#finnegan x y/n

[inmyglenpowellera]

Okay hear me out…

Walt Finnegan x ex!reader, who dated the first year of college, but broke up because he was a dick to her.

He sees her at the club or maybe at one of the parties at the house, and realizes that he still loves her.

Flangst with a happy ending maybe? I just want to be his college love interest and would love to live vicariously through this fic 😆

Hope you’re having a great day love!

(Just Like) Starting Over | Walt "Finn" Finnegan x Female!reader

Request: Requested by anon

Word Count: 7510

Summary: Reader and Finn met during their Freshman year of college and started dating. Things were going well until they weren't. Some things were said, other things were thrown. Long story short, they broke up. But maybe it was something that was meant to be?

Warnings: Alcohol use, drug use, cursing, angst, fluff, Finn being the handsome devil he is, violence?

A/N: I'm somehow on a roll right now. This was started a while ago and never finished. But @msmoony7 commented how there is very little Finn appreciation on here and I knew I had to finish this. Hope everybody likes it because I also agree that Finn is one of Glen's most underappreciated characters.

Registration Day. It is one of the most frustrating and anxiety-ridden days a college student will ever experience. 

They always have the same questions. What am I going to major in? Do I want a minor? What classes do I need to take? Can I register for the classes I need before they fill up?

For some, namely the freshmen, the anxiety and stress were through the roof. Which is why they could always use a little guidance. (Y/N) loved registration day since her second semester of freshman year of college. Ever since she joined her sorority and joined some of the other girls in volunteering to assist freshmen with choosing their majors and classes, the good thing about the situation is she can also hand out flyers encouraging freshman girls to rush with her sorority.

She enjoyed handing out flyers and answering any questions the girls might have. However, what she didn’t enjoy was cocky freshman boys hitting on her just because she had a beating heart.

“Hey, baby! I wouldn’t mind having those legs of yours around my neck,” one called out to her as he walked past her and a freshman girl she was talking to.

“Yeah, how about my hands instead,” I shouted back at him, crumbling one of the fliers to throw at his head as the girl standing next to me scoffed in disgust.

“Woah, easy dollface,” A voice I knew all too well said from behind me, causing me to slowly turn my glare toward him.

“Finnegan,” I stated simply.

I watched his smirk widen across his stupid mustache-clad face, his hands shoved into his blue jean pockets.

With a bright smile, I looked back at the girl next to me and handed her another flier. “Please consider rushing with us and bring some friends too. Oh, and a word of advice…” I trailed off, causing her to nod in acknowledgment. “Stay away from the baseball team,” I told her, turning my glare back towards Finn.

The girl looked between us before rushing off to the rest of the registration festivities.

“Well now you just hurt my feelings,” He said sarcastically, placing a hand over his heart and frowning.

“Aw,” I said in a mockingly sad tone, placing an exaggerated pout on my face.

Finn’s smirk returned to his face as he continued staring at me, looking me up and down, pausing on my lips and my breasts. I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms across my chest.

“What do you want, Finn,” I interrogated the baseball player.

“You look good,” he said simply, a smile growing on his face.

I rolled my eyes and went to step past him, but he only stepped back in my path. “Seriously, what do you want? Because last I recall, I said fuck you, called you a disrespectful misogynistic asshole, and told you to not ever speak to me again.”

“Did you, I don't recall this conversation,” Finn said in confusion.

I scoffed and shook my head in disbelief. “Really? You don't recall me saying that to you and dumping your ass?”

“No, I don't. Are you sure? When was that,” he asked me curiously.

“Freshman year, right before Christmas, at my sorority's Christmas party that you and your dumb fuck baseball friends almost ruined,” I sneered at him.

“Well, that’s why. It was freshman year. And I was probably drunk off my ass,” Finn recovered with an excuse, placing a smirk back on his face.

“Because that makes it better,” I said sarcastically, going to walk around him once again.

Finn grabbed my arm and pulled me back in front of him. “Look, I’m sorry I was an asshole, but I’ve changed.”

“Oh, yeah, trust me I’ve heard, Mr. Feminist. You think the girls on this campus don’t talk,” I scoffed at him in disbelief. “And I’ll believe you’ve changed and you’re sorry when you can tell me why I dumped your ass.” Finn remained silent and stared at me regretfully, causing me to nod at him with despair. “That’s what I thought,” I said simply before successfully walking past him to my sorority's booth.

Meanwhile, Finn’s friends Dale, Jake, and Plum were all witnessing the exchange between the two from a distance.

“So, what’s the story there,” Jake asked Dale curiously.

“With (Y/N) and Finn,” Dale clarified, causing Jake to nod in confirmation. “Their situation is…complicated.”

“What the fuck does that mean,” Plum questioned the older baseball player.

“Finn and (Y/N) dated freshman year. Nobody knows a whole lot about what happened between them. They met on Registration Day and dated until around Christmas. They got into a huge fight that ended in (Y/N) dumping Finn. Poor guy never got over her and hasn’t been the same since,” Dale explained to the two freshmen, watching as (Y/N) walked away from their friend.

“Fuck,” Jake said simply, feeling sorry for the older baseball player who was walking back towards them.

“You okay, Finn,” Dale asked his friend, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m great. Why wouldn’t I be,” Finn asked his friends happily, acting as though nothing happened at all.

THE NEXT DAY

I walked into the community area of the sorority house to see some of the girls giggling and jumping around excitedly. I shook my head at their energy and moved up the stairs to my room when one of them spoke up.

“Hey, (Y/N). Some of us girls got invited to a house party tonight at one of the houses on 15th and Avenue H. They told us to bring all the girls. You want to come,” Claire asked me excitedly.

“I don’t know, guys,” I shrugged.

“Come on, you have to go. There’s going to be so many cute guys there, and you hardly go out with us,” Sarah added.

“I-,” I started, shaking my head.

All of the girls began speaking up with various exclamations of “Come on” and “Please” echoing around me. I sighed and looked between all of the girls in front of me before nodding. They all let out squeals of excitement and began pushing me upstairs so all of us could get ready together.

I looked up at the house in front of me in disgust before looking around at all of the people outside and going inside the house.

“The school is allowing students to live in this shit hole,” I questioned in disbelief.

“It could be worse,” Claire pointed out before approaching the front door.

I sighed and followed after her, along with the rest of the girls. I walked in the front door and immediately jumped into Claire when someone came sliding down the stairs on a mattress.

“Jesus Christ,” I sighed when I saw a baseball helmet on the male's head, and that the male was Nes.

“Welcome to the baseball house, ladies,” The guy said with a cigarette between his lips.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I scoffed in disbelief.

He looked over at me and furrowed his brows. “Do I know you? You look familiar?”

“Uh, no I don’t think-,” I started, only to get interrupted by Claire and Sarah.

“Hey, um, can you tell me where to find Roper,” Claire asked the guy curiously.

“And McReynolds,” Sarah added quickly.

I rolled my eyes and began to split off from the group of girls, listening to Nes tell the girls where the two baseball players were before looking at the rest of the girls and introducing himself. I made it about 10 more feet before some creep with glasses stopped me and asked me if I wanted to know why they called him Raw Dog. I scrunched my face in disgust and thanked the lord above when I saw Dale walking up to the two of us.

“Niles, leave the girl alone. Trust me when I say that you don't want to fuck with this girl. You'll be dealing with Finnegan if you do,” Dale warned the creep.

“Fuck that shit man. He fucks with me, he won't get fucked with back, he'll get fucking killed,” the Niles guy argued.

“Uh huh, say that to his face,” Dale told him before wrapping his arm around me and leading me away.

“Well he seems a little…,” I trailed off unsure.

“Yeah,” Dale nodded simply.

“Well, thank you for that, Dale. It was much appreciated,” I said gratefully with a smile.

“It's no problem. Nothing ever happened between us so there's no reason we can't be friends,” He reassured me, causing me to nod in agreement. “But I am shocked that you're here of all places considering…”

I scoffed at him in amusement before nodding. “Yeah, trust me, if I knew this was a baseball party I would not have come within 100 feet of this place. Some of my sisters were invited by McReynolds and Roper and talked me into tagging along.”

Dale nodded in understanding before pointing towards the back of the house. “Well, hey, how about we get you a drink so you can start having fun and enjoying yourself? I can introduce you to some of the others.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said in agreement, following him out to the house's backyard.

Dale led me out the back door and towards the drinks before gaining the attention of everybody standing around the beer keg.

“Guys, this is…,” Dale started, only to get interrupted by Coma.

“Well, well, well. If it ain’t Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” Coma said with a smile, his southern accent peeking through.

“Hey, Coma,” I said with a slight giggle, stepping forward to hug him.

 “(Y/N), these are the freshmen: Plum, Brumley, and Jake. This is another one of the transfers: Willoughby.”

“Hi, nice to meet you guys,” I said with a smile, reaching forward to shake their hands.

“So, how do you know Dale and Coma,” Brumley asked me curiously, causing me to pause and look over at the two guys.

“Um…,” I trailed off. “It’s complicated.”

I watched Plum lean over to his fellow freshman and whisper something to him. I heard him let out a quiet “fuck” before Plum smacked the back of his head and call him a “fucking idiot.”

“So…,” I trailed off with a tight smile. “Even the freshmen know. Great,” I said sarcastically looking over at the two upperclassmen.

Dale and Coma looked at each other before Coma stepped closer to me. “How about a drink, darlin’.”

I nodded at him and followed him to the punch with Willoughby in tow as I listened to Dale lecture the freshman.

“It’s been a while, (Y/N). How’ve you been,” Coma asked me curiously as he filled my cup for me.

“Oh, um, you know just worrying about school. And when I’m not worrying about school I have something going on with my sorority. Planning parties and fundraisers and such,” I shrugged up at the baseball player, taking a sip of my drink after he handed it to me. “Shit, this is good. I might have to recruit you guys for drinks at our next party.”

“I’m sure we can make that happen, darlin’. Just say the word and the guys and I will give you the best Coon Dog punch you’ve ever tasted,” Coma told me, wrapping his arm around me.

I laughed at him in amusement before looking up at Willoughby. “So, Willoughby, why don’t you tell me about yourself.”

“Oh, I’m from California. Coach brought me in to pitch,” He explained to me while pulling a joint out of his pocket.

“Oh, that’s cool,” I told him, watching him bring the joint to his lips and light it. 

“Yeah. Hey, you get high,” He asked me curiously.

I widened my eyes and looked between him and the joint before shaking my head. “Oh, no. I did that once with an ex and had a horrible experience.”

“I didn’t know that you and Finn-,” Coma started, causing me to cut him off.

“Not Finn.”

Coma nodded at me in understanding before leading me back towards the guys. It was just me standing in a circle with all of the guys, minus Willoughby who decided to go smoke his joint in his room. They all began telling stories: Dale and Coma about what I have missed in the last few years; Plum, Brumley, and Jake about the past few days. I laughed harder than I have since freshman year when I spent time with the baseball team. I was bent over laughing and had my hand resting on Jake’s arm for support when someone abruptly walked over to our small group.

“Jake,” The voice called out with a slightly aggressive tone, causing all of us to jump slightly and turn in the voice's direction. I rolled my eyes at the sight of Finn and sighed as Plum and Brumley made a run for it, Coma and Dale sticking around just in case a fight broke out. “What uh- what the fuck is going on over here?”

Being a few drinks deep already, I wrapped my arm around Jake’s waist and smirked at Finn. “The guys were just entertaining me with some stories.”

“Yeah, we were. And that’s all that was happening,” Jake reassured Finn, unwrapping my arms from around him and placing them down by my sides.

Jake then made a break for it as well and left me behind with Finn, Coma, and Dale. I rolled my eyes at him and muttered “pussy” under my breath before looking back at Finn. He stared at me with his arms crossed over his chest, causing me to roll my eyes.

“What, Finnegan? Why are you staring at me,” I questioned him in annoyance.

“I don’t know. Why are you flirting with my teammates? Trying to make me jealous,” He asked me with a smirk.

“I will answer that as soon as you tell me where the fuck your sleeves went,” I said with a giggle, gesturing to his arms that weren’t covered by his flannel.

“Why? Last I recall you liked my arms,” He said with a smile instead of a smirk at the sound of my giggle.

I rolled my eyes again before looking at him. “I am not nearly drunk enough to deal with your ass,” I told him before walking away to refill my drink.

I was wandering around the bottom floor of the house trying to find somebody I knew when I found the last person I wanted to in the kitchen flirting with a couple of girls. I stood behind him unimpressed as I watched him sprinkle some nuts over some kind of peach dessert he had sitting on the counter.

“It’s not about the ingredients, it’s about the way the ingredients make you feel. The experience,” He trailed off before dipping his finger in the whipped cream bucket. “That’s why I say, “Indulge in temptation.”

I shook my head at him and looked to my right when I heard Brumley's voice. I looked back over at Brum and snapped my fingers to get his attention. He walked over to me and I pointed him over to Finn with a smirk, causing one to take over his face as well as Finn turned away from the two girls with his finger held out and said he wasn’t watching. I struggled to hold in my laugh as Brumley walked over and sucked the whipped cream off of Finn’s finger. Finn immediately turned around and landed a punch on Brumley’s arm as I let my laughter out.

“Are you serious,” He questioned him aggressively as Brumley released noises of pain.

I held my stomach as my laughter increased. Finn landed another punch to Brumley’s arm before reaching back for one of his peach desserts and throwing it at the freshman. The two girls standing before him released a couple of laughs as well before walking away from Finn.

“That was the best shit I’ve seen in a while,” I said through my laughter, causing Finn to look over at me. I watched him roll his eyes and a slight pout came over his face, causing me to make an exaggerated pout back. “Aw, did we ruin your rap?”

“You know what-,” Finn started, but I cut him off.

“What,” I asked him with raised eyebrows, moving to stand directly before him. Finn stared down at me, the smooth-talking man for once speechless, keeping his mouth shut. “Tell me what I should know Finn,” I whispered to him, looking up at him innocently through my lashes.

“You’re not playing very fair,” Finn whispered back to me.

“Hm,” I hummed, looking over at his desserts. I brought my hand up and swiped my finger in the whipped cream before looking up at Finn. “Who said I was playing,” I asked him sweetly before bringing my finger to my mouth, sucking the whipped cream off as I maintained eye contact with the baseball player.

“You know, for someone who doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore, you sure have no problem with ruining my chances of a hookup,” He whispered to me as he leaned down closer to me.

I released a breathless laugh and took another sip of my liquid courage before speaking. “You ruin my night, I ruin yours.”

“So that’s the game we’re playing,” He asked me with raised brows.

“I didn’t realize there was a game,” I shrugged at him.

Finn moved to corner me against the counter, causing me to stare up at him as he placed his hands on both sides of me on the counter, thumbs hooking into the belt loops on the back of my shorts. Finn leaned down towards my ear and released a husky whisper.

“There was always a game with us,” He said in my ear.

As soon as the words left his lips I scoffed and pushed him away from me, the moment between us now ruined just like when we were dating. “No, Finn, there was always a game with you.” Finn looked at me in shock at my sudden mood change, causing me to roll my eyes. “I need some air.”

I released a deep breath as I tried to breathe through the rising emotions. The reminder of what happened that night and the resurfacing of memories I have long since pushed away caused me to hide in the corner on the roof so I could be alone. Tears began to form in the corner of my eyes as I worked through what happened.

FRESHMAN YEAR, (Y/S)’S CHRISTMAS PARTY

Claire and Sarah stood outside their fellow sister’s room as they listened to her fight with her boyfriend of 4 months, wondering if telling her about what her boyfriend's friends were doing downstairs was necessary.

“Maybe we should just handle it ourselves,” Claire offered up.

“We can, but that doesn’t change the fact that once whatever is going on in there is over, (Y/N) is going to need us,” Sarah argued with her.

Meanwhile, in (Y/N) bedroom, she and Finn were having an extremely heated argument that was getting worse by the minute.

“I can’t believe you would embarrass me like that, Finn. You know how important this party was for me and that it was important that I looked good in front of the other girls. Then you bring your fucking dumbass teammates with you and fucking flirt with one of my sisters,” (Y/N) shouted at the blonde baseball player, gesturing with her hands toward the bedroom door.

“You’re overreacting, (Y/N). It wasn’t like that,” Finn argued with her, his hands on his hips as he tried to remain calm in the face of her wrath.

“Then what was it, Finn? Tell me what it was that I witnessed downstairs. Tell me the excuse you have for having one of my sorority sisters straddling you and close to having her tongue down your throat,” She yelled at him, throwing her hands around in anger.

“She came onto me,” He yelled back, pointing from the door then back at himself.

(Y/N) paused, her face contorting from anger to utter disbelief. “Oh, don’t give me that fucking bullshit, Finn. You're not the victim here. You never are. This is not the first time I have seen you do this to me. Why do you think I refuse to go to Sound Machine anymore? You go there and you hit on other girls and dance with them and you act like I don’t even fucking exist or like I'm not supposed to care that my boyfriend is fine with flirting with other girls.”

Finn remained quiet and stared at (Y/N), causing her to continue.

“What is it, Finn? What do they have that I don’t? What keeps making you run to every other girl but me,” She interrogated.

“Well, for starters they put out,” He snapped, anger blazing in his eyes.

(Y/N) took a step back at the look in his eyes before she narrowed her own at the baseball player and felt the anger she was feeling increase tenfold. “That’s what this is about? That I won’t let you stick your average-sized dick anywhere you want?”

“No, it's about the fact that you won't even let me touch you. I lay a single finger on you or make any sort of move to take this to the next level, you pull away,” He yelled at her, throwing his arms around in his exasperation.

“That’s not true,” she argued with him.

“Yes, it is, (Y/N). Don’t even bother trying to deny it. I touch your tits and suddenly you have to study for a big exam. I kiss your neck and then you have this book you want to tell me about. You always change directions every time,” He yelled.

“Did you ever think that maybe I’m not ready for something like that? Or that, I don’t know, I don’t trust you enough to take that next step in our relationship,” she snapped at him.

Finn went quiet after, staring at (Y/N) before speaking in a sarcastic tone and throwing his hands up in the air. “And there it is.”

(Y/N) remained quiet, staring at Finn with tears building up in her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself.

“You’re scared and you don’t want to admit it to yourself so you’re taking it out on me,” He added.

“I am not scared and don’t you dare try and turn this around on me,” she yelled at him.

“Yes, you are scared, (Y/N). You’re scared and instead of sitting down with me and talking it through you push me away and get mad at me for looking somewhere else for attention,” He yelled with a shrug.

“No, I don’t, Finn. Okay? I love you, but you never give me any indication that you love me,” She yelled, tears beginning to stream down her face.

“What do you want me to do, stand in the middle of the quad and declare my undying love for you,” He shouted, his face turning red in frustration.

“No,” (Y/N) yelled back.

“Then what do you want from me,” He snapped.

“I want you to say it! You never say it, Finn! And when we’re in public it’s like you’re a completely different person! You’re not affectionate, you don’t hold my hand, you don’t hug me or put your arm around me,” She sobbed. “I tell you I love you all the time and you never respond. Do you know how embarrassing that is when I say it in front of your teammates or my sisters and you just give me a “Yep” in response?”

“I do love you,” He shrugged at her.

“Then prove it to me,” She requested.

Finn went silent again and stared at (Y/N) for a moment before shaking his head at her.

“You know what, I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time for the constant back and forth, and I don’t have time for you,” Finn said with finality, beginning to walk towards the bedroom door.

“Finn, you don’t mean that,” She yelled after him.

“Yes, (Y/N), I do,” He said, standing by the door.

“Finn, if you walk out that door-,” (Y/N) started, trying to stop him.

“What, (Y/N)? What will happen,” He asked sarcastically, turning to look at her.

She stayed silent, tear streaks covering her face, mascara running under her eyes. 

“Exactly. I’m going to go downstairs, and I’m going to enjoy the rest of the party with my teammates. Who knows, maybe I still got a chance with that sister you found me with. She seemed like a good time, and seemed like she would do anything I asked her to,” Finn shrugged at her.

All (Y/N) could see was red at his words, tears building up once again at his careless attitude. The only thing she could think to do was grab the first thing she could get her hands on.

“I can go and tell Mel to handle it,” Claire offered again, referencing the rowdy baseball players downstairs.

Sarah opened her mouth to deny her but stopped when she heard her sorority sister yell at her boyfriend and what sounded like something being thrown against the wall. The door opened right after and said guy stepped out into the hallway, their sister's harsh words spilling out of the door behind him.

“Fuck you, Finn. You’re nothing but a selfish, disrespectful, misogynistic asshole. I never want to see or speak to you again. We’re through, get the fuck out.”

“Fine by me, sweetheart,” He yelled back at her.

Finn slammed the door behind him and turned around to see the two girls standing in front of him. He was breathing heavily from the battle he just suffered through in (Y/N)’s bedroom, and the young girl's sobs could be heard through the bedroom door. The two girls both looked to the side awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with him as he looked between the two of them. All he could bring himself to do was take a deep breath and try to fight off the tears that were building up in his own eyes. He released his breath in the form of a sigh before stepping past the two girls and walking down the stairs, gathering his teammates and forcing them out the door of the sorority house.

Meanwhile, back in (Y/N)’s room, said girl was sitting on the floor leaning against her bed sobbing at the loss of her boyfriend. He wasn’t her first love, but he was the first guy she loved with all of her heart and soul. She allowed herself to wallow in her sorrows for a moment before standing up and walking over to her vanity. She frantically wiped at her face, taking deep breaths in an attempt to quell her sobs, and looked in the mirror. She continued taking deep breaths before standing from her vanity and walking over to her bedroom door, ready to make the best of the rest of the night and rejoin the party. However, she stopped in her tracks at the door and looked down at the now-broken object she had thrown at Finn. Her tears built up in her eyes once again and she dropped down to her knees when she noticed she threw her picture of the two of them. She gripped the frame in her hands and shakily picked it up from the floor taking in the two smiling faces, her arms wrapped around his arm as he just looked somewhere else, most likely at one of his teammates. Her smile was small, her head resting on his shoulder as she looked up at Finn with adoration. She began to sob again as she carefully took the picture out of the frame, staring down at it as her door opened up. She looked up to see Claire and Sarah staring down at her, the two girls frowning at her in pity as she sobbed harder, dropping the frame and picture on the floor. The two girls stepped into the room and closed the door behind them, being careful of the glass on the floor as they both knelt beside their sister, wrapping their arms around her.

1980, BASEBALL HOUSE PARTY

I took a deep breath in as a few tears slipped from my eyes. Releasing a slow breath as I wiped them from my face. I took a few more deep breaths and stayed huddled up in my corner when I heard other people coming out on the roof with me. I looked around the corner to see Finn and Willoughby climbing out and holding golf clubs in their hand.

“God damn it,” I sighed in frustration, hitting the back of my head against the side of the house.

I heard footsteps begin making their way towards where I was sitting and leaned my head back against the side of the house. Looking up and to the left at the person next to me.

“Finnegan,” I greeted, bringing my cup up and taking a gulp of my drink.

“What are you doing out here, sweetheart,” He asked me with a smirk.

