's not that.”

“Then what is it?”

Brittany sighs and looks up at her again, “Why are we even talking about this?”

Santana notices the change in her tone and perks up. She abandons her work all together in favor of leaning in.

“Because it's way more interesting?” Santana presses. “I know you're trying to deflect, you might as well just answer. If not, I'll assume the reason it gets your panties all in a twist is because you're secretly jealous.”

“I'm definitely not jealous.”

“So it’s the other option,” Santana says. “You’re a prude.”

“No!” Brittany huffs. She softens when she realizes she raised her voice. There’s a timidness to her when she explains, “I just, I guess I believe in developing the feelings part first before the physical happens.”

Santana softens too but for a different reason. It’s more so confusion than anything else.

"Why?” She asks.

“Because with feelings it's better,” Brittany says simply.

“Are you kidding?” Santana quips. “It’s better when it doesn’t involve feelings. I think it’s better when it doesn’t involve eye contact.”

“Wow. Seriously?” Brittany looks at her sympathetically. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. God, who hurt you?”

Santana didn’t expect her comment to strike a nerve. The memory of short blonde hair and a cunning smile sneaks its way past Santana’s defenses as she mutters, “One guess.”

Brittany looks at her curiously before something clicks, “Oh. The girl.”

Santana doesn’t like where this is going and pushes away the overwhelming feelings that beg to bust through. She walls herself up, holds her chin high and swallows back the lump.

“Yeah well,” Santana brushes off. “I think it's pretty unrealistic to go out there thinking every potential lay has to be relationship material first. Where's the fun in that?”

Brittany continues to eye her like she’s wounded and Santana hates it.

“The fun part is getting to know someone first so when it does happen,” Brittany pauses as she bites her lip. “It's meaningful.”

Santana averts her eyes, because staring into Brittany’s makes her feel far too exposed. Instead she retreats in on herself to place she’s comfortable, she takes the attention off of her.

“Gross. Who knew you were such a hopeless romantic,” Santana jokes.

Brittany sighs through a soft smile, “Call me old fashioned I guess.”

“Super old fashioned,” Santana quips. “Like, are you telling me you've never had a steamy quickie with a random? Everybody's got one.”

Brittany looks away and as she smirks, “Of course I have. I’m not that innocent.”

Santana perks up, “Really? Miss Goodie Two Shoes getting down and dirty without before being properly courted? God, I want details…”

Brittany snickers, “Not happening.”

“What?” Santana shifts in her seat excitedly. “Come on, what's a little girl talk between friends or are you the type that doesn’t kiss and tell because lame.”

Brittany looks up at her and smirks, “You saying we're friends?”

“Will it get you talking?”

Brittany laughs, “We should get back to work now. You've derailed us for long enough.”

“Come on, Britt-Britt,” Santana coos jokingly. “We've been at it for hours. I'm burnt out, sober and in dire need of sex.”

“None of that is my problem.”

“Sure it is,” Santana jokes. “The least you can do is tell me a couple of your kinky stories to get me through the night.”

“No.”

“Please?”

Brittany gives her a look, but Santana just bats her eyelashes. It makes Brittany laugh and she softens once again.

“Actually, I might be able to help you out.”

Santana sits straighter, “It was only a matter of time…”

Brittany rolls her eyes, “Get over yourself. Not every girl on campus wants you, including me.”

Santana laughs, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Britt-Britt.”

“Anyway,” Brittany continues, “I'm talking about a swanky party – a ball even.”

“A ball, you say?” Santana’s interest is piqued.

“Totally.”

“You've got my attention…”

“Well, there’s going to be an open bar, free food, an excuse to dress up and let loose. That ticks off two out of three on your list.”

Santana quirks a brow, “And the catch?”

“No catch.”

“There's gotta be a catch.”

“Okay fine,” Brittany slumps. “It's the Brainiacs’ Ball.”

“The what?” Santana deadpans.

“The Brainiacs’ Ball,” Brittany clarifies. “It's open to all the academic decathlon clubs across the city, this year we’re hosting. The team with the highest winning percentage is named and also the award for Most Brilliant Brainiac is given out. It's the biggest night for the club.”

“Oh, hell no,” Santana chuckles. “There’s not enough free alcohol in the world to get me to go to that. Count me out.”

Brittany starts to frown, “What? Why?”

Santana shakes her head, “One of your matches was enough. I'm not going to a party where I have to be surrounded by all of you at once.”

