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dracosathenaeum · 4 years ago

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Something Precious

Summary: You and Draco realise your feelings for each other when he ends up at the bottom of the Black Lake during the Triwizard tournament that you are a champion for.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!reader

Warnings: Some swear words

Word Count: 2,321

Requested by anon! I hope this meets your expectations 🥺 (I changed the wording slightly, so instead of Treasure, I used precious as it just fitted slightly better here, sorry if it bugs you :3)

“Don’t touch me you filthy little mudblood.” You sighed, why was it always you that had to stand up for the first years. You’d think that by now Draco would’ve gotten used to your scolding and would get bored of picking on the helpless first years.

“Draco! I told you to stop calling the muggle-borns that, lay off the derogatory terms you shit.” You were pretty much the only person (other than the golden trio) that would stand up to Malfoy. But you were however the only one in the school who he would actually listen to. The two of you basically grew up together so you were used to putting up with each other. By now you wondered if Draco only kept picking on the younger years to wind you up.

“I’m just calling them what they are, don’t be upset love.” He said with a wink and his signature smirk. You don’t know when it had started but somewhere along the line, ironic flirting had started between the two of you. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it though.

“I’m not upset Draco darling; I simply want you to take that stick on the floor and stick it up your arse.” Draco flushing a deep pink was worth having to call him these ridiculous pet names.

“Thank you, Y/N!” the little Gryffindor squeaked.

“You’re supposed to be courageous right? Malfoy isn’t even scary, he’s very… ferret like.” And with a wink thrown over your shoulder to Draco, you were on your way. You weren’t by any means popular or well-loved by the school, it was more like you had their respect. You were still a Slytherin after all, you just stood up for the ones Draco and other Slytherins were especially cruel to. Simple name calling you could turn a blind eye to but the hexes and use of “mudblood” was just unnecessary.

That was probably why instead of boos, you simply got applauded when your name was pulled from the goblet. You weren’t in it for the ‘eternal glory’ you were just bored at Hogwarts. These deadly tasks sounded like something to get your mind off of everything, besides now that ‘The Chosen One’ was also competing, you had extra motivation to win the whole thing.

That being said… Potter tipping you off about the first task was probably the single worst feeling you’ve ever had in your life. The feeling of owing someone, let alone Potter, a favour. But he had saved your life, without his tip off you don’t know if you could’ve won that task. I mean it was dragons, DRAGONS. But your victory meant firewhiskey parties in the Slytherin common room for a week straight so you wouldn’t complain too much. You definitely kept it to yourself though, the thought of the rest of your house finding out you were saved by Potter made you shudder.

“Surprised you’re still alive Y/L/N, though I suppose someone has to beat Potter. His head is big enough.”

“Don’t look so happy to see me Malfoy.” Sarcasm dripping from you voice.

5 seconds of eye contact was all it took for you to be pulled into his arms, a breathe you didn’t know you were holding finally being released. You allowed yourself a couple seconds to enjoy to be held, it wasn’t often that you and Draco hugged despite having grown up together.

“I’m glad you’re alive Y/N/N, I need someone other than mudbloods to make fun of.”

“Shut up Malfoy, don’t ruin this.”

“Don’t fall in love with me yeah? I know I’m hot but you’re not really my type, though being a pure blood does help.” Smacking his chest, you pulled away from his hold. “God you are insufferable, now help me figure out how to work this stupid egg so I can tell Potter and not have to owe him anymore.” Draco was your one exception to the ‘tell no one that you owe Potter rule’ you set yourself, besides, you couldn’t hide anything from him. He’d find out sooner or later.

You had spent weeks with that egg, trying to figure out how to open it without the deaf-curdling screams. It was only when you convinced Draco to sneak you into the prefect’s bath (nothing in that dingy castle could compare to the prefect’s bath), that you figured it out. Though it took an awful lot longer to decipher it but being even with Potter again made every blood-curdling screech worth it.

The yule ball was a whole other catastrophe. Watching couples slow dance for hours on end sounded like utter hell to you, which is why you practically threw a fit when you were told champions had to lead the first dance.

“Draco stop laughing at me, they want me to dance; they want me, me to hold some guy against me and dance in front of 3 schools. I was content to stand by the food and make fun of the Weasley’s tattered robes or Potter’s awkward dancing but now I actually have to join in? I should just quit now.”

“You fought dragons Y/N; a dance is nothing. Besides we’ve been going to balls for years, you should be used to it by now.” He did have a point, maybe all those long boring parties your parents would throw would finally serve a purpose for you.

“Pansy’s been trying to corner me for weeks, honestly I’d rather slow dance with your flat arse than hers. Besides, then we could make fun of Weasley together.”

You thought it over but not for very long, you knew he’d be the only one you’d willingly go to the ball with, well the only one you could tolerate for so long that is. Besides, the two of you had made it through countless balls together, what’s one more.

“Fine, but you’re buying me a new dress.”

“What? That wasn’t an invitation? I was just joking. Hang on, you have just as much money as me! Pay for your own damn dress.” You turned and made your way to the girl’s dorms, blowing a kiss towards the flustered blonde on the sofa. “Make sure it’s velvet or silk, nothing cheap either, else I’m telling you mother.”

And that’s how the both of you went to the Yule Ball together. Waltzing like you had done for so many years in the Malfoy manor and stuffing your faces, as you made fun of Ron Weasley’s robes and Potter’s pathetically sad looking face. Though you had to admit, Hermione was the focus of the night, no matter how good you looked in the dress Draco got for you, there was no denying all eyes were on her and the Durmstrang champion. As you climbed into the bed that night, a soft smile stretched across your face, the Yule ball wasn’t so bad with Draco as company you supposed.

===========================================================================

Which brought you to where you are now; stood in the freezing cold ready to dive into the equally freezing water. Calming yourself, you ran through your plan again. Cast the bubble-head charm, collect whatever ‘precious item’ Dumbledore was talking about and once you were out you would find Draco Malfoy and kill him. He had promised he would be there to help you prepare the night before; yet you spent the entire evening alone in the Slytherin common room waiting like some bloody girl being stood up.

You knew you weren’t traditional friends (if you could even call yourselves that) but you thought at the very least he’d be there for you when you really needed him. Swimming had never really been your strong point after watching your cousin drown during your childhood, but that was a story for another day. After all these years, you really thought despite everything he’d be with you when you needed him most.

The canon went off, startling you from your thoughts as you quickly cast you charm and dove into the water, taking a second to adjust to the freezing water and calm your nerves. You really should have learnt a body warming spell. You watched as the other 3 swam straight through the village and watched as Fleur was attacked by Grindylows. “Better her than me.” You thought.

You swam through the murky water and eerie village until you reached four figures afloat in the water. You swam toward them and recognised Weasley and Granger straight away, of course the golden trio would be making an appearance even here. Yet it was the mop of blonde hair that made your heart skip. ‘Something precious has been taken from you.’ Draco was your precious something!? You saw a young girl next to him, probably Fleur’s sister. Why was it Draco who was taken? Why wasn’t it your own sister who was just 3 years younger than you? God you were going to get an earful from the both of them after this.

Swimming closer you realised how gaunt he looked, you felt like you’d never truly looked at his face til this moment in time. Not even when slow dancing that night at the Yule Ball. He looked so different yet so similar to when you first met him at the age of 5. Both of your parents cooing as tubby little Malfoy held his tiny hand out to ask you for a dance.

For once he looked peaceful, rather than the sneer he always had at Hogwarts or his blank look at home around his parents and yours.

You slashed his bonds with a nearby rock, deciding to just get out of the water as soon as possible, you couldn’t bear to be in the water with your heart thumping this fast any longer. Turning to give one last look at Potter you could see the disgust on his face as he stared at the unconscious boy in your arms. You threw a glare and the rock at him before swimming away, feeling slightly sorry for the poor French girl left behind.

You were the first to break out of the water, Krum following shortly behind.

“What?? Where am I? Y/N?!” Draco spluttered, coughing the water from his lungs before wrapping an arm around you and keeping the both of you afloat.

“You can ask questions later, I’m exhausted, can you please just swim us back to the stands.” He didn’t need more instructions, knowing you hated the water, he pulled you against him as he swam straight for the closest stands.

Everyone cheered as the both of you were pulled from the water and wrapped in towels. You had won first place but that was the last thing you were thinking about.

“Draco is your precious item? I always knew there was more going on between you two than you admitted!” You could kill Blaise then and there, you decided. Though you supposed the glare you received from Pansy was worth the humiliation, just a little.

“Y/N? What’s Blaise talking about? All I remember is Professor Snape asking to see me last night as I was walking to meet you in the common room and the next thing I know I’m freezing my ass off in the water with you. I mean is it even legal to do this to a student? My father will be hearing about this.” You could barely meet his eyes at this point, you were just as confused as he was, but you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his last comment.

Did you have feelings for Draco? Sure, you grew up together and had a love-hate relationship the whole time but that was the extent of it. You didn’t like Draco, surely, you’d know right?

“Something precious was taken from each of us, Krum got Granger; Potter, Weasley; and Fleur got her sister. I guess Dumbledore thought your sorry arse was precious to me or something.”

“Oooo does my darling Y/L/N have a crush on me? I thought you- and I quote- hated the sight of my stupid face?”

“In your dreams Malfoy, now shut up I want to hear them announce me as the winner.” In reality you could care less about the announcement, just wanting to change the subject as fast as possible. Your eyes went to Potter, along with everyone elses, as he shot out the water like a bloody dolphin. You would give him credit where credit was due though, saving just Draco was hard enough, Potter had saved both Weasley and the Delacour girl.

“You know, if you wanted me all you had to do was ask? Obviously, I’m very attractive and my father is very important but don’t be intimidated-”

“Shut up you git.” God if he wasn’t going to shut his stupid mouth, you’d make him, one way or another. The ‘other way’ as it happened was you grabbing his face between your palms and pressing your lips to his.

Draco wrapped his arms around you to pull you closer, deepening the kiss. You giggled into the kiss as everyone around you cheered; you didn’t think you were a fan of PDA but after kissing Malfoy, you couldn’t care less. You pulled away and nuzzled yourself into him, the both of you still ice cold from the swim but hearts beating fast.

You never thought you’d get a boyfriend from this tournament but being there in his arms, despite freezing your ass off, you were happier in that moment than you had been in a long time. There was nowhere you’d rather be.

“Be my girlfriend?”

“Shut up and kiss me Malfoy.” You both smiled into the kiss, loving how natural it felt to be with him like this. Completely ignoring the winner’s announcements and instead focusing on how happy you felt.

Life was looking more bearable by the second.

Well until you got killed by Voldemort that is.

I See The Light can be read as a loose sequel describing this moment

#A/N: I literally had the HP wiki page open the entire time, it’s my first time writing a changed story line, something with a proper plot. I hope it was okay, please let me know if I got anything wrong or if something should be improved! Also sorry for the crappy ending :33

Thank you for reading!

Add yourself to my taglist!

#draco #Draco Malfoy #draco x reader #Draco Malfoy x reader #harry potter #triwizard au #triwizard cup #triwizard tournament #Harry Potter fic #Draco Malfoy imagine #draco fic

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jamilelucato · 4 years ago

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The Duff || Fred Weasley

pairing: Fred Weasley x reader (any house)

summary: your life became too stressing lately, and Fred Weasley, although generally very annoying, manages to distract you just enough when he stops talking.

A/N: completely based on the book The Duff. Like completely. So reader may have some issues with her appearance. Sorry about my other fics! It’s just that, when an idea pops, I have to write. It’s a big fic. (feel like it’s one of my brightest works)

words: + 11k

warnings: insinuations and mentions of sex; body insecurities; sick father, etc

Harry Potter Masterlist || Musical Hogwarts Series

You couldn't understand what could be the fun in going to Three Broomsticks to party. The place is one of the oldest bars in Hogwarts, but not long ago, Madam Rosmerta decided to add a dance floor in one of the darkest sides of the pub, and she got one of those muggle music machines. It was very nice if your thing was dancing in sweat and rubbing your body in people.

Easy to say it was most definitely not your thing.

"Okay, that's it for you," said Madam Rosmerta, taking your mug away. It once was filled with butterbeer, but the barmaid seemed to think you had gotten it filled way too many times for a night.

"Oh, come on," you complained, "there's no alcohol on those."

"I know. But it has sugar, and you had one too many," Rosmerta said, ignoring your pout and walking away from your side of the counter so she could serve other costumers.

Your brain fought a battle to decide if it was worth contesting and explaining that not offering you more butterbeer was causing the barmaid to lose money when the stool next to you cried with the weight that was jumping on it.

"Good evening, y/n," said the boy who now sat next to you.

It was inevitable when your eyes rolled just by smelling his cologne. There was no need for you even to turn to know who it was. Only one boy in the whole Hogwarts was confident enough to wear such cheap cologne as if it was holy water.

"Get the hell away, Weasley," you cried, wishing, profoundly, to have another butterbeer with you.

Madam Rosmerta noticed the new client sitting close to the counter, and she quickly came back to serve him.

"Fred Weasley," she greeted him with her playful smile. She knew the Hogwarts teenage boys only flirted with her in hopes of a discount, but she enjoyed it, considering it rather fun. "What can I get you?"

"My usual butterbeer, Ro," he said, charming her with his smirk. She chuckled, while he passed her a coin.

"If you're getting him one, you're getting me one too," you warned the barmaid, raising a brow. Your serious approach worked because, with a sigh, she walked back with two drinks.

You tossed her your coin.