“Avoiding you. But apparently, I can’t even come outside to do that,” I said honestly, giving him a sarcastic smile.

Finn scoffed and shook his head at me. “You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.”

I rolled my eyes and looked back down at my lap, swirling the liquid inside my cup as entertainment before I drained the rest of it. I carelessly tossed the cup onto the roof before attempting to stand from my seated position, almost falling over in the process and falling off the roof, causing Finn to quickly grab me and support me.

“Careful, (Y/N). We don’t need the police called to our house before the school year even starts,” Finn warned me.

“I’m fine,” I slurred out, leaning against him.

“Mhm, I’m sure. Look how about you come over here and sit with Willoughby and me, watch us hit some beer cans off the roof, and I’ll have Coma get you some water,” He offered up, helping me walk over and setting me down on the recliner that somebody brought out on the roof.

“Ooh, water sounds good right now,” I moaned out, sitting down in the chair and relaxing.

“I bet it does. Coma, care to get our guest some water,” Finn called out to the baseball player.

“For (Y/N) I’ll do just about anything,” he told Finn before climbing back inside.

“Hey, watch it,” He called after his teammate, causing Coma to roll his eyes.

“You need to stop being so jealous,” I lectured, frowning up at him.

“Why is that,” Finn asked me with a smirk.

“Because you aren’t my boyfriend. You haven’t been for 2 years now,” I reminded him.

Finn’s smirk faded and was taken over by a frown. “Yeah, and they’ve been the worst 2 years of my life.”

My face softened and I looked up at him apologetically. I reached forward and hesitantly placed my hand in his own, squeezing it. Finn looked down at our hands, moving his hand to intertwine with my own. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” I apologized.

Finn opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by Coma stepping back out of the window and handing me some water. I gave him a thankful smile and brought the cup to my lips to take a drink.

“Thank you, Coma.”

“You’re welcome, darling,” He told him standing next to me as Finn released my hand and grabbed his golf club from where it was sitting next to my seat. 

“Watch and be impressed sweetheart,” Finn told me, turning to face Willoughby who was patiently waiting for him while smoking a joint.

“So, where is the flag,” Willoughby asked Finn, referencing their target.

“Right there, Volkswagen,” Finn told him, pointing out into the yard at the vehicle.

“Oh, there’s the flag,” Willoughby said, handing Coma his and Finn’s cups before grabbing his cup and positioning himself.

Finn followed his lead, the two of them facing each other as they readied their show.

“Ready? Aim…,” Willoughby trailed off.

“Fire,” The two said together, looking at each other before hitting the beer cans.

I watched the cans fly before hitting the flag the two boys were speaking of. I was genuinely impressed and began clapping for the two boys, the two of them joining me as well.

“You’re a natural,” Finn told Willoughby.

“Thank you,” He nodded at Finn.

I watched the two continue hitting beer cans off the roof for about 30 more minutes until they ran out. After this Willoughby made his exit back inside along with Coma and Finn walked over to me.

“Alright, sweetheart, let’s go,” he told me, grabbing both of my hands and pulling me up out of my seat.

“I want more water,” I told him.

“I’ll get you more water, don’t worry,” He reassured me, helping me climb in before following after me.

He led me down the stairs and into the kitchen, taking my empty cup out of my hand and filling it from the sink. He handed it back to me and I gave him a thankful look before drinking some more. He then wrapped his arm around me and led me outside once again, leading me down the porch steps and setting me down on the last one.

“Sit here, sweetheart, and don’t move. I’ll be right back. There is about to be some good entertainment and I have to go work some magic beforehand,” He told me with a smirk.

“Meaning you need to go flirt with some girls,” I slurred out, rolling my eyes. “I don’t even want to know what you have planned.”

“It’ll be good, I promise. And they mean nothing to me compared to you,” He told me before placing a brief kiss on my head and then rushing off.

About 15 minutes later Finn was escorting a couple of girls outside. I watched the two walk by before Finn stopped by me and looked down at me. I looked up at him with a raised eyebrow as he helped me up and led me over to where the two girls were taking off their clothes.

“What the fuck is going on here,” I asked in confusion.

“Mud wrestling,” He said simply as the other partygoers began gathering around us. 

Nes, Coma, and Brumley came to stand by Finn and me. I looked across the way to see Jake and Plum standing together and Claire and Sarah sitting with McReynolds and Roper a couple of people over. To my right, I saw Niles and Willoughby pull a couple of chairs up to watch.

“Competitor’s ready,” Finn asked the two girls. The two nodded at him and he shouted an enthusiastic “Go!”

Everybody, including myself, began cheering the two girls on, watching them wrestle and grapple with each other as they tried to pin each other to the ground. Finn wrapped his arm around me as I jumped up and down, cheering the two on with glee. He smiled over at me and did what I call his “happy feet” dance as he let out a whoop. Eventually, the two’s match ended and the one girl climbed out. However, after she climbed out, Nes thought he would try his hand with the winner and stripped out of his shirt, jumping into the mud with the girl. He stood across from her and chugged his beer before chucking the empty can behind him. Coma and Finn leaned in and let out yells of encouragement at their friend.

“He’s going to lose,” I yelled to Finn.

“Obviously,” Finn yelled back to me before focusing back on the two.

Nes leaned down and grabbed some of the mud, rubbing it across his face and chest like tribal paint.

“Come on baby,” Nes yelled out before rushing at the girl.

The girl easily grabbed him and threw him down on his back, flipping him over. Nes climbed up from the ground and the girl grabbed him and threw him on his back once again. Nes got to his hands and knees and the girl grabbed him and began spanking him before flipping him over, climbing on top of him, and throwing the mud in his face. I winced as some of it got in his mouth before he finally tapped out and the girl climbed off of him.

I couldn’t help but laugh in amusement and cheer on the girl before Finn finished off his beer and looked over at me.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you inside again,” He told me, leading me back inside the house.

I couldn’t stop giggling as I stumbled over my feet into Finn’s room. The baseball player let out huffs of amusement as he assisted me into his bed. Helping me to kick my Converse off and slide my jacket off my arms. I watched Finn place my shoes neatly on the floor next to his bed and fold my jacket in half before draping it over his desk chair. He then grabbed the blanket folded at the end of his bed and unfolded it before gently laying it over me.

“Nes had his ass completely handed to him by that chick,” I laughed in amusement, shaking my head as I stared at the ceiling and pulled the blanket tighter around me.

“I think he underestimated her,” Finn said with a laugh, moving to sit on the floor next to the bed.

Finn rested his back against the bed and let his head rest back on the side of it as well. I reached down with a scoff and began running my hands through his hair as I spoke.

“Sounds about right. You men underestimate us women all the time,” I hummed as Finn pushed his head further into my hand.

“Not all of us men do,” Finn tried to reassure me.

“True. Some of you have a good head on your shoulders,” I said in agreement, gripping his hair in my hand and giving a slight tug to make him turn his head towards me. “Even you. As much as I hate to admit it.”

Finn scoffed back at me and shook his head. He reached up to grab my hand from his hair and intertwined my fingers with his instead. “You're only saying that 'cause you’re drunk.”

“Hm, maybe,” I shrugged at him before directing my gaze throughout the space. Finn watched me look around his room a bit before setting my eyes on his bedside table. I breathed in a sharp breath when I saw the picture of him and me (a candid of me kissing his cheek while he laughed taken by one of my sorority sisters) sitting there and staring me in the face. His Christmas present I gave him the night before everything happened. “You still have it?”

“I couldn’t get rid of it,” Finn told me honestly, rubbing his thumb over my hand.

I hummed a laugh to myself. “I couldn’t get rid of mine either. It’s tucked between the pages of my journal from that year. Sometimes I look at it and read over everything I wrote. Try and figure out where it all went wrong.”

Finn let out a scoff and squeezed my hand. “You know where it all went wrong.”

“Exactly,” I whispered, hoping he understood my underlying message of ‘I wish you did too.’

There was a few seconds of silence before Finn pushed himself off of the floor and moved to sit next to me in his bed. I didn’t take my eyes off the picture of us as he started delicately running his fingers through my hair.

“You know, I lied the other day,” Finn told me softly.

“Hm,” I hummed at him in confusion, looking at him with furrowed brows.

“I do remember that night. I remember every word that I said and that I made you cry. I remember it all and I regret everything,” He told me, looking into my eyes.

“Why did you lie,” I asked him curiously.

Finn looked down and intertwined his other hand in mine. “Because I hate the person that I was that night, and I never wanted to think about it again. What I did and what I said… I promised myself I was never going to be that way again. That’s why I changed. Because I promised myself that if I did, and you happened to take me back, then I was going to treat you better than any other guy possibly could and put you up on the pedestal you deserved to be on.”

I sighed and sat up in his bed. I brought my free hand up and placed it on his cheek, moving his head so he would look at me.

“So you remember why we fought in the first place? And that it was a long time coming,” I asked him, rubbing my thumb over his cheekbone.

Finn nodded at me and sighed. I nodded back at him and wrapped my hand around his neck, lacing my fingers in the hair at the back of his neck. “I was happy with you, Finn. But you weren’t happy with me. You wanted someone who would have sex with you anytime you wanted, and I was the exact opposite. And I wanted somebody who respected my decisions and what I wanted, and you were the exact opposite.”

Finn looked at me sadly before speaking. “I was a cocky, horny 18-year-old, who couldn’t fathom the thought of someone not wanting to have sex with him. Who didn’t want to attempt to understand why the girl he was absolutely in love with didn’t want to completely give herself to him. So, instead of attempting to understand and work through it with her and tell her how he truly felt about her, he went and treated her like shit. He hit on other girls and told himself that it was okay because things were likely not going to work out anyways.”

I sighed and ran my fingers through the hair at the back of his head in a soothing manner.

“And I was a hopeful, naive 18-year-old who was experiencing love for the first time, despite having relationships before ours. Who was too scared to talk about how she was feeling mistreated out of fear of the guy she loved leaving her and in turn scared to give herself over to him completely.”

“Wow, we were fucked up. Weren’t we,” Finn said, causing me to laugh and nod at him.

“Yeah, we were,” I said in agreement, looking down at my lap. “But I think us breaking up then was for the best.”

Finn looked up at me with hurt in his eyes.

“Not for the reason you’re thinking. I think that we were meant to break up then, so we could become who we are now. So we would be a better fit for each other when we came back together,” I explained softly.

“Back together,” Finn questioned me eagerly.

“Yeah,” I whispered to him, a smile taking over my face.

“Oh thank god,” Finn said in relief before cupping my face in his own and placing his lips against my own.

I couldn't help but smile as we continued kissing each other, him smiling as well shortly after. We continued placing our lips against each other, his mustache rubbing against my face just as I remembered it did Freshman year. I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned back, bringing him over me as we continued kissing. Finn moved to hover over me and I broke away from the kiss, the two of us leaning our foreheads against each other. Finn began peppering kisses across my face and neck, his grin growing at my giggling.

“What are you doing,” I asked him through my giggles.

“I have almost 3 whole years to make up for not being able to kiss you,” Finn told me, continuing his assault.

“Well, can you continue you tomorrow? I’m tired,” I asked him in amusement.

Finn pulled away and looked up at me with a pout. “Fine.”

Finn moved and lay on his side next to me. I rolled my eyes at his childish antics and turned on my side so my back was facing him. Finn threw his arm over my waist and pulled me closer to him, nuzzling his face in my neck and taking a deep breath.

“Good night, (Y/N),” He whispered to me.

“Good night, Walt,” I whispered back to him, feeling his grin widen as the two of us drifted off to sleep.

[sugarcoated-lame]

i need jake to hold me when i can’t sleep :( like when you feel physically ill from exhaustion and he won’t sleep until he hears you sleeping. so big, so warm, so comforting. oh god i LOVE HIM 😭 (same goes for finn)

((also i love you so so so much 💗💞💓🥺))

Ugh Seb I need the same !!! 🥺 Jake would hold you close and wrap you up in his strong arms, one wrapped around your middle while his other hand plays with your hair and gently massages your scalp, his warm chest pressed to your back as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. He’ll talk about his day, the silly prank Fanboy played on Payback at work, a new show he thinks the two of you should watch, everything and nothing until he finally feels your breathing even out, your body fully relaxed in his hold and letting him know that you’ve drifted off to sleep 🥹 and I know Finn would do just the same, talking your ear off in a soothing, quiet tone about some random, obscure topic that you know nothing about because he knows it’ll put you right to sleep 🥹🥹 ugh I need them both so bad !!!

I love you too, so so so so much my dear! 🥹🫶🏼Sending you the biggest hug and forehead kiss, and wishing you a good night’s sleep!! 🥺 Mwah ily! 😘🥰💕❤️💕❤️💕

[sebsxphia]

Okay, but what if the Glen Cinematic Universe boys say their safe word to their s/o? How do they feel about it do you think? What would they appreciate afterwards?

oh wonderfully soft question my dear anon 🥹 i hope you enjoy the below! 💌

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin.

Due to you and Jake engaging in a sub/dom dynamic, he knows he can confidently use his safe word. You’ve both discussed it at length and you trust each other a whole deal. Afterwards, all Jake wants is skin on skin contact. Weather that’s you on his chest, or he on your chest suckling at your nipples, he appreciates the comfort of skin on skin.

Walt ‘Finn’ Finnegan.

Finn is very similar to Jake, he’s entirely confident in his own sexuality and using his safe word. Afterwards, Finn becomes the polar opposite to the talkative and fiery personality that you know. He’s quiet and worn out, therefore he appreciates you taking control and looking after him. He loves to listen to you read, play with his hair and have a long soak in the bath with you.

Charlie Young.

Oh sweet boy Charlie 🥹 He’s shy to use it and he feels a little guilty after, but you’re there to console and reassure him that he did the right thing. He doesn’t always know what he needs after. He’s still new to this dynamic and sometimes you need to coax it out of him with what he wants. You list off a number of things and nine times out of ten, it ends with cuddles on the sofa, pizza resting on your belly and feeding it to him.

Mark Reynolds.

There’s definitely a stigma with safe words and that kind of sex, but you encourage Mark to use it. The first time he uses it, he feels hesitant and he’s asking you, “is this ok? Is this right?” And of course you reassure him that he did the right thing, similar to Charlie. Mark appreciates a strong drink after to soothe his nerves and cuddling you tight for the rest of the night.

[libertyybellls]

EYE CANDY !

pairing; finnick odair x f!victor!reader

summary; finnick odair is charming, finnick odair is strong, finnick odair is so easy to see through.

contains; slight mention of underage drinking, uhhhh a glimpse into forced prostitution if u squint, fluff.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

you’d survived 21 days in the wilderness, fighting for your life, only to return to the capital and refuse to where, what you called; “extravagant pony get-ups.” it was either you’d dress yourself or you simply wouldn’t attempt your own crowning.

your responses in your interviews were bold, carefully played. unique and engaging enough to be sought after but tamed enough to still appease the capitol citizens.

finnick had heard what people had said about you, some had said you were too disorderly and rowdy- others thought you were careless and young enough to bring a new sense of purpose.

finnick however, could care less about what others thought, the minute he’d seen your interviews- he needed to meet you, to see this whole charade for himself.

it was at a capitol party, your mentor in your games had left your side and finnick was ready to sink his teeth in. you bumped into his shoulder- turning around abruptly.

his smile, his perfect hair- you knew he thought he could make you faint by one look, you however, saw this as a challenge. taking it a upon yourself to stick your hand out in introduction; “y/n l/n, and you are?”

finnick laughed, bringing your hand up to his lips, “finnick odair. i’ve seen your recklessness in the capitol- and i adore it.”

now he was really trying to woo you, you let out a genuine laugh at his antics. “that’s cute, finnegan. sadly, i have a party to get back to!” you continued to laugh out as your body slid past his, his jaw was slack, his head was hanging low.

this was clearly not what he had intended to happen.

you two would run into eachother plenty of times sense then, seeing as you were both eye-candy to the capitol. each time your assaults on his ego would lessen until you were able to have decent conversations.

you were unlike anyone or anything he’d ever seen before, you looked so sweet yet your stare was deadly, your voice was soft but your words laced with venom.

he’d learned very quickly that your mind was only stuck on surviving, on getting out. but he was there for you.

he’d been there for you when you’d been too wasted on whatever you’d drunk at the capitol for your own good. he’d been there for you when your strong facade had broken, been there for you on the highs and lows.

he admired your fashion, it was so different from what he’d seen those in the capitol wear, but also had that unique pop of color or grande effects.

he’d seen every district before, spent many night with women and men of the capitol yet he’d never seen someone who was born into such a grey atmosphere embrace color so openly at the same time.

he’d definelty watch you do your makeup in the morning, making little comments “how did you do that?” and “how are you going so close to your eyeball?”

-

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Fiercely Loved - S.Snape

Summary - Severus' partner is one of those people who love fiercely and with their whole heart. The students find their relationship interesting.

Parings - Severus Snape x GN!Reader

Warnings - GN!Reader, use of Y/N, a small explosion

Based off of this request from an anon

my masterlist

Author's Note - This was the first time I ever wrote a GN reader so please correct any mistakes I may have made! Thank you!

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

not my gif

Severus had never expected to find love, let alone a partner who loves him so fiercely. It was common to see little gifts on his desk left by them. The students never expected someone as sweet at Y/N to be with someone as bitter and cold as Severus. Except, he was no longer bitter and cold, well not to the extent he used to be. His partner was one of those people who is fiercely protective of those they love. A single insult to Severus led to a tongue lashing of all tongue lashings. 

The second they saw him in the hallways or in the main hall, they’d be at his side and not leave until they had to go separate ways. The students were surprised to see Snape so willingly giving and receiving affection. The most recent addition of gifts was a new quill and ink set they had seen at the last Hogsmeade trip that they thought he would like. Wrapped with a little bow sitting on his desk for all the students to see.

The green and silver bow caused some students to giggle and others to coo at the sweet thought of his partner. In the middle of the lesson, they had decided to ditch monitoring duty and peek into his classroom just to hear him talk. They loved listening to him speak, they could listen for hours and never once get bored. Severus often reads out loud knowing this little fact about his partner, usually at night in bed or on rainy days when neither of them want to do anything. 

A few of the students had noticed them in the doorway, hearts in their eyes as they watched the potions master do what he did best. After finishing up his lecture about the potion they would be making in class, he turned to the doorway to see his partner, a bright smile on their face as they watched his every move. 

Severus made his way over, a slight smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. “Hello love, how’s monitoring duty going?” He asked quietly, not wanting the students to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“It was boring but then I was over here and heard you teaching so I had to come listen for a bit. You know how much I love your voice,” They replied in the same tone, a similar twinkle in their eyes. 

“I know. You go back to making sure students are behaving in the halls, I’ll see you at dinner.”

“That’s so far away,” They whined. Severus wasn’t one for PDA but he couldn’t help but kiss their pouted lips. “I love you,” They sighed contently.

“I love you, now go on. I’ll see you later, love.”

They reluctantly left, Severus watching as they disappeared down the hall before turning to see all of the students looking at him. “Pay attention to your cauldrons, not me!” He scolded them. All of the students quickly turned back to face their bubbling cauldrons, Severus, with a smirk on his face, walked back to his desk until he heard a loud boom, the smell of smoke filling his nose. “This is why you pay attention to your cauldron, Mr. Finnegan.”

[hp-hcs]

(Fine, I’ll do it my damn self: part 3 of my silly lil mlm stories <3)

Slytherin Twin — draco malfoy x male! slytherin! weasley! reader x harry potter

tws: umbridge’s blood quill, maybe like a pinch of homophobia?

i need more representation of slytherins who enjoy care of magical creatures goddamnit

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Ronald Weasley.”

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“Y/N Weasley.”

Oh, no. Minerva McGonagall does not get paid enough to deal with another set of Weasley twins.

“SLYTHERIN!”

Maybe I should retire, Minerva thinks faintly.

You don’t seem to mind at all that the Great Hall is dead silent as you skip towards the Slytherin table, your brothers watching in a mix of shock, fascination, resignation, and abject horror.

You plop down right next to Draco Malfoy, grinning widely at him before waving cheerily towards some of the older students who are struggling to hold back their unabashed glee.

“A Weasley in Slytherin? I thought your entire family was made up of idioticly naïve fools,” Malfoy sneers sharply, a look of contempt rising on his smug face.

“Draco Malfoy in Slytherin? How much did your family have to pay to ensure you got in?” you reply with a sweet smile on your face. The older students stare in awe at the Weasley who just left a Malfoy speechless.

Much to their surprise, however, Draco’s face broke out into a grin. “So you do belong here. Very well then, Weasley. Lovely to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise, Malfoy.”

~~~

“‘The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware.’ What does that even mean?”

“D’you still think it’s about Potter?” you ask around a mouthful of toast. “Cause I think you might’ve been wrong ‘bout him, Dray.”

“Potter is a spoiled prat, Y/N. Just because he’s the Chosen One, he thinks he’s so special-”

“My brothers broke him out of his uncle’s house over the summer. They’d put bars on his window and starved him.”

Draco stops his tirade about Potter, looking positively bewildered. “What?”

~~~

As you were leaving the library, you bumped into Hermione Granger, your brother’s girlfriend friend.

“Sorry,” you mutter, continuing on your way. You don’t look back, so you never see the dawning look of realization once Granger unfolds the torn-out page you’d shoved into her hand.

~~~

Harry Potter opens the Gryffindor portrait at your hesitant knocking. “Oh- Y/N, right? Ron’s brother?”

You nod uncertainly. “Yeah, um… I just wanted to say that I’m real sorry about Buckbeak. Malfoy’s a git, you know.”

Harry nods slowly. “Yeah. Isn’t he like, your best friend though?”

“Like you’ve never thought of Ronnie as a git too, Potter.”

He grins and holds the portrait open for you. “Here- welcome to the common room, I guess.”

You look around, unimpressed. “My eyes are bleeding.”

Smoothing out your Slytherin sweater, you continue, “Like, this is almost as bad as Ron’s Chudley Cannons shrine-bedroom.”

A unfamiliar scowling face looks up from the couch, glaring daggers at you. “Oi, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be fawning over your Slytherin prince?”

“Hey, leave him alone, Finnegan!” Ron snaps, appearing at the bottom of the stairwell to his dorm. “I swear to Merlin, you are such a prat.”

Ignoring your brother, you raise your hands up in mock surrender, smiling patronizingly at Seamus. “Hey, no hard feelings, leprechaun. I’m just here to apologize on Dray’s behalf.”

“On Dray’s behalf,” Cormac McLaggen mocks in a high-pitched voice. “Oh, Dray!”

A few girls next to him titter with laughter.

“Malfoy your boyfriend or something, Weasley?” McLaggen spits your name like it were a curse.

“Oh, indeed,” you deadpan. “You’re invited to the wedding. Won’t you be my best man, please?”

“If you’re just here to make fun of us, maybe you ought’a leave,” Seamus butts in again.

“Whatever. Anyways, Potter, I found a couple of books in the library about the Ministry’s statutes, and I bookmarked a few pages about the fascinating Release of Liability contracts that Hogwarts students’ guardians have to sign at the beginning of every school year,” you look down at your nails, feigning disinterest. “But if you’re not interested, then I’ll be off. Wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

~~~

“Y/N, here,” Pansy Parkinson said with a look of poorly-contained glee, gently setting a pure white ferret into your hands. “It’s Draco’s, and you’re in charge of ferret-sitting for the foreseeable future. Have fun!”

