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pherelesytsia · 3 years ago

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Masterlist

Thomas Shelby

Mr LovermanThomas receives a call and imagines the worst.

Forgotten DinnerSunday dinner was always important to Y/N, but the night ends differently after Thomas arrives over five hours too late.(+18) Whisper of a loving Heart Thomas Shelby was always drawn to Y/N, but never found the courage to invite her to dinner but when a man dances with her he can no longer stay in the background.

Safe and SoundThomas Shelby never found time to spend a day with his wife and daughter, but one day he stays home.

Bloodbath At his daughter’s 18th birthday Thomas is not enjoying the attention his daughter is receiving from the male guests but his wife can calm him down before the feast can end in a bloodbath. Burn little witchThomas Shelby, a knight on a hunt for a witch finds his horse under the care of a woman living in the cottage instead of a wicked creature and slowly falls in love with her.

PART ONE

Fool of a Man After a fight, Thomas comes home.(+18)

Feast for Eyes Thomas comes after a long day home.(+18)

Love my tender,Y/N´s parents find out their daughter is dating Thomas Shelby.

Ragging Oceans Thomas finds his girlfriend crying by the cliffs.

Lovelier than a Dream Lazy mornings are not common in the Shelby household, but one spring morning, Thomas cannot find the motivation to get dressed.

How did you know? Y/N always had special abilities, saw the future of her family but one day after John nearly faced death, Thomas demands answers.

Stars were falling, Thomas and Y/N are stargazing and lose themselves in the beauty of the night.

Bleeding Heart Y/N takes care of Thomas after he was shot.

Forbidden Fruit Alfie Solomons finds out his younger sister is dating Thomas Shelby and forbids her to see him ever again, but his words cannot scare her.

Love me series

As Thomas Shelby hears Y/N´s parents are searching for a suitable husband for their child Y/N faces a loveless marriage she hoped to never encounter, but slowly the cold walls crumble as the scent of spring is dancing over the meadows.

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

Spencer Reid

One Shots

Sleeping Beauty After a long day, Spencer returns home to find his pregnant wife sleeping on the sofa.

Uncharted PathsAfter a romantic dinner in the flat and the proposal, Spencer and Y/N find themselves in the bedroom. (+18)

Heal Me You arrive stressed, exhausted and late from work and are surprised by a cooking Spencer.

Not Bulletproof After an encounter with her past Spencer has to help Y/N through a panic attack.

Written in the Stars Y/N felt asleep during the long drive home from the airport and Spencer is there to take care of her.

Breakfast in Bed Y/N and Spencer have their first day off after long weeks of work and decide to stay in bed.

Feeling Faint Spencer finds you passed out on the ground after you didn’t answer his calls.

Blind Date JJ couldn’t bear to watch Spencer go through life on his own anymore, so she decided to introduce him to one of her friends.

Anchor Spencer returns home and finds his girlfriend in the bathtub. (+18)

Cold winter days The heater is broken, but your boyfriend knows a way to get you warm.(+18)

First Kick Spencer decors the nursery room for his first-born daughter.

Read me to Sleep Spencer takes care of his children.

Fear of the Water, Spencer finds out that his girlfriend is a single mother.

Duties of a loving boyfriend As Y/N doesn’t arrive at the office, her concerned boyfriend takes care of her.

Breakfast at Spencer’s After days and nights spent with renovating the new home, Spencer surprises his girlfriend with breakfast in bed.

Meet me in the woods Spencer invites his girlfriend to a lovely picnic.

Period PainSpencer helps his girlfriend through her period.

You’re are good enough After Spencer heard you don’t think you’re good enough, he has to show how much he loves you. (+18)

Dean Winchester

Love me, Y/N returns crying from a date and is met by Dean, who she thought would be at a bar.

Never leave me, A hunt for vampires goes wrong and Dean has to find Y/N before it is too late.

Unloveable Dean lets his girlfriend know how much he loves her after she recieved comments about her body.

Bucky Barnes

Winds of Winter Bucky has to save his girlfriend from Hydra’s claws before it´s too late.

Dance with me, Bucky Barnes falls for an unknown beautiful woman.

Scent of Home Bucky attended one of Tony´s parties and returns to his small family.

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fortisfilia · 4 years ago

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Masterlist

Drabbles, Headcanons, Prompts, Text messages HERE.

Tom Riddle:

Series:

Promised: Masterpost

Promised & Kept: Masterpost (sequel to Promised)

Remus Lupin:

Oneshots:

Portraits

Sirius Black:

Oneshots:

Troublemaker

Life Experience

A Walk Through The Woods

Tell me Something

Series:

The One: Masterpost

You've Changed: Masterpost

Somnium: Masterpost

James Potter:

Series:

The One: Masterpost

Summer Stay: Masterpost

Against The Odds: Masterpost

Draco Malfoy:

Oneshots:

Gin, Ice and Everything Nice

Fred Weasley:

Series:

Fake It Till You Make It: Masterpost

Dean Thomas:

Oneshots:

When I see You again

Cedric Diggory:

Oneshots:

Sunday Morning, Rain Is Falling

Frank Castle (The Punisher):

Breach

#masterlist #fortisfilia #x reader #reader inserts #harry potter #tom riddle #sirius black #james potter #remus lupin #draco malfoy #cedric diggory #dean thomas

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mytheoristavenue · 3 years ago

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Content is probably gonna slow down for a few days! I will still be posting the way I have been with queing mass posts at once, but I will most likely slow down to predominantly incorrect quotes and maybe hcs here and there. I have run out of oneshots to move from Wattpad to here, so I need to write more, but this and next week are going to be pretty busy for my irl, so it'll be a slow go on generating new content.

#mha x reader #mha #headcanon #x reader #my hero academia #hanta sero #reader insert #ojiro mashirao #sero x reader #tf2 #fnaf headcanons #harry potter and the goblet of fire #harry potter #nevile longbottom x reader #dean thomas #ginny weasley #luna lovegood

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limerenze · 4 years ago

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not my birthday - dean thomas

[Dean Thomas x Reader] & [Harry Potter x Platonic!Reader]

masterlist

Summary; y/n tries to convince Dean and a not-so-unlikely ally to go with her to buy an ice cream cake

Word Count; 1.4k

A/N; this was supposed to be a blurb but it got a little long, so ill probably write a second part of them actually getting the cake also i don’t know how gringotts money converts into muggle money but i used this currency converter so it’s based on that!

i used this prompt generator !!

Warnings: fluff, lots of dialogue, unedited

Date Written: February 3, 2021

*** don’t let the gifs fool you, this is set around ootp/hbp

“This is ridiculous” Dean moaned, trailing behind y/n one Saturday afternoon.

“Stop whining! And stop dragging your feet!” she scolded like a mother to her child.

“He has better things to do!” he argues, still, by every definition- whining.

“What’s better than helping us!” she said with a smile, throwing her arms in the air and not looking back at him.

“y/n! I really think we should leave him alo-”

“Harry!” y/n cut off Dean when she caught a glimpse of Harry.

Harry looked towards the two and turned to walk toward him, distracting him from where he was headed.

“Just the chap I was looking for” she swung her arm over his shoulders and walked with him, in no particular direction. Dean sighed exasperatedly, still dragging his feet behind the two.

Harry was just happy to have a distraction. He couldn’t handle worrying anymore and he couldn’t handle any more pressure. He needed a break, and he knew y/n would never put another thing on his shoulders to worry about, especially because shes been right there beside him through everything else.

“What can I do for you two,” he said with a quirk of his eyebrow, he glanced back to Dean for a second to acknowledge him.

Dean mouthed a fast “I’m sorry” and put his hands up, palms to harry in defence.

“You know how you love me and I’m the best friend you’ve ever had and for some reason, you also like my crybaby boyfriend who is never on board with any of my brilliant ideas?” she said, exaggerating the situation.

“Hey! I’m here aren’t I?” Dean said defensively, and slightly offended.

“Only because I dragged you to come with me! When he says yes you’re not getting a single bite!” she bickered back, turning her attention back to Harry. Dean opened his mouth to bicker back but Harry beat him to it.

“Bite of what?” he asked, if he wasn’t intrigued before he definitely was now.

“Have you ever had, ice cream cake?” she smiled mischievously.

Harry glanced at Dean for a second.

“Hey mate, don’t look at me, I got nothing to do with this,” he said and motioned towards his girlfriend.

“Well, I spent the first 11 years of my life living under the stairs where I would get less food as a punishment. So no. Although! one time my aunt gave me a dry, stale piece of lemon loaf that she forgot to put away the night before.” he said sarcastically.

“Always with the sob story, huh Potter?” she smiled, teasing Harry. He smiled and shook his head.

“So why do you want to know if I’ve ever had an ice cream cake?” he asked, stopping and standing in front of him, Dean finally caught up with them and stood next to Harry, also facing y/n.

“Because! I called Florean Fortescue’s and I asked him if he would make an ice cream cake and he said yes but he wants ten galleons and eight sickles for it! Can you believe that!” she shouted in the hallway, again- throwing her arms up in the air for the dramatics.

“Plus its deans birthday!” she added

“It’s not my birthday” Dean scrunched his nose and shook his head, not even looking at her.

“Its Dean’s half birthday!” she tried again.