"That is officially your last one, young lady, so you better enjoy it," she threatened before leaving and playing with her hair solemnly for Fred to see.

He was still smiling when you decided to look at him. He was a bastard, but, boy, was he handsome.

"You have five seconds to disappear from in front of me now that you have your drink," you warned. Even though Fred's eyes followed the back of Rosmerta, yours was still staring at him. Maybe the amount of disgust you felt for him could pass on with a look.

"Chill, would you?" Fred took a sip from his mug, supporting his arms on the counter, finally looking at you. "If you're so bothered, the dance floor awaits."

You chuckled, frowning right after. "Look, Weasley, don't you have any other girl to fuss around?"

He smirked, thinking you were falling for his game. "Do you have friends you'd like to suggest?" he played, raising his brows. "Is Jess still single?"

"I'd be dead if I let you stay even one meter close to my friends, do you hear me? I don't want them catching any diseases," you shivered just with the thought of how many girls (and STDs) this boy before you might have encountered.

"So they are here," his eyes narrowed as if he was scanning the dance floor, searching for your girls.

"Go away, Fred," you sighed, tired of that conversation. You took one sip of your mug, but the butterbeer was no longer enough to keep your mind away from Fred Weasley's affairs. "And stay away from Jess and Casey."

"Oh, y/n, just put a good word for me, please. I mean, it is your job," Fred leaned in, closer to you and his scent attacked your nostrils again, making you lean back.

"It's not my job to help you, Weasley."

"Well, as their duff, I think it is," he drank from his mug, ignoring your confused look.

"Duff?"

Asking him what the word meant called his attention back to you, but he seemed surprised you hadn't heard about it yet. "You know, designated ugly fat friend," he replied, making a peculiar gesture with his neck as he spoke the last term.

You couldn't possibly have heard him right. "Excuse me??"

"Look, I don't mean to offend," he shrugged his broad shoulders, a gift from all his years playing Quidditch.

He noticed how fast your expression was changing.

"It's not like you're an ogre or anything, but in comparison…" his eyes wandered back to the dance floor, this time yours followed, seeing Jess and Casey — your longest-time best friends — dancing with some other students. "Think about it. Why do they bring you here if you don't dance?"

"Shut it, Weasley. They bring me here because I'm their friend; stop with your nonsense," your mind was working incredibly hard to stop you from believing that you were the ugly friend. Because that could not be the truth. Especially if everyone already knew and the one to tell you about it had to be the most annoying Gryffindor.

Fred had the nerve to reach over and pat your knee, but you jerked away from him. "Look," he said, "you have hot friends… really hot friends."

All the butterbeer you had drunk was starting to make you sick. Perhaps Rosmerta had been right, but if you had to bet in a guilt part, you'd bet on the ginger.

"The point is, in a group of friends, there's always a weak link, a Duff. And girls respond well to guys who associate with their Duffs."

"Where are you getting this info? The Quibbler?" you never meant to offend the Lovegoods, but Fred Weasley was speaking rubbish at this point.

"Don't be bitter," Fred pressed his lips together, pausing. "What I'm saying is girls find it sexy when lads show some sensitivity and socialize with the Duff. So, please, help me here, and just pretend to enjoy our talk."

There it was, in front of you, the living, redheaded proof that stupidity is capable of making people persevere for years. You already knew that Fred was a womanizing asshole, but it was unexpected to find out how worthless as a human being he is, too. Pretty faces definitely aren't everything.

With one swift motion, you jumped to your feet and flung the contents of your mug in Fred's direction.

The remaining butterbeer flew all over him, splattering his striped polo collar shirt. The liquid got his ginger hair wet entirely, which surprised you because, usually, you wouldn't have such great aim.

His face burned with anger, and his chiselled mandible clenched angrily. "What was that for?" he snapped, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

"What do you think it was for?" you snapped.

"I have no possible idea."

Madam Rosmerta appeared again, giving Fred a white cloth to dry himself, but it wasn't enough. Part of you wanted to be mad at the waitress for helping Fred, but you knew she just didn't want him to ask her to take you out.

"If you think I'm letting one of my friends leave this place with you, Weasley, you're very, very wrong, " you spluttered, staring at him with fire in your eyes. "You're a shallow jackass, and I hope that we never cross paths again."

The stupid muggle music played so loud that no one but Rosmerta overheard you, and she probably found you awsome. She loved some teenage drama.

You grabbed your friends as quickly as you could. They were about protest all the way to the secret passageway back to Hogwarts, so you decided it was best to explain what was happening.

"What's wrong?" Casey asked. Her once perfect dark hair was now wet — part of you wondered if the sweat even belonged to her. For such a smart Ravenclaw, you expected more of her.

"Let's get back to school; I just can't stand to be in this hellhole for one more second, " you said, dragging their reluctant bodies along behind you.

"Why are we leaving so early? It's only, like, nine-fifteen," Jess asked, frowning a bit, looking at you with her sad big blue eyes. Her Hufflepuff charm was about to work on you when you remembered why you were living.

"I got into an argument with someone, " you said, and Jess puppy eyes quickly disappeared, opening the place for her angry face to emerge. "I threw my Coke on him, and I didn't want to stick around for his response."

"Who?" Casey asked. You'd been dreading that question because you knew the reaction you'd get.

"Fred Weasley." two girly sighs followed your answer. "The guy is a man-whore. I can't stand him. He sleeps with everything that moves, and his brain is located in his pants—which means it's microscopic."

"I doubt that, " Casey said with another sigh.

"He's a jerk," you said, hoping your voice sounded like it was final. The tunnel back to Hogwarts seemed endless.

"That's not true," Jessica inserted. "Katie Bell told me he talked to her when she was alone at the Yule Ball. She was with Angelina and Alicia, and she said he just came up and made conversation, really friendly."

That made sense. Katie was definitely the Duff if she was out with Angelina and Alicia. And you knew for a fact that Angelina left with Fred that night.

"He's charming, " Casey said. "Give him some credit." Her smile slowly faded when she remembered that you threw at him your beer. "But what the hell did he do to you tonight, huh?" Now she sounded concerned. Took her long enough.

You sighed, noticing that saying something would only make their worry and you really wanted to avoid their pity. "Nothing, " you lied, "Fred just pisses me off."

Duff. The word bounced around in your mind as you three reached Hogwarts. When you took a last look at your friends before each parted to your houses, Fred's statement that you were the unattractive, undesirable tagalong seemed to be confirmed.

Jessica's perfect hourglass body and big brown eyes. Casey's athlete's features and impeccable skin. You definitely weren't like them.

"Well, see you tomorrow for the feast?" Jess asked the two of you.

You and Casey shared tired smiles. Although Casey would've like to stay a little longer at the Three Broomsticks, she welcomed extra sleeping hours. Her Quidditch player schedule didn't leave her much time to rest.

"See you," you stated, walking away slowly, letting your feet lead the way to your dorm where you'd try extra hard to forget the whole Duff thing.

You picked your blanket up to your chin, not wanting to get out of bed so soon, even though you could very much get late for Snape's class.

Fred Weasley words were hunting you like a ghost. They shouldn't be, because you sure didn't care about his opinion. But the courage he had called you that disgusting abbreviation and how you seemed to find the one out from every single group of friends you walked past.

It had been a week and a half, so why did his words bother you? You were brilliant and a good witch, always there for your friends. Thus, who cared if you were the Duff?

If you were charming, you'd have to deal with lads like Weasley hitting on you. Ugh! That could be a Duff benefit, right? Being unattractive didn't have to suck.

Damn Fred Weasley! You couldn't believe he managed to pack your head with such superficial bullshit. Getting out of bed with a jump, you were committed.

You wouldn't think about Duffs ever again.

Thursdays were homework day, at least for you and your best friends.

When classes were over, the three of you would meet at the library for a long late afternoon, reading through books and doing assignments. And, of course, spilling some tea with whispers.

That afternoon was being way bored than you expected. It was like Jess and Casey interrupted your reading all the time to tell you something new, but that day they seemed to have nothing to say.

And when I say nothing, I mean nothing.

Suspicious.

You stared at them, who pretended they hadn't been facing you all along and turned back to their essays.

"Okay, what is it? You two are awfully quiet," you whispered, leaning closer to them, scared the librarian could hear you.

They exchanged looks before, sighing, Jess gave up on her silent treatment.

"Remember when we planned on going to Three Broomsticks tomorrow?" she pouted, trying to work her big eyes on you.

"You two planned, you mean. I never agreed on it."

"We kinda find dates to go with us," said Casey, ignoring your comment on the matter.

You stared at your two best friends, holding yourself to not laugh.

"Thankfully. I never said I wanted to go," you pointed out with a smile, turning back to your book.

Jessica didn't seem satisfied with you looking away just yet.

"We can find you a date," Jess suggested.

You chuckled. "Alright," you spat — the possibility sounded ridiculous; principally when Fred's words still echoed in the corner of your mind.

"y/n, you have to come," Casey's tone was more serious. "You never go out unless we force you. So, if you don't want a date for yourself, you are thrid-wheeling."

"Not in Askaban, I am not!" you protested, raising your voice way too much but thankfully nobody was around.

Jess tried to work her puppy eyes again. "Please," she sobbed. "If you don't come, I'll feel guilty. Do you want me to ditch Cormac?"

"You are going with Cormac??" you asked, genuinely concerned because he was younger than you, but then you recalled he wasn't younger than her.

"Just show up," said Casey, not really allowing you to object. "I'll pay you a butterbeer."

Her offer was very, very tempting. You had no idea if one could become addicted to butterbeer since yours never had alcohol, but you're getting closer to that.

"But I'll only stay 'till nine," you informed.

The two girls smiled, and Jess had to hold herself from clapping in excitement.

"That'll be enough," said Casey.

"Is your father okay?" Casey asked you as soon as Jess left, and she had the open opportunity to corner you.

She was the only one in the school that you were brave enough to confess what was happening to your father. He had been recently attacked by some Death Eaters, and the Cruciatus curse left him with severe brain damaged.

It happened during the summer, before the start of your seventh year, so you had a couple of weeks to recover from that news before going back to school.

But when your mom's first letter arrived, saying your father was getting more insane with time, no amount of preparation was enough to hold back your tears as you ran out of the Great Hall.

You were able to lie to Jess, but with Casey, you weren't so lucky. Besides, her mom worked at St. Mungo's, so she already knew about your dad way before you told her.

It had been two months since you've been ignoring your mom's letters, all of them. You are too scared to read what they've got to say, and she doesn't let you go back home anyways.

You wanted to be with him, your father, hold his hand, make him better. But your mom was firm on her decision about you graduating Hogwarts.

So, when you stared at Casey's beautiful face, you had no idea what to answer.

"He can't get better," you said, in tone way harsher than you were planning. Who knew that not speaking about a matter would make you feel more painful towards it?

Casey gulped — she was always like that: she would touch the wound, but she had no idea what to do about it later.

"Do you want me to write to my m..."

"No," you quickly answered, not even letting her finish. "I just need to graduate — then I'll deal with my dad."

"It will take longer while 'till graduation, y/n," Casey pointed out. She knew you were convincing yourself it was just a couple more months, but that was a terrible lie you no longer could satisfy yourself with.

Casey wanted to do something, but taking you out was all you allowed the girls to do to you. You hated the new club atmosphere of Three Broomsticks, but you had to admit, it was pretty distracting.

"Promise I'll see you tomorrow night?"

"Promise," you said, before leaving your best friend alone in the hallway.

Snape's latest assignment stood before you, with a lot of notes from the Professor, pointing out all of your mistakes.

And there were a lot of them.

When class ended, you walked up to the Professor, gulping and shaking. You knew he didn't dislike you, but you were never too careful with Severus Snape.

"Professor, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yes?" he turned to face you; his black robe swirled with his movement.

"I just want to know if this essay was, hm, a big part of this year's grade?" you asked, avoiding looking in his dark eyes. "If so, can I do something else to improve my grade?"

He swallowed before answering, his serious tone implicating he didn't want to be having this conversation.

"You used to be my best student, Miss y/l/n, but this year you turned into the worse," he said, pausing in that terrible way only he knew. If your last year's grade hadn't been an Outstanding, I would have written you off my class by now."

You stared at Snape, unsure of what to do next and terrified of the man before you. He never treated you that way.

"Sorry to bother, Professor," you said, leaving right away, knowing very well that he had just ruined your rest of the day, including the night with your girls.

But what would you tell them? They would say that Snape was always like that. And even Casey, who was bloody smart, didn't have classes with Snape anymore. She would say for you to drop it too.

Your mind led your feet to the Moaning Myrtle's abandoned bathroom. There, your cry could be confused with hers by those who passed by. Thus, no one would disturb you.

The ghost wasn't even startled when she heard you come in, crying, and throw yourself on the floor near the sinks. Myrtle has seen you there since the school year started when you read your mother's first letter.

You usually went there at night, when you were sure you wouldn't see anyone. But after years of trusting Professor Snape — and believing that he would never mistreat you — what you heard today was the culmination.

When you decided you had cried enough, you headed out of the bathroom, holding your Potions (terrible) essay closer to your chest. You walked around the castle, but, perhaps, your eyes lost contact with your brain — the next thing you knew, you ran smack into Fred Weasley.

As if I needed more reasons for wanting to die.

You stumbled backwards, and your essay slipped from your arms, heading straight to the floor.

The ginger boy grasped you by both shoulders, his big hands catching you before you had the chance to slip over your own feet.

"Watch it," he said, steadying you.