Blaise just slowly shakes his head and mouths I’m so sorry in your direction as Pansy drags him off, laughing mirthfully. You blink, glancing down at the tiny animal who is currently glaring at you. Draco’s indeed, you think to yourself.

“Heya, little guy. It’s snowing pretty hard outside, are you fine riding in my pocket until I get to my next class?”

You hold open the deep pocket of your robe with your free hand, the ferret immediately leaping inside. You waited as it got settled, its tiny paws and head peeking out.

Satisfied, you start your walk across the school grounds, taking a much longer path than usual to avoid your older brothers, who had been giggling to each other far too much this morning for your comfort.

You chatter to the little rodent in your pocket, about everything from the Divination test you failed this morning to the fantastic cherry tart your mother makes every Yule. Before long, you arrive and climb up the stone steps, knocking on the heavy wood door and tucking your hands into your armpits to keep warm.

The door opens, revealing the half-giant groundskeeper who smiles happily at you.

“Y/N! I jus’ put on a kettle of tea, now. Glad y’made it, lad.”

As he ushers you into the warm, inviting hut, the ferret in your pocket squeaks at the sight of the large dog asleep by the fire.

You giggle, pulling the ferret out and setting it on the arm of your chair, gladly taking the warm teacup offered to you. “Mr. Hagrid, sir. My friend Pansy just kind of gave me this little guy out of nowhere and told me I was on indefinite ferret-sitting duty.”

Hagrid sits forward in his chair, setting down his delicate china teacup that looks rather out of place in his large hand, and squints at the ferret.

“Tha’s transfigured, that is,” Hagrid grunts. “Not a ferret.”

“I figured,” you shrug. “Ten galleons says it’s Malfoy.”

The ferret squeaks indignantly.

Hagrid chuckles. “If it is y’, Malfoy, I right like you better like this.”

You reach out to scratch the top of Malfoy (Ferret?) Blondie’s head. “So can you turn him back, Mr. Hagrid?”

“‘Fraid not, with no wand,” he taps his fingers on his teacup, making a steady clink clink clink sound. “Ah! But our mutual friend should be dropping by shortly, yeah?”

His sentence is punctuated by the well-timed FWOOSH of a flooed-in visitor.

“Heya, Harry! Draco’s a ferret now.”