“That’s not a thing and even if it was, it would be in July! Its February, love” he said, gently and teasingly.

“Its Harry’s birthday!” she shot back at him, forgetting Harry was standing there.

“Oh! Nice try! Harrys birthday is in July!” he laughed.

“Neville?

“Day before Harry’s”

“Hermione?”

“September 19th”

“Ron?”

“March 1st”

“Seamus?”

“June 27th”

“The twins?”

“April 1st”

“Mine.?” she tried, running out of people. Dean scoffed.

“May 8th”

“Draco?”

He was taken aback by that one, he didn’t know Draco’s birthday. Because, why would he? Harry watched as Dean listed off half of Gryffindor House’s birthdays.

“HA!” she pointed at Dean and turned back to Harry, who was smiling like a student who just received straight A’s. “So, anyways. I was thinking. What if I had an amazing, perfect, smart, kind, attractive, dashing-” she was going to keep going but Dean interrupted

“-rich!”

Y/n moved to hit him with her book and he cowered away laughing.

“Shut up! An amazing, perfect, smart, kind, attractive, dashing and loaded! As I was going to say-”

“Loaded is literally another word for rich” dean spoke over her. “A ruder word for rich, actually!”

“-Harry help me buy this ice cream cake! Please!!” she begged.

Harry found this very amusing, he watched his friends bicker back and forth mindlessly. They did this a lot. He thinks it’s their way of flirting.

He got Ron to try it on Hermione once but she just got annoyed and walked away.

Truth is, Harry could buy a 10 galleon and 8 sickle ice cream cake from Fortescue’s for everyone in Hogwarts if he wanted to. He figured that y/n wasn’t lying. He did love y/n and dean as well, they were great friends who always had his back. And they never asked him for anything. He could tell she just really, really wanted an ice cream cake.

He also really wanted an ice cream cake.

“Okay,” Harry agreed and shrugged it off like it was nothing.

“Really?” y/n gasped with a smile on her face. Harry nodded.

Y/n squealed in happiness, she jumped in place and wrapped her arms around Harry.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!!” she said into his shoulder.

Dean covered his mouth, trying not to laugh at how easy she is to please.

“Shall we go then?” Harry suggested, pointing toward the exit of Hogwarts.

“Oh yeah. About that.” she laughed.

“We need to get Dumbledore’s permission to leave the grounds,” Dean told Harry, Harry sighed and looked over at y/n.

“Please! If you’re there he will say yes!” she pleaded him.

“Was this whole plan based on me saying yes?” Harry laughed, Y/n and Dean nodded. “Alright let’s go” and he turned away from the exit of Hogwarts, and towards the headmaster’s office.

y/n squealed silently, grabbing Dean’s hand and squeezing it too hard in excitement. She walked with him this time, trailing behind harry as dean had been trailing behind her just earlier.

“You are so lucky that I love you” he whispered looking down at her.

She brought his hand up to her mouth and kissed it lightly. As the two approached the big doors of dumbledore’s office. Dean and Y/n stood a few feet behind Harry, they looked like children.

“Harry! Ms. Y/L/N, Mr. Thomas. How are you all?” he asked, moving aside to let them in. Harry shook his head quickly, y/n and dean gave him a small wave and smile.

“Hello Professor, we cant stay actually we were just here in hopes that you would grant permission for us to go out for the day?” Harry asked politely. Dumbledore listened intently and nodded his head along.

“Just the three of you?” he asked, y/n was hopeful that he would say yes.

“Yes sir, just the three of us” Harry nodded

“We can leave Dean behind!” y/n chimed in and Dean shoved her with his shoulder, Dumbledore looked at her and almost laughed.

“May I ask where you will be going?” he said walking in his office and grabbing a piece of parchment, scribbling some writing onto it with a quill.

“Diagon Alley, sir,” Harry told him with confidence. y/n assumed that dumbledore had already decided to let them go and he was writing their permission slip.

“Ah, and what do you need at Diagon Alley? Surely it must be important if you need to take a Saturday day trip” He asked again, handing harry the parchment.

“We are headed to Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour. Y/n placed a cake order for our friend, Luna’s early birthday and we were hoping to go pick it up” Harry said casually, lying through his teeth. He handed the note to Dean- who, along with y/n was struggling to keep a straight face.

They looked at the note and it read:

“Harry Potter, Dean Thomas and Y/N Y/L/N have my permission to leave the schools grounds for the day, should they be back after curfew- kindly excuse them and allow them to head to their common rooms.”

It was dated and signed at the bottom.

After Dumbledore told the trio to wish Luna a happy early birthday on his behalf, he excused them.

“We so owe Luna a piece of this cake” Dean laughed as they headed out.

#dean thomas #dean thomas imagine #dean thomas x reader #dean thomas fluff #dean thomas angst #dean thomas smut #dean thomas fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter fluff #harry potter angst #harry potter smut #harry potter fanfiction #golden trio era #x reader #reader insert #limerenze: originals #limerenze: fics

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ickle-ronniekins · 5 years ago

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to have and to hold

request from nonnie: Hey I'm 17 and still sleep with stuffed animals.... can you write something where George finds out and teases you about it? I know I'm a bit weird but I cuddle in my sleep so it's hoard stuffed animals or kidnap my cat (dangerous).

word count: 3.3k

pairing: george x reader

A/N: y’all i love this—totally nothing wrong with sleeping with stuffed animals, THEY’RE SO CUDDLY! and that’s what they’re for! thank you for reading and requesting, i’m so grateful for you all, and in case anyone’s wondering, i’m still irrevocably head over heels for these silly boys. also the title’s a tad misleading but there’s no marriage in this but it’s definitely all FLUFF because i’m a dork

tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @bobduncanlover @dreamer821 | message me if you’d like to be added darlings!

The Sorting Hat cries Ravenclaw! as a young, brown haired girl jumps from the stool and gleefully makes her way over to her respective House table.

Everyone begins to clap, and although he doesn’t feel much like it, George does too.

He’s a bit taken aback when you say to him suddenly, “I can’t believe that was us only a few short years ago.”

Just a few months ago, it seemed as though your seventh and final year at Hogwarts was still a long while away. It couldn’t be creeping up that quickly, could it? You both met only six years ago in Transfiguration, but it feels like a lifetime. George grins at the memory. But now, sitting and watching the newest first years get placed into their Houses, he’s feeling the nerves of the finality of it all—even though you’re not there yet. Not exactly.

“Strange, isn’t it?” he asks you, watching another student jump up excitedly and run to the Hufflepuff table. More claps ensue. “There’s no way this is our last year here, right? We must be dreaming, or something.”

A small smile tugs at the edges of your lips, and George feels his insides go warm. “Of course,” you reply, “we’re dreaming.”

“Would you two quit being so melancholy?” Fred takes you by surprise when he kicks both of you underneath the table. “It’s our final year! It’s exciting! We’ve got loads of mischief planned, Y/N, and we expect your help.”

You roll your eyes. “There’s absolutely no way I’m going to be able to get out of this, is there?”

The twins smile and chorus together, “Nope.” before diving head first into the feast that’s just appeared in front of you all.

“Ah well—it is exciting, isn’t it? We’ve got a lot to look forward to!” you tell them, cutting into the piece of chicken on your plate, “and besides.. with whatever you two have planned? I reckon I’m bound for some type of adventure. Things could be worse, right?”

Just then, a sickeningly sinister giggle emits from the front of the Great Hall; the three of you look at a woman dressed in all pink, whose face resembles that of an old toad, chatting animatedly with Dumbledore who’s looking positively woebegone.

“Ugh,” you say, looking back and forth between the twins, “maybe I’ve spoken too soon.”

— -

You’re tiptoeing next to George in the middle of the corridor; you keep whirling around to check if anyone’s behind you. Months, you’ve been doing this. He can’t help but grin at your flustered state. “D’you really think this is a good idea?” you ask him stealthily as the two of you meander throughout the castle halls.

“Of course,” he replies, squeezing your hand. But inside, he’s just not entirely sure. By the sounds of what Harry’s said, getting detention with Umbridge is no walk in the park. He turns back to you and continues, “Don’t worry—Harry knows what he’s doing. Plus, we haven’t been caught yet, have we?” He jabs you in the ribs and teases you, “Where’s that sense of adventure we so admire? Oi, here’s Fred and Ginny.”

Just then, the two Weasley siblings round the bend and quite literally bump into you both. Fred says quietly, “Merlin help me—I can’t ever remember where this bloody room is,”

“Seventh floor, across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy,” you reply in a lowered voice, your eyes shifting across the corridors, “so you’ve got a flew floors to go, Freddie.”

Both he and George laugh; Fred continues, “You’d think after months of going to these meetings, I’d remember where it is?”

“Why am I not surprised?” Ginny elbows Fred, teasing him slightly. “C’mon then, let’s go—looks like the coast is clear,”

The four of you make your way up two more flights of steps, sneak past the tapestry, and finally find yourselves inside the Room of Requirement.

It’s an easy lesson today; with the impending Christmas holidays, everyone is in quite a chipper mood—the Room of Requirement has a light, airy feel to it, and everyone seems to be doing their best at all of the defensive magic Harry’s taught so far—even Neville! When he dismisses you for the day, noting that you probably won’t meet again until the New Year, a dramatic groan nearly shakes the room—it seems as though everyone wants to stay.