You two were standing way too close to each other, and once again, you could smell his cheap cologne, this time it seemed to spread all over your body. Bloody hell, am I gonna smell like Weasley now? You shivered with disgust, but he misread it.

"Trouble standing up?" he joked, looking down at you with a cocky smirk.

He was really tall — you'd forgotten that, sitting next to him at the Three Broomsticks that night.

"Do I make you weak in the knees?"

Ignoring his stupid question, you knelt down to get the essay, and he did the same, grabbing it first. You forgot how to breathe for a second, hoping he wouldn't try to read it — and notice all the corrections Snape had made with permanent ink.

However, as soon as he grabbed it, he was handing it over to you.

You took it and brought it back closer to your chest, stepping away from him and his stupid perfume and stupid touch that sent weird and uncomfortable chills through your spine.

You were starting to walk away, leaving him behind when you heard:

"Thank you, Weasley," he attempted to copy your accent. "See you around, Weasley."

But you rolled your eyes and didn't even venture to look at him again.

How you managed to get out of your dorm and show up was all Jess and Casey's fault. If they hadn't been talking about you going out all week, and then Jess almost crying for you to appear, you would've rather very much stayed in bed.

You drummed your fingers on the wooden surface of the bar, your mind far away from the muggle music and your very dance-pants friends.

Your mind was tricking you in remembering about your father, something you were really trying to push away. Why hadn't you insisted on staying with Dad? Why hadn't you read mom's letters?

You kept imagining your dad, wallowing in his misery… alone. You wondered if at least your mom would visit him at St. Mungos. They were never the clingy type of couple, but maybe now she could be more sentimental.

But neither you were sentimental. So why now? Why care so much for your dad when he was never that much of an extraordinary parent?

"Evenin', Duffy."

Why did that nitwit have to sit next to you?

"Go away, Fred," you scolded, looking down at your fingers, playing with your empty mug.

"I can't, " he said. "First of all, the only reason you're here's that I taught you and your friends how to scape Hogwarts," you rolled your eyes while he continued, "besides, I'm not one to give up easily. I am set to snog one of your friends," he shrugged as if he was the biggest gentleman on Earth.

"Then go talk to the one," you suggested, not even turning to see his face.

"I would, but Fred Weasley doesn't chase girls. They chase him."

His sentence stayed in the air around as for a second before you burst in laughter. He couldn't be sober to say something like that. You faced him, finally, and confirmed — he very much had just arrived, so he wasn't drunk. He was just stupid.

Handsome, but stupid.

"Til they come to me, you get the honour of my company," he said, and then he took your mug away from your restless fingers. "Lucky for me, it doesn't look like you're armed with a beverage tonight."

You awaited for his laugh, but it never came.

"What is it with you today?"

"Already told you I'm not in the mood, Weasley," you reminded him.

"What's wrong?"

"Go...away," you warned, slowly.

You no longer good handle the tension burning inside you, it had to be released in some way, and it needed to be right then. But you didn't want to cry, not in front of a bunch of students partying, and there was no way you were going to vent with the dimwitted next to you, and punching someone would just get Rosmerta disappointed.

"Are you okay, y/n?" Fred asked, touching your shoulders carefully. He was forcing you to face him, even though he was being too gentle for his usual. "y/n?"

Then it was like your systems had stopped working — like a magic spell went wrong. Your only excuse is that you were under an unbelievable amount of stress, and you detected an exit.

You needed a distraction, and your chance was staring at you with sparkly eyes. Regret was the last thing you were thinking about.

An opportunity sat on the barstool beside you, and you lunged at it, literally.

You kissed Fred Weasley.

You grabbed him by polo neck of his red t-shirt, pulling him closer and locking your lips on his. He froze at first, but it didn't take him more than three seconds to understand what was happening, and the hand once on your shoulder was now on you cheeks.

Fred returned your urge, biting your lower lip, making his way inside your mouth with his tongue. Your hands left his neck and went to his hair, surprised to find soft hair.

His hands flew to your sides and pulled you toward him as if his hair was the secret to his horniness. As you wrapped your fingers in the strands of red hair, his fingertips dug into your waist.

It worked better than punching someone would have. Not only did it help you release the tension, but it distracted you. It's hard to think about your dad when you're making out with somebody.

He leaned into me, and I hauled at him so hard that Fred nearly fell off his bar stool. At that moment, both just couldn't get close enough to each other. Your separate seats seemed like they were miles apart.

Nothing existed, but the physical connection — there were no emotions in the way. It was amazing not to think. Nothing! Nothing… until he screwed it up.

His hand slid up from your waist, lingering along your back, and came to a stop around your boobs. Everything flooded back, and you suddenly remembered who had his lips on yours.

As fast as you jumped on him, you leaned away, taking your hands from his hair and shoving him away.

His hands dropped, one landing on your knee, as he pulled away. He looked astonished but weirdly pleased.

"Wow, Duff, that was—", but he never finished. You were already gone, running out of the bar and rushing to get to the secret passageway.

You didn't look back. If Fred followed, once you got to Hogwarts, he turned around.

When you reached your dorm and jumped on the bed, your heartbeat was impossible to keep track. You told yourself it was because of the run back to the school, but your mind was still playing flashes of the snogging session that had just happened.

It wasn't fair to remember his touch and how out of limits he was —good kisser, but still a jerk.

You didn't want to admit it, but you were madder at yourself than at him.

Two days.

That was the amount of time you managed to stay away from Fred Weasley since the little "incident".

One thing was for sure: it had numbed completely any stress your father situation was afflicting him. It had even made you forget about your recent bad grades.

Now, every time you got distracted, the only thought that filled your mind was a non-stop replay of the kiss you and Fred shared. It made you feel weirdly sick in the stomach, and you swore you could feel his disgusting touch as if it dirtied your body forever.

Jess and Casey didn't even bother arguing with you about leaving early that night — they felt guilty because they left you alone at the counter. Of course, you didn't tell them about the whole Weasley situation, but, even though Jess seemed clueless, Casey noticed your change in action.

How defensive you were towards their questions, more than usual. How you avoided spending too much time at the Great Hall.

So, when she purposely asked you to watch her Quidditch practice, you knew she was testing you. Perhaps Casey thought something worse was happening to your dad and if that was her bet, you wouldn't be the one to make her see the other side of the coin.

"Came to watch me play?" an annoying voice asked, calling your attention to your left where Fred Weasley stood flying up in his broom. His torso was tilted towards you, who was sitting in the stands.

One look was all you took for your mind to fill with disgusting memories, and your stomach was killing you once again. You faced back the field, where Casey was supposed to be practising, but, apparently, the thing was over because she and her teammates were nowhere to be found.

That explains the Gryffindor in his robes, you thought, sighing and gathering your things before getting up.

Fred was still staring at you, analyzing, expecting.

"I'm not here for you, Weasley," you spat.

Your temper surprised him, but he managed to recover before you could notice.

"What a pity," he sighed, letting the corner of his lips turn up. "I thought you wanted a second dose of fun."

You stared at him, with your angry issues burning up. If before kissing him he already had his ways of pissing you off, now it was like he was power was ten times stronger.

Your first thought was to hex him right there and then, but he wasn't worth that much worry.

"That wasn't fun, Weasley," you decided to state the obvious; something Fred seemed to have been having trouble understanding.

"You seemed very entertained twirling your fingers in my hair," he smirked, holding a chuckle while your eyes widened and you closed your fists.

"That was a mistake; I wasn't in my right mind," you said, clenching your teeth in rage. That boy was driving you crazy.

From behind him, you recognized Casey, walking on the field, already out of her Quidditch robes and holding her broom with just one hand. You knew that was your way out.

"Fine, blame it on the butterbeer," he sighed, "if it's what makes you sleep at night."

"What makes you think, Weasley," you paused, stepping closer to the end of the stands and closer to the ginger, "that I think about you at night?" you raised your tone involuntarily, letting your emotions get the best of you.

"Your body language, for one, Duff," Fred smirked again, feeling his win just because you were getting out of control.

Last time you were raged like that you had kissed him, so perhaps it could happen again.

But the nickname set you back. You were still bitter, but now you remembered why — it was because of that shallow nickname and that stupid boy.

You turned around and stepped away, to the end of the stands. You needed to get out of there as fast as you could.

"See you around too, Duff," you heard Fred shouted, but you didn't dare look back.

Casey met you at the end of the stairs, where a bunch of Gryffindors were crossing paths with the Ravenclaws leaving.

"Was that Fred Weasley? Talking to you?" was the first thing Casey asked when you were close to her enough to hear.

"Yep," you sighed, still tense because of your conversation.

"Godric! Is he hot in his Quidditch uniform!" she gasped, but different from you, she had that romantic, girly look on her face again. It made you wanna vomit.

"Please, Cass, you can find someone hotter than him," you protested, frowning.

"Someone hotter doesn't take Fred's hotness away," she argued, raising a brow towards you. She was messing with you, of course, but knowing it didn't make it easier. She didn't know about the kiss, so for all purposes' sake, she still thought you would never even touch him.

"Can't you just pine over — hmm, I don't — George Weasley, his twin?" you said, sarcastically. "If you think Fred's hot, George is too, and I'm pretty sure he's a better person."

"Too vanilla," she replied as if it proved her point.

"How would you know?" you asked, but couldn't help but burst in laughter with her, both very sure this conversation wasn't going anywhere.

Casey was right again. Not about George being vanilla — that you couldn't be sure, being that you had never talked to the chap. You couldn't manage to say more than three words to George, his presence always made you kinda weak in the knees.

But George didn't know about it, and neither did your best friends, and you intend in leaving thing at that. George was kind of your platonic crush, it was healthy to have one (probably), and he was never cross that line.

Funny, huh, how George made you feel starstruck, and Fred made you wanna kill yourself.

The thing Casey was right was about Fred being hot and charming. He was appearing more times than often in your mind, and for the rest of the week, he no longer popped as a replay of a kiss. Fred was appearing in your mind as new sexy scenarios, things a deep part of you wanted to experiment. And apparently, with him. Yikes.

You tried to convince yourself that those scenarios were with George (had happened before) but, at this point, you knew how to differentiate the two very well. And, deep down, you knew who was the ginger biting your neck and intertwining his legs in yours.

And that infuriated your guts.

"You did that for what?"

Your question echoed to the Great Hall, with a dozen of heads turning to what the little show you were putting on.

It was not your intention to make a scene, but, at that moment, you were more enraged than you'd ever been your whole life. Casey was your best friend, and you knew sometimes she was bold for the greater good, but you doubted that doing what she did was for the greater good.

Because you were feeling like shit.

She had intercepted your owl with your mom's letter about your father's condition. Casey had observed that you were ignoring your mom's messages — last night she went to your dorm room with Jess for a girls night, and ended up finding accidentally a box packed with the parchments unopen.

So she planned on getting your owl before it dropped its letter over you and she managed to sit next to you and starting reading it aloud, without telling you what she was reading.

It was only when she got to the second line of the thing — "they say they are doing everything they can and they don't want to raise our hopes, because his chance of recovery is almost none"— that you realized that it was your mom's words.

You got so angry as never before, shouting at Casey to shut up, and without overthinking, you cast a fire spell on the thing. Thankfully she dropped the parchment before it burned her hands, but that doesn't mean that she didn't get angry at you too.

Jess watched and came closer, trying to find words to say, but she didn't know what was happening and she didn't want to side with anyone.

You felt the urge to cry, but, not in hell, you were doing it in front of the whole school. You gathered your bag and ran out of that place, not looking back — even though Casey was screaming "I'm sorry", and Jessica was asking you to wait.

"Hey, wait up," a voice called, this time it didn't belong to a girl.

You froze at your spot, your feet slowly turning to face the boy following you in the empty hallway. Traitors, you wanted to say to your feet.

"Not now, Weasley," you said, trying hard to look away, but once his dark eyes met yours, you just couldn't bring yourself to walk away.

"Then, when? You need to talk," he pointed out, taking his hands out of his pockets, not yet breaking the eye contact. It was like he knew that he looking at you was the only thing keeping you there.

"You heard the show, huh."

"Just saw you, angrily walking away," he said while you nervously grabbed your bag's handle. "Thankfully, there was no butterbeer in your hands."

His attempt to joke went not as smoothly as he expected. You faced your shoes, biting your lip with the stupid idea that popped in your mind. You knew what you planned wasn't right.

But when he stepped towards you, it felt natural.

"Just shut up, Weasley," you said, before getting on your tiptoes and leaning in to kiss him.

He was surprised, again, but this time he was quick to respond and somehow smarter — he grabbed your waist and guided you to a door that only he knew existed in that hallway.

It was a broom closet, probably the brooms first-years use to train flying.

This time there was no inhibition. Fred's mouth in yours was not going to be enough to forget you fighting with Casey and your mom's words about your dad. You needed more. Thankfully, Fred Weasley was more than pleased to serve, fastly taking your white shirt off while you unbuttoned his pants.

"Are you sure of this, Duff?" he asked before pulling your black skirt up.

"I said shut up, Weasley," you reminded him, in a bossy tone. And in case he tried to open his mouth again, you locked it with yours.

Things were worse than ever before.

After Casey's episode, you hadn't talked to her ever since. She tried, the first few days, but she saw you were ignoring her and with time, she gave up. Jess attempted to convince you to talk to Casey, and for that, you started ignoring Jess too.

Your grades weren't getting better any time soon — Professor Snape was now no longer the only one complaining to you about it. Thankfully, the other Professors were more understanding about it than Severus — the school knew about your father situation.