“It won't be that bad,” Brittany sighs. “It's a night for celebrating. No trivia unless you count the bad puns you might hear.”

“I've seen the guys on your team,” Santana explains. “I can't be liable for the feelings I'd definitely hurt if I were to be around them. I’d be triggered by pocket protector.”

“But you'll mostly be with me,” Brittany tries.

“That doesn’t really help your case.”

Brittany gives her a look, “Well, I kind of need you to go.”

“You need me to go?”

“Well yeah, I don't want to be the only one there without a date,” Brittany reasons. “Plus wouldn't it be suspicious if you didn't go considering we're a thing?”

Santana lets out a laugh, thinking that she’s finally caught on.

“So that it explains it,” She says.

“Explains what?”

“The coffee the other day, sharing study tips, being here,” Santana goes on, “You’ve been setting yourself up to ask me to your dumb ball.”

Brittany tenses, “'First of all, it's not dumb.”

“Sorry. I should've said nerdy,” Santana clarifies.

“I wasn’t doing those things for this,” Brittany tells her. “I was… I did them to be nice. We don’t always have to be at each other. It doesn’t always have to be a competition.”

Santana shakes her head as she gets to thinking. She knows Brittany’s cunning too, she knows that she can play games so who’s to say she wasn’t playing this time?

“I'm not going,” Santana replies. “You can tell people I'm sick or something.”

Brittany lets out a bitter laugh, “Right. So this relationship thing only works when it's in your favor?”

Santana frowns at the harshness of Brittany’s tone, something that doesn’t feel right coming from the blonde.

“What are you talking about?” Santana huffs. “That’s not – “

“We always do what you want,” Brittany interrupts. “Whatever makes you look good but this one time I ask you for something and it's just a flat out no?”

Brittany’s face has gone a little red and Santana’s further surprised – she didn’t think it was this big of a deal. She doesn’t grasp why Brittany’s so worked up all of sudden. Why would she want someone there with her if they didn’t want to be there in the first place?

“Look, it's better if I don't go because if one dork in clunky black glasses wearing suspenders and a hideous bowtie crosses paths with me I won't be able to contain myself,” Santana argues. “I'll end up hurting someone's feelings and you said it yourself, it's a night for celebration.”

Brittany looks at her like she’s hit a new low. Hell, maybe she just did.

“You're unbelievable,” Brittany huffs as she stands and starts gathering her things.

“What?” Santana watches her with a sudden ache in her chest. “You’re leaving?”

“Clearly,” Brittany mutters. “I can’t be around you right now.”

“All because I don’t want to go?”

Brittany shakes her head, another bitter laugh escaping her.

“No,” She says gravely. “It’s because you’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met.”

Santana tenses at the way her words drip with disdain, but at the same time it puts her on the defense.

“Well sorry that I’m not like you,” Santana argues. “Sorry I can’t just slip into character with ease and be your perfect fake girlfriend whenever you want. Sorry I’m not on all the time like you are.”

Brittany just stares at her for a moment, studying Santana’s face before she speaks again.

“Just when I think I’ve figured you out,” Brittany continues. “Just when I think you’re actually a half-decent person and that maybe beneath this prickly exterior of yours, there’s actually something – someone – deserving of…of a friend you go and prove to me that I’m wrong.”

Santana slumps back in her chair, dejected and defeated.  

Even if Brittany didn’t physical hit her, those words sure did. She can’t even speak as she watches Brittany gather the last of her things and storm out. What’s worse is that she swears she sees blue eyes tinging red just before she turns away.

Santana slaps her hand at the table when the door slams shut behind Brittany. She instantly feels the sting of wood on her open palm.

Why? Why does she always have to screw things up like this?

\\

Puck comes through the door just a minute later, looking confused as well.

“So I just passed Britt in the hall,” He says hesitantly.

“Yeah, she left.”

Puck slowly closes the door behind him, “Why?”

“Because,” Santana lets out a long puff of air. She feels the lump forming again in her throat, strange and unwelcome. “Because I’m an idiot.”

“Dude,” His face falls. “Please tell me you didn’t try to make a move on her. The games earlier were cute and all but – “

“No,” Santana quickly answers. “I didn’t do that.”

“Then what happened?” Puck asks. “She looked really upset.”

Santana presses her lips tightly together, she’s almost ashamed to admit the truth.

“She wanted me to go to some ball with her,” Santana says dismissively. “I told her no.”