When you all land back in the common room and take a seat next to the fire, Fred immediately begins to market his and George’s products to a bunch of excited looking Gryffindors; to you, George just shrugs.

“Oh, that reminds me,” you begin, standing up from the couch and gesturing George toward the dormitory, “I think I’ve fixed that little issue with the Fever Fudge.”

George grins broadly; there’s not many people he and Fred trust with their products, but you? You’re basically a third owner. He stops short, though, at the stairs leading up to the girls dormitories. You shake your head and say, “No worry, most everyone’s gone home for the holidays already. Plus—I’ve already hoodwinked whatever spell the professors have cast.”

“So I won’t get caught, then?”

“Nah,” you reply, urging him forward, “I’m strangely brilliant at derailing bits of professional magic,”

He beams at you at this and follows up to the girls dormitory, leaving Fred with a room full of students eager to get their hands on all Weasley products.

It doesn’t look as different from the boys' dorms as he thinks; it’s pretty much the same setup, same four posters, similar looking curtains. He shrugs, thinking, Nothing to worry about, but when he notices you plop down on your bed, he suddenly feels his insides constrict. You pat the spot next to you and say, “Well c’mere, won’t you?”

He places himself down next to you, careful not to mess your very neat bedspread, while he watches you rummage through a bit of your trunk. “Ah—here we are,” you say brightly, pulling out the box of Fever Fudge you’d hidden so as not to be stolen, “good as new, Georgie. The fevers, now, should stop at the appropriate number we’ve discussed—they shouldn’t continue to spike as the evenings go on. Any problems, let me know!”

“You’re brilliant, truly,” he says, peering down at the box of his own inventions. “How did you get so bloody good at this?”

You smile sweetly at him and flip your hair, “Just got lucky, I suppose.”

He laughs and is about to head back downstairs, careful not to mess up anyone’s things, when he spots a little brown bear on your bed near your pillows. His lips curl into a grin, “Erm.. Y/N,” he begins, pointing to the stuffed bear, “what is that?”

Suddenly you jump onto your bed and try to secretly slip this tiny little animal behind all of your pillows. The rosy pink color of your cheeks is evident in the sunlight flooding the windows, “Erm—what’s what, George?”

He places the box of fever fudge down on the table next to your bed, and walks slowly over to you. With a mischievous grin on his face, he continues, “Don’t make me jump on you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“But I would.”

And as soon as he says it, he does it; he flops down dramatically, ruining your very tidy sheets. He begins to poke you in the ribs, a tickling of some sort, to try and get you to move. It seems to work, because he grabs the bear from behind your back and you both fall backwards, next to one another, laughing quite animatedly.

He waits with bated breath for you to explain yourself. “Shove off, Georgie,” you say, stealing the bear back from him, twirling it in your fingers and peering at it. You offer to continue, “My mum gave him to me when I was a baby. When I was born. A little ‘coming home’ gift, if you will.”

“You mean to tell me,” George begins, “that you’ve had this for seventeen years?”

You roll your eyes and stifle a bit of laughter. You roll off of the bed, stand up, and place the bear delicately into your trunk. You pull George into an upright position and say, “This conversation’s over. C’mon—let’s bring Fred the fixed Fever Fudge,”

“This conversation is certainly not over,” he teases.

“It’s a source of comfort, you git!” you reply, slapping him playfully across his chest.

“Comfort,” he echoes through a chuckle, “right. And he’s here now because.. you need comforting after a long Potions lesson with Snape?”

You slap him again as you both begin to laugh. “Yes,” you tell him straightforwardly, “and there’s nothing wrong with that. Sometimes, after a long day, I just need something to hug, to hold whilst I sleep, alright? Quit the teasing,”

Suddenly, the overwhelming urge to pull you into an embrace washes over George; he wants, more than anything, to just curl up with you on your bed right now, and to hug you for as long as you need. He’s about to do so, when you pull him by his hand and say, “Oh come on—can’t leave your brother waiting, can we?”

George can’t help himself; he just needs to tease you. Just a little bit more. He begins to tickle your waist when he calls in a sing-song voice down the stairs, “Oh, Freddie!”

You turn and grab his arms; even though he’s feeling rather mischievous, the butterflies are swirling around his stomach, as well. A sinister smirk tugs at the edges of your lips and he feels as though his entire body goes rigid when you wink at him, “Don’t you dare.”

— -

When Ginny enters the portrait hole, she’s surprised to see George slumped in an armchair and not with Fred, off creating some sort of chaotic mischief right underneath Umbridge’s nose.

“No pranks today?” she asks, sinking beside him on the couch.

“Reckon you didn’t see Angelina hanging all over Fred in the Great Hall, then?”

“Guess I must’ve missed it,” she rolls her eyes, and they both smile. “Speaking of—how are things going with Y/N?”

George is slightly taken back; he peers at Ginny with a confused expression and she just shakes her head at him. He knows that everyone else sees right through him, but he never expected his younger sister to bring it up. Guess he’s the type of bloke who wears his heart on his sleeve. “Erm, I mean—things are fine.”

“Things are most certainly not fine. Why haven’t you told her?”

George has been preparing for this—whether it was to come from a sibling or a friend—he knew, down the line, someone would question him as to why you two aren’t together. He slumps back into the couch and twirls his wand in both his hands. “Well—‘cause, we’re leaving soon, aren’t we? Fred and me. Just doesn’t make sense at this point.” He sinks a little lower, and his face turns sullen. “I’ve missed my chance. It’s too late, Gin.”

Just then, you pop inside with Dean and Seamus, giggling animatedly about some silly joke one of them made, and you raise your hand to George and Ginny before quickly heading upstairs to the girls dormitory to change out of your uniforms. There’s a tug at George’s heart—if only he could sneak up there without anyone seeing.

“Hey,” Ginny snaps her fingers at him, interrupting his thoughts and bringing him out of his daydream-like state, “It’s never too late.”

“You think?”

Ginny raises her eyebrows when she notices you coming back down the stairs and making a b-line right toward them. Quietly, she tells him, “I reckon she’ll think the same.”

When you seat yourself down next to them and Ginny quickly changes the conversation, George can’t help but grin goofily at the bunny slippers you have on. You sit yourself comfortably on the couch next to him, cross your legs, and blow lightly on your steaming cup of tea while Ginny relays the story of her brilliant Bat Bogey hex in the last DA meeting to you. Each and every time you smile broadly, George can feel himself shifting closer and closer to you.

— -

“The devil incarnate, she is,” Ron tells his siblings darkly. He peers down at the top of his hand, running his fingers over his silky smooth skin, knowing exactly what is about to happen as the DA prepares for a detention with Umbridge.

Harry shakes his head and replies, “Just try not to think on it all too much. It’ll be over before we know it.” He’s still looking on edge, sleep deprived. The whispers of other members can be heard slightly as Umbridge makes her way down the corridors.

“How is this even legal?”

“Where’s Professor Dumbledore? She can’t possibly get away with this.”

The Great Hall is darker than normal; the hour and a half spent there is some of the most draining George has felt in his entire life. It’s as if the writing alone is setting his soul on fire. Or, perhaps, is it the weak smile and look of pure anguish you give him from a few rows over? He can’t help but feel extremely protective, and he’s shooting daggers at Umbridge each and every chance he gets.

When you’re all finally released, Umbridge giggles in a mocking, satisfied tone. She makes her way back to her office as all of the members of the DA walk begrudgingly back to their common rooms, completely ignoring the apologies of Marietta Edgecombe, who, by the looks of it, is now regretting her decision of giving up the DA to Umbridge.

The Gryffindor common is filled with students looking positively sullen, almost each and every one of them running their fingers over their red, raw, and bloodied hands. George hops through the portrait hole and notices you in the corner, talking animatedly with Ginny and Fred.

“I swear,” Fred’s saying as George sits himself down next to you, “she’s barking mad.”

“You’d think she’d end up in Azkaban after pulling a stunt like this,” you agree, tracing the outline of the cuts on your hand with your finger, “but I reckon she can get away with anything.”

“I reckon you’re right,” George says, leaning his arms on his knees. He takes a deep breath and opts to continue, “how could she possibly get away with something like this?”

Ginny offers, “It’s the bloody Ministry.”

There’s a collective groan from all of you. Ginny shakes her head and continues, “Mum and Dad are going to go wild, you know; this isn’t over. By the way, speaking of Mum and Dad—you two planning on telling them that you’re leaving in a few weeks time?”

George suddenly feels his heart stop. Next to him, you look frantically back and forth between him and Fred, a confused expression plastered across your face. Fred is shaking his head, Ginny’s cheeks are flooding with color, and George is dreading the next conversation.

“You’re—you’re leaving?” you ask, stunned. “When?”

“Gin, we only told you because you overheard us the other night,” Fred says through gritted teeth. Then, he softens and says to George, “but.. I reckon it’s maybe time we tell a few people, eh Georgie?”

“Oh no,” Ginny says sheepishly, looking down at the floor. But you just grin weakly at her as she pulls Fred to his feet and they make their way over to the other end of the common room, most likely to tell Ron of their plans. You hope Ginny isn’t feeling too guilty.