Oh, yeah. About your parents: since Casey attempt to read you a letter, you haven't touched one yet. And you weren't going to do it anytime soon.

The only person you were hanging out with — by Merlin, you never thought that would happen — was Fred Weasley.

It was easygoing with him because there wasn't much talking to do. He knew better than to ask you anything related to your personal life — even though he tried, a lot.

You two would meet primarily at the Room of Requirement — it usually provided a bed for you, so that was more comfortable than any broom closet. If he ever attempted to make conversation, you'd shut him up with your lips and locking your fingers in his hair — that was his soft spot for sure.

You noticed he was trying to be your friend, more than just a hookup because he was lately scheduling your meetings in places where more people were around — therefore you couldn't just kiss him.

Today, you two were meeting after his Quidditch practice. In his defence, you had indeed mentioned how hot after-trainings sex could be, and that was, probably, where he got the idea.

You were waiting for him in the ground leaned in the entrance to the stairs to the stands, laughing with yourself, because, not long ago, when he mentioned you waiting for him at the Quidditch field, you thought the idea was absurd.

"There he is," you said, placing your hands in the back pockets of your jeans, walking side by side with a just showered Fred Weasley.

"You came."

"You said for me to come," you replied, tilting your head towards him and chuckling. It wasn't like you and any other places to be, but he didn't need to know.

"Hey, Fred, what are we..." started George, rushing to Fred's side and gasping at the notice of you. "Oh, hey, y/n."

So nice to have a Weasley calling you by your name instead of the stupid "duff" thing Fred seemed to love.

But that was George — the George Weasley — and all you managed to do was blush and nervously say hello back.

"Well, brother, got do something with y/n first, but, later, we can..."

"— don't bother with me! I'm sure we can hang out the three of us," you interrupted Fred, glad this time you didn't stutter.

Fred practically spat out a laugh, looking at you like you were crazy. "We? With my own twin?"

You pushed Fred by the shoulder, disgusted by the bullshit he had suggested.

"We can change our plans," you elaborated. "That's what I meant, Fred."

George's eyes went from you to Fred, not sure of what to say next. He didn't know what was going on between the two of you — you'd threatened Fred that you'd kill the whole Weasley family if he decided to say something.

"Are you sure? Fred and I can do the prank later."

"It's a prank? Then count me in!" you smiled, pushing Fred's shoulder again. "Why didn't you tell me?"

There was one exact reason why Fred didn't tell you — it's because you weren't interested, especially in personal stuff and principally in pranks.

"Wow, y/n, I reckon I've never seen you so excited," George commented, smiling.

The three of you started walking away from the Quidditch field while Fred mumbled something about him being the reason for your excitement — for that you replied with pinching his left arm.

You had never laughed so hard in your life. Fred, George and you were sitting on the floor of the empty library, leaning your backs against a dusty shelf in the dark corner of the room.

"Did you see his face?" George giggled, placing a hand over his chest where his heart was beating extra fast.

All of the hearts there were beating fast.

It was almost midnight, and by the school rules, you three should be in bed, but the amount of enthusiasm you were feeling was convincing you being a reckless student wasn't so bad.

You were sitting in the middle of the twins, your hands tossed on the floor — the left one just a couple of centimetres away from Fred's. He was watching you, paying very close attention at how the red slowly painted your face back, since it had been white because of all the running from Filch to not get caught.

"Thanks for tagging me along," you said, with a small smile, looking at George.

"Anytime," George said, thinking it was the right thing to do. "You're fun to be around. I see why you wanted to hang out with her, Freddie."

You would've teased Fred about the silly nickname if it wasn't gonna ruin the beautiful moment you and George were having.

Fred watched his twin and you, giggling with each other, talking about random funny stuff related to Argo Filch, but he couldn't hear the conversation quite well. He could only focus on how you were leaning towards George, and how, involuntarily, your hand ran away from his.

"Well, chaps, I've gotta keep going," George announced, getting up and shaking the dust out of his clothes. You pouted, saddened by the departure of your favourite twin.

Fred didn't even breathe, scared that would make his brother want to stay. It wasn't like he was addicted to you — Godric, no! — but he was really looking forward to spending some time with you. Just with you.

"So soon?" you replied, noticing that one prank and you now could speak perfectly well with George. You had no idea why it became uncomplicated, but spending time with him only made you notice what you already knew — he's very different from Fred. "See you later, then."

"See ya," George then turned around and walked out of the library, making sure he wasn't being heard.

As soon as George was away, Fred turned to you, using his hand to bring you face towards him. You allowed it, not really having much choice when he touched you like that.

"Why did want to prank with us?" he asked, looking straight into your eyes.

You shrugged, saying nothing. But something in your expression — maybe the quick thought of George — gave you away.

"George," Fred sighed, surprisingly angry, but not enough for you to notice. His hand fell from your face to his side. "You like him."

"Puff! What? No. What?"

Yeah, your reaction wasn't the best. But Fred shrugged, letting his jealous side hide and acting like a jerk because it was so much easier than caring.

"Are you only with me because I look like him?" he asked, making sure his tone sounded like he was playing with you instead of really curious.

"No!" you replied, faster than you expected. "First of all, I'm not with you. Secondly, no, Freddie," — you used the nickname to mess with him — "I didn't pick you because of George. I picked you because you were there."

Fred stayed in silence, absorbing your answer.

You were suddenly lost in your thoughts, remembering that first kiss not so long ago. And then you remembered all of those lonely nights at the Three Broomsticks, where your only companies were Rosmerta and... Fred.

"You are always there."

"Yeah," Fred sighed, not sure of what you meant with that. However, he was still in jerk mode, and for that, his hand flew back to touch you, this time choosing more sensitive regions, like your belly, particularly, above the waistband of your jeans, a place that Fred had already learned to be one of your weak spots. "So, is now when you're doing what we had scheduled to do?"

You turned to face him, making it easier for him to reach your abdomen.

"Do you only think about that?"

He pretended to be thoughtful.

"Yes."

It came as a hell of a surprise when you were called to the Headmaster's office. You had been doing nothing — aside from escapades with Fred, and trying to get back to your studies, you haven't been doing much — so you didn't stall to see why they needed you.

You were even more surprised when the person awaiting fro you in the office was your mom.

"Hi, sweetie," she tried to smile but failed.

You didn't move since you opened the door and saw her, because her visit probably meant something you didn't want to be true.

"Is he dead?"

"What, sweetie? What did you say?" she asked.

"Dad. Is he...?" you whispered again, not brave enough to say it too loud.

"Oh, Merlin, no! That's why I'm here, actually. He called for you yesterday," she explained, stepping closer to you since you haven't been moving. "I sent you a letter, but you didn't reply, and I was so anxious..."

"Father called me? He said my name?" you were shocked because last time you saw him, he had no idea who you were.

"Yes, sweetie. I guess he remembers you," she smiled. "And me," she added.

"Can I see him?" you were fighting tears at this point.

"Of course, sweetie! That's why I'm here," she smiled, and opened her arms, knowing very well that all you wanted to do was bury your face on her chest, just like when you were little and scared. But this time, all you felt was happiness.

Returning to Hogwarts was hard. Not because you were sad — Merlin, that had been your best weekend ever! You father was almost completely recovered, although now and then he was saying some gibberish.

It was hard to come back because you wished you'd stayed longer with your dad, but your mom knew you needed to finish your school year before anything else.

A conversation that you had with your father kept replaying in your mind since you walked in the school. It was before you left when he encouraged you to enjoy your life because he wished he had enjoyed his more — especially when he thought he was dying, having Death Eaters play with his mind.

So when you saw George in the hallway, you knew you had to do something about your whole starstruck situation.

"Hey!" you called him.

"Hi, y/n," he faced you, a smile appearing in his lips. "Haven't seen you all weekend."

"I had to be away. Dad's stuff," you really didn't want to tell him about it right there. "Anyway... I don't know how to say this, but I've been feeling incredibly confident lately, so here it goes... Would you like to go on a date with me?"

You had no idea how you manage to say it. Perhaps pranking someone together does change a person, but while you waited for his reply, George didn't seem so hard to talk to.

"You want to go out... with me?" he played with his hair while saying it.

"Yep," you gulped, suddenly regretting you recently discovered confidence.

"Okay," he frowned for a second before smiling lightly. "Three Broomsticks, Wednesday?"

"Perfect. See you there?"

He shook his head in response, then turned and walked away. You stayed there, expecting a wave of happiness to come, but it never did. That's odd, you thought, before heading to your dorm, which, weirdly enough, you had missed.

When you pushed the door open, you saw the two figures sitting on your bed, as if they had been waiting for you for a long time. Jess and Casey looked at you as you walked n, with sympathetic smiles on their faces.

"What are you two doing here?" you asked, but you weren't mad. Just curious.

You had missed them too.

"I'm here to apologize. Should've done it sooner, but you didn't allow me," said Casey, getting up and stepping closer to you. "I now know your father is better, but you were right, that letter could have something horrible written on it and had no right reading it."

You stared at her, unconsciously reaching for her hand, anxious to meet her hot touch again. You were still happy, of course, but that talk made you bit sentimental.

"I'm sorry, y/n," she said, allowing you to hug her and hugging you back in the way only she knew how. Jess jumped out of bed and embraced the two of you; although you couldn't see her face, you'd bet she was smiling and crying at the same time.

The three of you stayed like that for a while.

"But, thank Merlin, he's okay now," Casey continued, slowly pulling away from the group hug.

"How do you..."

"Fred told us," said Jess, sitting back on your bed and suggesting you two did the same.

"Fred? Fred Weasley? How did he know?" you were completely startled.

"He asked about you. The three of us were confused because, well, he was right, nobody had seen you," Jess explained. "Long story short, McGonagall told him about your dad, and he told us."

You gulped, taking in that new information. Fred worried about you, that was new. Well, you did leave with no warning, but for a not-a-friend with benefits, you never consider he would care if you disappeared.

"Did he say anything else?" you rounded, suddenly worried he could have told them about your little escapades.

"Should him? Your father is okay, right?" Casey entered a worried-mom mood, and Jess seemed to be concerned too.

"My father is getting better, yes," you replied, but now it was too late. They were curious, you sighed, knowing very well that, as your best friends, they had all the right to know what was going on. "I may — or may not — have started a no-strings-attached relationship with Fred Weasley."

"You did what??" Casey widened her eyes towards you.

You spend half an hour explaining to the girls what was going on in your sex life, and they were good listeners, never interrupting unless you paused. You missed those girly talks so much that you wondered how you managed to spend weeks not talking to them.

"Wait. But your date for Wednesday is George?" asked Jess, clearly confused with the end of your story.

"I never had the guts before," you said, remembering how only the idea of asking George out would've made you weak in the knees a year ago.

"But you like Fred," she stated, convinced she was correct.

"What? No. Why did you...? Merlin, no," you rambled. You thought you had made it clear that being around Fred longer than necessary made your stomach sick and everything.

Jess and Casey exchanged looks as if they knew something you didn't.

"Fred's repugnant. He still calls me Duff, can you believe it? I mean, 'hello, honey, if I'm such the disgusting, ugly friend, why do you sleep with me?' " you said, laughing with yourself, imagining you facing Fred and telling him that. But the girls kept with their suspicious stares. "I did explain what is Duff, right?"

"You did," said Casey.

"Still not convinced you don't like Fred, though," added Jess, raising a brow towards you.

"I don't! Besides, now, I don't need him. I'm going on a date with his brother, and my father is fine. I have no worries," you reminded them, getting up from your bed. "Well, maybe one problem. I still need better grades."

"That I can help," said Casey, allowing her nerdy Ravenclaw shine.

You tried to corner Fred the whole Tuesday, but he seemed to be nowhere to be found, until after dinner, when you approached him when he was leaving. Thankfully, he was alone.

"So you are back," he said, looking you up and down in that way that only he knew. You looked around the hallway, scared that students leaving the Great Hall could hear you two talking, so you gesticulated for him to follow you to the broom closet — coincidently, where it all started was going to be its end too.

"Fred, we need to talk," you said, closing the door behind you and trying to find the light switch.

"You finally realized?" he sounded hopeful, with a playful smile on his lips.

"Realized what?"

He was set back with your response. Fred was thinking of something else when he asked you that, but he wasn't going to let you win. Although you really didn't have any idea what he was talking about.

"Realized you can't live without me."

"HA! Very funny, Weasley," you said, rolling your eyes.

He stepped closer to you, expecting you to do what you generally did in that closet, and, even though, his perfume made you lose your senses for a second (that didn't use to happen before, did it?).

"Well, I brought you here because... You see, we aren't doing this anymore," you swallowed after saying it — it was as if a knife was held in your neck.

He leaned in, looking down at you. His playful smile was long gone.

"You want to do it the right way. I get it," he said, pressing his lips together for a pause. "We could just jump to the fun part."

"Fun part? There isn't a...", but you weren't able to finish. His lips met yours mid-phrase, and as usual, you couldn't care about anything else but his lips.

What was the thing I need to tell him? Never mind now.

Your hands were playing with his hair, but something was different this time. There was still an urge — one that shouldn't be there, giving that you had no problems to forget right now — but you two were acting slowly, appreciating every touch.

When with Fred, you never felt ashamed of your body, but somehow this time you were very self-conscious, afraid that he wouldn't like you. Which was stupid — he had been... with you for too long to now started caring about your form.

What you didn't know what was that, if anything, he was finding you even more beautiful tonight, with the weak light of the closet highlighting every gorgeous curve of your body.