“You told her no?” Puck quirks a brow.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Puck frowns. “After all the stuff she’s done for you, you can’t?”

“Look, I can see where I fucked up okay?” Santana snaps. “I don’t need you adding to it.”

Puck shakes his head as he backs off. “You really are an idiot.”

Santana agrees but she doesn’t tell him that.

“You know it’s not a good idea,” Santana tries convincing him. “It’ll be nothing but those academic decathlon nerds and not just the ones from Brittany’s team. It’ll be like ten times that! They’ll be from all over the city and you know how I am around the general public especially when I’m provoked. I could screw up and expose us both. It’s too risky.”

Puck doesn’t say anything, just listens to her excuses.

“I can’t do it,” Santana tells him with finality. “I can’t. Brittany might be pissed at me right now, but she’ll see it’s for the best. I’d just ruin her night because I don’t know how to act anyway. She’ll come around, she has to.”

“Sure Santana,” Puck dismisses and goes to flip open the pizza box. “So…does this mean I can have her pizza too?”

Santana just shakes her head, “Shut up.”

[writesowhatnext]

pretending is a gateway drug // george weasley

Summary: George bribes the reader into being his fake girlfriend for forty-two days, you can imagine how that plays out.

Request: hey lovey! absolutely in love with your writing; it’s so beautiful and i just cannot get enough of it! if your requests are open (and you like the idea) could i ask for our beloved george x reader—i’ve recently been obsessed with fake dating tropes where they end up together in the end.. i don’t have anything specific in mind for the plot, i know whatever you come up with will be fabulous :D thanks a ton darling.. keep on writing, you have a gift, x

A/N: I love this trope so much and this was the sweetest compliment and I was beyond excited to start this – also I usually try to keep it gender neutral but it was a struggle with this so sorry about that :( also this is so long oh my god

Reader: female

Warnings: female reader, making out

You hadn’t heard George sneak up behind you, but being friends with the twins for as long as you had, you weren’t surprised easily.

“Y/N, I need a favour,” he said, leaning on the bookshelf you were rifling through. You didn’t turn to face him; you already knew it was George by his voice.

“No.”

You dragged your fingers across the spines of a few books before finding the book on Potions you were after, a disproportionately happy smile lifting your cheeks at the prospect.

“You don’t even know what it is!”

You huffed, running your tongue over your teeth before turning to him, tilting your head.

“Fine. What is it?”

You raised your eyebrow, leaning the book on your hip. He smiled slightly.

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

You blinked at him, staring at his hopeful expression.

“No.”

And with that, you walked over to Madam Pince to sign out the book. George stayed a few feet behind you, not wanting to incur Madam Pince’s wrath as he had done countless times before. Fred and George were notorious in the library; once they’d made Pince so mad she banned them for a month before McGonagall convinced her they needed to use the library for their studies. A laughable idea.

“Thank you,” you said to the librarian. She shot George a deathly glare over your shoulder and you couldn’t help but enjoy his discomfort. She then directed it at you and you found yourself walking toward the exit very quickly.

“Come on, Y/N, please!” George begged, walking next to you back to the Gryffindor common room.

“No.”

“Please…”

“Nope.”

“What if I split the money with you?”

You stopped in your tracks, frowning and turning your head towards him.

“What money?”

You wanted to punch him for the cheerful grin that erupted on his face.

“I am so very glad you asked. Ron said that I couldn’t get a girlfriend if I tried, which is a bit rich, really, don’t you think?”

Something about your expression told him he should get to the point.

“Anyway, so, Ron made a bet with Fred that I couldn’t get a girlfriend before the Yule Ball.”

“So why not just get one of the Beauxbatons girls to date you? It’s like two months away.”

“Forty-two days, actually. And, I don’t actually want a girlfriend.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“I don’t believe you.”

He rolled his eyes and grabbed your shoulders, spinning you around to face the window, the whole of Hogwarts in the view.

“There is a whole world of girls to make out with out there, Y/N. Now, why would I limit myself?”

You turned your head to face him, his face very close to yours from where he stood with his palms still sat on your shoulders. Your face felt warm all of a sudden.

“I hate you.”

“I know,” he smiled, letting you go so you could turn around. “But will you help me?”

“Why me? Why not Angelina? Or Katie?”

“Fred’s got his eye on Angelina and I think Katie actually fancies me…” his expression turned from pensive to cocky in almost a second. “Can’t blame her really.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms, your book perched in your hand.