George swallows thickly and then begins, “I should’ve told you sooner. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head at his apology, “You don’t need to apologize to me.” You place your hand over his and wait with bated breath for him to tell you what’s going on. You smile broadly at him when he begins to explain.

“We’re, erm, heading out a bit early, you see,” George begins, his eyes shifting from yours to the floor, “we’ve got these grand plans for a business to open up—in Diagon Alley, actually.. sell our inventions. Reckon it could become quite successful if we market correctly—”

His heart is thundering against his rib cage, surely trying its best to escape his chest, and he’s nervous that you’re not going to approve, you’re going to be angry, you won’t ever talk to him again. But to his surprise, you throw your arms around him excitedly and pull him into a bone crushing hug. He’s relaxing in your arms as he listens to your squeals of delight, breathing in the scent of your hair, focusing on the way your body feels beneath his fingertips. And when you pull away from him and shake his shoulders slightly, with both a bright smile on your face and tears in your eyes, you tell him, “I’m so proud of you!”

You’re talking quickly, shaking your head admiringly, throwing your hands into the air and running them through your hair, chuckling lightly, blinking quickly to push back any tears rising to the surface, but he can’t even hear what you’re saying. All George can hear is the pounding in his ears from the steady beat of his own heart, and not before long, he’s laughing at your exasperated state and is leaning in to kiss you, pressing his lips gently to yours and melting into something that’s been building up for years and years. The tension and surprise is subsiding, and you’re playing absentmindedly with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck and you’re both ignoring the annoying whistles from his siblings near the fireplace, and you’re quite certain that George is making a rather inappropriate hand gesture at them across the room for interrupting your moment.

When you two finally part, George grins broadly at you, his hands still shaking slightly due to the adrenaline rush and he asks you, not bothering to answer Fred’s whistles at all, “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?!” you cry out, still obviously rather electrified from both the news and the kiss, “No! I’m not mad.. how could I be? I’m so excited for you both. I hope you’ll know I’ll be coming round to visit all the time.”

“Well, you better,” he replies cheekily, pulling at the collar of your shirt. Then, “I’m really going to miss you these last few weeks.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” you reply breathlessly, and he now feels a tug at his heartstrings. He’s feeling nervous. Off balance. Do you still want to be with him after he leaves? Can you two survive on letters alone until after you graduate? “Do you, erm—I mean, I know I’m leaving, but—”

You cup his face in your hands, running your thumbs over the light stubble on his cheeks. A feeling of warmth overtakes him when you grin, peering into his yearning eyes, “We’ll make it work.”

He pulls you into his arms, and the calls from Fred and the others don’t seem to subside in the slightest. “We’re being summoned,” you tell George, leaning back against his chest. You pull out some of their inventions from your own pocket, things they’d given you early on; a pygmy puff, a screaming yo-yo, extendable ears, and more. You begin fiddling with them in your fingers and George grins against your shoulder.

“D’you want to go?”

You intertwine one of your hands in his. “Just hold me for a while first, would you?”

He giggles softly and wraps his arms tighter around you. Teasing begins to bubble up inside him and he can’t help it, he just has to say it. “Don’t you want to go and get your bear first?”

He expects the playful slap across his chest, he grins goofily when you begin to laugh, but what he doesn’t expect is what you say next. He’s practically putty in your hands when he pulls you closer and breaths in your scent when you reply,

“Reckon I don’t need it—I’ve got something else to hold, now.”

reblogs + feedback are always appreciated! thanks for reading darlings, ily so <3

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ditch-witches · 5 years ago

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Through Sick and Thin (Dean-Charles Chapman Fluff)

requested: yes/no (Thank you all for your requests! We have a bunch set up to be posted this week! If y’all have any other ideas, send them our way :))

pairing: Dean-Charles Chapman x reader

warnings: fluffy stupid shit, like two(2) swear words oof

word count: 1,238

a/n: *insert crying cat reaction* I just had the flu. I needed this. Let me know what you thought! :)

Your alarm blared monotonically, echoing around the room. Dean groaned and rolled away from you, pulling the covers up around himself so only his nose peeked out from the fabrics. Your fist came down on the button and interrupted the shutter of noise, silence now filling the room. You felt groggier than usual but attempted to push the ache in your throat out of your mind, figuring you just needed coffee and a hot shower.

As the water squeaked on, you pinched the bridge of your nose between your thumb and index finger, your head feeling ten times heavier than usual and your sinuses were completely clogged. It didn’t help that you looked just as horrible as you felt. The shower was not as rejuvenating as you had hoped, only making you now feel light-headed and sleepy. Opting out of makeup to match your attire, you shuffled downstairs rather slowly. “Fuck,” you murmured to yourself, realizing that what was living in your head was preparing to be one of the most annoying colds you could add to the list of stuff you had absolutely no time for.

Dean bustled around the kitchen, a welcomed sight as he poured you a cup of coffee and sent you a grin. “I thought you went back to bed?” You muttered, your voice coming out in a raspy whisper causing him to raise his eyebrows. You attempted to clear your throat as you sunk into one of the high-legged chairs, trying your best to hide how awful you felt. You knew that if you let on that you were sick, Dean would baby you and that’s the last thing you needed. Your fingers curled around the ceramic mug he sent your way, basking in the warmth it brought to you as you realized you were borderline shivering.

Dean eyed you before leaning against the counter. “I mean this with all the love in my heart, honestly,” you met his eyes and a grin crossed his face, “but you look like shit.”

“What a magnificent way to greet the woman you share a bed with,” you quipped back, your voice having more husk in it than his was proving to be your downfall. He sent you an almost excited smile, moving to lean over the counter in front of you. You sent him a puzzled look, resting your chin in your hand.

“You gonna call in sick so I can take care of you?” He moved his shoulders slightly, unable to hide his enjoyment due to the rarity of occasions like this. “It’ll be fun.”

You sighed. “Yeah and you’ll get sick and I’ll have to take more time off because you’re a baby when you get colds,” you nipped at him.

His grin grew wider. “I’ll saran wrap myself, pinky swear.” It didn’t help that while he was making his oath, he had moved around the bar separating the two of you to wrap his arms around you from over the back of your chair, pressing his cheek against your shoulder.

“No, I need to go,” you stated, biting back a laugh at his actions.

He reached a hand up to press against your forehead. He hummed. “No, you’re burning up. You could die from that alone, you know?”

“Really? You’re joking,” you teased, your laugh coming out dry and he gave you one of his famous know-it-all looks as you were building his argument for him. You rolled your eyes as he took your face in his hands.

“I’ll make you grilled cheese.”

You sighed. “Fine.” He’s smile somehow grew more and he leaned forward to kiss you in celebration, but you pushed his face away. “Stop!”

“Sorry! I keep forgetting!” You groaned at his giddy response, pushing yourself out of your chair and leaving to change. Before you knew it, Dean had you bundled up and all of the humidifiers in the house positioned on the floor around you. You absent-mindedly typed away in your laptop as Dean clamored around in the kitchen, refilling your tea mug when you had barely taken a sip and asking if you needed anything or what you were working on every few minutes.

“What do you usually do all day when you’re home, love?” You asked, peering through some of the layers of blankets at Dean, who was eagerly waiting in the threshold of the living room for you to give him a job to do.

He shrugged slightly. “I don’t know. Laundry?” You chuckled at his response, shrugging out of the mountain of comforters and closing your laptop.

“Why do you like my sick days?” You asked him, tilting your head at him slightly, trying your best to give him some kind of an appreciative smile. After all, the man you adored was waiting on your every beck and call without a second thought.

He moved to sit on the coffee table across from you. If you weren’t so sick, you would have reached out to bury yourself in his soft sweatshirt. His immune system was shit. He always got sick. “I enjoy your company.”

You chuckled slightly, rubbing your eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

Dean grinned at you, standing and grabbing your arms to pull you up as well. “If you’re done, you should probably get back into bed, sicky,” he mocked. You pushed his hands away from you as he laughed. “Go on. I’ll be up in a minute.”

As you climbed into bed, you fought not to smile, thinking about your other half who was absolutely giddy about little things the two of you shared. Finding joy in a simple sick day was difficult to do and it almost frustrated you at how well he always took care of you. The only problem was the fact that the bed was cold without him in it beside you. It was going to be difficult falling asleep without him there.

You heard Dean’s footsteps up the stairs and he was peering inside the bedroom shortly after. He had a fresh mug in his hand, as he moved through the room, setting it on the stand beside you. “I noticed you drank a bit of the last one so I brought you another.”

You smiled up at him and he seemed to soften around his edges even more. “Thank you,” you hummed, digging into the sheets more.

He placed a hand in your hair, rubbing his thumb against your cheek slightly before leaning forward again, this time stopping himself. “Dammit, I’m just going to leave before I get whatever you have because I can’t control myself.” You laughed at this.

He turned on his heel and before he made it back out the door, you spoke. “I love you,” you called after him and bit back his smile.

“Okay, you’re just going to have to take more time off because I don’t want to leave you alone.” He practically jumped into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around your body and snuggling against you. You didn’t fight him this time; his warmth made you realize just how tired you actually were.

The next morning you woke up refreshed---tired---but refreshed. You realized your illness had miraculously cleared up as you shut the alarm off, leaning over to press a kiss to Dean’s cheek. As you made your way into the bathroom, you heard him cough slightly, causing you to roll your eyes. “Called it,” you mumbled.