While you two undressed (with his lips away from yours), you were able to remember you shouldn't be there, snogging him and well, about to do other things with him. You had gone there to end this thing.

You sighed, too perplexed at the view of the ginger boy's body. The light was also highlighting his best spots.

A good-bye, you concluded with yourself. You were allowing yourself one last night, before staying away from Fred.

And if it was going to be a good-bye, you were sure you wanted to make it the best yet.

When you asked George out, he had been puzzled, and really scared of what to do next.

You had never jumbled him with Fred before — and after spending so much time with his twin doing Merlin knows what he expected you to never do it.

He thought it was rather cute that you took the first step and asked Fred out. Well, you did confuse the twin, but George assumed you probably were too nervous with your own feelings.

So using his best "hey, brother, this is gonna sound funny" voice, he went to find Fred to tell him that he had a date with the girl he had pining over for the last month.

George had never seen Fred say no to other girls, neither had George seen Fred stay in the castle for a Friday night, then a skip a Hogsmeade trip. You had changed Fred, even though George was sure Fred had not noticed it yet.

"What is it, George?" Fred asked, anxious to leave and meet you, no matter where you could be. He had heard that you had just got back in the castle and he just... he wanted to make sure you were alright.

"y/n, she... well," George nervously giggled. "She mixed us. She thought I was you."

"Really?" Fred was not expecting at this stage for you to mix him with his brother.

"Yeah, and hm, this is funny," George gulped before continuing. "I think she asked you out. On a date."

"She what??"

"Yeah, I guess she was on a rush, because of her father, and she said something about feeling confident," George went on. "Anyway, I said yes because I knew you'd have said yes. It's Wednesday. At the Three Broomsticks."

Fred stared at his brother as if he had solved all the problems in the world.

"She really did that?"

George shook his head yes and pointed out: "Don't mention she mixed us. It will probably make her feel worse."

"Are you sure she thought you were me?" Fred asked, overthinking it.

"Well, of course. Why else would y/n ask me out?"

You had to borrow a foundation from Jess (your skin tones were not so similar, but it was enough) because on the last night, Fred had exaggerated a little.

He never left a mark on his body, but yesterday he had overcome himself. As the brush rubbed the foundation on your neck, you remembered the night before.

"You are mine, Duff," he said, between one hickey and another. "Just mine."

Unintentionally, you lost yourself in thought, your mind continuing its replay from the night before, as you brushed your sensitive skin.

"Only I can make you feel this way; only my touch makes you shiver," whispered Fred, and incredibly, it was true. But he was Fred, and it couldn't go on.

So when it was over, and you both were too tired, you got dressed and stared at him, knowing what was coming next.

"Thank you, Fred, seriously. For everything," he watched you as you gulped nervously. "But this really can't go on. I have a date tomorrow."

"I know."

You were about to leave, but you immediately turned, facing him with wide eyes.

"You asked George out. I know," he seemed sad. And you have never seen Fred sad before. You wanted to do something, but what could you do really?

"Fred, I..."

"Look, you had your good-bye, y/n. You can get out now," Fred said. "Go hide. It's what you do, right?"

"Hey, don't turn this on me!"

"Somehow, this is my fault?" Fred asked while putting on his pants. Although angry, he didn't seem scary. "What you want me to do, y/n? I'm the jackass womanizer, aren't I? Go get the better twin."

"Fred Weasley!" you shouted his name, trying to shut him up. "We were never a couple; don't act as if you care now! Don't act like you're jealous!"

"Why? Because I can't be jealous of you? I can't care about you?" he shouted back.

"Care about me? You call me Duff, Weasley. All the damn time! How am I supposed to know you care about me if you keep reminding me how ugly, fat and disgusting I am?"

Silence fell upon the two of you.

That was the knife in your neck all along. The stupid nickname, it all came back to it. Fred had no idea how much power that nickname had over you.

"I never meant it that way, y/n," he said, gulping slowly.

"No?" you asked sarcastically. "Really? I remember you telling me I have hotter friends."

"But that was before!" he protested.

"Before what?" you asked, but his reply never came. The words he couldn't say died in his chest — buried forever. "See you around, Weasley, " you said, before opening the door and leaving, without looking back.

You shook your head, slowly coming back to reality. The hickeys were enough hidden. It didn't look perfect, but the Three Broomsticks had terrible lighting, so it would be okay.

You wanted to stay in, curled up in bed, playing in repeat your good-bye, and blame yourself for that sadness in your chest, but you were too embarrassed to dump George.

The place was crowded — Hogwarts older students were practically all there, having the time of their lives on the dance floor. You wished George could never find you, so you went to the counter to hide behind a mug of butterbeer.

"Hey there, pretty," said Madam Rosmerta, who have missed you all those nights without you. "Butterbeer?"

"You know it," you said, about to throw her a coin when someone pressed a hand on your shoulder.

"Make it two," he said, and he didn't even need to speak to you know who it was. That cheap perfume was going to be the death of you. "It's on me," he told you, tossing his own coin to Rosmerta who disappeared to get the mugs.

"He's not coming," he added a second later, hating the silence around you two.

"I figured it. When I saw you," you explained, gulping.

Rosmerta brought two mugs back, and both of you took a sip from it, unsure of what to say next.

It wasn't like you two fought last night because you hated each other. In fact, it was probably the complete opposite, but both looked like stupid cowards, afraid of your own feelings.

"Look, I..." he started, but you interrupted him, placing your hand on his arm over the counter.

"Let me say this first," you said, locking your eyes on his. "I shouldn't have asked your twin out. Even if we were just friends; what I did was a jerk move."

"You liked him first," Fred pointed out, trying to defend you from yourself.

You chuckled. "Oh, Merlin, no. I thought he had a pretty face," you explained, tilting your head towards him, and he understood your joke right away, joining in the laughter. "And he seemed like a nice guy. Like, huh, I thought he could treat me nicely," you looked away from his big eyes, facing the shelves with liquor.

"But?"

"What?" you asked him, turning to face him once again.

"I feel like there was a 'but'."

You smiled.

"But you also have a pretty face, and recently, you've come to treat me nice too," you said, and he pressed his lips together while slowly shaking his head up and down. "Well, actually, if it's just between you and me, your face is prettier."

He raised his brows. "Is it?"

"And your body too," you added, just to make him smile.

"Is mine bigger?" he asked, back to his normal joker self.

You pushed him lightly by the shoulder, not hard enough for him to fall off the stool.

"Never saw his, sorry," you decided to tease, and you both giggled.

"I'm sorry. About the Duff thing and all," he said, swallowing. "I kept the nickname because I thought it was cute. If I knew it bothered you so much, I'd have stopped. And I wouldn't have used it during sex."

"I'm okay with it now, I guess," you said. "It wasn't that bad hearing it during sex if I'm honest."

You tilted your head to the left, biting your tongue to not laugh because it was not funny. But Fred just had a way to ease your mood.

You thought silence was going to hunt you two again when Fred spoke.

"Is this the part where you admit you have feelings for me?" he smirked, placing his hands on your knees, relaxing you even more.

"Maybe," you chuckled. "Is this the part where you admit you have feelings for me?"

"Yes," he said, surprising you. "I have feelings for you."

"Well, I have feelings for you too, Freddie," you smiled, passing your fingers through his strong arms.

"You're not gonna forget that nickname, are you?" he faced away while asking.

"Nope."

"Fine by me, Duff," he replied, messing with you too. He then leaned closer, pressing his lips on yours, and it didn't take long for his hands to find your waist and bring you as closer to him as the stools allowed.

"But we are going slower this time, Weasley," you warned, parting your lips for just a second.

He smiled in the kiss.

"It's always better that way," he replied, probably remembering the soft, slow sex from last night because you were sure remembering that too.

You slapped his arm just strong enough for him to pout, but you kept kissing him anyway. When you two kissed, nothing else mattered— it was only the two of you in the world.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley x ravenclaw!reader #fred weasley x hufflepuff!reader #fred weasley x gryffindor!reader #george weasley #Fred and George Weasley #Fred and George #george weasley x reader #harry potter #the duff

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amazingmaeve · 4 years ago

Text

Tolerate it ↠ Fred Weasley

Fred Weasley Masterlist // Harry Potter Masterlist

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Fred had an amazing love story throughout Hogwarts. But things start to go sour after the 2nd wizarding war.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Swearing, Pregnancy, Mentions of sex, panic attacks

AN: Hope this works out ok!

While at Hogwarts Y/N and Fred’s relationship was better than ever. They did everything together. Well not everything since George was with Fred as well.

Y/N would help him and George with their pranks and all of them would serve detention together as well.

Even though they hung around George a lot he had a life of his own which gave Y/N and Fred to spend sometime alone together. Which the two lovers appreciated.

Y/N and Fred got together in their 4th year when Fred finally gained the confidence to ask Y/N out. The three of them have been best friends ever since their 1st year when she got put her into Gryffindor.

Then when the Yule ball came around a couple years later Fred made a big deal on how he asked her out. There were fireworks that spelled out ‘Will you go to the ball with’.

As the words painted the sky Y/N accepted with tears in the corner in her eyes and then went to hug Fred.

In their 7th year Umbridge came to the school to ruin there lives.

Fred and Y/N couldn’t even hug without Umbridge splitting the two up. When they got the detentions Y/N would comfort Fred laying down with his head in the crook of her neck.

Y/N would stroke his back comforting him.

When Y/N got her first detention with the blood quil Y/N had avoided Fred not wanting him to be angry. He already cut her out of pranks not wanting her to get hurt.

Then Y/N finally decided to talk to Fred and he was livid when he found out. But with Y/N crying on the couch in the common room he pushed his anger aside to hug her trying to get he sobs to calm down.

Y/N eventually fell asleep on his chest and Fred took her to her dorm room and laid the girl down who was fast asleep.

Y/N had always supported the twins and their joke shop.

She told him “follow your dreams Fred,” which he did.

When Fred and George decided to leave Y/N was the first one to know. She offered to go with them but Fred knew how much her education meant to her and decided against.

Y/N was angry at first but slowly came around. There wasn’t that much of school left so she would be leaving soon.

The night before Fred and George left Y/N finally gained enough confidence to tell Fred she loved him. It was the first time she has ever said that to him.

Fred immediately kissed her and after he told her he loved her as well. That was the night the two lost their virginity’s.

Then the school year was over in what a felt like a whole year to Y/N.

For the next full year Y/N moved in with Fred and George and started working with them. Their relationship was growing stronger and stronger everyday.

“I love you,” Y/N whispered one night to Fred whole they were in bed. Her head was laid on his shoulder. The two loved birds were just finished from the 2nd time they’ve had sex that night. The two were extremely tired.

“Love you too darling,” Fred kissed her forehead and brushed some of her hair out of her face. “Will always love you forever,” He promised.

“Forever,” Y/N repeated nuzzling her head into his chest started to feel that tiredness come back. “Good night love,” she whispered.

“Good night darling,” Y/N could hear Fred just before she slipped into deep sleep.

Fred could feel a smirk on his face as he heard her snoring slightly. Fred knew this was the woman he was going to get married have kids. Fred couldn’t wait for the day.

Whenever they did something lovey dovey George would gag at his brother and girlfriend in a jokingly manor. The truth was that George loved having his best friend around and that his best friend and brother were hopelessly in love.

The whole year was like a fairytale for the both of them.

But sometimes fairytales don’t have good endings, and the 2nd wizarding war was going to be come crashing in on their little bubble they loved so much.

The wizarding war was the hardest things Y/N had to go through. With the fighting and death and the worst part was that Fred almost died.

Luckily he didn’t but it was a close call.

Y/N was the first one to find him passed out on the ground rubble all around him. Y/N immediately ran towards him grabbing his face while tears rolled down her cheeks.

“No no no,” Y/N whispered as she put her fingers on his neck to see if he had a pulse.

Y/N let out a sigh of relief when he did have and when he suddenly woke up.

“What happened why’re you crying love,” Fred groaned as he tried to get up and when he did Y/N wrapped her arms around him violently sobbing into his chest.

“I thought you were dead,” Y/N’s voice was muffled as she pressed her face into his chest not wanting to let him go.

“Can’t get rid of me love,” Fred jokes pulling Y/N up to stand. He wrapped his arms around the girl who’s sobs were dying down.

“Don’t joke around about this,” Y/N sniffed finally removing herself from his chest looking up at the red head who gave her a sad smile.

“Sorry but I’m right here and I’m fine,” Fred reassured Y/N wiping the tears from under her eyes.

Y/N didn’t know weather to believe him or not but right Fred was okay and that’s all that matters. He wrapped his arms around her once more and kissed the top of her head in a comforting manor.

In that moment nothing mattered Fred was alive and that’s everything.

Y/N and Fred were taking a few days off from work and she didn’t want to get special treatment and Fred thought the same. So she got a job at a book store.

For the next few everything was ok. Y/N and Fred got a flat for themselves and everything was settling in.

Fred was a little off though. Just little things at the time. He wouldn’t ask her about her day, he wouldn’t tell her he loved her before he left for work.

Y/N didn’t mention it to him thinking it was her just being clingy. And plus she didn’t want to add to his plate since the war just ended.

And he was getting nightmares to the point where he woke up screaming. On those nights Y/ would have get him out of sleep and let him sob into her chest as Y/N strokes the back of his neck comforting him.

Y/N’s tried bringing it up but he avoided the conversation. She just wanted to know what was going on in his head.