“How much?”

“The bet’s four galleons.”

“Four?” you echoed, frowning. “Bloody hell, Ron must really think you’re undesirable.”

You smirked, tilted your head to the side. “Can’t blame him really.”

“Oi!” George huffed, pushing you to the side. You shoved him back, starting to walk again.

“I’ll do it for two galleons.”

“Two galleons! That’s bloody half!”

“Nice to see your years of Arithmancy has paid off.”

“That only leaves a galleon each for me and Fred.”

“Without me, it leaves nothing for you and Fred, because without me, you won’t win the bet.”

He stared at you for a moment, the only sound: your in-sync footsteps down the corridor.

“Fine.”

“When do we start then, boyfriend?” you asked, stopping directly outside the Fat Lady’s portrait and swivelling to face George with a smug grin, enjoying his annoyed reluctance far too much.

“Right now, girlfriend.”

And so, that’s how became George Weasley’s girlfriend in four minutes – no doubt a new record for him. When you walked inside, you rushed to sit down first, as you always did, and ended up on the opposite side of the sofa to Fred, your feet stretched out towards him and your back against the arm. As he always did, George lifted your feet with an eye roll and sat underneath them, resting them on his lap. The others all greeted you but nobody batted an eyelid.

But then George placed his hand on your leg, just above your knee and you felt your breath hitch at the contact. He seemed to notice your unease and turned to you, a silent question in his eyes as he began to rub his thumb up and down. You shot him a small smile, mainly for any audience you may have had, you told yourself, but you couldn’t deny how nice it felt, though and that both scared and delighted you.

“I’m sorry,” Fred said, his voice loud as he looked at you. No one had really heard him yet, but you knew it wouldn’t stop him, he was relentless. His eyes were full of amusement and you could only imagine how much he’d enjoy this whole arrangement. “What is happening here?”

He pointed at George’s hand on your knee and for some reason, George had the good sense to look almost bashful at the attention. Some part of you didn’t want him to make it a big deal or obvious but you couldn’t figure out why exactly.

“Bit saucy for you two, isn’t it?”

With a scowl, you lifted up the leg George’s hand wasn’t rested on and kicked Fred in the side, earning a grunt in response.

“Shut up, Fred,” you whispered, trying not to draw attention to yourself. George laughed at his twin’s pained expression.

“Brilliant, love.” He said so easily it was almost natural. You froze at the pet-name but thankfully you could blame it on Ron’s outburst that had cut through the room.

“Is something going on with you two?” he asked suspiciously, looking between you and George accusingly.

“Get a grip,” Ginny insisted, “Y/N would never stoop that low.”

You smiled at her comment but you knew you’d have to do something pretty convincing to earn your two galleons.

“Oh, shut up, Ron,” you said half-heartedly, drawing every eye listening to you. George’s hand squeezed your leg comfortingly, or maybe warningly. Hermione frowned, leaning forward.

“Are you dating George?”

You pursed your lips and leant into the back of the sofa, automatically towards George, a force of habit you weren’t aware of.

“Wow,” Harry said, rather observantly for him. You rolled your eyes before standing up and walking away from them. You knew all eyes were on you and so, you stopped and turned, eyebrows drawn down.

“You coming?”

George’s face lit up at your words and he stood up, grinning as he raced over to you. As you both walked towards the boys’ dorms, you could feel their stares on your back. George could too, it seemed, and as you started up the stairs, he rested a hand on your hip. You knew, at that point, that you were definitely getting paid after this.

You were two weeks in when you started slipping. You hadn’t forgotten that you were supposed to be dating, in fact, it seemed like you’d forgotten that you weren’t really. Something about George just felt so right and easy. He’d put his arm around your waist when you sat next to him or around your shoulder in the corridor and he’d kiss your hairline before he left and your cheek when you’d done something to be proud of. You spent more time with him to keep up appearances and whilst you knew you liked George - he was one of your best friends for a reason - you didn’t realise how much you liked his company. He made you laugh until you thought you’d throw up and smile so much your cheeks would ache. You had to remind yourself it wasn’t real but you didn’t suspect anything untoward about your feelings really – you were just close with your best friend, is all.

Ron, however, was immensely suspicious. After three weeks of the pretence, he stormed in to find you lying on the sofa with George, your head on his shoulder with his arm wrapped around you as you played with each other’s hands, talking about nothing. It wouldn’t have been an uncommon sight before your business deal but now everybody thought you were dating, there was something strangely intimate about it.