“He wasn’t already?”

~~~

“My father will hear about this!”

“I’m sure he will, Dray, I’m sure he will,” you deadpan, wincing at the sting of Murtlap Essence on the back of your hand.

He mumbles a quiet apology, already rewrapping Harry’s hand in fresh bandages.

If you had told any Hogwarts student five years ago that one day, Harry Potter and Y/N Weasley would be sitting on the dusty floor of Filch’s dingy custodial closet, having their self-inflicted ‘detentions’ healed and wrapped by Draco Malfoy, they would’ve laughed in your face.

Despite that, the perplexing triad found solace in each others’ presence. No words left needing to be said.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. — Mary Oliver, “Wild Geese”

[lanitalay]

Supernatural 2

in which you encounter a couple of hunters on a case

Azriel x reader

a/n: babes I'm alive. I have been traveling for a while and have not had the mental capacity to write anything but here is a lil fic to remind you I'm still here lol

warnings: angst, canon typical violence

wordcount:1.5k

Part 1

When three loud knocks rattle the dingy motel room door, Azriel rolls his eyes. He noticed you left your keys behind and when you did not come back he assumed you had gone to Dean. The night was spent in itchy sheets, tossing and turning to the thought of you in another’s bed. Before he opened the door, he steeled his face, wiping away any semblance of care or concern. 

“Open up, pretty boy!” 

Weird. “Dean?” 

“Is y/n with you?” The eldest Winchester barges in. “Y/n!”

“I thought she was with you.” Guilt bites Azriel’s mouth as Dean shows him the cracked screen of a phone. Your phone. “Where did you find that?” Your partner snatches it out of the practical stranger’s hands. 

“Sammy and I went to the lobby to ask for more shampoo because someone refuses to get a haircut.” Sam huffs and finishes the explanation “there was nobody there, but we found her phone. It looked like it had been thrown against the wall or something.” 

Azriel couldn’t understand. Had you gotten that fed up with him? Had last night been the last straw for you? Had you broken your phone, the only thing keeping you on the grid, to spite him? He could almost hear you say “have it your way.” 

“Azriel?” Sam’s voice shakes him. 

“She left.”

“What?” It was Dean this time, bewildered. “Listen, we looked around the desk and found the ledger. Take a look.” Azriel’s mind was reeling and this guy wanted him to look at a ledger? He strained his eyes to focus on the wonky lettering. Amelia Johnson, Benjamin Parker, Chloe Thompson, Dominic Rodriguez, Emma Smith, Finnegan O'Connor…

“Why are you showing me this?” His world had just fallen apart and these guys wanted to work a case? 

Dean groans.“Clearly Y/n is the brains in your operation, take a closer look.”

Azriel rereads: Room 9, Amelia Johnson, Benjamin Parker, Chloe Thompson, Dominic Rodriguez, Emma Smith, Finnegan O'Connor, Azriel Singer, Y/n Y/l/n.

Oh. 

Crap. 

“Crap, crap, crap.” You take in the gray bodies of people you had been trying to save for a week. Your arm hurt, a lot. Because of how you were tied you couldn’t look to see what had been done to it. But based on how your vision blurred at the edges, you deduced that blood had been drawn and based on how difficult it was to breathe, it had been a lot. 

The motel attendant walks in. With all the strength you can muster you spit at it. For what it did to those people, for what this would do to Azriel. He flashes his fangs. A warning.

“I must say, your blood is particularly delectable.” He rips your sore arm from its binding and jams a needle in it. Blinding pain shoots to your neck, up to your throat and a meek whimper escapes you. It was like he pierced your soul. For a second you think he’s draining more than just blood. Before a coherent thought can form your consciousness gives way to darkness. 

“She’s gotta be here. There must be a basement or cellar or backroom or-” Azriel is rambling, scouring through files and cursing himself for not having the blueprints to the motel. He had spent so much time in the archives and didn’t even think to get them. 

“Azriel, she’ll be ok. We will search this place up and down until we find her. But right now we have to sharpen our machetes and come up with a plan.” Sam said while Dean had already begun working on his weapon. 

An hour later they had set out to the lobby.

No one was at the front desk. The hunters quickly made their way to the back room. It was set up as an office. Papers piled sky high, most of them blank. Sam opened a door labeled “storage” and cursed when he shone a flashlight down a steep set of stairs. “Guys, over here.” He whispered. Vampires are heavy sleepers, especially after a meal but they needed to be careful. Azriel tightens his grip on his machete and follows Sam down, Dean watching his back. 

When they reach the landing, distant snoring lets them know they are not alone. There are two doors. Sam presses his ear against one and nods to the others, confirming that it's clear. He opens it, cringing at the squeak. Every damn hinge in this place is rusty. Azriel walks in, flashlight landing on a limp figure. A silhouette he could recognize anywhere, even as it was awkwardly hunched forward. He goes to check your pulse and sighs when he finds it. Weak, but there. 

“Hey, y/n, it's me. We’re gonna get you out of here.” Azriel whispers to your unconscious form while he tears through the ropes that secure you to the chair. Sam and Dean at your flank. He cuts through the bindings of your right arm, cursing to see it discolored, practically  mauled. When he moves it from your back to your front you shriek. Even with the gentleness of his touch your limb felt like it was on fire. The shriek turned into muffled moaning as Azriel covered your mouth with his hand. “Shhh, shhh, we have to be quiet.” 

But the warning was issued in vain. The motel attendant and the janitor were in the room in a matter of seconds. Engaging both winchesters in combat. “Get her out, Az!” Dean shouted through the slashing of machetes against the metal chair the vampire was using as a weapon. 

“I’m sorry if this hurts.” Azriel apologizes as he cuts through the last of the rope and picks you up, aiming to lunge up the stairs. Before he can begin the climb though, the janitor throws Sam across the room and into the pair of you. Azriel does his best to shield your head from the blow. In the beat that it takes Sam to recover the janitor is on you, yanking you away from Azriel and piercing the delicate flesh of your neck with its fangs. 

It's all Azriel sees as he storms forward, swinging his machete like a Tasmanian devil. The janitor is so enthralled by your blood he reacts too late to the blow that severs his head from his body. Your legs give out and Azriel lurches forward to catch you, looking back to Sam who says “go, I’ll finish the job with Dean.”

You woke up in pain. But you woke up in a bed to worried hazel eyes. “Az? Az! The manager and the janitor-”

“I know, Sam and Dean are dealing with them now.” 

“And the people..?”

He shook his head. It was a confirmation of what you had already known, but it did not hurt any less.

Azriel laid down next to you, offering his shoulder for you to lean on. Quiet tears streamed down your face. It was long before he broke the silence “we need to get you to a hospital.” 

Just then, Sam and Dean walked back, covered in blood and clothes tattered to bits. 

“That last sucker put up one hell of a fight.” 

“I’m gonna take y/n to the hospital, thank you for every-”

Dean waved his hands “no no, we got a guy for that. Let me call Cas.”

Azriel and you share a look before you ask. “You know Cass?” 

Sam and Dean share a look. “You know Cas?” 

“We know Cass, but you wouldn’t actually call him for medical attention.”

“Then it’s not the same Cas. Give me a minute.” He never takes out his phone but before you can remark on the effectiveness of his call a flash of light blinds you and at the foot of the bed stands a stoic man in a trench coat.

“What the hell…” 

“Castiel this is Azriel and Y/n. Guys this is Cas, he’s an angel.” Dean’s shit eating grin makes you want to slap him. 

“Dean said that you needed healing?”

You look at your bloodied body and nod.

“This will hurt, but it will be over quickly.” He places a hand on your head and molten energy courses through your veins. It feels like your body will combust from it. In a second it's over though and you are left in a panting mess, no gashes anywhere on your body. 

You pack up quickly after that. Promising the boys you will stay in touch and reach out if you ever need help. 

Soon enough you and Azriel are back in the front seat on his truck. 

“Y/n?” 

“Yeah?”

“About last night-”

“I know.”  You lean into him, placing a kiss on his cheek. “I think there's a case in Florida, I was just reading an article about…” 

You knew the conversation had to happen at some point. Someone was bound to give in or to give up. But there were monsters out there and also, apparently, angels.

[anika-ann]

Cookies and Spark(le)s

Type: one-shot, prequel, canon-ish (see A/N)

Pairining: (pre) Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 4000

Summary: In which you thank the Captain for saving your life on your first mission together by baking cookies, a revelation or two is made and most importantly, you bring a smile to his face – and vice versa.

And so your nickname, Sparkles, is born.

Warnings: FLUFF, mentions of canon-typical violence, Tony being Tony (affectionate), ... I think that’s it? 

A/N: Standalone or a one-shot set so-so TWO YEARS before Love on the Brain series; reader is called “Agent Jones”; divider by firefly-graphics 😍

“Let us always meet each other with a smile, for the smile is the beginning of love.” - Mother Teresa

- 

There was a small smile playing in the corner of Steve’s lips, a quiet but intense feeling of job well-done humming in his chest.

After almost four hours in a gym, a company of ten – and then another ten – agents of various ranks, him and Rollins leading the training and overseeing agents’ drills, Steve was beyond content. There was a reason why they encouraged all agents to sign up for whichever training session available and it didn’t only go down to unregular schedules – it served as a valuable learning experience. The senior agents teaching newbies; the newbies humbling the experienced ones who would have thought they had seen it all, but were proven wrong by a fresh graduate knocking them down; mock opponents of all sizes and strength and tactics, testing each other, some days more than others. And today had felt good, a testimony to the advantages of mixed classes.

Had Steve been a little more spiteful, he’d spend a little more time revelling in the expression on Vale’s face – a senior agent who was sporting attitude issues at times – when she ended up on her back. And as virtuous as people believed Steve to be, he actually did enjoy seeing her fall from her high horse; but the shy smile and the damn helping hand her opponent offered her, right after she had got her on her back, quickly made for a different emotion. Warmer and brining just as much satisfaction.

He wanted to smile at you at your gesture, catching the pleased spark in your eye, but you quickly averted his gaze and returned to your drills. Steve didn’t press; while you were kind and friendly, you also took training – and self-growth, apparently – very seriously. And he had a feeling you were a little unsure about how to act in front of him ever since the last mission.

The fact was that the gentle hum in his heart you had started by kicking Vale’s ass and then helping her up remained until the end of the session, only strengthened by other great moments you and other agents made for.

It truly had been a good afternoon and Steve knew he would sleep well tonight, knowing their system worked – and that they were good people working under the Avengers’ Initiative.

He was just slipping into the sleeves on his hoodie, catching a glimpse of Rollins patting Agent Finnegan on his back as they were leaving, when he heard your voice, instantly attracting his attention despite the slightly awkward note to it.  

“Captain Rogers? Can I have a second?”

A brief smile passing over your lips made the corners of his own rise higher on instinct. Your hair was messy, some sticking to your forehead, some flying around as you had had to just pull a hoodie over your head, your stance speaking of both determination and hesitance.

“Sure,” he said, gaze involuntary flickering to the Tupperware box in your hands. “How can I help you, Agent Jones?”

A flicker of surprise caught on your face as if you hadn’t thought he’d remembered your name – a pleasant surprise, Steve hoped. He hardly ever forgot names and faces, a blessing and a curse of his eidetic memory; but he had a feeling that even without his gift, he wouldn’t forget yours. You stood out subtly, but firmly, at least to Steve; and it had little to do with the fact he had covered you and probably saved your life on your first mission together just a few days ago.

“I, uhm… I know you probably get this all the time, because… well, because you save someone’s life all the time, but. I wanted to thank you,” you explained, a mixture of emotions difficult to decipher sinking into your voice, embarrassment at the forefront as if you were already questioning your decisions.

And you should – there was no reason to thank him further. You expressed your gratitude before, thanking him with shock right at the site of the shooting and then again on the plane when he made rounds, checking on all the agents. You owed him nothing.

But he had to admit you were being rather… sweet, looking up at him like that, sure and unsure at the same time, clearly hesitant about how to handle the situation and desperately trying to get a read on his reaction.

So, Steve took a deep breath, gaze flickering all over your face and minding to sound sincere – as he was – when he spoke again.

“You already have,” he pointed out gently.

“I know. But. It’s my life and just saying thank you doesn’t really seem like enough for something of that magnitude so. Here. A bit more of a thank you,” you said, standing your ground as you held out the box. Your smile grew, a little playful note in your voice as you shrugged. “You strike me like more of an apple pie kind of a man, but I don’t think anyone ever gets offended with cookies.”

Busted. You clearly weren’t a former FBI profiler for nothing. His hands twitched as he almost reached for the box, slightly embarrassed himself now.

“That’s really not necessary, Agent Jones.”

“I promise they’re not poisoned,” you hummed with an attempt at humour, instantly having Steve’s eyebrow rise up, along with a corner of his lips.

“That… didn’t even cross my mind until you mentioned it.”

“…oh.”

Your mouth opened and closed, no real sound coming out.

One silly sentence and it was obvious you pulled back, growing more embarrassed by the second; Steve felt a little guilty for teasing you. You seemed like a confident enough kind of woman, especially when a situation called for it, but he mustn’t forget you barely had just finished your first mission under him (his command, under his command), one where he had to – and wanted to – tackle you down so you wouldn’t catch a bullet for your trouble. Not to mention he was not only your superior, but also a potentially imposing figure known from overexaggerated urban legends which he didn’t try to but fed into anyway. Approaching him would have been nerve-wrecking for anyone, let alone in your circumstance.

But here you were, doing your best to stand with your head held high, offering him cookies, to highlight your gratitude for something Steve believed was his duty. And to show you regretted getting yourself into a situation where he had to intervene, a situation which could make you appear incompetent in the eyes of your direct supervisor – Steve himself.

So yes, he felt a little guilty for the gentle jab when all he had intended to do was to reassure you it was all in day’s work – and maybe to make you smile a little wider. Because from the little he had seen of you and he had read up on you – he liked to know his team, he liked to know what he could work with on his missions, sue him – you seemed to be quite a capable, dedicated and kind person. Not to mention rather beautiful too.

No matter how much time he had spent out of the ice in his new role, his interaction skills with beautiful women, even if those under his command, clearly needed a lot of polishing.

Putting you out of your misery, he slowly raised his hands as not to startle you and carefully took the box from your fingers, gently flipping the lid open for a slit. The sweet aroma of butter and chocolate tickled his nostrils, his quick metabolism letting itself known, his body whispering that he could definitely devour these after two training sessions, even if they weren’t that taxing on him.

You offered a weak smile which Steve reciprocated.

“If they are poisoned, you covered it well. They smell delicious. And look that way too,” he added for a good measure, hoping to erase the last remnants of awkwardness between the two of you.

He did not expect your reaction; nor he anticipated the effect it would have on him.

Upon his light tease and praise, your face lit up. Truly lit up. You might as well glow – and Steve felt his heart stutter, resisting the urge to squint against the gentle light, tempted all the same to keep his eyes wide open to appreciate the sight. It might be ridiculous, but he felt blessed to earn such smile; a perfect beautiful smile, irises sparkling with gratitude and humour, as if you suddenly appreciated him poking a bit of fun.

“Well, the recipe is from the times where no one truly cared about sugar and cholesterol,” you shrugged, smile subtler now, but no less blinding. “And the secret ingredient is gratitude.”

Steve couldn’t but chuckle, no matter how much as he wanted to disapprove of that sentiment.

“Hey. Like I said. Not necessary, but who am I to say no to this,” he mused as he closed the lid. “Thank you, Agent Jones.”

It was the title, Steve realized regretfully the moment the words left his mouth, that had the alluring sparkle in your eye dim and turn your smile from brilliant to polite; it was the reminder that despite the teasing, you were his subordinate and you were still basically strangers. Steve mourned the loss of your glow; and made himself a promise to bring it back soon as you rocked at the balls of your feet, embarrassment returning, even if considerably more subtle than when you had first approached him.

“Enjoy then. …I, uhm, I won’t keep you any longer. Thank you again, Captain Rogers. Have a good day,” you said, genuine warmth behind your words.

Yet, you kept your word and spun on your heels, heading out of the room.

And Steve couldn’t help it. He could tell it was back, that something weighting on your conscience, probably the worry about how you had introduced yourself to him as the agent who needed saving – and tried to, presumably lamely, soften the terrible impression with baking, no matter how excellent. The urge to have you know that was not at all what he as thinking of you was too acute to ignore, a tightness in his chest that needed to be released. Because you seemed a wonderful agent and a better person and he couldn’t let you leave thinking he considered you anything less.

It didn’t matter he barely knew you or you barely knew him; because you simply didn’t deserve to doubt yourself. Because there was more than one reason for why he didn’t really feel entirely comfortable accepting your gratitude; because it wasn’t fair.

“Did you get any cookies?” he called out, voice low despite the now empty training room.

You stopped in your tracks in an instant, turning to him with confusion written all over your face.

“I’m sorry?” you asked politely, frown turning into a brief smile when you realized what he meant – or thought so, apparently. “Oh, well, I sampled. I had to make sure I’d give you quality goods, after all.”

For a profiler, now you were being completely clueless. Steve shook his head, lips a thin line even as he tried to smile, slowly taking the three steps to make up for the distance you had walked. His gaze flicker over your face, still contorted in mild confusion, before he bored his eyes into yours, mindful to sound gentle despite the urgency humming in his ribcage.

“From Agent Thomas, I mean,” he clarified. The effect on you was immediate; your breath hitched, body going rigid with shock. Good. Then you’d hear what he was saying. “Perhaps some thank you for saving my life cookies too?”

Your lips parted in surprise, eyes widening. Your shock at the revelation that he had noticed the situation was almost adorable. He tried not to let it insult him – he could hardly blame anyone for not believing he’d pay attention to them on the mission.

The truth was, Steve probably would have been slightly annoyed had the situation been different. If, upon first time under his command in particular, he would have had to sweep in to save an agent because they were reckless, defying orders or showing off – but that wasn’t the reason you had missed the danger posed to you.

The only reason you missed the enemy shooter was because you were shooting another, right before Steve could. And you did it because Agent Hillary Thomas, on her very first mission of this sort, failed to notice she had left an opening. Because you had exchanged a few words with her on the jet, learning it was her first, and you probably had kept an eye on her ever since. Just like Steve had kept an eye on her and you.

The only reason he had to save you was because you got too busy protecting your fellow agent. It wasn’t your explicit order to have her six, but you had done it anyway, because that was what teammates did for each other. Steve could respect that. Hell, Steve appreciated that – and he was glad that people like you were on his team. This kind of people were his favourite and he would take a bullet for them at any day, so truly, tackling you was the least he could do and would do in the future should the need arise.

“No, Sir. Captain. I didn’t,” you said, a little quiet; clearly torn between standing behind your actions and knowing it had technically been a mistake to look out for someone else more than for yourself. A mistake which your Captain was now pointing out, you perhaps thought.

Imposing figure, Steve reminded himself with a mental sigh, a superior; you must have thought that you were being reprimanded further, which was not at all Steve’s intention. Realizing his shoulders had turned tense upon remembering the mission, he forced his body to relax and willed the corners of his lips to lift softly.

“At ease, Agent Jones. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to let you know that the circumstance has been taken into account. It was a compliment,” he assured you.

Much to his satisfaction, you let him. You stuck your chin up, standing straighter as a brief pleased smile passed your lips.

“Thank you, Captain. I realize that the practice might be different here at the AI than at my last place of employment, but-“

“You were looking out for a colleague, as have I,” he interjected, earning a nod from you, along with a barely-there smile. “And I’m pretty sure having your friends’ and fellow agents’ six is a universal rule. So… I’m glad I had you on the team for the mission. …And I would have been even without the cookies,” he added with a small smirk.

But oh, he should not have sweetened the compliment with a joke if he wasn’t ready to face the consequences. You chuckled, surprised at the teasing – your smile grew large and genuine, eyes shining again, the playful spark making its return. Steve felt his heart stumble in his chest once more, falling straight into the trap of your charm.

He was in trouble. He had been intrigued by you, half-way in trouble already, ankles deep at least, but now you not only smiled – at him, with him – but you smiled at something he said and he could not deny that at heart, he was a simple man with appreciation with the most incredible simple things; like how your smile lit up the training room like the brightest star. And now he was knees deep. No, waist deep, if not more.

If there was one person who should be smirking, it should be you. But you weren’t, because you probably had no idea that the gorgeous smile of yours just made breathing seem like a task worth only of titans among whom Steve did not belong, not with his chest feeling so full – full of delight and pride. He did that. And he wanted to do it again.

He was in so much trouble.

“Well, you got them this time, so enjoy them. I’ll try my best so there’s no reason for them next time,” you declared, unwittingly offering Steve a helping hand by reminding him of the reality of him being your boss – and therefore of inappropriateness of where the train of his thoughts was heading.

“As great as I think these are and as glad as I am you are looking out for our teammates, I like that plan,” he said with a grin, clutching the box only in his left hand in order to outstretch the other, an offer to shake it. You tilted your head to side slightly, but set his hand into his with a soft smile. Trouble. Beautiful, beautiful trouble. “Looking forward to working with you again, Agent Jones.”

You squeezed his hand, an honest grip – firm but gentle, not too strong to show off or try to assert dominance, nor too weak for you were not. Your voice carried the same sentiment as you parted.

“Same, Captain Rogers. Have a good day.”

Perhaps it would sound absurd if said out loud, but the box of homemade cookies only solidified Steve’s conviction that he had made the right choice to decide to move out of the Tower. His first apartment given to him by SHILED after he came out of the ice never felt like home for multiple reasons and so when Tony had been kind enough to offer to all the Avengers a place to stay, no matter how often, Steve had been grateful – if for nothing more than for the convenience of not having to commute. But as time passed and he felt the ground under his feet grow more and more solid, slowly coming to terms to the fact that this century had to be his home now, Steve was finding it hard to balance work and life outside of work with the majority of his life outside of work still happening at the place of employment. At a place where his colleagues – even as he could call a few of them his friends – could stride in literally whenever they pleased. He found himself longing for a true home again.

And yes; something as simple as sweet taste of chocolate chip with peanut butter edge played straight into his yearning for domesticity, painting an image of a woman to hug as she stands by the stove, him sneakily stealing one of the still-cooling cookies he had helped to prepare from a plate, earning a playful smack over the back of his hand and a chuckle. The woman carried your face at the moment, inevitably associated with these particular cookies; Steve had to scold himself for thinking about one of the agents under his command this way.

Then again, the way your eyes sparkled, delighted and a little playful stirred something deep within him, automatically coaxing his lips into a smile even two hours later.

That smile only grew as he spied an unread e-mail at the screen of his computer. From Tony Stark himself, sent this morning, the subject hinting the location of his possible future home. Steve had requested an apartment in one of the Avengers Initiative buildings, which were offered for rent to all agents under the AI for more than a reasonable price. Conveniently located, far enough from the Tower, but not too far; carrying a much better potential to be turned into a home.

Opening the e-mail, Steve couldn’t but chuckle at Tony’s – at least partly pretended – pretentiousness oozing from the first two sentences.  

Hey big guy, you sure you wanna live with the common folks? One apartment’s freshly empty, but can you actually handle living next to a newbie-ish girl? Had J run a like a triple background check on her, she should be okay. I mean. Besides being former FBI, bleh. Check for yourself. She could be good neighbour I guess, you could always ask her to lend you some sugar. Or pour some all over you, cause she has good looks. Lemme know if this’ okay. Peace out.

Steve rolled his eyes at Tony’s inability to not add a dirty joke – but his heart skipped a funny beat at the mention of the FBI, allowing himself a brief hope of seeing you more often. As if you were the only ever newbie coming from that particular agency. However, that simple skip turned into a thunder in his chest when he noticed the file attached with your name indeed.

He was being ridiculous, he was aware. But he found himself excited at the prospect. The first win was that from what he understood you were more intimidated by your circumstance than starstruck when you had interacted with him, so he wouldn’t have to deal with some hero worship that could quickly get awkward and annoying, despite what some people thought. And the second win, well… Even if nothing more than a smile and hellos should be exchanged a few times a week, a friendly face who might light up at least a bit upon talking to him sounded all sorts of pleasant; let alone a kind one.

Maybe he would ask for a cup of coffee after a few days, in a very neighbourly fashion of course, and get to know you in person rather than from the extensive background check he might have received but refused to read because Tony was probably able to dig out things like the name of your first pet and that was just wrong. He’d rather learn these things from you, if you’d be willing. You certainly didn’t seem uninterested in talking to him when giving him a completely unnecessary thank you, so perhaps you’d say yes – to the coffee, at least.

And perhaps he was getting quite ahead of himself. He shook his head.

Briefly checking the address, knowing the quality of the living space would not be an issue, Steve caught himself smiling as he wrote Tony back.

Looks perfect. I’ll take it. Thank you, Tony. S

He groaned when he realized his mistake, quickly sending another e-mail, even as he himself hated when people sent out e-mails as short as a text message in quick succession.

When I said ‘looks perfect’ I meant the apartment. Just to be clear. S

Naturally, with a nice neighbour like yourself, you were a part of that perfection and maybe he did mean you on your own as well, but he would never confess to that, let alone to Tony. Had he said it to anyone else, they would probably look at him funny, slyly even, but Tony… he’d make a huge deal out of it and would probably meddle.

Sadly, this was Tony who he was dealing with. The man could leave important e-mails concerning battle strategy or economic matters untouched for two weeks – but now, he replied instantly. Naturally. Steve could practically hear his friend saying the words. He groaned again.

‘Tis all yours, Cap. And I’m sure you did. Enjoy your cookies, btw, could have shared, you know.

The cookies, not her. Suuuuugar-

Steve felt his face being set aflame; but he rolled his eyes, shutting the tag closed with a grin on his face and warm hum in his chest. Tony’s teasing couldn’t taint the fact Steve was about to move into an apartment with a fresh opportunity to build a home. You living next door – even if it meant a lot of teasing from Tony (and Natasha, and Clint if he caught on) in the future – was just a very pleasant bonus.

He was a simple kind of man – an apple pie kind of a guy as you had guessed, in all senses of the words. Maybe he could try to bake a pie once he moved in and share with you; return your Tupperware with a piece of it in it, as a sort-of a reversed ‘welcome in the building, neighbour’ gesture.

Yeah, he should do that. He had a feeling that it just might make you smile; maybe just enough for him to see a sparkle light up your eyes again. He'd like that. Very, very much.

Steve Rogers masterlist // Love on The Brain masterlist

Thank you for reading my short trip from writing hiatus 😇🥰 Feedback always appreciated 💕

I have several things for TWO possible sequels to Love on the Brain written down, but I don’t have the time or mental energy to really write, let alone detail up a mystery right now. So, I thought you might like a fluffy prequel at least 😊 Thank you for your support 💕

P.S. I have a headcanon now that Tony knew the post boxes in the wall were a mess and he was perfectly happy with the knowledge Steve and Sparkles had to interact whenever something landed in the wrong box. He was probably deliberately stalling having it fixed.