She didn’t bring it up because Y/N didn’t want to make things worse for him.

They talked less and less each day and Y/N thought Fred was like this all the time. That was until she went to go and visit him and saw him laughs with George.

Her heart swelled knowing he’s happy but her brain wondered why he wasn’t doing that with her. Y/N shook her head trying to get rid of the thoughts and was just happy he was happy.

The days went on and Y/N could feel her heart break and break even more. Fred barely smiled when he was at the flat.

At first Y/N thought Fred just needed space from her and she didn’t blame him for that. In relationships sometimes the two people needed to talk and be around friends, family.

Y/N felt like she couldn’t even feel his love and he was just tolerating hers.

But this has been going on for a couple months and Y/N could feel herself start to feel like she had no one to talk to. George was always around Fred and would feel bad if he knew she was talking to his brothers/family.

Like with her job Y/N’s boss was being a bit rude and she didn’t know who talk too.

Sometimes the loneliness got hard. With the effects of the war Y/N often get panic attacks where Y/N could feel the walls close in on her. She could feel her breathing start her faster and faster.

Then Y/N found a place where she could calm down. A beach where she would just listen to waves crashing and the animals making there noises.

But it didn’t solve her problems with Fred.

At the 3 month mark Y/N kept throwing up in the morning for 2 weeks straight. It was easy to hide it from Fred since the two barely talked and he left from work early.

Then she noticed she missed her period. Y/N and Fred rarely have sex since the war but one drunk night they had together must of been it.

Y/N wanted to be sure so she got a test from the wizarding world that would tell her if she was pregnant 100%.

As Y/N paced in her and Fred’s shared bathroom she began to think about how Fred was gonna take it. Fred always told Y/N he wanted kids but now she doesn’t know.

Would bringing a baby into the mix make things worse? Would Fred be mad at her?

When it was time to look at the test Y/N took a deep breath before picking up the test and let out a sad sigh.

Positive.

Y/N put her hand on her belly and smiled. She was already love her/him. This was something her and Fred created together.

Maybe this will help Y/N’s and Fred’s relationship.

Y/N looked at the time and noticed it was only 1. It was her day off. Y/N wanted to tell Fred immediately.

Y/N grabbed her coat with bubbling excitement as she strolled to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes with a smile on her face. Even though the past months haven’t been good for her this was a good thing to happen to Y/N.

The shop was filled with loads and loads of customers when Y/N entered the shop. As her eyes roamed the store Y/N could see Fred talking with someone with a smile on his face.

Angelina Johnson.

Y/N didn’t hate the girl they were friends in school. But when Fred and Y/N were just friends he told her he had a crush on Angelina which made Y/N jealous.

But she could never hate Angelina. She was so sweet and Angelina even reassured Y/N that she didn’t like Fred.

But now Y/N could feel her stomach turn as Fred laughed at something Angelina said. Did he still have feelings for her? Is that why he was around as much?

Y/N felt tears brim her eyes as Fred looked so happy. And it hurt her so much to see that he wasn’t happy with her.

She bit her lip to stop herself from sobbing and breaking down.

Y/N rushed out of the shop with tears staining her cheeks as she ran home getting looks from strangers.

Once Y/N reached the flat Y/N took her jacket off and let out a sob as she laid down her and Fred’s bed.

Y/N curled up into a ball trying to get herself to calm down. She didn’t understand why Fred was treating herself this way.

Y/N thought she would be happy with him.

Y/N put her hand on her stomach where there would be a bump in months. She didn’t know what to do now.

Y/N must’ve cried for hours when she heard Fred yell “I’m home.”

Y/N looked at the clock and noticed it was 5 with a surprised look on her face. Y/N could hear Fred enter the bed room with a confused look on his face.

“What’s wrong love,” Fred asked and he sounded concerned. This was the first time she heard Fred sound like he cared for her in a while.

“Nothing,” Y/N scoffed rolling her eyes at the red haired boy.

“Odiously something’s,” Fred sat down on the foot of the bed by the side of the bed she was. He put his hand on her leg and gave it a squeeze to get her attention.

“What,” Y/N snapped sitting up to look up at him.

“Why’re you crying love,” Fred asked concern lacing his words as he cupped Y/N’s cheek wiping the tears away.

“Why do you care,” Y/N could feel more tears coming and with her being pregnant didn’t help her.

“Because you’re my girlfriend and I love you,” Fred softly replied.

“Why now?” Y/N questioned as he gave her a confused look. “Huh. For the last few months you have been avoiding me not talking to me and now you want to know how I feel,” She could feel anger fume in her as Fred looked at her.

“I don’t know what your talking about,” Fred avoided eye contact.

“Just stop lying you’re happy with everyone but me. Hell you’re even more happy with other girls than me,” Y/N huffed looking at the boy.

“I haven’t been talking to other girls,” Fred snapped.

“I saw you with Angelina laughing and smiling and talking,” Y/N whispered angrily.

“We were just talking and why were you at the shop,” Fred asked annoyance in his eyes.

He knows he’s being unreasonable and he knows he’s been distance. Fred didn’t mean to be but when other people asked how he was he could lie but not to Y/N.

“I wanted to tell you I was pregnant but you looked pretty busy,” Y/N had irritation in her voice as she shouted.

“What,” Fred asked flabbergasted with his eyes wide and his face full of shock.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Y/N huffed and went to lay down even thought it��s only 5:20.

But Fred doesn’t let her as he grabs her hand to pull her up into a hug. He hides his face in the crook of her neck missing the smell of her shampoo.

“I can’t believe it,” Fred smiled.

“Fred we’ve barely talked the last months and now you just won’t leave me alone,” Y/N snapped pushing him away.

“I’m so sorry love,” Fred looked at Y/N with tears coating his eyes.

“I just want to know why,” Y/N desperately asked feeling out of ideas.

“I couldn’t lie to you,” Fred blurted out.

“What,” Y/N asked as she scrunched her face up with confusion.

“When you ask me if I was fine I can’t say yes like with everyone else,” Fred whispered. Y/N looks up at him with sorrow in her eyes. “Ever since the war it feels like I can’t breathe sometimes and I wake up with nightmares bothering you.”

“Fred,” Y/N whispered reaching towards to touch his face. “You could’ve just talked to me,” She smiles at him.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Fred rolled his eyes at himself feeling horrible for the way he treated the love of his life.

“You could never bother me with your problems,” Y/N removed her hand from his face grabbing his hand.

“Will you forgive me,” Fred asked hoping he could get another chance.

“Yes,” Y/N sighed and she loved the way his eyes brightened. “But we have to talk more often please,” She pleaded.

“Of course of course,” Fred rushed out and grabbed Y/N’s face to kiss her.

“I love you so much darling.”

“I love you too Freddie.”

#fred weasley series #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley smut #fred weasley headcanons #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x oc #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #harry potter x you #harry potter headcanon #harry potter blurb #harry potter oneshot #harry potter x oc #harry potter imagine #harry potter smut #harry potter x reader #harry potter #fred weasley blurb

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vivithefolle · 4 years ago

Note

I just wanna ask, and don’t get mad at me cause I’m genuinely curious, how do you stan Ron? Like, I like him, but he is definitely misogynistic (slut shaming Ginny, treating hermione like she owes him something and being mad that she kissed someone years before, always objectifying Fleur, and acting like girls who aren’t pretty aren’t worth much). Like, by DH I feel like he definitely has mostly grown out of it, but still 6/7 books he’s kinda unbearable IMO

how do you stan Ron?

Like this:

OH MY GOD HAVE YOU SEEN. HAVE YOU SEEN HIM DID YOU SEE MY BABY OH MY GOD. WHEN HARRY’S ARM HAD GONE KABLOOIE BECAUSE OF LOCKHART AND HE. RON. HE WAS. HELPING HIM GET DRESSED???? OH MY GOD BABY???? HHHHNNNNGGGG. AND. AND. AND ALSO WHEN HE. OMG. WHEN HE WAS PUTTING FOOD ON HIS FRIENDS’ PLATES LIKE. MOM FRIEND ALERT MOM FRIEND ALERT MOM FRIEND ALERT. AND THE WAY HE’S ALWAYS BLUSHING AND BEING EMBARRASSED AT THE SLIGHTEST PRAISE BUT ALSO HE’S SO DESPERATELY SEEKING IT BUT HE KNOWS HE CAN’T TAKE IT AND EEK EEK EEK THAT’S SO CUTE SOMEONE HOLD ME IT’S ADORABLE RONALD WEASLEY YOU ARE SO GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME IT’S ILLEGAL TO BE THIS CUTE!!!!

Ok and then.

he is definitely misogynistic

No. And here’s why.

slut shaming Ginny

Yes, that was wrong. And guess what, that’s also something he probably - scratch that, definitely - picked up from his mother. And also his brothers, recall how Fred and George too don’t like to see Ginny go around with boys. There’s also something to recall: Ron was there when Ginny was taken into the Chamber of Secrets and learned later that it was because she had trusted an older guy. You seriously wouldn’t be paranoid about who your sister dates after that? It was wrong. Yeah. And he more than learned his lesson when Ginny clapped back by virgin-shaming him and basically told him that he was childish because he hadn’t have a relationship yet. So would that make Ginny sexist too? Or is it just for Ron?

treating hermione like she owes him something

..................... uuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh... when? When the fuck did anything like that happen?

He made a prat of himself at the Yule Ball, that much is obvious. But he didn’t tell her anything like “you should be with me” or didn’t insinuate anything of the sort. He was a jealous bitch but kept attacking Krum, not Hermione.

If you mean in sixth year when he treated her with “icy, sneering indifference” for the course of two weeks, yeah that was bad but that’s not “treating her like she owes him something”, the fuck?

being mad that she kissed someone years before

Yeah. I know. And that was bad, ooooh you got me to admit Ron did bad stuff, that’s what you want to see, right? And I reckon he was also mad that she hid it from him, and that he had to learn it from his sister of all people. We see Ron handles what he considers betrayals terribly. I have some meta discussing the possibility that he has a form of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria.

always objectifying Fleur

Um... no, he doesn’t. He makes a stupid comment about her once in GOF then stops. Let’s also fucking remember that Fleur is a Veela, she literally makes guys stare at her as part of her powers!! I’m not blaming her because she’s literally born that way, but you can’t blame someone who is under magical compulsion either.

acting like girls who aren’t pretty aren’t worth much

So tell me why he was friends with Hermione then?

Because Hermione wasn’t Emma Watson the super hawt sexy model goddess. Hermione was Mrs Generic. Until this once at the Yule Ball when she got the pretty princess perfect Mary Sue makeover but then stopped because she had to remain ~relatable uwu~.

Again. Ron made stupid sexist comments. But it’s actively shown that he doesn’t follow up on them. If he did indeed live by the motto “girls who aren’t pretty aren’t worth much”, explain to me why he wasn’t simping and drooling all over Padma Patil who is explicitly stated to be one of the prettiest girls at school when she was his date? Why exactly did he ignore her and was a miserable twat the whole evening instead of basking in the joy of having snagging a girl that was “worth it”? Well surprise, it’s because HE ACTUALLY ISN’T LIKE THAT AND WHAT HE SAYS IS MAYBE SHIT HIS “COOL OLDER BROTHERS” SAY AND HE THINKS THAT BY EXTENSION IT WOULD MAKE HIM COOL TO REPEAT IT. MIMETISM, THAT'S BASIC FUCKING HUMAN PSYCHOLOGY FOR FUCKING TODDLERS MY FUCKING GOD.

Like, by DH I feel like he definitely has mostly grown out of it,

............

...................................

...............................................................

so. so why. so why wouldn’t you. use that. as a reason. to stan him.

like.

fuck all the “hurr durr ron weasley the boy who made it out of the friendzone!!!!” bullshit, let’s start going with “Ron Weasley, the Boy who became a Man, and not one of those 'uugghh im such an alpha male’ ones but one that’s got the balls to say ‘hey love, I’ve got an idea, what if you kept doing that job you love and feel passionate about while I support you and do the majority of the childcare while also working a smaller job on the side so we’re never short on money’“

Why you people gotta be “yeah I like Ron BUTT” when you know full-well this fucking awful fandom will rake him over hot coals over the slightest mistake he does - worse, will actively go out of their way to interpret his positive moments in the most negative way possible??? Fuck off with that bullshit. Ron dared to say bad stuff omygah big deal, he was forgiven for it all and you’re just all cowards looking to feel “pure” by telling yourself “oh yeah but he was problematic once uwu”. FUCK. THAT. NOISE.

but still 6/7 books he’s kinda unbearable IMO

And IMO he’s not, funny how that works

So.

I guess it’s impossible to stan Ron because he was problematic uwu.

Ok.