“I know you’re faking it,” Ron said, frowning and pointing his finger at you both. You snorted and George frowned, neither of you moving.

“Okay?” you said, not at all fazed. Maybe you’d gotten a little too used to it.

“I’ve never seen you kiss.”

You shot Ron a strange look before you felt George’s lips briefly pressed against the side of your head. Ron rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, a smug expression on his face.

“I meant properly. I’ve never seen you kiss properly.”

Fred, who’d only just arrived, sat down on a chair opposite you with an amused smile.

“You’re a right little pervert. Aren’t you, Ronniekins?”

“Oh, piss off, Fred. You know I’m right!”

“Fine,” George said, shuffling a little bit and sitting you both up. He stood on the sofa, dragging you up with him. He ignored your confused expression, looking around the busy common room with a grin. “Ladies, gentlemen and Ron, this is my very real girlfriend and we are very really dating and I love her very much.”

You knew it wasn’t real and you were fine with that, you thought. You couldn’t ignore, though, the unsettling feeling in your stomach. You didn’t have time to think on it though because within seconds, George had grabbed your face in his large, warm hands and kissed you. You were understandably startled at first, completely unprepared and very much not convinced about how fake the whole thing was – it certainly didn’t feel fake when he bit softly at your bottom lip. There were multiple wolf whistles and hoots from the people around, mostly Fred, you suspected. You couldn’t focus on them as your hands shot to George’s chest in surprise, his jumper soft under your fingertips. He leant you back a little bit, one of his hands holding you close to him by the small of your back. It wasn’t until you felt lightheaded that he pulled away.

Slightly dazed, you looked up at him and he sent you a dazzling smile before he turned to Ron, who was as red as a tomato and swallowing gruffly.

“Fine,” he muttered, shaking his head. He all but slumped away, cursing under his breath.

George turned to you, a smile on his face, as everyone decided they had better things to do than stare at you and George making out. You felt a lump in your throat as you stared at him and for a moment, it all felt way too real; one hand on your back and the other cupping your jaw, you felt like he was still kissing you and suddenly you couldn’t breathe again. George opened his mouth to speak but Fred beat him to it. His face was a lot lower than yours were from his place on the floor, a ridiculously smug smile on his lips.

“Brilliant work, you two,” he said cheerily, staring at you for a fraction too long. “Truly dedicated to the cause.”

You felt sick at his words, but you nodded anyway.

“Thanks for going with me there, Y/N. We definitely sold that kiss.”

You nodded again, feeling empty. Nothing made you feel more hollow, though than when George’s hands left you.

“Ready to go give Filch a lunchtime he won’t regret?”

“Always,” George replied, beyond excited. He shot you a wink before disappearing with his brother through the portrait hole. You sat down on the sofa with a huff, your eyes sad and your heart tied to an anchor.

You avoided George the fourth week. Not enough to make anyone suspicious, but enough to make you feel less horrible about the whole situation. You weren’t ready to think about why it had been bothering you so much; you knew it was fake when you signed up for it and it wasn’t like you liked George or anything. Fortunately, a voice calling your name interrupted you before you could go down that rabbit hole. Unfortunately, the voice belonged to George and he was chasing after you, rushing past shorter students. You knew full well you couldn’t avoid him, no matter how much you wanted to, so you plastered a big smile on your face and turned to him, fully aware that noise carried on the moving staircases.

“Georgie,” you said happily, ignoring the gnawing feeling inside. “How’re you?”

You expected an equally fake response from him, but, as always, he surprised you. He grabbed the top of your arm lightly and pulled you into a deserted classroom, shutting the door behind you and dropping his hand.

“Why are you avoiding me?” he asked, his eyebrows drawn together and eyes full of, what looked like, hurt. He was a better actor than you gave him credit for.

“What do you mean?” Your voice was the same light and airy tone you’d used in the corridor and it clearly wasn’t sitting well with George.

“No, no,” he shook his head, his long red hair swishing with the movement. He did look very handsome- “None of that crap, I’m serious. Why’re you avoiding me?”

“Why?” you frowned. “Does someone suspect something?”

“What?” he looked visibly taken aback. “No, forget that. I want to know why my best friend is ignoring me.”

You swallowed, not really looking at him, but through him.

“It’s nothing, George.”

“It’s clearly not nothing-“

“George, give it a rest, please.”