#dean charles chapman #dean charles chapman x reader #dean charles chapman smut #dean charles chapman imagine #dean x reader #1917 #1917 imagines #fluff #dean charles chapman fluff #reader insert #lance corporal blake x reader #thomas blake #tom blake x reader #tommen baratheon #imagine #one shots #one shot

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fortisfiliae · 6 years ago

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When I see you again [Dean Thomas x reader]

Requested by anon: Hi. I wanted to request something. You can do it whenever you want IF you want. Can you do a Reader x Dean where they reunite after the war? Thank you nonetheless

A/n: I wanted to write a quick and fluffy ‘Dean x gender-neutral’ reader for this trope. The reader’s house is not specified, but they are considered pure-blooded in this fic.

Warnings: A bit of angst, mentions of war

Word count: 1.3k

August 3rd 1998 - three months and one day after the Battle of Hogwarts. Seventeen weeks after the war had ended and so many had died. 123 days since you had last seen your boyfriend. Boyfriend. Did he even consider himself as such anymore? Whatever his answer to this question might be, you still did.

All you had wanted to do when the walls of Hogwarts lay in ruins was run up to him. Hold him. Breathe him in. Be with him. But your parents had found you sooner. They had shown up minutes after the final conflict and wouldn’t let you stay for another second. So they had taken you home, where you were safe and demanded you to stay there until it was sure even the last Death Eater had been captured. They weren’t going to take another risk, like years before when it was rumoured that Voldemort had been defeated by a child. Not again. They had to make sure the world was safe and that meant you could not reach out to Dean. For your and his own sake. He lived with his mother, step-father and sisters, who were all muggles. So after days of begging and whining, when you finally understood that a simple letter could potentially put them in mortal danger, you had accepted that waiting was the best and only option.

Waiting was harder though when owls had shown up by your window. They’d brought letters from him. Either he wasn’t afraid, or he simply didn’t care about people seeing strange animals flying through his muggle neighbourhood. At first, they were frequent and sweet. But week after week, when he hadn’t gotten a single response, they turned stale and blue, until eventually, he had stopped sending them. Your mum had even offered to put them away, somewhere you couldn’t find them, because you kept reading them over and over again. But you had denied. They kept you from going insane, even if they reminded you of how much you missed him with each line of his squiggly handwriting. Three months had passed. Heart-wrenchingly slow to say the least. Three months without any known incident of usage of dark magic. Three months where dozens of Death Eaters had been detected and penalised. Three months of you in your room, trying to recover from everything that had happened, while you knew you could never fully do so. Especially without being whole. Three months until your mother knocked on your door at eight p.m.

“We think it’s time,” she had said sweetly. “Tomorrow.”

You knew what she meant as soon as she had said it, and the way her eyes shone as she watched your reaction told you she was aware.

So you stood in front of his house on August 3rd, three months and one day after you had last seen him. It was a very special day for more than one reason. Your parents must have known. Still, you hesitated before knocking. What if he wasn’t home? What if he was home and didn’t want to see you? What if he had moved on already? If he thought you had ignored him on purpose, because you didn’t love him. That thought alone brought tears to your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away. There was only one way to find out. It was now or never.

You knocked three times and waited. Impatiently you started tapping your heals on the stone step, hoping that someone would open the door. After a while someone did, and the sight of that someone brought tears right back into your eyes.

Dean’s face fell as well, his expression full of shock and surprise, posture completely stiff and you could see him holding on to the doorknob as if his life depended on it.

You must have looked pathetic. So you tried to remain calm, tried to ignore the swarm of butterflies rotating in your stomach, hoped to succeed brushing off the tension from your chest.

“Happy birthday,” you said quietly, but the last syllable came out as a whimper.

He reached out for your hand, pulled you in hastily and shut the door behind him in one motion. The hallway of his house was empty, so he pushed you against the wall, with more force than he had intended, and held you by your shoulders to just stare at you for a moment. His gaze was drawn in pain, sorrow screaming from his parted lips when he laid his forehead against yours.

“Why didn’t... Why haven’t you answered?” he asked with a stricken crack in his voice and whispered yet another ‘Why’ before he pushed his mouth against yours. There was no time to say sorry, as he took each and every apology from your lips, his hands cupping your cheeks at first until they wandered down to your waist, where they stayed, strong and decisively, his fingers sending warm sparks through your clothes. The way he clung to you, how his weight pressed you against the wall, let you know he hadn’t moved on even a bit. He had been waiting. So long to hold you again. To kiss you, to make sure you’re safe.

Once you had parted he pulled you close again and held you tighter than ever before. “Where have you been?” he asked, his voice muffled against the fabric of your top.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” you whispered.

“I know.” His words were almost inaudible. “I know.”

“My parents wouldn’t let me reach out until they were sure it’s safe again,” you explained and let your hands brush across his back. “They thought it could get us in trouble.”

He lifted his head to look at you, his caring smile back in place. “I see.”

“But you didn’t care for that at all, did you?”

“My letters?” He smirked.

“Yeah.”

“Well I didn’t spend as much time thinking about what could happen as your parents did, apparently,” Dean explained and took a tiny step back to hold your hands. “So I sent one after another and when you didn’t answer for weeks, I thought I’d check in on you.”

“You came to our house?”

“Sure. But I couldn’t enter the lot.”

“Protecting spell,” you said simultaneously and Dean nodded.

“So after that,” he went on. “I wasn’t sure if the letters would even go through, so I stopped sending them.”

“Oh hun,” you said frowning and brought your hand up to his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he said softly and rested his head in your hand for a moment. “I just hoped you would send me a sign eventually. And there you are.” His smile was even brighter than before and he leaned in for yet another kiss, as sweet and bracing as three months ago. “On my birthday.”

“Now that you say it,” you grinned, fumbled for your bag and pulled out a stack of envelopes. “I got something for you.”

“Are those my letters?” Dean asked as you gave them to him.

“No silly, they’re mine,” you told him laughing.

“You wrote some too?” He asked as he flipped through them one by one.

“Well, I started answering the first one until I realised I couldn’t send it,” you explained. “So I thought I’d answer every single one anyway and give them to you when I can.”

“Thank you,” he said and went in for another hug.

You held him tight again. “It’s not much but-”

“It’s the best,” he cut you off and you could hear the smile in his voice. “When are your parents expecting you back?”

“In the evening, I guess.”

He chuckled. “Well, I got bad news for them.”

“Why?”

“Now that I have you back, I’ll never let you leave.”

Permanent tags: @geeksareunique @ren-ela @marauderskeeper @way-obsessed5 @oreofrappiewithblueberry @draqcnheartstrinq @dogfatherpads @whatisthisthingcalledlife @obscurilicious @maralisa124 @sjriusblck @siriuslyimmoony @theboywhocriedlupin @igotmadskills

Moonlit Tags: @finnofamerica @siriusoricns @swellwriting

Bold = Cannot be tagged, sorry. Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

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omgrachwrites · 4 years ago

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Falling Stars (Sequel to Tell A Tale of You and Me) Chapter Two

Pairing: Dean Thomas x Reader

Summary: In the midst of a brewing war you fall for one of your classmates, a boy that you used to know. When you have the chance to fight against evil, you fight for what you believe in.

Chapter Summary: Tensions rise between Umbridge and Harry, forcing Dean and Cass to be civil with one another. Meanwhile, competition arises on the Quidditch pitch.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of death, swearing, sassy Harry

Words: 2645

Disclaimer: I haven’t read The Order of The Phoenix in so long so the timeline might be out of wack!

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this part, please let me know what you think and if you would like to be tagged! I love you all! xxx

previous part masterlist prequel next part

Chapter Two - The Pink Toad

Dean woke up, shivering slightly in the drafty dormitories – with all the magic in Hogwarts he thought someone would have taken the initiative to make the castle warmer. He was in a bad mood already and for a moment he couldn’t think why and then, it hit him like a ton of bricks. The 5th year Gryffindors and Slytherins were going to be having their first lesson with Umbridge in Defence Against the Dark Arts. To hear other people talk about it, it seemed like she didn’t know what she was doing, they said that she should have stayed at the Ministry.

He mulled over his thoughts as he walked over to the window and watched the quiet grounds begin to stir beneath the glow of the rising sun. Dean couldn’t deal with another shit Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. Dumbledore should have brought Lupin back – even if he was a werewolf – he had been the best Professor they’d ever had.

Though, it wasn’t all that bad, today Quidditch try outs were taking place tonight, he had wanted to try out for the team last year but all of the matches had been cancelled due to the Triwizard Tournament. He was itching to climb onto his broom and zip through the late summer air. Once Seamus was awake – he didn’t say a word to Dean, Seamus was the worst person ever in the morning – they both got dressed and made their way to The Great Hall. Dean’s insides were already aching with hunger.

Dean perked up even more when he smelled all the amazing breakfast food and he sat by Fred and George Weasley, piling toast and bacon onto his plate.

“You trying out for the team then, Thomas?” Fred asked – or it might have been George – the twins both had identical smirks on their faces. The Weasley twins had been on the Quidditch team since Dean’s first year, they were extraordinary beaters.