Then I hereby decree that it’s impossible to stan Hermione Granger because:

“I’ll bet you wish you hadn’t given up Divination now, don’t you, Hermione?” asked Parvati, smirking. [...] “Not really,” said Hermione indifferently, who was reading the Daily Prophet. “I’ve never really liked horses.” She turned a page of the newspaper, scanning its columns. “He’s not a horse, he’s a centaur!” said Lavender, sounding shocked. “A gorgeous centaur . . .” sighed Parvati. “Either way, he’s still got four legs,” said Hermione coolly. “Any-way, I thought you two were all upset that Trelawney had gone?” - Order of the Phoenix, ch 27

wow casual use of a racial slur yay!!! A+

And it’s also forbidden to stan Harry Potter either since:

It was raining hard now, and she was nowhere to be seen. He simply did not understand what had happened; half an hour ago they had been getting along fine. “Women!” he muttered angrily, sloshing down the rain-washed street with his hands in his pockets. “What did she want to talk about Cedric for anyway? Why does she always want to drag up a subject that makes her act like a human hosepipe?” - Order of the Phoenix, ch 25

and

“Harry! There you are, thank goodness! Hi, Luna!” “What’s happened to you?” asked Harry, for Hermione looked distinctly disheveled, rather as though she had just fought her way out of a thicket of Devil’s Snare. “Oh, I’ve just escaped — I mean, I’ve just left Cormac,” she said. “Under the mistletoe,” she added in explanation, as Harry continued to look questioningly at her. “Serves you right for coming with him,” he told her severely. “I thought he’d annoy Ron most,” said Hermione dispassionately. “I debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole —” “You considered Smith?” said Harry, revoked. - Half-Blood Prince

Victim-blaming! Nice Harry, nice. Always classy.

Ok, Ginny stanning is already cancelled because she virgin-shamed Ron, right, so who’s left, who’s left... ah yeah:

“There you go,” said Fred proudly. “Best range of love potions you’ll find anywhere.” - Half-Blood Prince

Selling date rape drugs proudly ouh là là. Bye Fred.

"Do they work?” she asked. “Certainly they work, for up to twenty-four hours at a time depending on the weight of the boy in question...” “...and the attractiveness of the girl,” said George, reappearing suddenly at their side. “But we’re not selling them to our sister,” he added, becoming suddenly stern, “not when she’s already got about five boys on the go from what we’ve...” “Whatever you’ve heard from Ron is a big fat lie,” said Ginny calmly, leaning forward to take a small pink pot off the shelf.

Assuming that only girls use love potions, and only on boys. Men never rape in JKR’s world, only women do, you heard it from George Weasley here folks, I’m just passing on the message. Ah and I hope you’re also starting the Fred And George Hate Club given how he’s also slut-shaming Ginny.

“What’s this?” “Guaranteed ten-second pimple vanisher,” said Fred. “Excellent on everything from boils to blackheads, but don’t change the subject. Are you or are you not currently going out with a boy called Dean Thomas?” “Yes, I am,” said Ginny. “And last time I looked, he was definitely one boy, not five. What are those?” She was pointing at a number of round balls of fluff in shades of pink and purple, all rolling around the bottom of a cage and emitting high-pitched squeaks. “Pygmy Puffs,” said George. “Miniature puffskeins, we can’t breed them fast enough. So what about Michael Corner?” “I dumped him, he was a bad loser,” said Ginny, putting a finger through the bars of the cage and watching the Pygmy Puffs crowd around it. “They’re really cute!” “They’re fairly cuddly, yes,” conceded Fred. “But you’re moving through boyfriends a bit fast, aren’t you?” Ginny turned to look at him, her hands on her hips. There was such a Mrs. Weasley-ish glare on her face that Harry was surprised Fred didn’t recoil. “It’s none of your business. And I’ll thank you” she added angrily to Ron, who had just appeared at George’s elbow, laden with merchandise, “not to tell tales about me to these two!”

Ah, good on you for defending yourself, Ginny, but remember, Ginny stanning is prohibited because she’s been problematic in the past and is gonna be problematic in the future and that’s baaaaaaad. Careful kids, don’t get ideas. It’s problematic to like people who’ve done problematic things.

So I guess nobody can like anything or anyone now. Sorry guys. Liking things is evil, what if the thing you liked had, OR USED TO HAVE, *gasp* flaws, can’t take that risk, ohmygah.

#vivi answers #ask #ron weasley #ron weasley defense squad #ron weasley defence squad #hp fandumb #hp fandom #harry potter #harry potter series #fred weasley #george weasley #fred and george #ginny weasley #hermione granger #problematic content

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nextdoor-neighbors · 4 years ago

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Shut Up and Kiss Me (George Weasley x Reader)

Pairing: George Weasley x Female Reader

Word Count: 551

Summary: After getting ditched by your Yule Ball dates, you and George find yourself spending some time together

A/N: This is my first attempt at something short like this so I hope it’s okay!

You sigh, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed, watching as your fellow classmates laugh and dance as The Weird Sisters perform. Your date (who wasn’t your first choice as a date, but still) ditched you, and you can see him across the room, dancing with some other girl from your year.

You let your gaze drift around the room. You’d been so excited about tonight, regardless of your best friend and longterm crush George Weasley not asking you. Someone else had asked you first, so he ended up finding someone to go with at the last minute. But you couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t just ask you in the first place. Fred, who you always went to about your feelings, said George liked you, too. But, as you stand alone while everyone else has fun, it’s not feeling like that’s true.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You turn towards the voice. Well, speak of the devil.

“Hi, George,” you respond quietly. “Why aren’t you with your date?”

The corner of his mouth quirks up in a gentle smile, making your stomach flip. You’ve always adored George’s smile.

“I was abandoned. I see you were, too?”

You nod in the direction of the dancers. “Indeed I was. Serves me right for going with the first guy who asked me even though I hardly knew him.” You look back at George, who leans against the wall and shrugs, a small smile still playing on his lips.

“Serves me right for not getting to you first.”

You blanch. “I- you- what?”

He takes your hand, pulling it up his mouth and pressing a kiss on the back of it. “Wanna get out of here?”

You’re at a loss for words as your heart begins to pound out of your chest, so you simply nod instead, letting George pull you through the throng of sweaty teenagers. You catch Fred’s eye, who still appears as if he’s having a good time with Angelina. He points at George and winks at you. You give him a thumbs up and grin in return, knowing that if this is going where you want it to go tonight, Fred will be your relationship’s biggest supporter.

You two walk the halls of the school, the clicking of your heels the only sound you can hear. The quiet is a nice change, for once, but it’s not the quiet you’re focused on. It’s George next to you, your hand still in his.

“Um,” you finally say, breaking the silence at last, “what did you-”

You’re cut off by the next chain of events, which starts off with your back hitting the wall and George’s lips crashing into your own. You make a soft sound of pleasure and surprise as he presses you into the wall with his body, one hand gripping your waist through the silky fabric of your dress, and the other hand holding the side of your neck.

He pulls back, keeping his face close. He gazes at you, his eyes dark with passion as he smirks.

“The plan was to tell you how I feel about you first, but I think you get the gist, no?”

He starts to pull away, but you grab him by his tie, pulling him back.

“Just shut up and kiss me, Weasley.”

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley oneshot #george weasley fic #hp fanfiction #weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #yule ball #weasley twins

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sserpente · 4 years ago

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A/N: Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Loki, Happy Birthday to you! Let’s wish our favourite Trickster all the best! ♥ Requests from @hanzimmer and anon.

Words: 2422 Warnings: so much fluff, Asgardian!Reader

Midgard wasn’t so bad after all. You hadn’t been so sure—after all, you had heard the stories. Pollution of all kind, wars over silly things like religion and food drenched in unsaturated fats. You wrinkled your nose, hoping that Thor had organised some proper snacks for his Yule… no, you corrected yourself, his Christmas party.

He had invited his closest friends from Asgard—Heimdall, Sif, Volstagg, Hogun, Fandral and you. Heimdall was the only one who, for obvious reasons, had been unable to attend. So here you were now, walking towards this huge building they called Stark Tower. You were familiar. Loki had used it to open a portal to lead an alien army to New York City.

You smiled at the thought of meeting Loki again despite of what he had done. Odin had sentenced him to remain among the mortals for a few centuries to come, serving and aiding them if need be, as an “Avenger”. You had not seen him since the day he had let himself fall into the void beneath the Bifrost, believed him dead and mourned and cried your oldest and most dearest childhood friend… and had rejoiced and hurt all at the same time when he returned and wreaked havoc on Earth.

He must have changed so much—but not enough for you to stop loving him. He had no idea, of course. You had been friends for as long as you could remember and Thor had always been around too. He had loved occupying your attention by bragging with his berserker skills wielding his hammer and creating thunder and lightning.

You suppressed a giggle. Loki and you had often sneaked off together after supper, stealing some fancy dessert and hiding somewhere in the castle so you could chat in peace. How often had you wished Loki would dare a chaste kiss then?

Looking back at it today, it made you wonder if Thor had purposely tried to keep you away from his adoptive brother. Come to think of it, he had always attempted to find a way to embarrass Loki one way or another, and often with the help of his friends who were currently walking right next to you, a little confused about the elevator technology in this realm.

When the metal doors opened again with a pling, you were not disappointed. Thor had decorated the spacious living area with all the Christmas decorations Earth had to offer. There were tinsel and baubles and other ornaments, nutcrackers and fake icicles and snow, sparkling Christmas trees, countless holiday lights blinking away, candy canes, gingerbreads and a massive Santa Clause statue.

“My friends! I’m so glad you could make it!”

The other people in the room you knew from Thor’s stories whenever he returned to Asgard to see if everything is alright. You recognised Captain America instantly due to the muscles and Hawkeye and Black Widow. The two men remaining must have been Tony Stark and the scientist who turned green when he was angry. The person you were interested in the most, however, was the god dressed in green and black next to Thor.

Your face lit up when you spotted Loki and his lips parted barely noticeably in response. You greeted Thor with a brief hug but never took your eyes off of him. Then, for a second, you took in his appearance, admiring how much more grown he looked… how much more mature and experienced. His innocence, so you realised, had vanished from his aura like damp fog in a forest.

You shivered when he spoke your name. “Good to see you.” You weren’t quite sure what he had expected from you but apparently not that you would throw yourself into his arms, pressing yourself against him as if he were a piece of wood in midst of a roaring sea.

“How are you doing, you silly Trickster?” You muttered once you managed to let go of him again, almost complaining when his hands left your body.

His smile was faint but honest, albeit there was still confusion sparkling in his eyes.

“I didn’t think you would be glad to see me.” He admitted instead of responding.

“W-why wouldn’t I be? Loki, I haven’t seen you in years. I thought I had lost you. Did Thor not tell you how the guards almost threw me in prison because they wouldn’t let me see you after New York?”

He frowned. “Not a word.”

“I almost stabbed them… I missed you.”

Loki had no chance to reply this time. Volstagg scattered forth towards the buffet, forcing you to step aside and indicating Thor must have finally started the festivities. You had barely risked a look at the buffet yourself yet but the selection of cookies, cakes and sandwiches looked indeed very promising.

The Warriors Three and Sif made sure to ignore Loki as best as they could—they had nothing to say to him anymore, after all and just like back in the old days, Thor made no move to change that. So while he was introducing them to some Midgardian Christmas traditions, you stepped aside with the fizzy drink he had handed you, quietly talking to Loki.

“Loki!” Volstagg suddenly called out, followed by a chuckle by Fandral. “You need a refill.”

You covered your own glass when they poured the same pinkish liquid (Thor had said it was ‘cotton candy liqueur’) into Loki’s who watched the scene with utter dismay. You could see Thor grinning from the corners of your eye and even Hogun was cracking a smile—Sif only rolled her eyes and one of the mortal men you did not know and had not yet made any effort to get introduced to, pressed his lips together so he would not burst out laughing. Idiots. Just leave him alone for once, will you?

“Who is who?” You asked once they had turned away again. “I recognise the redhead and the archer, and Captain America, what about the others?”

“Stark is the man to the left.” Loki said, downing almost the entire drink at once. Alcohol was supposed to numb unease, after all.

“The one with the beard?” The one who had failed to show his amusement when Volstagg clearly made Loki uncomfortable, you added mutely.

“Yes. The other is Bruce Banner.”

“The Hulk.” He nodded.

“How are they… treating you here?”

Loki snorted. “After what I have done? They seem to have forgotten I was the reason they assembled in the first place, not, however, that it was I who attempted to subjugate the planet.”

You glanced at him for a moment. “What happened, Loki? You were never like that. You never wanted a throne, you merely wanted your father to treat you and Thor as equals. Why Midgard?” Loki’s expression was pained, yet at the same time, relief flooded him. No, you were right—he had never been like that. Thor had still not realised that but here you were, his oldest friend whom he had secretly been in love with for decades, realising in a mere second that there was going on with him.

“Not here.” He shook his head slightly, making you frown. Something was up, you could tell. Something weighed heavy on his mind, tearing him down. You sighed. It was nothing new that besides Frigga before her death, no one but you ever truly bothered to listen to what Loki had to say. It had never been as important as what Thor had had to say.

Not here, he had said. Well then for now, all you could do was cheer him up a little. “What cake is that?”

Loki raised his eyebrows, irritated by the sudden change of topic. “Thor said something about marshmallows.”

“What are marshmallows?” He shrugged. “It looks really good though…” You said, a devilish grin forming on your lips. “What do you think? Let us grab that cake and get out of here?” Just like in the old times?

Loki smiled—it suited him, being this blithe. You wondered when he had last had the chance to be like that. Sneakily, you reached for some white forks (they were very light, a very cheap material, apparently) all the while Loki yoinked the cake. You made sure no one would notice before you followed him out of the vast room and took the elevator to another level where it was so quiet one could have heard a needle drop.

“Where exactly are we going?”

“My room,” he answered. “I am quite surprised they gave me one to be truly honest.”

But very apparently, their generosity had been kept within limits. Compared to his chambers back on Asgard, Loki’s room here on Midgard was pathetically small. A single bed and a desk along with a wardrobe and a tiny bedside table were the only items of furniture and to be quite frank, the room resembled a prison cell more than a proper accommodation. Unlike the rest of the Tower, there was not a single piece of Christmas decoration in here. You were almost disappointed. Surely, Loki would adore some green and gold tinsel as well. You wondered if Thor had even bothered to ask if he wanted any.