[oncasette]

all the boys i’ve loved before

i saw this on tiktok and thought it was cute omg. this is just off the top of my head but <3

A. adrien chase. andrew neiman. alfie solomons. adrian ivashkov.

B. barry allen. bruce wayne. bradley bradshaw. benny miller. benjamin barry.

C. charlie dalton. clark kent. cameron frye. carlisle cullen.

D. daniel larusso. darry curtis. draco malfoy. druig. din djarin. dean di laurentis. duke orsino.

E. eddie munson. eddie brock. eric northman.

F. finnick odair. finn hudson. frankie morales. ferris bueller. fred weasley. frank castle.

G. george weasley. garrett graham.

H. harry potter. hunter davenport.

I.

J. johnny lawrence. javier peña. jj maybank. jason dean. james potter. jack daniels. jim hopper. jake seresin. jesse swanson. johnny castle.

K. knox overstreet. kai parker.

L. luke skywalker. luke castellan.

M. marcus pike. matt murdock.

N. nick bradshaw.

O. oliver wood. obi-wan kenobi.

P. peeta mellark. phil wenneck. peter parker. peter quill. peter hayes. poor heyward. pacey witter. percy jackson.

Q.

R. ronald miller. rafe cameron. rick flag. regulus black. remus lupin. ron weasley. rodrick heffley.

S. stiles stilinski. stuart twombly. steven meeks. sirius black. scott lang. steven strange. steve rogers. seth cohen. stu macher.

T. thomas. topper thornton. theseus scamander. thomas shelby.

U.

V. vinny pazienza.

W. willard hewitt. walt finnegan.

X.

Y.

Z. zemo. zed necrodopolis.

tagging @fleurfairie @lucasnclair @forourmoons @dameronscopilot & anyone that wants to participate!!

[theminiartblog]

OC Tag List

An A-Z near alphabetical list of almost all OCs featured on this blog. Will update periodically as the collection surely continues to grow. Bold = Titles

A

Aaron Ae Alice Academy AJ Moon Akuro (binch) Alle Graw Altea Amaryllis Angel Apollo Apple Blossom Ararat Edevane Artemis Ash Augustine Aurelia

B

Band of Misfits Bashful Bastion Batonette Beauty Beta Black Blackout Club, The Blank Blaze Blue Bon Bounty Trio Boy Verena Brando Buttercup

C

Caara Mellow Castello Cherry Blossom Chroma Cisza Clara Tin Con Creator, The Cynthia

D

Dahlia Dante Dawn Daya Dayton the Daycare Assistant DivideBetwixt Doc D’oro Dopey Dot Down Deep Dreamcatcher

E

Ebboni

F

Fang Fauna Faust Flower Children Foodies Frostheart Fugitwins Fukiko Fusion Meme

G

Gekido Ghost Vision Grumpy Golden

H

Happy Hana Hé Hel Howl Hush

I

Illyana Ivan the Eye Thief Ivy

J

Jason Jakob Jay Cardinal Jean Jotunn Josiah Julie

K

Karma Kalapana RPG Karma Fortuna Karo Kelpsie Kemuri Suu (Smokescream) Kennedy Keye Kidd Finnegan Klover Fortuna Kouhei Kymali

L

Lashawn Johnson Lifeline (@lifelinexblog) Lilium (Lily) Littol Alex Lucky Chance

M

Mara Marrion Magesty Mars Mary Mason McKnight Melody Merci Michelle Douglass Minds Intertwines (@mindsintertwines) Mint Chip MMM (Mini Mitsuru Morning) Momo

N

Nala Nega Newt Nero Nico Nina Noah Palm Null

O

Oceanis

P

Patty Panda (Pandemica) Pansy PB Pep Perris Palm Pho Phoboes Pieta Plaid Porcelin Prince Professor Palm Prumyse

Q

Quash

R

Rai Gratin Roki Rose Tinted Glasses Roy Ruchi Rune

S

Sage Sam Scilla Setsuna Shift Shiseka Simon Sinne Sirius Skye Sleepy Sneezy Sora K. Stardew Farmers Stormspirit Super Awesome! (@superawesome-rp) Sunflare SquadDawgs

T

Tabby Crevan (Tabby) Takamura, Hiro Tama Go Tamp Down (@tampdown) Táng Taylor Trickster Triton True Sight Torent Torte Haire Toru T’wanda Twi and Lan Tyler

U-

V

V4MP Venus Veran Vigil Viper

W

Weather Fighters Wesley White Wren

X

Xavier

Y

Yin Yuko Yumemi

Z

Zephyrborn Zeta Bones

[rainydayathogwarts]

Snake Ring - Neville Longbottom

Warnings: none? kissing Slytherin! Reader (L/N)=Last Name Summary: The weasley twins spice up a party with a game of seven minutes in heaven

It was a lovely day for you so far. Professor Snape had sent you what must have looked liked a smile when returning your essay and classes couldn't have gone smoother. Now, you and your best mate, Draco Malfoy were headed to a party.

The second you stepped foot in the room of requirements, you were both dragged into a game of seven minutes in heaven, which you hadn't expected. It certainly wasn't a good idea if you wanted to stay sober since majority of the people playing were Gryffindors.

One of the Weasley twins asked you to put an object you carried with you in a cloth bag. Reluctantly, you took your ring off and dropped it in, but not before threatening him that he'd wake up in the black lake if there was so much as a scratch on it.

When all the ladies in the room, even Granger, had put something in the bag, the twins shoved it in their younger brother's face, willing him to go first. His face started blazing red when he got his eyes on the object. Behind him Fred and George loudly wolf-whistled. Granger's silver chain hung from the pads of his fingers.

'About time' you think, you were starting to think you'd lose the bet going on between you and Draco. Not that you'd ever tell him, of course.

"Who'd you wanna get?" Draco whispered, leaning closer to you. You looked around before answering. "I don't know. Maybe someone who probably looks super innocent but changes completely in that type of situation. You?"

He sighed, shaking his head "Anyone but pugface Parkinson." You stifled a laugh, looking up when the closet door opened and the twins passed the bag to their next victim. "I think that would would be our sweet Ms. (L/N). Careful, don't want to drop that."

Your eyes widened when you saw that the shy, rose-cheeked Neville Longbottom was the one to pick your ring. Could've been worse. "Remember, nothing happens, a shot of Firewhiskey to each of you, have fun!"

You adjusted the ring on your finger, letting yourself walk into the surprisingly spacious closet. When the door slammed shut and left the both of you alone in the dark room, you could sense Longbottom's nerves.

"Hey Longbottom." Nothing but the sound of a loud gulp. "You know, it's a school night, and I don't exactly feel like walking into McGonagall's class all hungover. It'd also take too long to brew an antidote for the headache. Do you want to walk into her class hungover?" You waited for his response patiently.

"I-uh-n-no." "Right, second question. Have you had your first kiss yet?" "I-um-no." He answer came out quicker this time, his voice sounding a little more confident. You walked to the corner he was standing in, wishing the twins hadn't taken your wand before locking you in so that you could get some light in the room.

When you found Neville, you put your hands on his shoulder, saying "Well then, you're about to have an exceptionally good one." You trailed your hands up to his jaw, making sure you wouldn't accidentally miss.

Slowly, you pulled him down to your level, taking your time to connect your lips in a nice, soft kiss. You pulled his body closer to yours and felt his hands touching your waist. You took them in yours, firmly pressing them onto your hips.

His hands started roaming around your torso, but before you could get too carried away, you pulled away. Something resembling a whine escaped Neville's throat and you grinned. "What, you liked that?" You asked teasingly. He hummed, pressing his body deeper into yours.

You pecked his lips quickly, yours arms loosely tied around his neck. "Time's up!" You heard someone yell, so you walked away from Neville and to the door that had just begun opening.

When you politely declined the offer of a big shot of Firewhiskey from the twins, wolf-whistles and cheers rung out from around the room. Neville walked out of the closet seconds after you, receiving pats on the back from his mates.

In the few seconds that he had been back in the room, his face had gained a lot of colour and he risked a glance towards you, looking down when you made eye contact.

[daydreams-magic01]

They didn’t break up

(Draco Malfoy x Gryffindor!Potter!Reader)

(Not my gifs, credit goes to the creators)

Main Masterlist

Requested by: Anon

Fandom: Harry Potter (Golden Trio Era)

House: Gryffindor

Request: “ Hey! Could you write a Draco Malfoy x Gryffindor!Potter!reader. Y/N and Draco have been dating since first year but haven’t told anyone. Pansy and Blaise are dating and know about Y/N and Draco because the 4 of them are best friends. Harry and Y/N get into an argument when they return to Hogwarts after the war and he says that she has no friends. The next day the 4 walk into the great hall and the golden trio see that Harry’s sister is engaged to Draco and is best friends with their enemies. Thanks 💞 “

Thank you so much for requesting!

Warnings: Harry is out of character, slightly, for drama, and there is swearing.

Words:1.8K

Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction, the scenarios, the reader, and the dialogue are all mine.

This should only be found on my blog.

Author is always me on this blog: @daydreams-magic01​ .

A/N: Please do not copy or plagiarise this, or put it in your own book, etc. It should only be found here. Also, please mention if I should make a taglist and if you wanted to be added. I also tried by best at being British.

Thank you.

:)

“I like your eyes.”

That is the first thing that Draco Malfoy said to his girlfriend (Y/n) when they first met. After all, he was entranced by her, knowing since that moment that he wants to marry her.

He became further entranced when she mentioned his huge quantities of hair gel and when she defended that ‘filthy mudblood’ Granger.

Why would a woman of her stature mingle with such things? 

Then again, although respected, Potters are ‘Mudwallowers’.

He asked her out after her brother’s first game after the Slytherin’s had all sulked away back to their common room, his mates had all left, and everyone was surrounding Harry. 

He made quick to pull her aside into a dark, hidden corner.

She said no.

So he asked again, a few days after Quirrell fainted in front of the entire school. When he heard she fought a Troll he had a heart attack.

She said no, again.

He always made sure to be discrete when asking her out.

He didn’t want anyone to know after all.

She finally said yes after the detention in the forbidden forest, when he practically saved her life.

In reality, he grabbed her and dragged the distressed girl from her brother.

The two hit a rough patch when he called her best friend a ‘Mud-blood’, and she gave him the cold shoulder for almost four weeks.

They made up.

They hit another rough patch when he got Buckbeak executed, and he was happier to receive the punch from Hermione rather than (Y/n), not that she would ever hit him.

They made up their relationship still a secret.

Forth year made another rough patch when he asked Pansy to the ball rather than her. However, he did not make a good impression as a date, and she and Pansy came close over this.

They made up.

Their fifth year became worse, full of betrayal as he snitched to Umbridge, landing her three months in detention. He said she and Blaise were caught snogging when it was them two. Blaise and her bonded over this, and the rumour was instantly shut down, rather quickly after her brother hexed the git.

They made up.

She told Blaise.

He truly didn’t understand a relationship until his sixth year, when he was forced to join the death eaters.

Thankfully, his god-father trained him in Occlumency so that no memories of her were revealed. 

His understanding increased when they finally took the next step in their relationship.

They didn’t need to make up.

She, Blaise and Pansy became close as they worried over Draco, becoming fast friends.

She told Pansy.

She defended him against her brother, but when it turned out he was right, her heart broke.

Draco made no move to help her.

She refused to acknowledge his existence.

They did not acknowledge each other until Malfoy Manor when he had his wand against her throat.

Despite the stinging hex, he still knew it was her.

The two did not break up.

They didn’t speak when she saved his life.

Yet, they did not break up.

They did not speak as he walked to his mother’s side.

They had no chance to break up.

They finally spoke after the battle when he walked over to her and apologised.

The two knew they did not want to break up.

Two months later, by August the two had become close again, best friends with the now dating Pansy and Blaise.

(Y/n) and Draco had no chance to spend the summer together, but they long to see each other in the repeating seventh year, their eighth year.

Life is now like a dream.

Yet, their relationship is still not known.

~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) does not understand why her brother is so aggravated; clearly, he is getting shagged, and he is happy but -

Ah, it could be because she hassled Ron and him into returning for their eighth year.

It just makes sense.

It’s not like Harry hates Hogwarts, he’s almost as infatuated with it as he is Ginny.

Thus why she has been very careful since the train ride to two weeks from then, today.

She has barely met up with her newest best friends, Blaise and Pansy, or Draco.

After all, she would hate to upset her brother.

She can’t help but long for the day where he will accept it, she knows he will at some point, but perhaps now is not the best time.

It has just been better to stay out of his way.

This is why she is now sat with Dean at a table by the window, playing Wizard Chess as Neville refereed, helping her every now and then with certain moves.

Who knows where Seamus is.

You can imagine her surprise when her brother walks into the crowded common room and scoffs, taking a seat on the main couch without the other two of his trio.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” (Y/n) asks, not looking up from her game, everyone else asks similar questions.

After all, Harry is a kind boy and it would be a shame to see him so upset. “Just came to annoy you. Was just arguing with Malfoy is all. He is still a git.” He jokes, trying to coax a laugh out of her.

She doesn’t take it as a joke, she is angry, upset and irritable after all. “I’m surprised that you recognise people exist out of Gryffindor.”

People gasp.

“I’m just surprised that you have other friends at all.”

No one speaks, but the majority of them do turn the gaze to her. She stops in her thinking for a second, trying not to be upset. Deciding he must be joking she lets out a small laugh before enouncing her move.

Fed-up, he scoffs again, turning to face her on his elbow on the back of the couch. “No, really, I am. Hermione and Ron too. Who knew you could actually make friends.”

Seamus somehow magically appears and steps between the two, as (Y/n) sharply turns to her brother, raising his hands in mock surrender, “now guys, no need to fight.”

Harry ignores him, “Usually you hang out with my friends.”

She sighs and decides to ignore him and the sadness swelling in her chest, “they’re my friends too, Harry. And at least I have friends outside of Gryffindor.”

“So do I. Are they? Or are they just friends with you because you cling around us all the time?”

Anyone who wasn’t listening before is now, for sure.

“I have other friends, you know, Harry, and didn’t I meet Hermione first?” She sarcastically lets out, enouncing her next move. “She liked me first, everyone always does.

Neville tries to make eye contact with her, but she does not look up.

“Well, you are the boy who lived’s sister after all.”

There’s an audible gasp from the majority of the room, but she does not back down.

Sighing sympathetically, she then tuts, “I am the girl who lived.”

“But I am the boy who lived.”

“Sexism is it?”

She has no idea what is with Harry, he never behaves like this, it’s completely out of character for him.

“Don’t be daft, I’m just saying I was first.”

“Just like in that game against Cedric.”

She doesn’t mean to upset him, only ground his ego as she momentarily forgets her dead friend.

Her brother shoots up and storms over, making her jump up as she looks up to him.

“Don’t say his name!”

“Merlin, Harry, he had other friends, you know.”

“But not you.”

“Excuse me? He’s been my friend since Second year.” Harry immediately scoffs and looks down at him, “yeah, right. Just like how Neville is totally friends with you and not because I am his dorm mate.”

“Excuse me!” Neville instantly steps in, “she is my friend, and not because of you, Harry.”

Harry pouts, “of course you are.”

(Y/n) does not understand why he is behaving like this; she assumes something awful must have happened as he has never behaved like this.

“Are you cursed?” She places her hand gently against his forehead as if his temperature will indicate.

“Nope, just me purely telling you you have no friends.”

“Oh,” she sighs, dropping her hand, and she pouts. Then her pout transforms into a smile, “well, this is just me purely telling you that the world doesn’t revolve around you and that you only have friends as you are famous, whereas it is because I am a good person.”

His mouth drops open.

Perhaps Harry is only messing with her.

“Plus, aren’t Hermione and Ron your only friends now.”“

At least I have friends you have none.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) kicks the ground by the courtyard angrily. 

At least she has been in a long and stable relationship and didn’t break up with him 'for his safety'.

What presumptuous bullshit, the wanker. 

“What's wrong with you, love?” Draco gently wraps his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

As if on reflex, she sinks into him, sighing softly and resting her eyes. Draco hums happily, gently rubbing her sides and midsection with his hands.

“My brother said I have no friends.”

The boy freezes, and his lip curls into a snarl. “Bloody Potter.”

“I know,” she scoffs, “but it’s just brothers and sisters playing, you understand.” She shuts her eyes again, leaning further into him.

Despite after the war, he began to eat properly, building up his strength so he can now hold her upright, whereas if it was the previous year when he was stressed, he wouldn’t have had the mental or physical strength to do so.

She made sure to fatten him up.

“No, I don’t know.” 

She opens her eyes and holds back a groan.

There’s a pause.

“I don’t want our children to be so lonely.”

She audibly gasps and stands straight.

(Y/n) turns around, and her hands fly to her mouth as she sees him down on one knee.”

“I never thought that I would propose like this...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Hall audibly gasp as (Y/n) Potter walks into the Great Hall, hand-in-hand with Draco Malfoy, Blaise and Pansy alongside them, also hand-in-hand.

“Oh my god.” Hermione gasps.

“What?” 

“Ron, Harry, I think she’s engaged.”

“What?” Harry shoots up, pulling his arm from Ginny.

“There it is, a ring I have most certainly seen on the hand of Narcissa Malfoy.

You can imagine what happened next.

~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~

Surprisingly, they didn’t break up.

Now they know they are going to be together for a long time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~

[mendesxruel]

🐒 congrats on your 200 lovely! ^__^ wanted to ask for some cute headcanons for dating mr seamus finnigan ~

thank u!! (btw sorry in advance if this is not that good, i havent written for Seamus yet so this is a first!)

Dating Seamus Finnegan

- you two met when he first exploded something, and you wanted to help him

- from then on, you decided to study spells and help him, so he wouldn't explode stuff

- he would be kinda lazy at the beginning but would give in and learn with you

- he'd be so thankful that you were so invested in helping him and that's how he started to grow his feelings towards you

- you two would always be holding hands

- he would buy you two commitment rings

- he wouldn't like too much PDA, but would drown you with kisses when you two were alone

- he'd tease you about how you two met - "we had a spark"

- he would always make you laugh with his sarcastic jokes and even when they weren't that funny, you would still laugh because of how adorable he is

hope you liked it:)

join my celebration!

[jimblejamblewritings]

riddle means misery | part 2.

Summary: Y/N Riddle. Not much more has to be said. Everyone hates her. She’s evil... she has to be.

Warnings for the Series: 18+, this series is dark. Manipulation, dubcon verging on noncon, abuse of power, violence, ed mentions, death, blood

Pairing: unknown yet x black!reader

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N I:  My old readers will know, if I have multiple parts finished. I will post them. Except nearly the whole series to be put up tonight— up until the romance part until I decide who. 

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist) 

You didn’t move despite the charm being off until they were gone. Shakily, you pulled out your wand and muttered ‘Tergeo’-- you didn’t have enough magic to use ‘Scourgify’. You were happy no one was in the common room. Finnegan wasn’t in the room and you didn’t get a good night’s sleep because of it. Sirius wouldn’t hurt an animal just because they belonged to you, right? 

Relief filled your body at Finnegan sleeping on the arm rest of the couch in the common room. You immediately took her upstairs for her breakfast before taking her outside to use the restroom— the cat areas of Hogwarts were really convenient because you would hate a litter box in your room. Remus was the one who caught you crouched in the outer corridor while watching Finnegan enjoy her outside time, skipping breakfast because you didn’t want to deal with anything. You would just get food from the kitchen in a little bit. The house elves were never horrible to you. They were mean but at least they let you get food. 

“Please leave me alone.” 

“I’m doing you a favor by warning you.” 

“Warning me?”

“Marlene wants to duel you this afternoon but is willing to let your boyfriend take your place.” 

Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “I don’t have a boyfriend.” 

“Rosier kisses your ass, I’m sure he kisses other things.”

“I would never kiss him. He’s not my boyfriend and I’m not a whore.”

“What makes you think snogging means you’re a whore, your father tell you that?” 

You grabbed your cat and left. Remus stood and jogged to catch up with you. “Bloody hell, that’s true?”

“What’s true, Moony?”

“Merlin’s Beard,” you whispered as the rest of the group showed up. 

“Her father’s little letters told her you’re a whore if you snog someone.” 

All the boys started laughing. James adjusted his glasses. 

“You say you’re not a Death Eater but you listen to Daddy’s letters? That’s a bit heir to the evil throne, Princess.”

“Is there a reason?” Peter asked. 

You knew walking would result in them following. You just adjusted Finnegan in your arms. “Snogging leads to dating.”

“Yeah, that’s the idea.”

“No point in dating if they’re not the one you’re set up to marry,” you mumbled. 

“That little marriage list wasn’t a joke? And here I was going to compliment You-Know-Who on having some humor in his murderous body… wait, my name was on it.”

Sirius blocked you in with his arms. “Nope, nope, you’re not leaving until I know why my name was on it.” 

“You’re a pureblood,” you muttered.

“What?”

“You’re a pureblood from an old family.” 

Sirius’ hand held your throat, not applying pressure but threatening to. “I’d never date you.”

“It’s not about what you want! It’s a marriage arrangement, you don’t choose it. It happens when my father takes over, you think he cares what we want?” 

“When?” Sirius’ hand around your throat dropped. 

“My father gets stronger by the day and no one is doing anything about it. It’s obvious what’s going to happen. Voldemort will take over and everyone will fall in line or get killed. Muggleborns will have to give up their wands or die and purebloods won’t marry anyone less than a pureblood until we’re all that’s left. That’s life when he wins. When.”

“How are you even allowed to be here?” 

You turned at the random voice. The Great Hall had cleared out from dinner and you were faced with a bunch of your fellow students that only heard you say your father was going to win and kill them all. 

“You should be in an Azkaban cell,” another student said as they all started to walk by. 

“No, I’m not…” 

Your words weren’t finished as you ducked under Sirius’ arm to leave. Finnegan scratched your arms as you were lifted into the air and she jumped to the ground. Your wand hit the ground and you watched James pocket it. Everyone was laughing as the shorts under your skirt were vanished to reveal tiny blue panties with stars on them. 

Your face felt hot as your hands held up your skirt when you felt the panties disappear. You couldn’t cry. Crying would only make it worse, you were sure. No one had ever seen you cry at Hogwarts for that exact reason. Well that was a lie. Up until he graduated at the end of your third year, Lucius had seen a few tears. You hated that he had seen so much of you in a way you knew pleased him and your father.   

“Drop her!” 

You heard that and the shouts of various spells before you found yourself floating back to the ground. Evan Rosier was throwing spells at anyone he could see. Severus looked at you with mild disgust. 

“Why didn’t you do anything?” 

“James took my wand.” 

His face softened and you were actually grateful to the Marauders for once. If the Death Eater posse knew how little magic you possessed, they would stop helping you. He cleaned up the scratches you got from your cat. Severus summoned your wand and some shorts. A blush covered his face. 

“I thought the shorts were more appropriate for me to grab.” 

You thanked him and pulled the shorts up with a vengeance. Evan stopped hexing people only when the Death Eater posse were the last in the hallway. 

Bellatrix reached out to hand Finnegan back to you. “Those mudbloods will be the ones rotting in Azkaban cells if they don’t mind themselves. We can hex them some more.”

“No,” you said quickly before realizing you needed to say more. “School hexes are stupid. They’ll realize Hogwarts isn’t the real world.”

Evan nodded. “If you change your mind, we’ll be glad. I’ve been itching to drop someone from the third floor.” 

The posse walked off, laughing about spells they’ve been wanting to do for a long time. Your life felt like hell. You knew it when you found yourself wishing the Marauders would choose to publicly mess with you that day so others wouldn’t. You would actually even take them shoving you into the Black Lake again like they did in third year. At least they wouldn’t throw rocks at you at first. Every meal was now eaten in the kitchen because the Great Hall was the biggest source of your humiliation. You went to the owlery to get another letter from your father. There was one from him and one with no markings or signatures. You opened the non marked one to find a single sentence:

If you go to Astronomy tonight, you might slip from the tower. 

“Hey, Princess!”

You didn’t even look up at James, just shoved the letter in his arms so he could destroy it like he wanted and ran. You didn’t think they were joking. Taking a failing grade in Astronomy was worth it if it meant you were going to live. You had gotten many threats over the years but no one had been bold enough to threaten to kill you. A lot of letters saying you should die or be dead. But none saying they would kill you. 

In the safety of your room, you cried and hyperventilated on the floor. The bullying was expected, the torment was often, but the moments you truly didn’t feel safe were far and few between. You listened to the letter and didn’t attend your Astronomy class. You skipped breakfast the next morning as well. 

Instead of going to the Great Hall, you went straight to the library. Exams were coming up and you needed study materials. You looked over when you felt stares. A group of seventh years from different Houses were there. The girl in front rolled her eyes. 

“What are you doing, Riddle?” she asked.

You didn’t answer. Maybe it would have been better to say nothing and move on. You just tried to get your books. One of the thick novels smacked you in the face repeatedly.   

“You don’t know how to speak, brat?”

“What do you want?” you asked. 

“Come to Hogsmeade.”

“I’m studying, O.W.L.s ar—”

“That wasn’t a question. You’re leaving with us now. Hogsmeade or your cat might go missing. It was a stray anyway, right?”

You dropped all of your books and left with them. They sandwiched you in so you couldn’t even think about running. You felt one of them grab your wand out the waistband of your skirt. The undeniable crunch of your wand snapping reached your ears only a few seconds later.   

“We’re getting firewhiskey at the pub,” one of them said. 

“I can’t drink till next school year.”

“Learn we aren’t asking questions, unless you want another hex.” 

You followed them to the pub where they trapped you in the booth. You listened to them order— someone got you a butterbeer and multiple shots of firewhiskey. Three shots were placed in front of you. 

“Drink.” 

They laughed when you coughed as the alcohol burned your throat. The girl who spoke earlier grabbed your chin. 

“When your father takes over, you think all little muggleborns are going to let you take our wands?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, you didn’t hear the fir—”

“Prove it. Prove you’re not a Death Eater then, that you like us mudbloods… I know what I do when I like someone.”

You hit at her wrist. “No, let go.” 

The group laughed. 

“She’s not into girls, I bet,” someone else said. “Sweetheart, we’ve got plenty of mudblood boys too.”

You panicked and hit at her wrist again. You didn’t like this game. Snogging was supposed to be something special according to your books. You didn’t want to be kissed by any of them. You didn’t like any of them. The guy behind the girl raised a brow.

“I thought you wanted everyone to know you weren’t your father.”

“No kissing, you already broke my wand.”

“That was just part one.”   

“Let go, let go!” 

She hissed when you hit her particularly hard. Before the girl could get out another word, a wand was pointed at her throat. 

“She told you to let go. I don’t think she’s friends with any of you.” Lucius sneered. 

They all scampered away. Lucius gave you a hand out of the booth. Just like when you were eleven, you immediately clung to him. He led you out the pub and apparated you both to Diagon Alley when you mentioned that your wand was broken. Ollivander wasn’t even surprised to see you. He was one of the few adults you liked. You knew he didn’t like you— you had caught him talking to one of the other customers when he thought you had left. But, he always treated you like a normal customer to your face. At least he knew how to put on a facade.  

“Let’s try a different wand this time, Miss Riddle. I’ve been giving you the same replacement for years. Try this, beech wood with a dragon heartstring core. Ten inches, unyielding.” 

You cleaned the dust off the counter. Ollivander nodded. You reached into your bag but Lucius paid before you could even fish out the coins and count them. He took you back to Hogsmeade and began the walk to Hogwarts.  

“They’re still messing with you? I told you to tell your father after I graduated.”

“He’d kill everyone, even the purebloods.”

Lucius chuckled. “That’s what happens when you’re a Daddy’s girl. Well, you’re almost done and then you can join him. I think they should all be scared when you join us… You’re wearing the bracelet?”

You nodded. “It’s nice. Thank you for the jewelry.”  

“It looks pretty on you.” Lucius took your hand and kissed it. “I’ll see you around.”

He turned to leave. He had to know about the marriage list. You sighed because Lucius definitely thought he was the number one prospect and was going to do anything to stay that way. You’d quicker marry Sirius than him and that said a lot because you wanted the arrogant boy to drown himself in the lake every other day. You felt light walking into the castle, though. 

Lucius had kept you out long enough that everyone already had gone to bed. The castle seemed empty. You couldn’t wait until it was actually void of students. Summer was your liveliest time even if it was short. The Great Hall was always playing music on the record player when you were cleaning with the house-elves. You were surprised they still didn’t like you all that much despite the fact that you cleaned with them. 