“Of course,” Dean grinned, feeling excitement course through his body, “tonight’s try outs are going to be a blast!”

“You guys haven’t heard?” Dean looked around at the sound of a voice and his heart dropped when he saw Harry nervously running his fingers through his hair, “the Slytherins must have gotten wind of our try outs tonight because they booked the pitch before Angelina had the chance. Our try outs have been pushed to Saturday,” he scowled.

“What?” the four boys gasped in horror and Dean looked over at the Slytherin table.

Cass was laughing with her friends as she raised a mug to her lips; her eyes flickered over to Dean for a moment before she looked back at her friends. She looked radiant and beautiful, like she didn’t have a care in the world and that pissed Dean off, he turned back to his friends with a frown.

“I bet that Cass had something to do with this, this is so like her,” he moodily stabbed at his food.

Seamus rolled his eyes as he shoved a piece of bacon into his mouth, “mate,” he started with his voice muffled, “you say that you don’t give a shit about her but, Merlin, I think you’re obsessed. Not everything that happens is her fault.”

In the back of Dean’s mind he knew himself that Seamus was right and it had probably had nothing to do with Cass. However, he was still so annoyed with her that he wouldn’t even entertain that idea.

On their way to class, Dean’s eyes impatiently searched through the sea of people in the corridor, “this isn’t a good idea mate,” Seamus scoffed.

“Please, just give us a second, yeah?” he offered his best mate a smile before going back to the task at hand and he spotted Cass as she was about to walk into class.

“Oi, Cass!” he called out to her, making her stop in her track and she gave him a surprised look as he caught up with her, “why would your team book the damn pitch for tonight? We were supposed to have our try outs.”

Cass rolled her eyes and Dean noticed the glimmer of disappointment in them and he almost felt guilty, “do I look like the team captain? Everything that goes wrong in your life isn’t my fault you know,” she hissed before storming into the classroom.

“Told ya,” Seamus snickered.

Umbridge hadn’t come down from her office yet so Dean contented himself with doodling a lion devouring a snake while Lavender and Parvati made a bird out of paper and had charmed it to soar through the air. As it flew over to Dean and Seamus, Dean laughed, “go on, Seamus. Hit it!” he goaded his best friend and Seamus landed a successful hit, blowing it off course. In the next second, it burst into flames making the class jump.

Dean scowled as a toad like woman stood at the front of the class wearing the ugliest shade of pink ever seen. He wrinkled his nose in disgust as a sickly sweet perfume smell wafted towards him. Umbridge started like all the other teaches had by explaining the importance of OWLS, before she handed out a beginners handbook.

“Your introduction to this subject has been uneven, probably due to the fact that you’ve had half breeds teaching you and whatnot,” there was mirth in her voice and it annoyed Dean massively.

“If you must know, Professor Lupin was the best teacher we’ve ever had. So what if he’s a werewolf?” most of the class murmured in agreement and Dean clenched his teeth in anger as Umbridge gave him a sweet smile.

“That will be five points from Gryffindor, Mr Thomas,” she let out a high pitched laugh that went right through Dean.

“Dean is right though! How is it Remus’ fault that he got bitten? He didn’t ask for that to happen! It shouldn’t make it impossible for him to get a job, he’s not dangerous,” Cass piped up.

Dean whirled around to look at her; her usually warm eyes were hard as she stared at Umbridge with a furious expression. Dean agreed with Cass though he hated to admit it and would never say it out loud. Cass made eye contact with Dean and her eyes softened as she smiled at him gratefully. Dean gulped and looked away.

Umbridge smirked as her nostrils flared but she didn’t tell Cass off. Instead, she smiled at a couple of people on the front row who had got their wands out, “oh, you can put those away, my dears.”

“We’re not going to be using magic?” Ron mumbled, his voice held all of the confusion that everyone else was feeling.

“Why on earth would you need to use magic dear?” she let out another annoying high pitched laugh.

“Oh, of course,” Harry gasped as he slapped a hand against his forehead, “because when Voldemort comes after all of us, the last thing we’ll need to know is defensive magic, dear me, the thought of it. Ron, how could you ask such a silly question?” sarcasm laced Harry’s voice, making Dean smirk to himself as everyone waited for Umbridge’s response with baited breath.

Umbridge barely flinched at the use of You-Know-Who’s real name and her sickly sweet smile almost faltered, “you and your tall tales, Mr Potter. The Ministry would be protecting everyone if the Dark Lord was back.”

Dean glanced over at Harry when he let out a scoff to see that Harry had his hands on the table, clenching his fists, “so, Cedric Diggory spontaneously combusted did he?” Harry’s tone was dry as he glared at Umbridge, “Voldemort killed him! And you’re an idiot for not admitting it!”

Someone near the back of the room gasped at Harry’s words and everyone got ready to watch Umbridge murder Harry. Umbridge’s face was drained of colour as she scrawled on a piece of parchment and simply said in a steady voice, “come here, Mr Potter,” when Harry stormed up to her desk, she gave him the parchment, “take this to Professor McGonagall, off you go dear,” Harry scoffed as he snatched it off her and stormed out of the room, not looking back.

The rest of the lesson continued in silence, nobody dared to speak to one another. At the end of the class, Cass caught up with Dean, “intense huh?”

Dean was still reeling from the shock of Harry’s words that he momentarily forgot the bitterness he had towards her, “yeah,” he laughed, scuffing his shoe against the floor.

“It was nice of you to speak up for Remus,” she smiled, leaning against the cold stone wall.

Dean shrugged nonchalantly as his cheeks grew hot and he tried to ignore the peaceful feeling in his chest, “thought it was only fair to defend the guy when he wasn’t there to defend himself,” he cleared his throat, “it was good of you to speak up for him too.”

“I would do anything and say anything for the people that I care about,” she looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes as she bit her lower lip and Dean swallowed nervously, “I thought you would know that by now,” she gave him a small smile and pushed off from the wall, “see you around,” she nodded at him and then she was off, walking down the corridor with Astoria.

“So, the both of you can have a civil conversation without biting each other’s head off,” Seamus smirked.

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

As you stood with your back against the Quidditch stands you shivered in the freezing evening air as you watched the try outs, waiting for your turn to try out for the position of Keeper. Your teeth chattered as you stuck your hands in the inside of your coat and pulled the letter from your dad out of the inside pocket. You smiled down at the piece of parchment as you read over the words again in the perfect script. He was wishing you luck at the try outs, he knew how important Quidditch was to you.

All you wanted to do was make him proud, you knew that Harry made him proud but Harry had that effect on the adults in his life who loved him. It seemed so easy for him, he was a hero. You just wanted to make Sirius proud of who you were. Your breath came out as smoke as you watched your housemates zip through the sky in all directions. All you wanted to do was zip through the sky with them; hopefully it would warm you up. It was strange that Draco wasn’t trying out this year; he loved a bit of attention.

You jumped slightly as you felt warmth against your elbow and you glanced to the side to see Astoria holding a steaming cup of something hot, “this is for you, you look freezing,” she laughed as she passed you the cup.

You grinned at her as you lifted the cup to your lips and swallowed down the hot chocolate, humming at the thickness of it, it burned your tongue slightly but you didn’t care all that much, you were just thankful for the heat, “thank you so much,” you licked your lips as the hot drink warmed your insides, “what are you doing here? You hate Quidditch,” you narrowed your eyes as you realised just why she was here, “Draco’s not playing this year, sorry to disappoint you,” you laughed as she rolled her eyes.

“I’m not here for him Cass, I’m here for you. I know that I hate Quidditch, just don’t see the point of it all but I know how much you love it and you’re my best friend, so I came here to support you.”

Astoria’s words were so sweet and kind that you threw your arms around her in a tight hug, “I love you, you’re amazing. You know that?”

“Of course I know that,” she laughed, winking at you as she linked your arm through yours and leaned her head on your shoulder, “uh oh, incoming.”

You bit your lip as Dean, Harry, Seamus and Ron were coming out of the castle heading for the stands behind you. It seemed as though Harry and Seamus had put aside their rivalry in the name of Quidditch, the thought made you roll your eyes. What were they doing here? Were they here to sabotage you?

“What the hell are you guys doing here?” you turned around to face the Gryffindor boys, shouting against the howling wind.

Dean smirked, just enough for his dimples to be on display and even from here you could see his eyes flash with an emotion that you didn’t recognise, “I’ve missed out on Quidditch for the past two years, I’m not waiting till Saturday to be able to watch some! It’s got nothing to do with you,” he raised an eyebrow at you as he slouched against his chair, making you scowl at him.

Harry laughed as he shot you a smile, “and we wanted to see what form your players were on!” he would never tell you outright but you knew he was here to offer you some support and you appreciated it. You shook your head at the boys before turning back to watch the try outs, painfully aware of their eyes on you.

Finally, the captain looked at you, “Cass? C’mon, let’s go!” Astoria gave you a supportive smile and a pat on your shoulder as you walked onto the pitch, mounting your broom as you soared through the air to guard the hoops.