He paused, noticing how upset you seemed. He went to brush away a stray lock of hair from your cheek when you pulled away, avoiding his eyes.

“I’ll make sure nobody questions anything, don’t worry,” you said before rushing around him, leaving the door open behind you.

George officially didn’t know what he was doing. It seemed like a great idea, at first. He needed a fake girlfriend, his best friend was a girl and Fred had agreed, he’d pushed him to ask you and it was going great, it was very convincing. Truth be told, he loved it. He loved making you laugh and he loved the casual touches and the affection. But then he kissed you, and something changed and now you wouldn’t even talk to him.

“Fred?” he asked, sitting on the floor of his dorm opposite his brother. “Do you think I’ve messed it all up with Y/N?”

“What?”

Fred, who rarely worried about anything in life, was concerned. As soon as Ron had teased George about getting a girlfriend, he’d orchestrated the whole thing to try and get the two of you together. He’d been right, as well; those few weeks you spent pretending only further convinced him that you were both perfect for each other. But now, sitting there, playing around with random inventions, he felt slightly guilty.

“She won’t talk to me,” he paused, “I think it’s this stupid bet.”

Fred had never seen George look so sad.

“After I kissed her, she’s just been acting so weird. I just-“ he paused again, sighing. “I just want my best friend back.”

Whilst Fred was, of course, very sympathetic to his brother’s plight, he’d stopped listening. George’s words only further solidified his belief – if you freaked out after kissing George, there was only one reason why and he would get it out of you, kicking and screaming.

“You fancy George,” he said the next day, following you into an empty corridor on your way to the library to return a book.

“Firstly, stop following me, you creepy sod. Secondly, of course, I do,” your voice grew an edge, “he’s my boyfriend.”

“Now we both know, dear Y/N, that that is not what I meant.”

You stopped walking and frowned at him; his smile only grew.

“See, I thought about why kissing him would freak you out so much and it just became so blindingly obvious. I mean you picked the less good-looking twin, but I can understand it-“

“Does he know?” you asked, and Fred’s amusement faded when he saw your panic.

“No, but I suggest you talk to him about it. It’s definitely in your best interest.”

With that, he strolled in the opposite direction, whislting with his hands shoved in his pockets, leaving you with a big decision and also, probably, a library fine.

You didn’t decide to talk to George until dinner. You sat next to him the whole time, your arms touching, but never really interacting with each other and that only created a black hole in your chest. You couldn’t cope without George, as your best friend or the something more you knew you wanted him to be. After you’d both finished eating, you reached over and grabbed his hand, his head jolting towards you at the contact.

“Can we talk?” you asked quietly, everyone else too concentrated on their food to hear you. He nodded and with a carefully calculated routine, you walked out of the Great Hall hand in hand. Your hands dropped as soon as you turned the corner and that alone made you feel sick.

“George-“

“Y/N-“

You both stopped, nervous, breathy laughter filling the corridor over the soft hum of people talking from the hall next door.

“You go first,” you insisted, desperate to avoid what you knew you had to do.

“Well,” he scratched the back of his neck with his hand before sighing. “This whole thing started off really nice, like really nice,” your eyebrows drew downwards at the soft pink flush of his cheeks.

“But now it’s weird and we’re weird and I- Y/N, I don’t want us to be weird. I don’t care about four stupid galleons; I care about my best friend-“

“George, I like you. Like, like like you ”

You had to curse yourself for your timing, but you just couldn’t hold it in, looking at his sweet expression as his mouth said such nice things.

“What?”

You screwed your eyes shut and let out a shaky exhale.

“I didn’t know I did until we were pretending and then there was all the touching and the talking and it just felt so right and then you kissed me and I didn’t know what to do because it wasn’t real and all I wanted it to be was real and I didn’t know-“

His lips were on yours and his hands, cupping your jaw gently, pulled you into him. You barely registered it before he pulled away, a large smile on his face that only grew larger with your bewildered expression.

“Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?” he asked, wetting his lips as his thumb lightly brushed your cheekbone. You blinked at him, your mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

“For real?”

He laughed.

“For real.”

You couldn’t help the slow smile that lifted your cheeks, unable to contain the happiness that flodded through you. Your whole body felt light and George’s smitten expression made your heart soar. His eyes twinkled and you knew that yours would be just as ecstatic.

“I thought you didn’t want to limit yourself to just one-“

Before you could finish your teasing remark, he was kissing you again and this time, it was even better; this time it was for real.

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