The first thing you did one your first day of freedom was go to the pier to paint your nails. You weren’t really a make-up girl, partially because it was so expensive. But you were a complete nail polish girl. If you didn’t replace your nail polish every other Sunday then the world was coming to an end. 

Your second favorite thing about summer was quidditch. The quidditch pitch was free for you to ride your broom and scream at the top of your lungs. You just knew that you would have been an amazing Chaser. Having the castle all to yourself was always a dream. It was the real you that no one— not even your father— had a glimpse of. 

All the shine was dulled when September came back. You skipped the opening feast and ate in your room. You just wanted another day before all the crap started again. And like you predicted, the moment you stepped outside was the moment it started. Your prefect dropped your schedule in your cup of orange juice and then you slipped on a mysterious patch of ice when leaving the Great Hall. The ice patch broke some teeth. Madame Pomfrey wouldn’t help you, acting like you always had a tooth problem. 

You sat at your desk in your dorm room and brewed your own Skele-Gro. You didn’t take the potion until late at night because you knew that the process would be a bit painful for the teeth completely missing and you wanted to be passed out for most of it. Changing into pajamas, you got ready for the potion. You threw it back and dragged yourself to bed, closing the curtains around it. 

Your roommates noticed a cauldron that your foot had hit as you got into bed. It rocked back and forth before tipping all the way— the purple liquid spilling out of it. The cauldron knocked over other bottles and broke the herb and salt lines around your bed.

It was getting hard to breathe. Your eyes flew open to see nothing but black. Arms hit at whatever was on top of you. The giggling of your roommates was making you panic even more. Spots started to dart across your vision. Your hand tried to reach for your wand but it wasn’t where you left it. The pillow finally seemed to let you pull it away from your face. You sat up, panting heavily. All your roommates made eye-contact with you before going to sleep. Falling asleep again wasn’t an option. You grabbed your wand from one of the roommates’ nightstand and moved to change into day clothes. 

McGonagall looked extremely annoyed when you knocked on her door. “Miss Riddle, you’re out past curfew.” 

“The girls in my room tried to kill me,” you said between breaths. 

“That is a very serious accusation.”

“They put a p—”

“Miss Riddle, did you not hear me? That is a very serious accusation and we don’t take kindly to students throwing it around like nothing. Go back to your room before I give you detention for breaking curfew.” 

Your mouth dropped open. She wasn’t taking you seriously. You turned around to head back to the common room before deciding to take one more chance and go to Dumbledore’s office. Dumbledore gave you the same look as McGonagall when the door was opened. You already knew he would say the same things as her but you tried anyway. You ended up grabbing your bags, your journals, and your cat from your room before camping out in a broom closet in the common room. Hopefully none of the quidditch players wanted to practice early in the morning. 

You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t sleep in your room anymore. What if you accidentally knocked over a cauldron and it happened again? They actually tried to smother you with a pillow. The worst part was they almost succeeded. You decided to walk through Hogsmeade to try and come up with a solution. Also to comfort yourself by buying new nail polish or something. You wanted another research journal. You were old enough now to take your research seriously. Exploring the Dark Arts so you could figure out how to defend them was important to you. Especially because your father’s letters revealed more and more to you. You thought that it would be nice to sit at the bar in Three Broomsticks and drink some wine on the weekends while talking about a spell your father taught you when you were six that was three times worse than the Cruciatus Curse. Maybe The Ministry, particularly The Aurors, would find it very useful.     

You stumbled as a hex hit you, causing you to fall and get a cut on your chin. Ignoring the blood, you looked at your coins in your hand—  there was some money to spare. A butterbeer before going back to the castle seemed like a great start to working on the journals. Besides, you needed to be out of the castle a little longer. You paused when you reached the window of Three Broomsticks. Four faces were talking animatedly to each other and a terrible solution appeared in your mind. You might make yourself a target but it was worth a shot.  

“Are we actually gonna do it?” Remus asked. “We never even figured out who to ask over summer.”

Sirius took the salad that the waitress brought. “Not my fault two of you are straight as a damn whistle. A boy sub is so much easier to find, I know so many. Shit, I’d even ask Archie again. He’s a switch but wouldn’t mind and the breakup wasn’t bad. We would’ve had someone by now.”

“That’s comfortable with four doms?” 

Peter swallowed his bite of food. “If they’re comfortable with fucking Padfoot, they’re comfortable with four doms.” 

That made the others chuckle. The boys had been seriously considering actually going through with the throwaway suggestion one of them had made the summer before when they broke into the Potters’ alcohol cabinet to finally try some because they couldn’t wait one more year to be legal. An alcohol induced night and the fact that they were already way too comfortable with each other led to finding out they’re all doms— which shocked James who thought Sirius was a sub the entire time, vice versa with his friend. 

They began to think more and more about it but never really figured out who they would even approach to ask. They might have been known around school but there were still some things they wanted under wraps which was why they were so hesitant on Sirius’ suggestions even though he knew the most people out of all them— the problem was they loved to kiss and tell which was why he slowly stopped kissing and just went on dates. 

James only could think of people on the quidditch team and didn’t want that messy dynamic of being team captain and sleeping with one of your teammates. He wasn’t about to be accused of benching someone or being harsh during practice because of sex. So they were back to square one of brilliant idea with no possible execution.                      

You walked into the pub with determination. The Marauders blinked when you stood in front of their table. You poked at your thighs and James had to bite back a laugh because you were dressed just like his grandpa— he was positive that he had seen that exact pair of corduroy pants and pink t-shirt in the closet. Even your little tote bag looked old.

“Ring Leader?” Remus acknowledged you. 

“I need friends,” you said. 

“Go find the posse. Aren’t you already friends with th—”

“No. I need good friends… so everyone else will leave me alone.”

James set down his butterbeer. “What do we have to do with it?”

“People will stop if I’m friends with you. No one messes with me if you four are in charge of humiliating me. It can’t be much different if we’re friends. I want that every day. I want it all to stop. I’ll pay you. Whatever you w—”

“I think my money alone is enough for the four of us.”

“Please! M-my roommates t-t-tried to kill me. I can’t be alone and I don’t think I can go back to my room… I need h— I’ll do whatever you want. Give you money, do your homework, review you—”  

“Sleep with us,” Sirius said jokingly before shoving his forkful of salad into his mouth. 

“O-okay.”

He looked up with wide eyes, nearly choking on his food. “Moony, get up… Princess, sit. Fuckin’ pathetic. You know that, right?”

You slid into the booth, acutely aware of how little space there was with both Remus and Sirius in the booth. You were stiff as Sirius brazenly squeezed your breast. That never happened to you before. A gasp left your mouth when his hand started going for your belt buckle. His hand slid into your pants, moving past your underwear. His fingers spread you open but his face read disinterest. 

“You agree and this is what it is, understand that? Those tits? Ours. Your mouth, ours. Ass, ours. This pussy…”

Your mouth dropped open as he plunged his fingers into you. 

“Ours.” His fingers left as quickly as they entered you. “We get you whenever we want. All four of us. We’re doing you a favor acting like your friends. You owe us. You’re not our sub.”

“What’s that?” 

“How sheltered does You-Know-Who keep you?” Remus asked. 

Sirius continued his first point. “You’re not our sub. Don’t act like it either, understand you’re a plaything. A toy. Do you understand that?”

“Repeat what he said, Princess,” James said. 

“I’m a toy.” 

“Good girl. Whose?”

“Marauders,” you whispered. 

Sirius zipped your pants back up and went back to eating. “You learn quick. Waiter! Can we get… what do you want?” 

“Porridge breakfast and a butterbeer.” 

“Side of fruit or potatoes?”

“Fruit, please.”

The Marauders talked around you as everyone ate. They were mainly pissed that you were staying in their room because you were scared of your roommates. You couldn’t exactly say you were excited. You had never kissed a boy let alone slept with one. Not to mention this wasn’t just one but four. Worth it wasn’t quite the word you would use but it was the only option that you had. The only option you could visibly see. You finished down your butterbeer when James, Peter, and Remus stood up. 

Without delay, you stood up so Sirius could exit the booth. James stretched before slapping your ass. You walked with them wherever they wanted to go. You figured for a couple weeks you would have to be seen everywhere with them before you could ditch them to be alone when they didn’t want you. 

They spent almost the entire rest of the day in Hogsmeade. Peter squeezed your ass as you all entered the common room. No one else was there but you guys so he had no qualms about changing into a rat. You squeaked in surprise at the Animagus form but picked the rat up and carried him up the stairs. Peter leaned against the doorway as you packed up all your stuff. He snorted at seeing the cat your roommates stole for them that one time. His eyes roamed over everything. You had a lot of weird shit. 

“They actually try to kill you?” 

He chuckled a bit when you nodded and pointed to the pillow that you were leaving behind. The Marauders rolled their eyes when you and Peter returned with all your stuff. They moved all their trunks to the front of their beds so they could move the desks around and create the tiniest space for you. You stacked your two trunks against the wall to create a makeshift headboard. 

Remus duplicated his mattress for you. Finnegan’s cat bed was put on top of the third trunk at the foot of the mattress that was going to act like your desk. It was lucky that the others only owned owls. Finnegan didn’t have to adjust to new pets. You barely finished putting up your stuff when you felt yourself get grabbed and put on a bed. Without making a fuss, Peter murmured the vanishing spell and you found yourself completely naked. On instinct, you covered yourself as the boys just stared. Remus clicked his tongue. 

“Not bad, less tits than I thought. Alright, Riddle, turn around.” 

Shaking a bit, you started to move. Apparently too slow for their liking, you felt yourself get turned over. Peter grabbed his wand, muttered a birth control spell, and then pulled you up by the hips. You inhaled sharply as he entered you. He didn’t even wait for any adjustment, just kept pushing himself until he was fully in. His hand snaked around to start rubbing your clit as he rocked you back and forth on him, needing you more wet so it would be enjoyable for him. 

On some principle, you knew that first times were merely a concept. But that wasn’t what you were taught. And after reading so many romance books, you didn’t care how others talked about it, you wanted it to be the special times like the books. You were hoping to at least face them, get a kiss… maybe even someone say you looked pretty. Peter started going faster to chase his high. The pain and discomfort started to turn into weird pleasure. 

“Tummy feels funny,” you tried to warn someone. 

They all laughed. Peter slapped your ass before grabbing your hair and pulling you up. 

“It’s called cumming.”

Your romance books were wrong in the descriptions, then. It felt a lot different from what you had read. Peter jerked your head back slightly.

“You need to ask us permission.”

“Please,” you whispered. “Can I cum, please?”

“No.” He pushed you back down.  

You felt the warmth of his release and soon Peter pulled away. You were pulled by your ankles to the edge of the bed so your bottom half was hanging slightly off it— your feet would’ve been touching the ground if it wasn’t for the rough pace that James set. He groaned and Peter chuckled. 

“She’s tight isn’t she?” 

“Her pussy’s got a fuckin’ grip.”

“That good?” Remus asked, sitting on the bed. 

“Riddle’s good for one thing.” He pulled all the way out to slam back in. “Made to take a cock.” 

They started talking about you like you weren’t there. You listened as they started naming all the things that they wanted to do to you. Taking you all at once made you nervous. This already felt like too much with one of them at a time. You heard a lot of things that you were unsure about. Getting tied up, edging, choking, messing with you in class. But not a single soft thing was mentioned. Of course not. They made it clear that you were a plaything and not their sub. You buried your face in the mattress when one of them threw out the word whore and it stuck. Remus’ face was suddenly next to you as Sirius replaced James. 

“Snogging doesn’t make you a whore, Princess, but this does. This is what you’re gonna be, right, a good little whore for us?”

Peter, who cleaned himself up and was now dressed, smacked your ass. “Letting four guys fuck you all ‘cause you can’t take a few jinxes. Pathetic.” 

Sirius groaned. “Call her that again.” 

“Did she clench up, did you mean to, sweetheart? Getting worked up at being called our pathetic slut?” 

You were just trying to hold back on the funny feeling and your stomach knotting up. Taking a chance, you looked at Peter. 

“Can I cum? Please. Can I?” 

“No.” 

You nodded and dropped your head back against the mattress, hoping that Sirius would be done sooner rather than later. Remus grabbed your hips and sunk into you. The other three were either cleaning themselves up. Your bottom was sore as Remus pounded in and out of you. They said they wouldn’t always take you like this but you felt that more often than not you would have to deal with all four of them. You winced when Remus pulled out. 

“Go pee before you get an STI,” he said, more clinical than caring. 

They watched you wobble over to their bathroom. Your eyes squeezed shut as you went to the bathroom. No one said that it would hurt a little bit. You flushed the toilet and looked at yourself in the mirror. You couldn’t even give yourself a pep talk. So you just washed your hands and went back into the room. They didn’t bother you as you dug through your trunk for some pajamas. 

(part 3)

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107

[weelittleweasley]

sheer brilliance (f.w.)

prompt: being a teacher’s assistant at a local college, you are assigned to a philosophy professor who is notorious for being young, cocky, and undeniably handsome. does his arrogance get in the way of you getting or job done? or is it his looks?

pairing: professor! fred x teacher’s assistant! reader

warnings: typically frowned upon relationships (oopsie i love forbidden romances that are legal and consentual mwah), language, food, drinking, alcohol

word count: 15k (I am so sorry I really couldn’t help myself)

author’s note: there won’t be a direct part two of this, but you can bet ur sweet booty that i will be writing more prof!fred in this universe because he’s just so HNNNGG

taglist: @rosaliepostsstuff​ @harrysweasleys​ @gcdricreads​ @lumos-barnes​ @whizboingies​ @lumosandnoxwriting​ @pxroxide-prinxcesss​ @c-t-h​ @lol-idk-oops​ @another-lonely-heart​ @kaseyrose96-blog​ @hufflepuff5972 @amourtentiaa​ @parseltongueswriting​ @shilohpug​ @peachypotter​ @spacexcowgirl​ @PaintballKid711 @vogueweasley​ @freddie-weaselbee​ @freds-slut​ @missmulti​ @gryffindcrghost​ @wand3ringr0s3​ @valwritesx​ @sweeterthansammy​ @loonylovegood13​ @lostaurorax​

“It’s so nice to see another young face here,” a blonde haired girls sighs next to you as you swipe your ID card to enter the university building for your first official day of work. “I thought I was going to be the only new TA here,” she confides in you as your shoes click down the corridor as you make your way through the halls. 

You flash her a comforting smile, “Same here. But I think there’s more of us on the way. Besides, we’re relatively early.” 

As a last year graduate student, you needed to be a teaching assistant in order to get your degree and finish your course requirements. It wasn’t an opportunity you were thrilled about, but it would give you hands on teaching experience in a university setting that could be very valuable. That was, if you had the right professor.

“I’m Luna, by the way,” the girl next to you chimes as she fixes the strap of her purse, offering you her hand to shake, gladly accepting it. “I’m a TA for Women and Gender Studies,” she adds proudly.

“I’m (Y/N),” you smile, “TA for Philosophy.” Luna looks impressed as you tell her about your area of study, making you laugh. “I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds. I quite like it, actually. Just hoping the professor I’m assisting is a good one,” you nervously speak, turning the corner to walk to the Dean’s office.

Luna shakes her head, “I hear you. It’s definitely nerve wracking, but Hogwarts University has some of the top rated professors in the country, so I really don’t think we’ll have many problems in that department.” 

You suck in a deep breath as you nod. The university was quite prestigious, you were shocked when you were informed you would be assisting here, but honored nonetheless. However, there was still a pool of nerves that swam around in your stomach as you thought about the professor you would be assisting. You could have a someone who was so knowledgeable in your field of study or someone who was a complete ass. It was a dice roll. “One can only hope,” you sigh before arriving in front of the Dean’s door, placing three knocks on the wooden door.

The door swings open to reveal a happy looking man, brown hair combed back and a toothy grin on his face. He wore houndstooth pants with a white button down tucked in and a neatly tied bow tie around his neck, matching the color pattern of his pants. His face glowed with excitement as he beamed, “Ms. Lovegood, Miss (Y/L/N), so glad to finally have you with us!” You and Luna offered him a warm smile in return as he opened his office door wider for the two of you to enter. “Welcome to Hogwarts! I’m Dean Longbottom, but you two can just call me Neville,” he smiles as he sits behind his desk adorned with small succulents and stationary. “I’ve been anticipating your arrival along with the other teaching assistants for awhile. It’s so nice that we have such a large pool of you for this semester. The professors are quite lucky to get quite a brilliant bunch like you,” he compliments.

“Speaking on behalf of all the TAs, I think I can confidently say we feel honored to be here,” Luna smiles softly as the dean chuckles and you nod.

Neville nods his head, “We are honored to have you.” You and Luna thank him before he begins again, “So, the two of you have some time before you are reporting to your classrooms for lecture. How about I give you the tour of the campus? A proper Hogwarts welcome?”

You and Luna excitedly agree and Dean Longbottom starts to walk you through the hallways of the beautiful university. The university had once been castle during the Gothic era, still maintaining the same structure. Beautiful hallways, paintings of founders hung in the walls, windows adorned with stained glass as sunlight seeped through. “The dining hall is on the left over here,” Neville gestures, revealing a large room lined with tables, school flags hanging high as students varying in year gather to chat and eat. “And if you look ahead, you’ll find the campus courtyard. It’s beautiful this time of year with the flowers in full bloom,” Neville smiles to himself. “Across the street are the campuses houses. Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Syltherins, and Hufflepuffs,” he points as you see tall houses, coated in paint of their respective colors. “I myself was a Gryffindor when I was a student,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you and Luna. “Other than that, I think that concludes the tour. Here are your staff lanyards and your professor assignments have been forwarded to you in your emails. There’s still some time left before lecture, so feel free to hang around campus or in the staff lounge. If you need anything, please, don’t hesitate. I’ll see you two very soon!” he waves before disappearing down the hall. 

In this moment, you take the time to look around the hall to see the bustling student body, smiling and laughing as they make their way down the halls. You softly smile to yourself, reminiscing about when you were an undergraduate. A freshman in the halls, excited for university. Now, you were nearly done with graduate school, soon to be a certified professor. Time had flown by in the blink of an eye. 

“You want to take a peak in the staff lounge?” Luna disturbs your thoughts.

Turning to her, you give her a smile and a nod before walking up the stairs three levels to reach the staff lounge. Inside were a few professors scattered here and there, but mostly there were TAs. The room radiated buzzing nervous energy as red lanyards signifying TA status hung around a few necks. One of the boys sitting at the table spotted the red lanyard and spoke cooly, “You’ve found the right place.” 

He rose from his chair and walked over to you and Luna with a shocking amount of confidence. His jet black hair was gelled back neatly, a crisp light blue button up and handsome tie clung on his neck as he stuck out a hand for you to shake. “Name’s Harry,” he proudly shook your hand. “I was a TA here two years ago, now in charge of the TA program and coordinator for the math department. You two look new. Not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just I could sense it,” he laughs.

“(Y/N),” you shake his hand firmly as he smiles. Luna does the same with a small smile. “You’re right about the new part. It’s both our first semesters here,” you confirm. 

Harry nods and walks back to his chair, leaning back, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Nice. What’s your area of focus?” he asks. 

Luna grabs a seat and speaks, “Women and Gender Studies. You by any chance know a Ginevra Weasley? She’ll be the professor I’m assisting this semester.”

Harry lets out a chuckle before an unfamiliar voice speaks up, “Oh, Potter is familiar here with Ms. Ginevra Weasley. That’s his fiancé.” You turn around to face a smirking face as he sips on his piping cup of black coffee. “I’m Seamus Finnegan. Head TA for the chemistry department,” he introduces. “You’ve lucked out,” he tells Luna. “Ginny is the best in the department. She’s a hard ass, but you’ll learn a lot from her.”

Luna smiles to herself, “Very excited to get started then.” 

“What about you?” Harry nods to you as Seamus slides into a seat next to Harry. “Area of study?”

“Philosophy,” you reply cooly. Seamus gives you an impressed look as Harry smiles lightly. “Specifically Ethics,” you add on. “I’m assisting another Weasley, actually?” you look at Luna. “Are they by any chance related?” you ask Harry and Seamus.

The two of them just chuckle as Harry sighs, “Yeah, the whole family basically teaches here. You’ll learn fast. They all got jobs at the same time since their father is on the board of directors. All of them deserve to be here though. Brilliant professors, all of them.”

You let out a sigh of relief that you didn’t realize you were holding in. Confirmation that you had a more than capable professor was good news. 

Seamus continues on Harry’s tangent. “Basically one in each department,” he shrugs. “Ginny is a  women and gender studies professor, Percy is the head of the business department, Charles is in the vet school, Bill is an adjunct professor now, but he’s in the language department with a focus in French, Ron is the European History professor and by the looks of it, he’ll be the head of the department next year, George is the chemistry professor I assist, and then there’s Fred w-”

“That’s the one,” you interrupt. “He’s the one I’m assisting this semester. How’s he? Do you have any intel that could help a new bee out?” you ask hopefully with a glimmer of jest in your voice. But the look on Harry and Seamus’ faces make your stomach do a flip. They look at each other knowingly as Seamus lets out a small chuckle. He mutters a small yikes before sipping on his coffee and excuses himself from the table to go attend his lecture with George. “What was that look about? Is he a lazy professor?” you groan.

Harry lightly laughs and shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck. “Fred Weasley is a great professor, no need to worry about that. He’s just...how do I put this without getting fired?” he whispers the last bit to himself as your eyes widen and you lean in closer with a what?, making Harry shake his head. “It’s not bad, I swear, he’s not like...unstable or anything. He’s just very cocky. Fred is good at his job and he knows it. He doesn’t let anyone forget it. He’s been ranked top professor at the school for the past three years and wears it like a badge of honor.” 

Great, a cocky professor. A narcissist. Just what you needed when starting a job that could determine the fate of your career. You sigh and flop back in your chair as Luna gives you a sympathetic look. “Bloody brilliant,” you huff.

“He’s a great professor though!” Harry tries to make light of the conversation. “Fred has been teaching straight out of university, so he knows what he’s doing. Students really admire him and his lectures are some of the best that I’ve seen. He knows how to have fun in the class, but he doesn’t take any bullshit,” Harry reassures you as you give him a weak nod. It was nice to hear that he was at least respected and admired by the students. Maybe you could learn to do the same. 

Luna takes a look at her watch and gives you a nudge. “It’s twenty minutes until the new lecture block. Reckon we should introduce ourselves to our professors?” she asks as you sigh with a reluctant nod. After that bit of information you just received, you were less excited to meet your professor. “It was nice meeting you, Harry,” she beams to Harry as you two rise from your seats. 

“Lovely meeting you two. I’m sure I’ll catch you around in the halls,” he winks friendly before you both exit the staff lounge.

Nervously, you played with the cuffs of your turtleneck, walking down the halls, parting with Luna, wishing the other good luck in their first lecture. As you strolled the hallway of the fifth floor, searching from room 523 where Philosophical Ethics would take place. You wondered how he would look. Old, no doubt. Harry said he’s been teaching since he graduated which had to mean he was in his late forties. Was he a cranky old white man? Great. Just fantastic. He probably had the traditional way of teaching which meant he sat at the front of the classroom and spoke at the class for three hours. Your worst nightmare. How could someone ruin something you loved?

You stumble upon the wooden door with golden paint etched into it 523. With a confident inhalation, you push the door open and enter the classroom, neatly set up for the next lecture. Three rows of eight, one next to the other. In the front of the classroom was a large chalkboard with the words Welcome to Ethics written in sloppy handwriting. Gently, there was soft jazz music playing from a small speaker, filling the classroom, saxophone and trumpet melodies echoing. Everything looked normal. Except for who sat at the desk.

At the front of the classroom, sitting at a dark brown desk was a tall, lean young man with tuffs of orange hair styled back. He wore a freshly ironed white button down that was tucked neatly into a pair of chestnut corduroys with matching brown chukka boots. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, showing off his muscular biceps and toned arms. A shiny silver Rolex watch was strapped on his left wrist as he tapped a pen against his desk. But you couldn’t get over how young he was. The youth in his face was lively as his dark chocolate eyes scanned over a paper in front of him. Your presence was unknown to him as he continued to flip through papers, dragging his pen across the margins. 

Politely, you clear your throat, causing him to look up from his paper, looking up at you. When his eyes landed on yours, you gulped thickly. His whole face was undeniably attractive. His angled jaw, full lips, soft eyes. He gave you a confused look. “Lecture isn’t for another twenty minutes,” he told you before looking back down at his paper, almost dismissing you. “But feel free to have your choice in seat. I hope you don’t mind the music. Let me know if it’s distracting,” he tells you before flipping the pages again.

You inhale deeply. “Actually, Professor Weasley, I’m (Y/N),” you introduce yourself. Professor Weasley looks up at you with confused eyes, trying to put together your identity. “Your TA for the semester?” you speak with a small smile. “I’m very excited to get started with you.”

But before you can ask him what you could do to help set up the classroom, he speaks, “I didn’t ask for a TA.”

His words take you aback for a moment. Instead of an introduction or even a simple hello, he told you he didn’t ask for a TA. “I beg your pardon?” you ask with almost a laugh.

“I didn’t ask for a TA. I don’t need one,” he clarifies to you, rising from his desk as you gulp, taking in how tall he was, standing proudly above you. “I’ve never needed a TA in the past, and I don’t know who decided I needed one this year. After being voted best professor since I got here, I don’t understand why this is the year I need one,” he laughs, making his way around the desk, leaning against it, tucking his hands in his pockets.

You give him a disturbed look. Harry telling you that Fred Weasley was cocky was a damn understatement. The bloody guy was telling you to your face that you weren’t wanted or needed here. That he could do his job perfectly fine without you. “I’m sure you don’t need one, Professor, but this was my assignment. Dean Longbottom assigned me here and I’m just following what I was told to do in order to get my degree,” you tell him, trying to remain cool and polite when you’d rather tell him to suck it up and deal with it.

Fred run his fingers through his hair before placing them on either side of his body, leaning back into his desk, tongue pressed against his cheek. His biceps flexed underneath his tight white shirt, making you gulp, trying not to get distracted at the fact that your professor was not only a dick, but an incredibly handsome one. “Neville assigned you?” he laughed. “Alright. Well, I’ll go down to office and get this sorted away,” he huffed before standing up straight.

But before he could take a step further, you stopped him, now getting frustrated that this guy didn’t even try being nice to you. “Hold on,” you stopped him, fixing the strap of your purse on your shoulder before placing it on the desk next to you. “This job was assigned to me. There are no other TA positions available in the philosophy department this late in the game. I’m not gonna lose this job just because you allegedly don’t need a TA,” you try to keep cool, but the venom leaks out every now and then.

Fred gives you a light chuckle before speaking, “Not allegedly. I don’t need one. There’s a reason why I’m one of the most successful and youngest professors. I can run this class by myself without some grad student’s help.”