The first couple of throws the captain directed at you were easy saves; there wasn’t much spin on the Quaffle so you could have saved it with your eyes closed. However, every time you made a mediocre save, you could hear Astoria screaming as if you had made an amazing save and it made you laugh, she really didn’t understand Quidditch. You didn’t feel the cold anymore; the adrenaline you felt made it all go away

“C’mon! Give me a challenge!” you shouted to the troll like boy who was hovering on his broom, holding the Quaffle, he smirked at you as he sent the ball hard and fast with a lot of spin on it.

You kicked, caught and booted the ball with the end of your broomstick, sending it back to him and every time he caught it with a taken aback look on his face. There was a save that you almost didn’t make, it was too far off to the side but you caught it between the tips of your fingers. You heard the small crowd below you gasp and you glanced down to see Dean looked impressed – though he would never admit it – it only made him more handsome.

By the end of try outs, it was no question that you had been the best Keeper, and you were looking forward to practise the following week. As you walked towards Astoria she grinned at you, throwing an arm around your shoulders, “that was amazing! I can’t believe that you’re my best friend.”

You rolled your eyes at her words but you couldn’t help but smile a little, as you walked back into the castle together, desperate to get out of the cold night air, “oi, Cass!” you whipped around as you heard Dean calling after you.

Astoria gasped a little in delight as Dean jogged towards you, a competitive glint in his eye, “Gryffindor are going to kick your arse in the first match,” you laughed and it felt like things were better between you and Dean.

However, as the rest of the boys ran up to you, Dean’s expression dropped and his eyes went hard and cold again. It was obvious that apart from the competitive banter, nothing had changed.

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muffinbeliever · 3 years ago

Text

When the Stars Align [10]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Soulmate!Reader

Word Count: 3615

Warnings: blood, violence, nonconsensual sexual activity

Summary: Soulmate!AU– Everyone has the first words their soulmate says to them tattooed on their wrists. You and your cat are living a normal life in Fort Collins, Colorado when three men come bursting through your door, completely changing your life. Reader-insert story. Starts around S06E08, but Sam has his soul, and it doesn’t really follow the series from there

A/N: hello here is the 10th part! i made a slight change in Dylan’s appearance; i decided to make him a prince of hell rather than a normal demon.

Masterlist | When the Stars Align Masterlist

Dean knew he was being an idiot. He didn’t need Sam or Bobby to tell him that— not that it stopped them from doing so anyway. The first week, he had stayed at a motel, away from Sam’s harsh glares and Bobby’s disdain. He drank himself into oblivion, only leaving the room to buy more whiskey.

The room was as dreary as Dean felt. The faded wallpaper was peeling at the edges, and there was a suspicious stain on the arm chair cushion. The curtains blocked out absolutely zero sunlight, and he wasn’t sure if it was the perpetual stench of mildew or the incessant drinking that left him with a pounding headache.

He spent most of his time replaying their last phone conversation, her harsh words ringing through his head.

You don’t get me. Don’t you understand? You chose her.

He wished he could go back and tell Y/N that he didn’t choose Lisa. Or at least, he didn’t mean to. Fuck he was an idiot.

She told him to stay away, and despite how much he wanted to see her, he knew she was better off without him. She was so pure, so perfect— too perfect— for someone like him. She didn’t need all of the baggage that came with him. She didn’t need the sleepless nights and the nightmare-induced panic attacks.

Dean was relieved when Sam called on Friday, demanding that he return and help with the Leviathans. Blowing up primitive creatures was exactly the kind of distraction he needed right now. He knew he couldn’t personally keep Y/N safe, but Cas could. He knew that it was an invasion of privacy, that she would hate to know that he was checking in on her, but Dean couldn’t leave her all alone. Not when Dick Roman was still wandering around.

Weeks passed and Dean had learned that Castiel’s weekly reports brought him nothing but pain. Y/N was in tears and her life was a mess because of him. At one point, Dean couldn’t take it anymore and he was halfway to Baby before he was sprawled on the ground, the weight of his younger brother on top of him.

It was rare for the Winchester brothers to physically fight, usually opting to maim the other with well-chosen words instead. But, there were a few occasions where they really got into it. This was one of them. Dean didn’t know Sam could fight like that— he’d improved since their last tussle. Bloody and bruised, he finally agreed to not go, resulting in Sam knocking him out and leaving him in Bobby’s panic room for three days, just in case.

When Cas had finally told the brothers that Y/N was happy again, tears pricked his eyes. He was glad she was happy— glad that she could be happy without him— but it didn’t help the hole in his heart that only grew with each passing day.

He spent every night drinking away his sorrows in the closest bar. There were women who approached him, showing off their assets and whispering dirty promises in his ear, but he declined. He couldn’t help but compare them to her. His soulmate. His soulmate that was happy without him.

When he wasn’t passed out, he laid in bed, staring at the concrete ceiling of the bunker, imagining her with another man. Most nights, it was Thomas, the asshole that had the audacity to ask Y/N out even though Dean was still in the picture. He saw her throwing her head back in laughter and rolling her eyes at Thomas’ stupid jokes, that probably weren’t even as funny as Dean’s were. He saw her standing in her kitchen, hips lightly swaying to light humming as she cooked by the stove. He thought of the way her body would mold into his whenever they were in bed, and how adorable she looked in the mornings with her sleepy eyes and bedhead. Dean was no stranger to pain. He deserved it.

Charlie was an unexpected surprise. Her bright hair and quirky personality both soothed and pained Dean simultaneously. He found her to be a good distraction, as she was a new hunter that he had taken under his wing to train. She was a little clumsy and always questioned his authority, but Dean accepted the challenge. But he couldn’t deny the twinge of pain in his chest every time she made a corny joke, thinking about how much Y/N would like her.

The Leviathans were gone, and so was Dean’s distraction. Without any plans and strategies floating through his mind, Dean was constantly thinking about her. Cas said she had developed a routine, one full of baking, reading, and Thomas. Sam finally caved into Dean’s relentless begging and agreed to go check up on her, under one condition: Dean stayed behind. Dean was crushed that he wouldn’t be able to see her, but he was glad that at least Sam would. She always liked Sam.

“I hope it goes well,” Dean had said and Sam offered him a smile, his eyes filled with sorrow for his brother. He nodded at Dean before walking up the metal stairs and out the bunker door. Dean wasted no time in grabbing an unopened bottle of whiskey and retiring to the library. He sank into the plush chair surrounded by books and, just like every day, Dean drank. He drank until his mind was numb and he couldn’t feel the chill that seemed to linger in the bunker. He wasn’t sure how long Sam was gone for, only noticing his return when the bunker’s large door slammed closed. He scrambled from his chair and made his way to the War Room to greet his brother. Sam stood there with containers of food and a sad smile.

“She, uh,” Sam cleared his throat before continuing, “She insisted I bring this back.” Dean nodded, his face stoic and his lips pursed.

“She also told me to call Cas off,” Sam started before he was interrupted with a growl from Dean.

“No! Someone needs to make sure she’s safe,” he demanded and Sam rolled his eyes. “We agreed to let me track her phone, idiot. She promised to take it with her everywhere she went and to call Cas as soon as there was any danger,” he retorted, and Dean’s shoulders slumped with relief. Sam tossed his bag onto the table, giving Dean a cryptic look, before heading off to the kitchen to put the food away. Not wanting to spend another minute without her, Dean grabbed Sam’s laptop and quickly found the small red dot that sat in Fort Collins.

The red dot soon became Dean’s best friend, and he spent every minute with it, checking to make sure that it was still there. Sam was kind enough to allow Dean’s laptop access to her location— mostly because Sam needed his laptop for research. The little red dot moved to and from her house, sometimes going to the church down the street and other times going to another apartment. It only took a few clicks and phone calls, and several lies, to find out that Thomas lived there.

It didn’t take long for Dean to memorize her routine, finding that the little red dot followed a precise schedule. She would spend her days at home, the little red dot unmoving. He imagined her lounging around her house with her furry companion. Just after the sun had set, the little red dot would move along the streets of Fort Collins until it stopped at Thomas’. She would stay there for a few hours, always leaving before midnight. Dean couldn’t help the little sigh of relief that left him every time he saw your little red dot move back to your own house, albeit a tad ashamed by the slight joy he found in the fact that you weren’t spending the night.

Dean was enjoying his dinner, munching on fries with a beer in his hand. He was reclined in his chair, his legs on the table of the War Room. Led Zeppelin was playing softly from the computer, and Dean switched between watching the little red dot and playing Sam in Scrabble. At one point, he looked up and blinked, wondering if his eyes were playing a cruel trick on him. They were not. He scrambled out of his chair, yelling for his brother and their angel friend, both appearing in the War Room merely seconds after. The little red dot was gone.

Your head was pounding when you came to, worse than any hangover you’d ever experienced. Stale air surrounded you and it took you two seconds before remembering what had happened.

Dead Thomas. Monster Dylan. No phone. Fuck.

Your hands were bound to the hard chair you were sitting in, as were your legs and waist. Your head hung low as you tried to gather the strength to lift it. Through your blood-soaked, tangled hair, you observed surroundings. You were in somewhere abandoned, an old warehouse, you assumed.

Why was it always an abandoned warehouse?

There was no sign of Dylan, your eyes raking the dark building. You closed your eyes, praying to Castiel, or really any angel who could hear, to save you. When there was no flutter of wings or a beige trench coat standing in front of you, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to concentrate on praying.