Now, you are pissed. “Alright, you know what?” you fold your arms over your chest. “I don’t appreciate being spoken to like this. I’ve worked very hard to get where I am and I will be respected. Regardless if I am a TA, or a student, or a co-worker. I am here to do a job and I will do that job no matter what anyone says,” you tell him as he just stares at you, a cocky smirk on his face that makes your blood boil. It was like he wasn’t listening to a word you were saying. “So how about we save ourselves the dramatics and just be satisfied with the fact that this is the situation?”

Fred just exhales and rubs hand over his face. You could tell he didn’t want you here, and quite frankly, you didn’t want to be here either after his little stunt. You were quite sure he was capable of running his own class, but you weren’t here to take his job. You were here to be an assistant to his teaching, being there to support and help him. This was a requirement for you, not a pastime. “Alright then,” he eventually states, making the way back to his desk. “You can grab a desk from the rows and bring it up to the front, I guess,” he huffs as you remain standing with your arms still folded across your chest. 

He looks up and gives you a look. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” you ask with venom pouring from your glossed lips as you give him a sarcastic smile. 

Fred gives you a sarcastic smile back as he drops his pen and speaks, “Fred Weasley. MA in Philosophy and Human Ethics. Cambridge Graduate. Cum laude.” The pride dripped from his voice as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. “And you are?”

You wanted to throw your shoe at his head, your blood was boiling at how arrogant and prideful this man was. “If you were listening before, you would know my name is (Y/N). MA in Philosophy and Human Ethics. University of Oxford. 3.98 GPA,” you mimic him.

Fred gives out a chuckle as you grab your purse and start to settle yourself in the room. “Oxford student? Fitting that our universities are rivals,” he huffs before pulling a desk and chair over for you, placing it near his desk. 

“And why would that be?” you ask sarcastically as Fred bites the inside of his cheek, trying not to snap a snarky response back at you. “Listen, Fred, I’m just here to do my job and do it well. I’m not here to step on your toes. I’m here to finish my requirements so I can get certified,” you tell him as you stand beside your desk, smoothing out your plaid skirt that your turtleneck was tucked neatly into. 

As you stand there, Fred’s eyes rake up and down your body, taking you in as a whole. The first time he’s done this since you walked in. His eyes are like magnets, scanning every inch of your body and how you carry yourself so confidently in the space. When his eyes reach yours, you inhale deeply, trying to prevent the heat from rising to your cheeks as your handsome superior checks you out. “I’m not worried about you, darling,” his thick accent coos. “You’re the least of my worries.”

Just as the words slip out of his mouth, students start to file into the classroom, greeting Fred with good mornings and how are you’s. You tell yourself to calm down, to remain friendly, and cool. As the students file in, Fred greets them all with a warm smile. “Welcome back everyone. This is Philosophical Ethics with Professor Weasley. You all can call me Professor, Professor Weasley, Fred, Professor Fred. Just not Freddie, that one is reserved for my mum,” he teases, earning a few chuckles from the class. He glances over to you with a small stare and begrudgingly introduces you, “This is (Y/N), my TA for the semester. She will be here with us for...?”

“The whole semester,” you remind him with a sweet smile contrasted by your  daggers for eyes. “Looking forward to working with you all,” you tell the class with a warm smile, receiving a few back in return.

Fred sighs, “Right. Well, anyway, let’s take roll and then get right into things, yeah?” The class nods as you sigh. “Alright, who can talk to me about Nietzsche?”

This was going to be a long semester.

Three hours of the class went by at a sluggish pace. Not to mention, Fred didn’t extent an invitation for your opinion or thoughts during the lesson. You didn’t expect him to let you teach the class, but instead, you just sat and listened to him run the class. 

Although he didn’t let you say much, you had to admit that his lecture was quite good. He led the class in a really interesting way, almost like a Socratic seminar type. He let his students make observations and create open dialogues about the philosophy you were covering. Fred encouraged student’s thoughts rather than shut them down and he tried to encourage everyone to participate to make sure everyone said what they wanted to say. But you, he didn’t extend that offer. 

Instead, you took notes. Notes on Fred Weasley. The way he spoke with his hands, how he sloppily wrote on the board with chalk, underlining words, circling, and drawing small diagrams. How he folded his arms across his chest when someone brought up a provocative thought. How he nibbled on his bottom lip when a student asked him a question. How he glanced over at you every once in awhile, catching your eye and smirking when he caught you looking at him. You would roll your eyes and continue to scribble down his mannerisms, what he focused on in class, and how he conducted it. 

The students ate up everything that fell from his lips. It was like magic, the way he could capture 20 students attention about something as niche as existentialism. But you couldn’t lie, Fred Weasley was captivating.

“Okay, for next week’s class read Nicomachean Ethics and start drawing comparisons and differences between Aristotle and Nietzsche,” Fred announces as he closes his book and dismisses his students for the day, a chorus of thank you’s and have a good day’s echo in the classroom.

The final student exits as Fred retires back to his desk, sorting papers and filing away miscellaneous papers. You click your pen as you watch him, waiting for him to break the silence. But instead he sits at his desk and starts scribbling into his planner. With a sigh, you break the silence and speak, “You give a really informative lecture. You engage with the students really well.”

You thought a compliment would be a peace offering. An olive branch of sorts. But Fred took it as an opportunity to dig into you. “I know. That’s why it’s a full class and I’ve got a waitlist 30 kids long,” he speaks without looking up at his desk. 

The guy was cocky as all hell and he was letting you soak it all in. The grip on your pen grows tighter as you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth in irritation, trying to maintain a steady facade. “So,” you breathe out as you grab your bag, pulling your notebook from your back. “You want to talk about lesson plans? I see that you’ve assigned Aristotle for the next week and a half. Maybe a smooth transition would be going into Kant and talking about the categorical imperative?” you suggest, sitting on a desk in front of Fred’s.

He peers up at you through his lashes, your legs dangling from the desk. He gives you all of his attention as he pushes his sleeves further up his arms, fiddling with the lock on his Rolex. “I’ve already taken care of the lesson plans for the rest of the semester. It’s all planned out. It has been since last month,” he explains to you as you nod your head, thinking he would offer something else for you to do.

“Okay,” you trail off. “Is there...anything you want me to do? Coordinate office hours? Set up my own as well so I can be a resource to the students. I can give you my phone number and email to put on the syllabus, so the students know they can reach out to me if they have any questions,” you tell him as you start to scribble down your email and number.

But Fred shakes his head, “Won’t be necessary. If a student needs you, they’ll come to you. Besides, they should really come to me if they need anything since I have more knowledge about the course.”

His passive comments were starting to pile up on you as you inhale deeply, your chest heaving. The turtleneck around your body felt very warm as anger started to bubble in your chest. “Maybe if you told me about the course, I could be a valuable resource to students. Remember, I’m just as qualified as you. I just haven’t graduated yet,” you remind Fred as you lean back on the desk, legs swinging back and forth as Fred starts to pack up his briefcase.

“Yet,” he looks up at you with a smirk, pink lips curled upwards as he leans over his desk, gathering his things. Even though the smirk was condescending as all hell, it did something to you. In more than one way. It made anger gather in your chest, frustration tingle in your temples, but butterflies pitter patter away deep in your stomach.

“So what exactly do you want me to do?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest as Fred grabs his jacket with one hand, his briefcase in the other as he does a once over his desk.

Calmly, Fred speaks, “You can start by filing away those papers on my desk and then once that’s done, make a list of the students in grade point average order. I want to know who needs the most help and who is fine on their own.” After he gives you that direction, he starts for the door.

With a scoff, you hop down from the desk. “And you’re just going to leave?” you laugh at him as he place his hand on the door with a shrug. “You know I am a teaching assistant. Not your personal assistant,” you spit at him.

Fred swings the door open and stands there with a smile. “Teaching is more than just standing front of a room as talking out of your ass, dear,” he tells you as the nickname makes you bite your tongue from yelling at him. 

“You really are arrogant, you know that?” you sneer at him with your hands on your hips, glaring at him. You stare at him as he stands in front of the open door, jacket laid over his forearm, leather briefcase in hand, his other hand combing through his fire red hair.

Fred smiles lightly to you before sighing, “I’m bloody brilliant, (Y/N). You would be arrogant, too.” His words make you shake your head with a scoff. “Sort those papers for me, won’t you? I’ll see you tomorrow in here. Early. 9am sharp.”

But before you can ask him why, he’s out the door and calling after another professor, leaving you alone to your own devices. You let out a frustrated groan as you cover your face with your hands. Of course, you got stuck with the prick professor who takes advantage of an extra set of hands. You walk over to his desk and see a small stack of papers to be sorted and filed away along with the list he wanted you to organize. 

You plop yourself into the desk seat and carefully start going through each file, examining each student’s credentials, organizing them by GPA and last name. You note who could be a tutor and who needs a tutor, who is at exit level, who is at entry level, so on and so forth. The task was interesting, but so time consuming. It was a way you could start to learn more about your students, even if it was through paper.

It had been an hour and a half and you were on your last file when you hear a gentle knock at the door. Slowly, it creaks open to reveal Luna and Harry together. Luna carries two lattes in her hand and smiles, extending her arm out to give it to you. “You are a saint, you know that?” you laugh as you accept the warm, caffeinated beverage. 

“You’re still working?” she asks in disbelief as you finalize some last notes in the margins of one student’s file. “But class ended almost two hours ago.”

You look up at the both of them. “Oh, I know. But Fred left after the lecture and insisted I do the filing and note taking whilst he got to leave on time,” you speak through gritted teeth, finishing scribbling your last note and flopping the pen down, leaning back in the desk chair with a huff. “You weren’t lying when you told me he’s a self-righteous fuck,” you talk to Harry.

Harry laughs and digs his hands into his pockets with a huff. “Well, I didn’t use those words,” he laughs as you give him a look through your mascara coated lashes. He gives you a sorry sigh and leans over the desk, “Fred is a great guy one on one, but as a professor...he just likes having reign over his classroom. It’s not just you. His last TA was three years ago and he made the kid miserable. The kid, Dean Thomas, was so sick of philosophy after he switched to psychology. Now he’s a first year professor.” You roll your eyes and push yourself out of the desk, grabbing your purse and notebooks, piling them all in as Harry continues. “What happened today?”

Recounting the moments of the day made you frustrated, but you allowed yourself to vent to your co-workers. “Well, when I walked in, he thought I was a student,” you speak as Harry and Luna give you an apologetic look, Harry muttering an ouch. “Oh, that’s not even the worst part. Then I told him I was a TA and he told me he didn’t need one, because he’s more than capable of running his own classroom,” you mimic his pompous attitude. “He had the gall to threaten me to go to Neville’s office and find me a replacement class! I mean, sure, he’s a great professor, but that doesn’t mean he’s the only good one in this bloody school!” you exclaim, frustrated failing your arms, earning a small chuckle from Harry and Luna. “I’m sorry, I’m just very frustrated that this is how my first day on the job went,” you run your fingers through your hair, shaking your head.

“No need to apologize,” Luna walks over and touches your shoulder gently. “He sounds...unpleasant...” she tries to be as cordial as possible, earning a giggle from you. “But maybe you’ll warm up to each other? It’s only the first day. We have a whole semester ahead of us,” she looks between you and Harry cheerfully. In a weird way, her light, happy tone made you feel a little better.

You sigh, “I guess so. Ugh, a whole semester with Fred Weasley...” 

The three of you start out of the classroom and start to make your way down the halls, retiring to the staff parking lot and bus stops. But before you can make your way to the public transportation, Harry suggests, “Hey, a few of us are headed to the bar to grab a drink before headed home. Do you both fancy coming?”

Luna perks up and shakes her head with an eager yes please. The idea of grabbing drinks sounded great and just what you needed after this gruesome day. But the looming thought of having to get up early and meet Fred in the classroom tomorrow at nine sharp hung over you like a storm cloud. With a sigh, you speak, “Wish I could. But Fred is making me meet him at nine to talk about lesson plans or something. Last thing I need is showing up hungover to my second day on the job.”

Harry and Luna groan in protest. “Oh, come on! You can’t let Fred rob you of your autonomy!” Luna stomps her foot and grabs your hand. “One drink won’t hurt! We’ll both have one pint and then I’ll take the bus back with you. We’re only one stop away from each other on the blue line,” she tries to convince you.

Harry starts dancing backwards to his car as he beeps it open. “I’ve got an extra seat,” he sing songs as he opens up the door for you.

A small smile creeps up on your face as you sigh. One drink couldn’t hurt. Just one cheeky little drink and then home away you would go. The night was still young, so you’d still be in bed at a reasonable hour. One drink. “You guys suck,” you laugh as you start walking to Harry’s car as Luna claps her hands in glee and Harry triumphantly punches the air, making you laugh.

-------

The morning sun creeps through your window, making you groan and roll over. The sunlight hurt your eyes and made your stomach churn as a headache pounds through your cranium, making you feel sick. “Bloody hell,” you whisper as you sit up and rub your eyes. 

You slowly start to remember the events of last night and everyone there. It was all the TAs, including some of the younger professors. You met another Weasley, Ron you think. The history professor. Absolutely nothing like Fred. He was charming and goofy in a lovable way as he sat next to his wife, Hermione, a classical literature professor, an arm draped over her shoulders. Seamus was also there along with a few other chemistry TAs as they sat at a high rise table, pointing and whispering about the business professors and TAs who sat all the way in the back, drinking scotch and making mild chatter.

“No bother meeting them,” Seamus told you as you sipped on a gin and tonic. “The business professors and TAs are all little shits. The one with the blonde hair is Draco Malfoy. He thinks he’s better than everyone because he got his PhD, but everyone knows his dad paid off the university to give him the doctorate. His TAs all kiss his ass to get in his good graces. Zabini, Nott, Goyle, all of them,” he groans before taking a long sip of his ale, making you laugh.

You had tried to tell yourself that you would only stay for one drink, but then you started yourself in conversation with the other TAs about undergrad and grad school, realizing the mutual friends you had with each other. And then, you found yourself being convinced by Ron to do a green tea shot with him as he toasted to all of the new TAs of the semester. And with that, one drink became six.

With a groan, you slump yourself up in your small studio apartment and rub your temples. As the sunlight leaked in through your white linen curtains, you check the clock. The hands pointed to 8:25am which made you gasp and rise to your feet. “Motherfucker,” you huff to yourself as you run to the bathroom. You had to meet Fred at 9 and it already took you twenty minutes to get to campus which left you with virtually no time to get ready. “Shit, shit, shit,” you turn on the shower quickly, running to your closet to grab a fresh pair of plaid pants and a jumper. “I’m so dead,” you whisper to yourself as you scramble to get ready.

You frantically rub soap all over your body with one hand and brush your teeth with the other, needing to freshen up after a long night out. The shower was cold and unpleasant as you shivered before hoping out and throwing your clothes on, opting to skip a full face of makeup and just pop on tinted moisturizer and lip balm. 

Checking the clock again, it was 8:35 and you groan in frustration. “I am a fucking moron,” you curse at yourself, grabbing your purse and notebooks and pens and papers, trying to get yourself organized before racing out the door to catch the bus. You run to your pantry to grab a granola bar as your phone starts buzzing on your nightstand. “Who the fuck is it?!” you scream as if your phone could hear you.

Stomping over, you grab it and see it was Harry calling you. “I’m kinda rushing to get out the door, Potter, make it quick, what’s up?” you babble as you slip your shoes in your Oxfords, lacing them up quickly.

Harry chuckles over the line. “I figured as much. You were a bit of a mess last night,” he tells you as you groan. “I’m only teasing you. But that being said, I’m passing your street in like two minutes, do you wanna catch a ride instead of betting on the bus?” he offers.

You sigh the biggest sigh of relief as you immediately respond. “Harry, you are a life saver,” you huff as Harry laughs. “I’ll be downstairs in a hot second. I just need to grab my coat and keys,” you tell him before hanging up.

Someone had your back today and sent Harry Potter to you. Rushing over to your coat rack, you grab your trench coat and your keys, doing a once over of your apartment, making sure you had everything, turned off all the lights and faucets. With a confident sigh, you exit your apartment, lock the door, and rush down the stairs. 

As expected, Harry sat in his car with a ginger haired woman in the passenger seat. You give him an exhausted smile as you open the back seat and slide in. “Morning,” he chimes as you shut the door and buckle your seatbelt. “How are we feeling?”

You give him a knowing look. “Fuck off,” you grumble as he laughs. “I can’t believe I let myself get carried away like that last night.” You never let yourself loose track of time like that; you felt so irresponsible. “If you didn’t call me, I would surely have my ass handed to me by Fred today.”

“Fred?” the woman in the passenger seat chimes in. “Are you the poor TA who has to deal with my brother this semester?” she asks as you sigh and nod. “Good God, I apologize on his behalf. He can be a dick sometimes. I’m Ginny by the way.”

She turns to you, offering her hand to shake as you gladly accept it. “The women and gender studies professor, right?” you ask as she proudly nods. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m (Y/N), philosophy,” you tell her with a smile. “You and Harry are engaged, if I remember correctly?”

Ginny smiles happily and flashes you her engagement ring. “Just recently, yeah,” she confirms with an admiring look to Harry as he drives down the road, a small smile on his lips. “We met when we were both TAs and have been together since,” she recounts with a smile. “Enough of that though, how are you finding Hogwarts so far? With exception of my bothersome older brother,” she reframes the question.

“So far, so good,” you tell her honestly. The staff at the university was class. Everyone was so warm and welcoming and made you feel at home instantly. “I think last night I also met your brother, Ron. He kept handing out shots to the new TAs,” you recall as the pang in your head agrees.

Ginny rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that’s him. Ron likes to mess with the new bees every year,” she speaks. “Here, take this,” she hands you a piece of spearmint gum and a tube of mascara. “It’ll make you feel better, trust me,” she winks as you thank her. “Harry should have given you a heads up on that one,” she elbows him.

Harry shakes his head, “Ron has been my best mate since grad school, I’m not revealing his tricks to anyone no matter how good of a friend they are.” And with that, Harry pulls into the staff parking lot of Hogwarts as the time reads on the dashboard 8:55am. 5 minutes to spare.

As Harry puts the car in park, you unbuckle yourself and say, “I hate to rush out like this, but I quite literally have to dash to get to this meeting with Fred on time. Ginny, it was lovely meeting you. Harry, I owe you one. Thanks so much for the ride,” you slide out of the car as you dash towards the school.

“You can buy me a round of drinks!” he teases after you as you shake your head, dashing through the halls of Hogwarts to get to classroom 523.

You dart in between students as you run up the stairs, purse in hand, hair flowing as you make a mad dash. Finally, you reach the classroom and push the door open to reveal no one in the room. “Seriously?” you huff out of breath. You just ran here for no reason. Fred was no where to be found. But after closer inspection, there was a small sticky note on the chalkboard that read be back in ten. You huff and throw your bag down, walking around the classroom, trying to distract yourself from your throbbing headache.

The classroom is neatly decorated, plants here and there, the windows open to draw in fresh air as you inhale deeply. Then you remember from yesterday. There was a small speaker by Fred’s desk, connected to the desktop on his desk. You walk over and press the power button, making the speak bleep on with a blue flashing light. You press play and see what was on the queue. Soft jazz music starts playing, specifically Frank Sinatra’s I’ve Got You Under My Skin. You smile to yourself, how fitting. 

As the jazz music echos lightly, you allow yourself to sway gently to the music, smiling to yourself. The song reminds you of working late in the library when you were in school, listening to music to maintain your focus. You hum the melody to yourself, dancing around the classroom, looking at the bookshelves, letting your fingers trace down their backbones. You allow yourself to start softly singing the lyrics as the tempo picks up, swaying back and forth as you pluck a book from the shelf, scanning it’s contents. 

The song picks up, the brass section wailing as you dance around, reading the first few pages of a random book from Fred’s collection. You continue to sing out loud, a little off key as you smile to yourself. In this moment, you were content, regardless of how gross you felt. “’Cause I’ve got you under my skin,” you sang gently as you continued to dance back and forth, cradling the book in your arms.

But you are pulled from your day dream when a voice speaks, “You’re a fan of old blue eyes?” You let out a light squeal as you see Fred standing there, watching you with a small smirk on his mouth, holding two coffees in his hand. 

You place a hand over your heart, monitoring how it thuds against your chest from being startled. You looked at Fred and sighed. He stood there, in a light tan khakis, crispy white shirt with a maroon tie hanging from his neck. A pair of square glasses sat on the bridge of his nose as his chocolate brown eyes peered at yours through them. “Sorry you had to see that,” you chuckle. “Sinatra is one of my favorites.”

Fred chuckles, “No need to apologize. Frank is one of the greats.” He walks over to you and hands you a coffee as you tuck the book in your hands under one of your arms. “Figured you’d need one of these,” he refers to the coffee. “TAs usually have quite the night out of the first day of work,” he recalls with a small smile. Was he...being friendly? But before you could ask how he knew you went out, he answered, “Ron is my brother. I know his ways. Because he learned them from me.” You laugh and shake your head. “I don’t know how you take your coffee, but I assumed a latte with an extra shot would suffice?” 

You give him a soft smile, “Yeah, that’s perfect. Thanks so much. I appreciate it.” Fred nods and sits as his desk with a huff, pulling himself close to the desk. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Fred pulls his glasses off of his face and twirls them in between his fingers as you watch the glasses spin around and around. “I wanted to talk about expectations for the class and for you,” he speaks as you nod and take a sip of your warm latte that almost instantly helps with your headache. “I...I realize that we may have not gotten off to the best start yesterday...and I apologize for my behavior,” he speak as you nod.

An apology was a good start. “You’re forgiven,” you simply state.

“Thank you,” he adds before rubbing a hand over his lips. “As for the class, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. This class is a prestigious course. One of the harder ones in the department. That being said, I think it’s best for me to have the reigns on the class and lead class lectures. You are free to observe and aid in answering questions about assignments or papers,” he tells you as he leans back in his chair, thinking he made a reasonable bargain. But it was quite the opposite.

You weren’t here to sit around and listen to another philosophy professor spew a scripted lecture. You did that for four years in undergraduate school. You were here to learn how to teach a classroom, how to run a lesson plan, how to gain hands on experience. Being a puppet in the corner was not going to accomplish any of those things. “Fred, I appreciate the apology. But this offer is not acceptable,” you state calmly. “I’m your teaching assistant. I’m here to help in any way I can, of course, but I’m also here to help teach and instruct the class. You are suppose to help me learn how to teach the class.”

Fred nods, “And you can do that by matters of observation.”

His way of brushing you off made you infuriated again, just like yesterday. Did he do this to everyone? “But don’t you think it would be more helpful for me to have some actual hands on experience? Like actually teaching the class?” you tell him more than ask him.

He rises from his chair and sighs, “I don’t need you creating a new lesson plan. I’ve been using this one since I got here and it works. If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it.” Fred walks over to the board and writes in bold letters, Aristotle, preparing for today’s lecture. The way that he so nonchalantly stated that to you and started writing on the board as if he didn’t insult your intelligence made you infuriated.

“You’re a fucking prick,” you flat out spew. You wish you could take it back, you really did. As soon as the words left your lips, you regretted what you had said to him. Insulting your superior was surefire to get you fired and released from your job, making you ineligible to graduate. But damn did it feel good to say. 

Fred turns around to look at you, eyebrows furrows as if you just spoke in a foreign language to him. “I’m a fucking prick?” he repeats, folding his arms across his chest, leaning back on the chalkboard, crossing his legs as you stand in front of him, completely enraged, fists tight next to your sides. “Wouldn’t be the first time I heard that,” he laughs, combing his fingers through his hair, as if what you said was a compliment.

“Well the people who said it before were right! You’re cocky and arrogant and self-righteous and pompous and self-absorbed. You clearly have no intention of helping anyone but yourself! That’s probably why you like being a professor! So everyone listens to every last bit you say,” you start to ramble. Now that you had said what was on your mind, it was almost impossible to stop. The words flew off your tongue like a jet. 

Boldly, Fred pushes himself off the chalkboard, hands dug into his pant’s pockets as he walks closer to you. A small smirk dances along his lips as his tongue darts out and drags across his lower lip. The action makes your breath hitch in your throat as you mentally curse yourself, wanting to be annoyed with him, but yet you found yourself aroused. “Keep going,” he urges. “Go on. Tell me how unbearable I am. You’ve only known me twenty four hours, but it seems like you have me all figured out,” he speaks, just a foot away from your body.

Adrenaline is coursing through your veins, your lips slightly parted as you take heaving breaths, making your chest rise and fall quickly. Fred’s eyes scan your face, soaking in your annoyed and confused expression. You suddenly become very aware of how close he is to you and you shake your head, taking a step back. “I only need a day to know an asshole when I see one,” you simply state, folding your arms over your chest. Your expression reads as if it were Fred’s turn to take a dig at you.

Fred chuckles lowly before speaking, “Here’s your problem, darling.” The endearing terms makes your stomach curdle. “You don’t get the hands on experience your second day on the job. You’ve gotta prove to me that you can run a class and keep their attention for three hours. You think it’s easy keeping the attention of a bunch of twenty year olds when you’re talking about philosophy? It’s not as easy as you may think it is,” Fred explain as you roll your eyes. “I was in your shoes once before, so I know what you’re experiencing.”

You laugh, “Oh, don’t pull that card. You’re a professor now. You did your time in my shoes. Don’t pretend like you’d give anything to go back.”

“Oh, honey, you couldn’t pay me enough to go back!” Fred retorts, now with an edge. “You know what. I could let you run today’s class,” he chuckles at the thought. “I could let you run it and watch you crash and fucking burn,” he emphasizes with a shrug. “I could watch those students trample all over you, you know why?” he asks looking at you intently as you gulp. “Because they don’t respect you! They don’t know who you are. In fact, they see you as one of them! If I mistook you as one of them on the first day, then what made you think they wouldn’t?” he asks as you inhale deeply. “Respect is earned when you are in a position of authority. Even if you’re just a professor. And you, (Y/N), haven’t earned that yet from the students. And I honestly don’t know if you have it from me.”

And with that last dig, the first student enters the classroom signaling that the first lecture of the day was ready to begin. Fred and you don’t acknowledge the student, just staring at each other. Fred’s words stung. Like a fresh wound, you were bleeding out. His words were sad, but true. You were a TA, but you were still a grad student. Fred worked to get to the position he was at. You just needed to prove to him that you were capable of handling yourself in a classroom setting as a teaching assistant.

You retreat back to your desk at the front of the room and sit down with a small huff, pulling out the attendance sheet, marking students as present as they enter the classroom.

Fred rubbed his hands over his face, feeling guilty for his out burst. He knew you were brilliant. To be quite honest, Fred knew he was going to get a TA. He had checked out your academic profile, seeing that you graduated undergrad with a nearly perfect grade point average and extra circulars that were sure to blow any one away. Your thesis statement made Fred laugh to himself, it was similar to his own when he was in university; the effect of utilitarianism on free will in our post-modern society. In a weird way, you reminded Fred of himself. Confident, smart, and ballsy. But where you differentiated with Fred is your adaptability. How you could adjust and go with the flow, that was Fred’s downfall.

Soon the classroom was full of students again and Fred took a deep breath, trying to regain his focus and composure to teach the class. He didn’t dare look at you, it would just make him upset. And you didn’t want to look at him. Fred sat on his desk, his long legs almost hitting the floor even when he sat. “Hello everyone,” he addressed the class, some students chiming back. “Let’s get started for the day. Shall we?” he claps his hands together. “Who can talk to me about eudaemonia?” he asks the class.

You looked out at the classroom along with Fred, anticipating a slew of hands but instead you got nothing. Students sat in their chairs in silence, some twiddling their pens, others scribbling in a notebook, some still groggy this during the ten o’clock lecture. “Someone’s gotta know about it. Come on then,” Fred probes the class as they remain silence, only sound is some kid yawning in the back. Fred allows the class to remain silent for a moment. “Alright,” he huffs. “Rough morning for a lot of us,” he speaks, hoping to catch your attention with that line, but you scribble nonsense into the margins of your notebook. “Maybe (Y/N) could give us a definition?” he suggests.

Your head shoots up like a rocket from your paper as you look at Fred with panic in your eyes. He looks at you with a small smile and encouragement, almost as if this were his way of making amends. A twisted way. You look towards the class and see twenty sets of eyes on you as you gulp before shaking away your nerves. “Um, yeah,” you clear your throat. “Eudaemonia is the greatest good, the aim for all human thinking and rational. Another word for eudaemonia is happiness,” you simply state, making the students start scribbling in their notebooks. Pride swells in your chest as you realize what you was valuable to the students. “Eudaemonia is achieve through action in tandem with the human soul and psyche. When eudaemonia is at its highest form, it is known as virtue,” you explain further as the class continues to scribble down what you were saying.

Slowly, you look towards Fred who gives you a small smile and a nod as you just give him a curt nod and turn back to your desk. But when you look away, it’s hard to cover up the small smile on your lips as you fiddle with the pen in your hands. Fred notices your grin as smiles to himself before speaking, “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Maybe today would be better than yesterday.

--------

Another two weeks had gone by and the work relationship you had with Fred improved significantly. He let you interject at certain points in his lectures, let you pose questions to the class, and even assigned you students for office hours. Finally, you started to feel like you were doing what you came here for and you were loving every moment of it.

Fred was a great professor and an even better mentor. He commanded a classroom unlike any other professor you have ever seen. He spoke with confidence and coolness and the students ate him up. It must be rewarding for him, watching students love his work as much as he did. You would watch him with a small smile as you jotted down notes here and there. Fred would catch your eye every now and then in class and gave you a small smile or cheeky wink that made your heart stop every now and then as you turned away from him, biting the inside of your cheek to make you stop smiling. 

“Remember to finish Kant’s Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals for tomorrow’s class! If you haven’t turned in your paper on Nicomachean Ethics yet, do it by 4pm or else I will personally send (Y/N) to find you and hunt you down,” he teases the class as you roll your eyes, making the class laugh. “Happy Friday. Now scram,” Fred dismisses class as students file out.

When the majority of them have dispersed, you walk over to Fred’s desk and huff, “Good lecture today. Katie brought up some good questions about the differences between hypothetical imperatives and categorical imperatives.” Fred leans back in his desk chair, flopping his notebook down on his desk.

“Yeah, she did. But god, I wanted to punch Brian in the face. He kept talking over her while she was saying something poignant. I get it, Brian, there are different formulations, but damn, shut the fuck up,” Fred groans, making you laugh as you grab your bag and get ready to pack up for the day. “So, I hate to be the bearer of bad news...” he trails off as he rises from his seat.

You groan and throw your head back as you spin on your heels to face him. “Please, don’t tell me...” you start as Fred nods his head sadly. “Come on, Fred. It’s Friday night! Beginning of the weekend! All of the TAs are getting drinks at the pub tonight and quite honestly, I’d rather be doing that than grading philosophy papers,” you whine to him.

Fred mockingly places and hand over his heart and speaks, “First off, I am offended that you don’t want to spend time with me grading papers on the brilliance of Aristotle through a twenty year olds eyes.” The comment makes you chuckle, but he pushes on, “But I want to grade this papers tonight and finish them tonight so I, well we, can have the weekend free. You can get drinks any other night with the TAs. But we’ve got to do this tonight.”

You stomp your foot in frustration like a toddler, making Fred chuckle as he places his glasses on his face. “But tonight it’s dollar drafts! Dollar drafts happen once a week!” you beg him. “Why can’t we grade tomorrow?”

“Because I need to put these grades into my grade book before the students start wondering if they’ll ever be graded for something in this class,” he explains. “How about this?” he proposes. “We meet back here at 4:30pm. I’ll get take out for the both of us and we can drink coffee and energy drinks like we’re back in undergrad cramming for an exam. It’ll be fun,” he shimmies his shoulder making you giggle. 

With a huff, you say, “Fine. But if we’re here past midnight, I’ll never forgive you.” 

You start out of the classroom as Fred calls after you, “It’ll be fun!”

Shaking your head down, you start down the hall and see Harry and Luna talking as they leave their respective classrooms. “Heyo,” Harry calls out to you before slinging an arm around your shoulder. “So, for dollar drafts tonight we were just gonna take a cab there at around 5:00. Ron is going to be late because he’s going to wait for Hermione to get out of her night class and they’ll come together. But Seamus, Luna, Cho, and I will all be there and I think Dean said he’s coming and bringing some friends from grad school. It should be a great time,” Harry explains with a big grin.

Your ‘fomo’ was kicking in hard core as you sigh and speak, “About that...I can’t make it tonight.” Luna gives you a sad look as Harry groans and throws his head back. “Fred and I need to grade papers tonight to make the first quarter grades. If I get out early though, I’ll call and see if you guys are still there,” you offer as Harry slumps over. 

“At least it sounds like things are going better with you and Fred,” Luna tells you and you nod with a smile. “Are you learning from him?”

“Absolutely,” you tell her. “Fred is actually a great professor and the class adores him. I’ve been enjoying it a lot recently.”

Harry wiggles his eyebrows, “Yeah, I’m sure you have.”

You slap Harry’s shoulder at his cheeky suggestion that something was going on. “Oh, quit it, Harry,” you say through gritted teeth. “Fred and I have a strictly working relationship. He and I are co-workers and are professional. All of my relationships are here. That’s more that some people can say,” you tease him about his engagement to Ginny as he rolls his eyes and mimics you. “Besides, there is nothing romantic or sexy about grading papers about ethics. In fact, it’s the opposite thing.”

Harry laughs, “You never know. Maybe you two will get so caught up in talking about morals that you just start to...” he mimics the sounds of sloppy snogging and moaning as you slap his arm again, Luna giggling. “Okay, okay, I’m just teasing you! But if you can meet us at the pub, give one of us a call and we can hail you a cab,” he tells you as you hug Luna goodbye and then Harry.

“Will do. Have a drink for me. Lord knows I’ll need one,” you huff, watching them walk off to catch up to Dean and Seamus. 

Instead of getting drunk at a bar after a long week of work, you would be grading papers all night with Fred. Which honestly, maybe, didn’t sound so awful.

A few hours past and you and Fred were at on opposite sides of his desk, empty Chinese take out boxes scattered around you along with empty coffee cups and cans of energy drinks. It was ten o’clock at night and you had hardly made a dent in the papers. You throw your head on the desk with a thud, making Fred chuckle. “This is hell,” you groan. “Do they even proof read their sentences?” you ask Fred who shakes his head. “Seriously. Some of these papers are just bad. Weak thesis and an even weaker argument,” you slap the paper in front of you.

Fred scribbles in red ink on one paper and circle the letter grade on it before shifting it to the done pile. “Honestly, if it’s horrid and you struggle to make it past the third page, just skip to the end, read the conclusion and if it reads fine, give them a C minus. If they have a problem, they can come to office hours and talk about it with me,” he tells you as you laugh. “I’ve done that with two of them already.”

You place a C minus in red ink at the end of the paper and shift yours into the done pile. “How many more do we have left? We’ve been here for nearly six hours,” you tell him.

Fred examines the pile and huffs, “About four more. So two more each and then we’ll be done. The papers are ten pages long, so only twenty more pages of absolute garbage to read before we are done.”

Eh, that wasn’t so bad. You sigh and examine the room around you. Your eyes land on Fred whose eyes scan over the page as he nibbles away at his lower lip, glasses resting low on the bridge of his nose, red pen tucked behind his ear. He made markings on the paper here and there, adding comments as he sees fit. He’d mumble a bloody hell here and there if something was really bad, making you giggle. He’d catch your eye and a proud smile would form on his lips when he saw that he’d made you giggle.

After another hour and a half of grading, you were finally finished with the thick stack of papers on Fred’s desk. The two of you let out a sigh of relief as you leaned back in your chairs. “Freedom!” Fred cried out as you laughed, running your fingers through your hair. “And before midnight!” he points to his watch, the hands pointing to 11:37pm. “I think I know what this calls for,” he speaks wiggling his brows as you watch him stand up and pulls out a drawer to reveal a small handle of whiskey. 

You laugh and shake your head. “Ohhhh, no,” you laugh and wave your hands. 

“Really, (Y/N)? Eight hours of grading papers and you don’t want one drink?” he pours one glass, waiting to pour yours.

You think for a moment. You were supposed to call Harry and Luna and tell them that you would meet them at the bar. But quite honestly, you didn’t feel like leaving the classroom and the pleasant company of Fred. Maybe some one on one time could strengthen your relationship...as co-workers, of course.

In defeat, you sigh, “Fine.” 

Fred smiles and pours you a nice, hefty glass of the brown liquor before handing it to you and sitting in his chair. “To a job well done,” he toasts as you clink your glasses together, sipping from the glass. The whiskey is smooth and warms your chest up delightfully as you relax further into the chair. The two of you rest in comfortable silence before Fred starts, “So...after you’ve finished your job here, where do you hope to go?” 

You think for a moment and lean on your elbows on his desk, letting your hair flop forward. “Not too sure really,” you admit. “I know I want to teach at a university level, but it’s just a matter of where positions are available. Maybe I’ll go back to Oxford and see if there’s any availability in their department,” you toss around as Fred boos you, knowing the rivalry between Cambridge and Oxford is still fierce. “But I’m trying to go with the flow and see where the demand is.”

Fred nods his head and huffs, “Well...what if I told you that there is going to be an opening in position here at Hogwarts for next fall?” You give him a confused look as you sip from your whiskey. He says, “Professor McGonagall? She’s been here for ages and she’s retiring after nearly sixty years of teaching.” You widen your eyes and nod your head. Impressive. “The department is looking to hire a new, fresh face and I think you might be right for the job...” he takes a sneaky sip from his glass.

“It’s a really kind offer, Fred, really thoughtful of you,” you tell him. “But I want to know that where I apply for a job I’ve earned it. I didn’t get the job because someone pulled the strings behind the scenes,” you tell him. This was true. Anyone would kill for a job at Hogwarts University, but you wanted to know that you earned your title here and not because a friend handed it to you. 

He leans forward and speaks, “This wouldn’t be me pulling any strings. (Y/N), you are a brilliant person and the students adore you. Just last week four students asked for your contact information to reach out about private tutoring. Neville loves you and the department sees the work that you’ve been doing and is throughly impressed. You’ve earned this position and the respect that comes along with it,” he tells you, honestly shining in his eyes, making you melt in your chair at his gaze. You feel heat rising to your cheeks as you look away from him, sipping from your glass. The sight makes Fred’s heart skip a beat. 

“Are you saying I’ve earned your respect?” you ask him with a teasing smile as he chuckles.

“Yes. You earned it awhile ago. You’re an incredible woman,” he tells you as you smile, looking down at the glass in your hands, too meek to meet Fred’s gaze now. 

It’s quiet for a moment before Fred clears his throat and stands up, turning on the speaker as Frank Sinatra softly starts playing again as you laugh to yourself. It Happened In Monterey starts to echo in the classroom as you smile at Fred. “One of my favorites,” you tell him.

Fred nods, “One of his best hits,” he says as if it were a fact. “Give me your top three. Go.”

You think for a moment before speaking, “It Happened In Monterey, The Way You Look Tonight, and Girl From Ipanema. I think those are his best.”

Fred smiles, “Agreed. His version of The Way You Look Tonight I prefer much over Tony Bennett’s.”

“Oh, easily! Don’t get me wrong, Tony Bennett has some great hits, but he doesn’t hold a candle to Frankie,” you tell Fred, making him chuckle. The two of you chat about music for a little while longer before Come Fly With Me comes on and Fred claps his hands. “My mom loves this song,” you smile, fondly remembering her singing in the kitchen to this song.

Fred rises to his feet and immediately grabs your hands and brings you to his feet. He places your drinks down on the desk as he spins you around, making you laugh. “You can’t not dance to this song,” he tells you, placing his hand on your waist, the other holding your other hand in his larger one. The contact makes your heart flutter in your chest as you giggle as he spins you around again, this time into his chest. 

Your back is pressed against him as he sway with you in his arms before spin you back out, dancing around and around the classroom, the two of you laughing messes as you dance to Frank Sinatra, still in your work clothes from this morning. As you dance, you steal glances of Fred. How his hair was messy from running his fingers through it, his tie loose around his neck, impressions of his glasses in the bridge of his nose. He was so effortlessly handsome and it made your stomach sway at the sight of him. How he could be so handsome without even realizing it. Without even realizing how he made you feel. All warm and fuzzy inside, giggling like a child as he spun you around in his arms, making this moment feel like something out of a movie. 

The song slowly fades away before Autumn in New York starts play, changing the tone of the room. You two catch your breaths before looking at each other in the eyes, Fred’s hands on your waist as your hands rest on his chest. The two of you look at each other, and slowly start to sway as the orchestra of the song starts to swell. Frank’s clear voice echos in the empty classroom as you slowly wrap your arms around Fred’s neck, him pulling you close to his body as you start to slow dance in the middle of the classroom, neither of you registering what is happening. You two were purely acting on instinct. But god, it felt so right.

The two of you dance gently to the music as Fred’s hands rest on your lower back, his thumbs tracing small circles into your jumper as you lace your fingers around his neck. No words are spoken. You just listen to the music and stare at the other, taking each other in during the dance. How could something that started off so innocent turn so beautiful? 

Your mind was reeling, watching Fred look at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. You wanted to tell him everything that’s ever happened to you in this moment. Everything that you’ve gone through that brought you to this moment. Something about Fred made you feel safe. Something you hadn’t felt in years. 

As the music starts to come to a close, you can feel Fred lean down gently and press his forehead to yours as you inhale a shaky breath. So desperately you wished to close the gap between you two, pushing your lips together, giving into him. But before anything can happen, the horns blare over the speaker, Brazil blasting over the speakers, making the two of you jump, startled at the change in pace. 

You place a hand over your heart as Fred races over to the speaker to lower the volume. “That scared the living hell out of me,” you breathe out as Fred laughs and nods. The two of you stand there, wondering what to say, knowing that you were both thinking the same thing. But no one says anything. “Um,” you clear your throat. “It’s quite late. I should probably get going...” you trail off as you walk over to grab your purse and notebooks.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he tells you with a nod, cleaning up the mess of take away boxes on his desk. “You need me to call you a cab?” he asks.

“No, no, it’s fine, I got it,” you tell him with a smile as he nods, throwing out the garbage and sorting away miscellaneous papers. “Um, I, um...”

“I had fun with you,” Fred finishes your sentence for you as you exhale and smile gently with a nod. “I’ll see you on Monday then?”

You nod your head, “Absolutely, yeah.” He grins and digs his hands into his pockets.

You start to make your way towards the door, but Fred stops you and says, “Hey, (Y/N)? On Monday, I’d like you to run the lecture. For both classes.” Your eyes widen as you look at him in disbelief. You try to protest, but Fred speaks, “I think that the class would benefit from your perspective. And your sheer brilliance.” 

A small smile forms on your lips as you let out a breathy laugh. “Wow. Okay. Yeah. For sure,” you tell him with a nod as Fred smiles. “Thank you, Fred. This is...wow. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” he tells you. “You’ve earned it. You’ve earned it all. Now, get going and get a goodnight’s rest. That you surely deserve.”

And with one small wave, you exit the classroom and start down the hall, feeling like you were on cloud nine. Nothing felt as good as this.

------

Monday rolls around as quickly as Friday left and you enter campus with a pep in your step. Today you were teaching the class and you were beyond prepared. You had your lesson plan in your bag, a coffee in your hand, and your favorite jumper on. You felt invincible. 

As you walked into the staff lounge, Harry sat with Seamus, sipping on coffees and munching on provided breakfast. “Morning, you lot,” you chime merrily as you place your bag on the table and walk towards the breakfast tray and grab a crossiant.

“You’re too cheery for a Monday morning,” Seamus says with a look on his face. “What’s got you so bright eyes and bushy tailed?”

You smile to yourself as you walk back to the table, tearing open the croissant to slab some jam on it. “Fred is letting me run lecture today,” you reply happily.

Seamus looks over to Harry with wide eyes, the two of them in complete shock. “Wow,” Seamus says. “That’s...incredible. Good on you, (Y/N),” he tells you as you thank him with a smile. “I didn’t know Fred let his TA run a class. The most he let Dean do was take roll,” he told Harry.

Harry took a sip from his coffee and wiggled his brows, “I didn’t think so either. I guess our very own (Y/N) has made him have a change of heart.”

You roll your eyes and speak, “I earned this, Harry. I’ve been working my ass off and after a long night of grading papers, Fred offered me the opportunity which I gladly took.” Harry nods his head with a mhm as you throw as piece of croissant at him. “I’m serious!”

“I’m not saying you don’t deserve it, (Y/N)! You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met; you deserve this like humans needs to breathe!” Harry exclaims. “I’m just...shocked that Fred let you make a lesson plan, nevertheless teach a whole class,” he speaks as you shrug. “Guess you bring out the best in Fred Weasley.”

You smile, “Is that such a bad thing?” Harry chuckles as Seamus shakes his head with a huff. “Well, if you excuse me, I have to get ready for my lecture,” you joke as Harry rolls his eyes.

“Don’t let this thing get to your head!” he calls after you as you flip him the bird, making Seamus laugh.

As you walk to 523, your heart patter against your chest with excitement, but also lots of nerves. What if they preferred Fred over you? What if Fred was more engaging with them? What if someone fell asleep? What if someone asked you a question you couldn’t answer?

Soon your confidence began to waver as you entered the classroom, Fred clearing the chalkboard, getting the room ready for you. “There she is. Professor for the day,” Fred claps his hands. “You excited?” he asks. But you don’t answer him. You nervously place your purse on the desk and start gnawing at your nails. This makes Fred worried as he walks over to you and places his hands on your shoulders. “You alright?” he asks, concern washing over his face.

You relax into his touch as you sigh, “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just...nervous.” Fred gives you a sympathetic smile. “What if they like you better than me? What if I say something stupid and they all laugh at me? What if I forget everything? I mean, how much do I really know about Mill? Probably nothing,” you ramble.

Fred laughs and gives you arms a squeeze, forcing your eyes up to him. “Hey, look at me,” he speaks as you huff and look into his comforting gaze. “Everything is going to be just fine. You are brilliant and the students love you. You’re gonna get up there and smash it. I know it,” he tells you with a confident smile, making your heart flutter and your stomach flip. “I was nervous for my first lecture too, but once you start, the adrenaline gets pumping and you feel on top of the world.”

You give him a shaky nod, “Yeah. Okay. I can do this, yeah?”

“Absolutely,” he laughs. “You’re more than capable,” he reassures you. “I believe in you. I always have,” he speaks, tilting your chin up with his fore finger as you gulp thickly. Fred’s eyes dart to your lips back up to your eyes as he smiles softly. “You’ll be brilliant.”

“Thank you,” you speak just above a whisper as Fred nods.

Slowly, he pulls away from you and sits at his desk which prompts the first student to enter the classroom as you gather your notebook and a piece of chalk, writing on the board in bold letters, Mill and Utilitarianism. You wipe your hands on your pants and look over to Fred who gives you a thumbs up.

Soon enough, the classroom fills up with students as you try to keep yourself calm and not let the class see your nerves. “Happy Monday, everyone,” Fred speaks from his desk. “I hope you all had a great weekend. Your papers on Aristotle have been graded and the grades are posted online. Some of you did great, some of you did shit. If you have any complaints, you can see me or (Y/N) after class to discuss,” he speaks, earning a few laughs from the class. Fred speaks, “Brian, I wouldn’t laugh if I were you. (Y/N) couldn’t make it past page three of yours before handing it off to me.” This earns a loud roar of laughter from the class which eased your nerves. God, Fred knew exactly what you needed. “Speaking of (Y/N), she will be running lecture today. I’ll be playing the role of TA and you’ll give her the same amount of respect like you give me. Understood?” The class nods. “Brilliant. (Y/N), you have the floor.”

You smile at him, “Thank you, Fred, for the introduction.” Fred nods. You turn to the class. “Alright. Let’s talk about Mill’s Utilitarianism. After reading it, what are our thoughts? How do we feel about Mill in comparison to Kant or Aristotle?” you ask generally trying to ease into the lecture.

The class is motionless for a moment before Jessica raises her hand and you nod. “I found it interesting how he acknowledges the objections in his work,” she tells you as you nod. “Not many philosopher’s explicitly do that in their works.”

“Great,” you smile at her. “Let’s take a look at that. Everyone open up your copies and turn to page seven. Mill writes, ‘Life has no higher purpose than pleasure? What are we, swine?’ What do you think this means?” you ask the class. The stare blankly at you as you inhale deeply, this being a fear of yours. But before you can allow yourself to freak out, you think about what Fred would do. You repeat the quote again and add this time, “Are we swines? I mean, I don’t know about Brian, but I know that I’m not a swine.”

This causes the class to erupt with laughter, Fred included, and Brian blushes a deep shade of red before he raises his hand to answer the question. Ah, victory. 

The class continues on and the discussion was incredible with both classes you taught. The students had such provoking conversations with fruitful discussions on the topic. It made your heart swell that they were so good for you and you felt like you were in your element the whole time.

Fred couldn’t help but smile to himself as he watched you give the lecture, bouncing off points, connecting ideas, and posing new questions that he couldn’t even think of. You were electric and the students were infatuated with you, even more so than they were with him. He couldn’t help but feel proud of you. He loved watching you smile and laugh as you talked to the students. 

“Okay, well unfortunately we are at time, but next week bring in your annotated books along with your first drafts of your papers!” you tell the class as they thank you as they leave the class one by one. 

After each student has left the classroom and the door shuts, you turn to Fred who springs from his chair and runs over to you, scooping you up in a hug and spinning you around as you laugh. “Sheer brilliance,” he places you down with a beaming smile. “I’ve never seen students so excited to talk about moral philosophy,” he shakes his head as you grin widely, holding your hands behind your back. “That was great, (Y/N).”

“I feel great,” you tell him with a smile. “Seriously. It blows my mind how smart they are sometimes. Bloody Brian had such great talking points today!” you beam as Fred laughs. “But really, I learned everything that I did today from you. You are the great teacher,” you tell him, nudging his shoulder playfully.

Fred rolls his eyes, “Oh, don’t give me all the credit. I mean...give me some, but not all.” You laugh and shake your head. “Kidding, kidding,” he tells you as you smile at him, taking in the way his face looked as the sun started to set behind him, signaling the end of your day. “Um, I’ll walk with you to the lot?”

You nod your head as the two of you pack your things and make your way to the parking lot with Fred, the both of you making light chatter about the class discussions and how thought provoking they all were. As you walk in the halls, you pass Harry who calls out, “I’m guessing it went well!”

“Shut it, Potter!” you call back as Fred chuckles. 

Soon enough, you reach the staff parking lot and Fred digs around in his pockets for the key to his car. “Well,” Fred huffs. “You did a great job today, (Y/N). I would say I’m impressed, but I knew you would do brilliantly.”

You beam, “Thank you, Fred. Really. I know how much this class means to you and I thank you for trusting me with it.”

He smiles and leans against the hood of his black Audi, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows before leaning on his hands. “It’s my pleasure. I know how much teaching a class meant to you and I’m happy I could help,” he tells you as you nod. 

The two of you stand there, watching each other as the sun sets behind the castle. Fred’s eyes glossed over your body and how pants hugged your curves and how the jumper clung onto your figure. He took a deep breath in before smiling to himself as you gulped and cleared your throat, trying to diffuse some of the tension between the two of you. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow, Professor,” you tease Fred as he chuckles. 

You start to walk away and towards the bus stop, but Fred’s voice stops you. “(Y/N)?” he speaks as you turn back to him, walking back to him. “I’ve got a quick question for you.”

“What’s up?”

“So, Mill said ‘There's no time for all this calculating when we're faced with an actual moral decision.’ And I’m afraid that I have a moral decision of my own,” he speaks with a smirk as you heart races at the sight of the smile you’ve grown so fond of over the past few weeks.

You smile at your feet before looking up at him. “And what would that moral decision be, Professor Weasley?” you tease him as he chuckles.

“That night, we spent grading papers,” he starts as you tuck your hands into your back pockets. “I wanted to kiss you.” His confession makes your heart race as face heat up. “And ever since then, I’ve been trying to find a moment where I can finally suck it up and kiss you,” he smirks. “So, what I guess what I’m trying to say is, is it alright if I kiss my teaching assistant in the parking lot of this bloody school?”

You lightly laugh and speak, taking a step closer to him as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you place your hands on his chest, “Well, if we are talking about this in the terms of Mill, would kissing your teaching assistant bring you pleasure?”

Fred smiles, “Without a doubt.”

“Then I think you’re morally obligated to,” you tell him as he chuckles.

He hesitates no longer and dips his head down to connect your lips together as you inhale deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck. His lips are soft, but passionate against you as they gently move against yours. His hands squeeze your hips gently as you press yourself against his body, making Fred lightly moan into your mouth. His tongue slips past your parted lips, caressing his tongue with yours as you let out a soft moan, making Fred inhale deeply. Your heart is pounding against your chest as you gently pull at the roots of his hair, relishing in the way his lips feel against yours. His mouth moves slowly and lazily against yours, making your head spin and desire grow. It’s everything you imagined it would be as cliche as it sounded. 

Gently, you pull away as Fred smiles lightly. “Thank you, John Stuart Mill,” he breathes out, making you laugh. “I’ve been dying to do that.”

“I’m glad you did,” you confess to him, arms still wrapped around him as Fred squeezes your hips, placing another soft kiss to your lips. “Now that you’ve accomplish that moral dilemma, do you have any idea what your next one is?” you tease him, wiggling your brows.

Fred shakes his head, “Oh, we’ve got the rest of the semester to figure that one out.”