“If you were wondering if anyone was coming to get you, they will. Just not right now,” came Dylan’s familiar drawl, and you quickly turned your head towards the sound. He emerged from a dark corner— dramatic much?— a small smirk on his face.

“Who are you?” You asked, trying to muster as much courage as you could into your voice. He chuckled and walked towards you.

“Prince,” he said simply. When he was close enough, you spat in his face, looking at him smugly when he leaped back, cursing as he wiped his face.

“You’ll pay for that, bitch,” he promised.

“No, you will,” you bit back venomously. He shook his head, before pointing to your bloody arm.

“You’re warded, no angel can reach you, which means no little fluffy winged friends or the stupid Winchesters,” he laughed, and your eyes widened when you saw a strange symbol carved into your flesh.

“What do you want?” You asked, refusing to give into the pain and fighting back your tears.

“Revenge,” Dylan replied, and plunged a knife into your thigh. You screamed from the excruciating pain, like fire burning through your body. He laughed cruelly as he pulled the knife from your leg. Tears streamed down your face as you watched the hole in your leg stitch back together. The pain was gone and you were confused, until he stabbed your other thigh. You screamed until it healed and he repeated the process all over your body, leaving you in endless pain with no wounds to show it.

“See,” he said, casually as he slid the blade across your cheek, “I hopped into poor old Dylan long before I met you. I was along for the ride, living life, but then you came along. And what a treat that was. At first I was going to use you as a quick fuck, a tension reliever. But when you came to dinner and you talked about your soulmate Dean and then you received a call from his brother Sam, I knew it couldn’t be a coincidence. Imagine my thrill when I saw Sam Winchester standing in your living room, and he didn’t even know who I was.

“I’ve been looking for the Winchesters, Dean specifically, for a very long time. I never cared much for my brother Azazel’s plans to spring Lucifer from the cage. But when I had heard that the Winchesters had killed him, I knew it would only be a matter of time before they came for me too.” He monologued, but you were confused. You had no idea what he was talking about. He watched as your eyebrows furrowed before he laughed.

“My, my, my it seems like your soulmate is keeping more things from you than you thought,” he smirked at you and you knew he was referring to The Incident™. You flinched, the pain still burning through your chest at the thought.

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked, your voice hoarse from screaming. He sliced your other cheek open and you felt the warm liquid drip to your chin.

“Not yet. I’m going to wait until they come to rescue you. I’m going to cut you up in front of him until you’re begging for release, and then I’ll kill you,” he said calmly, as if he were reading a grocery list. Your stomach turned at the thought, and you barely had time to turn your head to the side before you threw up everything you had eaten before. Your throat burned from the bile. He patted your cheek, and you winced at the pain. He gave you one more evil smile before he healed your cheeks and began the torture again.

You had passed out from the pain, for how long, you were unsure. A hard slap to your cheek roused you.

“Come on, pet,” Dylan cooed, “Look alive. It’s showtime.” You slowly blinked your eyes open, and when they adjusted you were staring into forest green eyes that haunted your dreams. You blinked back tears when it was evident how much pain he was in.

“Bean?” Your shaky voice asked. He was also tied to a chair, but unlike you, his mouth was covered with duck tape. He had a cut on his cheek and his knuckles were bloody. He was straining against the ropes that held him, his muscles bulging through his sleeves, as he tried to get to you. Tears spilled down your cheeks at the sight of him struggling.

“Dean Winchester at last,” Dylan sneered, his voice filled with hatred. Dean’s eyes were hard, and if looks could kill, Dylan would’ve been dead yesterday.

“I’ve been waiting years for this, and now I can finally take my sweet time with you.” You could tell Dean was trying to say something, but his voice was muffled by the tape. He didn’t even flinch when Dylan ripped it off.

“You can do whatever you want to me, just let Y/N go,” Dean bargained, but you shook your head.

“No, please. Don’t hurt him,” you begged, tears in your eyes at the thought of losing your soulmate. Dean’s eyes snapped towards you, and they softened.

“Sweetheart, no. This is all my fault,” he started. He opened his mouth to continue but was cut off by Dylan.

“How sweet,” he smirked, “Unfortunately, for the both of you, I already have big plans on what I’m going to do, and there’s nothing that will change my mind.” He produced his knife from the inside of his jacket with a flourish and sauntered towards you, his steps playful and light.

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Dean’s voice bounced off the metal walls, and you shook, not out of fright but from the sheer intensity in his voice.

Dylan was standing in front of you now, and he turned to smirk at the green-eyed hunter, flashing him a wink before turning back to you. He ran the cool blade down your cheek and to the base of your throat, pressing hard enough to draw blood. You pursed your lips together, refusing to show your pain. When he noticed, Dylan’s smile grew.

“Trying to be brave, Y/N?” He mocked. “You weren’t so brave when you were screaming before. In fact, I distinctly remember you begging me to stop.”

“You’re going to regret that,” Dean growled, but Dylan just laughed. He sliced a long vertical line down your forearm, from your shoulder to the tip of your elbow. Blood gushed from the wound and your shrill screams drowned out Dean’s shouts. Through your tear-filled eyes, you could see Dean struggling in his chair, calling out to you. Dylan made an identical slice on your other arm, reducing you to a sobbing mess.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? You were calling out for Dean to save you before, but now that he’s here you won’t ask him to help? Or have you finally realized that he is just a useless piece of shit?” Dylan spat at your feet.

“Dean Winchester is nothing but a coward. He thinks he’s so tough because he can stop the apocalypse, but really, he’s just a sorry excuse of a human. His soulmate is right here, and he can’t even save her,” Dylan finished with a malicious smile.

His knife traced your collarbones from one end to the other, beads of blood immediately appearing. It soaked through the collar of your shirt and blood dripped from your fingertips. He got on his knees in front of you, and you shuddered when you felt his cool breath against your face.

The sound of tearing fabric filled your ears as you watched him cut your top from you. Your nipples hardened as they were exposed to the open air, and you were thrashing in your seat. Dean was yelling for you, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. Dylan’s eyes darkened with lust as he took in your exposed chest. Nausea rolled through your body in waves and you desperately wanted this to end. With the knife held against your already bleeding throat, Dylan reached out and fondled one of your breasts, tugging harshly at the nipple, and you screamed. He slapped you across the face.

“Shut up,” Dylan demanded. There was a clinking sound, and your eyes widened in horror when you saw Dylan unbuckle his belt.

“You motherfucker, I’ll kill you!” Dean screamed, but Dylan paid him no mind. His pants fell with ease and you could already see the outline of his erection in his tight briefs. You felt sick. Dylan didn’t hesitate to pull his cock out, groaning as he pumped it swiftly. He placed the knife on the floor, out of your reach, and palmed one of your breasts as he pleasured himself.

“Your tits are more beautiful than I imagined,” he groaned. Frozen by shock, you could do nothing but watch. He stepped closer towards you, snapping you out of your daze, and you spit at him. He chuckled and spread his legs apart, fitting your body in between. His head was dripping with precum and you could feel the sticky liquid spread on your chest as he rubbed his cock against your nipples.

“Dean,” you sobbed, brokenly, wanting him to do something— anything— to help you. But it was useless. Dylan had both of you tied up in unbreakable knots, rendering Dean helpless as he could do nothing but watch. You screamed and thrashed as Dylan’s cold fingers pressed against your body. His hand wrapped around your throat, effectively cutting your breath supply off, squeezing until you saw stars.

When he finally pulled away, you barely had the chance to catch your breath before there was a searing pain in your stomach. Every inch of the knife cut through you like a thousand blades. Dylan didn’t care about your screams or cries for help, nor did he mind Dean’s death threats. He hummed happily as he carved away at your body. Finally, the pain stopped. Dylan stepped away from your body and your head hung, exhausted from the pain.

“Do you like my work?” Dylan asked, as he turned to face Dean, but his smile slipped from his face when all he saw was an empty chair. You raised your head at the sound of bodies colliding only to find Dylan on the floor while Dean pounded his fists into the demon’s face. The pain in your stomach was unbearable, and your body was heavy, but you had to take advantage of Dylan’s incapacitation while you had the chance.

You spotted a glint of silver out of the corner of your eye, and your eyes narrowed in on the small blade that sat on the floor next to you. It was too far for you to reach, but you clenched your teeth as you rocked the chair until it was on its side, the impact of the floor against your cut arms leaving an excruciating pain. Your fingers reached for the blade in front of you, and with nimble fingers, you cut through the ropes, each movement costing you more and more energy.

After your first arm was free, a wave of adrenaline and hope rushed through you, and your second arm was liberated in no time. Your legs were easier to release, as you didn’t have any cuts that caused you pain as you wriggled out of the tight ropes. You tried to stand, but you buckled over from the pain in your stomach. In your peripheral vision, you could see Dean and Dylan fighting, their silhouettes moving faster than lightning.

You grabbed your discarded shirt and you pressed it to your stomach, hoping the pressure would help. All it did was soak your shirt with blood. You pulled it away from your body and looked at the wound, hoping to come up with something better, but when you saw the cuts on your stomach, you stopped. Your head went fuzzy at the angry letters staring back at you. You swayed on your feet, and distinctly remember seeing Sam’s tall body rush into the warehouse, a shorter man in a suit on his heels, before you blacked out.

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