You didn’t need his permission to sit on his bed, you had never needed it back on Asgard either. Loki and you were so close you sometimes wondered why he had never tried to take you with him on his conquest. You wouldn’t have minded to be the queen of evil if only that meant you could be with him…

Loki sat down next to you, setting both your glasses aside. You grinned when you handed him a fork and you both dug into the marshmallow cake as if it was going to be your last meal.

“Oh…” You mused. “It really is good.”

“Hmm…” He confirmed.

You giggled. “I’m glad you didn’t lose your sweet tooth.”

Your heart jumped when Loki winked at you, his mouth still full of cake. You had already transformed the pretty and edible creation into an utter crumbly mess but then again, who needed those paper plates these mortals used as dishes, regardless of the cute snowmen and snowflakes on them?

“It was not the same without you, you know.” You said then.

“I bet Thor kept you occupied.”

You shook your head, the both of you still munching away.

“We barely spoke after your death, I mean… after we thought you had died… to be truly honest, I think I only tolerated Thor because he is your brother.”

Loki tilted his head. “One might think it was the other way around.”

“Yeah… that’s probably what he is telling his mortal friends right now. I meant it, Loki. I really missed you. I was heartbroken when they told me you had flung yourself down the Bifrost…”

“And then?” He interrupted. “Were you repulsed when you learned about what I did here on Midgard?”

You shook your head. “I was worried for you. You were always on my mind. Did you… Did you ever think about me?”

“Well, of course I have, I love you.” He blurted out, only to close his mouth in utter shock the fraction of a second after.

You nearly choked on the cake. “W-what did you just say?”

“N-nothing, I… I said I have been in love with you unconditionally for centuries.” Loki bit his tongue, his eyes widening. You had positively never heard him stutter before. What he was saying was true, there was no mischievous sparkle in his blue eyes, but even though your heart leaped at the thought of him reciprocating your romantic feelings, your first instinct was to figure out what had made him spill the truth like that.

Unceremoniously, you reached for his pinkish drink and gave it a smell. Yours smelled different, without a doubt.

“Oh, Loki… they’ve spiked your drink with a truth potion I believe.”

“They did what?”

“That… that must be why they snickered so much upon refilling your glass, my love. I’m glad we left, I bet they were waiting for you to make a fool of yourself.”

Loki scoffed. “Well… I did that now anyway, did I not? Perhaps you should leave, I—”

You only smiled. “I love you too, Loki.” You said, making him look up in utter surprise. The cake between you on the bed was now entirely forgotten. You brushed it aside, not caring whether the icing would stain his bed sheets.

“What?” He breathed as you crawled towards him and made yourself comfortable on his lap, feeling confident now that he had admitted his feelings for you.

And as you wrapped your hands around his neck, you smiled, touching his forehead with yours.

“Nothing you do could ever stop me from loving you, Loki. If Thor had not thrown this stupid Midgardian Yule party… I might have never seen you again.”

Loki took a deep breath. “I think I understand now what Thor meant by ‘Christmas miracles’…” He uttered in response, his lips only inches from yours. Laughing quietly, you closed the small distance between you and pressed your lips against his. It was a chaste kiss—to test the waters, get used to how it would feel and, much like you had anticipated, it stole your breath away.

“Let us leave together.” Loki suggested hoarsely when you broke apart again, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“How? Odin sentenced you to be here, with Thor. He would know—and Thor and his Avengers would come after you.”

“Oh, they will not.” He retorted, a mischievous smirk growing on his lips.

“Loki? What have you been up to again?”

“I have the Tesseract.” He revealed smugly.

“You… what? How?!”

“Shhh… keep your voice down, sweetling.”

“I’m sorry… how? It’s supposed to be on Asgard, locked in the king’s treasure chamber.”

“Well, it was. Until I took it. We could go anywhere. They will never be able to trace us.”

You bit your lower lip, excitement rushing through you. Life on Asgard was dull without Loki and you certainly did not desire to stay here on Midgard with those mortals and their strange traditions and customs. Loki’s proposal was a dream come true, at long last.

“Then let us do it.” You beamed, making him smile. “But first… we finish that cake. Leave them a goodbye present.”

Loki laughed—and you did not move off his lap again until the very last crumb of the marshmallow cake was gone.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

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laurasimonsdaughter · 4 years ago

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Closing the shop, of course, was not permitted. But sitting in the back room, keeping half an ear out for the shop bell, and getting to know what he sincerely hoped would become a regular customer, Tomek felt was fully within his job description.

“Thank you,” Yule said excitedly as he handed her her mug. “I love sparking tea, but the only witch café that serves it is all the way across town.”

“I’m not surprised, most exoteric folk don’t like the taste.”

“Hey, just cause I can’t use magic doesn’t mean I can’t like the taste of it.” Yule buried her nose in her mug and inhaled deeply, only to cough and blow out some smoke.

“Rooky mistake,” Tomek chuckled, taking a sip of his own tea.

“Speak for yourself—” Yule wiped her watering eyes and took a big gulp, humming blissfully.

On his shoulder Myszka made a small, slightly impatient noise and Tomek silently held up a piece of biscuit for him to take. Yule immediately scrunched up her face in complete endearment. Tomek knew for a fact he’d be dealing with his familiar’s bloated ego for weeks. He could hear Myszka adjust his position on his shoulder for maximum cuteness.

“Mm, gossip is always better clutching a mug, isn’t it?” Yule sighed, tearing her eyes away from the smug dormouse. “Okay, so—” She leaned forward and narrowed her eyes at him in a way that almost made Tomek feel the inclination to sit up straight in his chair. “Do you swear never to breathe a word of what passes my lips in this sacred, really messy backroom of your shop that has some very concerning plants growing in that dark corner over there?”

He grinned, going so far as to ceremoniously hold up his hand. “Witches’ honour.”

“Good,” she nodded, leaning back in her chair again. “Then let me tell you about the tragic and absolutely torturous circumstances of my flatmate situation.”

[This story about disaster werewolf/vampire cohabitation, their tired human friend, and the nosy aroace witch quickly befriending her, can now be read in neat chronological order on my AO3 <3]

#urban fantasy #witch #I like tomek and yule a lot #laura drabbles #I couldn't find an opposite word for 'occult' so exoteric seems like a good way to go

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starkidpotty · 4 years ago

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In Cahoots [HJP]

Request: hey omg your writing is so good! can I request Harry and reader being friends and having detention with umbridge together and then walking back together to the common room late at night and taking care of each other and then they admit their feelings for each other? Have a wonderful day! 💕💕 - anon

You never mean to say or do most things, but this time it works out for the better.

Pairing: Harry Potter x Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: mentions of blood, scars, and wounds

A/N: I deviated from them being friends ;( i love awkward teen interactions too much. i hope u enjoy it regardless! <3

Punishments for misbehavior at Hogwarts were never bloody. Scary, perhaps, but never bloody. Umbridge made it clear she did not care much for this unwritten rule, and had a taste for a more medieval way of disciplining the students. Harry was the first person to incur damage from Dolores’ sadistic black quill, until you found yourself in detention with him. Your reason for detention was stupid (Umbridge’s rules were stupid) as you were found by the Inquistorial squad with a dungbomb you had no intention of using in your pocket. Meanwhile, Harry was serving day three out of his 2 week detention with Umbridge. You mournfully hated that this was the most interaction you and him have had outside of the DA meetings.

Both of you were tasked to repeatedly write I must not break rules until it was scabbed and bleeding onto your hands. You were sat next to Harry, on your 28th or 29th repetition of the line–you lost count, as the pain started to amplify the more you wrote. Umbridge was looking quite pleased with herself, as she paced back and forth while watching the both of you with a nefarious grin plastered onto her ugly face. Tears had started to pool in your eyes making them appear like watercolor-painted puddles. You were trying your hardest to suck them back into your tear ducts to no avail. Tear by slow tear began to crawl its way down your face and onto the empty parchment as you wrote with your quill. The effect of the quill for some odd reason was extreme on your hand. You were bleeding more profusely than your contemporaries, you noticed.

Umbridge finally relinquished the both of you from the painful task and you immediately took hold of your book bag, haphazardly dropping the black quill onto the floor, and flounced to the exit, beating Harry to it.

Your lips were pressed together in a fine line, trying to stifle in a cry until you rounded a corner and sat on the nearest bench. In a desperate attempt to get the bleeding to stop, you carelessly unknotted your Gryffindor tie and tied it over the wounds. You sat for a few seconds, pressing firmly on the wound to get it to stop bleeding. Your tears were now free flowing at this point.

Harry spots you from his peripherals, as he exits detention. Harry walks over to you to comfort you, as he knows how terrible the wounds are the first time around. You, on the other hand, were so fixated on the wound, that as you stood up to go to the girl’s lavatory, the top of your head made contact with Harry’s jaw.

Harry takes a few steps back, surprised by the sudden contact between your scalp and his chin. And, you are now nursing two boo-boos instead of the one. Harry composes himself quickly and takes steps toward, while still clutching his jaw. You are holding your head and while your hand bleeds freely over the floor, even with the tie wrapped around it.

“You’re, uh, bleeding,” He stammers as his eyes follow the drops of blood. He swoops to take your hand and unravel the red-stained, makeshift Gryffindor tie bandage, carelessly placing it in his front pocket. He tries his best to be gentle but failing as you wince, “Quite a lot.”

“I am fairly well-aware, Harry.” You didn’t mean for this to come off as snarky, but as the pain and bleeding on your hand intensify, you really couldn’t control your tone, even if it was Harry that was talking to you.

“Of course, sorry.” He replies to you sheepishly, “I’ll help you clean it up, if it’s alright.” Harry took this opportunity to not only help you, but to be able to stand in such close proximity to you–something he’s been pathetically inching towards the whole school year.

He doesn’t wait for your response and leads you to the girl’s lavatory, heading straight to the sink. He turns the faucet on and gently takes your hand under the running water. He wipes away the blood with both his hands, and you stare at his hand. Underneath the newly minted wounds were faded and healing wounds spelling out “I must not tell lies”.

The pain made its presence on your hand very clear, but your thoughts were swirling around erratically. Harry Potter was tending to your wounds, holding your hand, standing oh-so painstakingly close to you in the girl’s lavatory. Your little schoolgirl crush on him started after the Yule Ball and stayed ever since. So, regardless of how much pain you were in, you were enjoying his presence.

He’s fixated on your hands as quite literally, the bleeding wouldn’t stop, no matter how hard he pressed. Also because he was too shy to look at you, square in the face.

“With all the bleeding, I’d guess you were a hemophiliac,” Harry declares seriously, trying to make the atmosphere more comfortable.

You didn’t know whether to take this as a joke or an insult as you, being the pureblood you were, did not know what a hemophiliac was. You give him a confused look, head tilted slightly, brows furrowed at the center. Harry, on the other hand, was beating himself up for trying to cut the silence in such a dumb way.

“Sorry? Is that a muggle joke?” You question.

“Oh, er, sorry,” He awkwardly stammers out, “It’s a muggle condition where your wounds don’t quite necessarily know when to stop bleeding.”

All you muster is a softly-spoken, oh. You were still awkwardly standing with your hand in Harry’s. Harry turns off the faucet and grabs your tie out from his pocket. He dabs it gently and presses it firmly onto your wounded hand. With his free hand, he fishes his wand from his pocket.

Uncovering your tie from the wound he says, “Episkey,” while pointing his wand at your hand. The wounds scabbed over, stopping the bleeding. As your tie is drenched in blood (you were astounded at how much blood your hand let out, perhaps you were what muggles called a “hemophiliac”), Harry unties his own tie and wraps it around your scabbed hand for good measure. You take this opportunity to wipe your face dry with your untouched hand. He hands you your bloodied tie and you shove it into your bookbag.

He stares at you and smiles, “I hope that would help, one way or another.” He’s still holding your wounded hand and stares at you. You look to meet his eyes and for a few seconds your eyes lock. You get red in the face and look down quickly. Harry lets out an awkward chuckle and gently drops your hand out of his.

“Thank you, Harry, but what about your wounds?” You ask him as now you take his wounded hand. You examine the scar on his left-hand. You rub your thumb gently near the wounds, paying extra attention to not gloss over the newly formed scabs. He tamely takes his hand away from you and hangs it at his side.

“I’ll manage.” He replies to you. Not wanting to give you the chance to contest he continues, “Uh, would you like to head back to the common room together?”

“I don’t think we’ve much a choice,” you respond, smiling lightly.

Walking out the girl’s lavatory–thanking Merlin that no one saw Harry scamper out the door–and make your way to the Gryffindor tower. The silence is extremely awkward. Harry sneaks glances at you, as you look out to the Hogwarts courtyard to ease out of whatever mental bind you’ve put on your tongue.

“So, Ha–” you begin. At the same time, Harry opens his mouth to speak uttering the first syllable of your name. You both look down at the floor, grinning like idiots.

“Sorry,” Harry says, “Please, you first.”

You let out a breathless half-giggle, “Umbridge’s quill is quite evil, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.” Harry wanted to scream into a cauldron. Months of imagining a full-on conversation with you in his head and all he could muster was a puny indeed?

Another awkward pause takes a hold of the two of you.

You begin again, “So… are you and Cho, er, together? In cahoots?” You mentally slap yourself on the forehead. What kind of teenager says cahoots unironically?

“Me? Cho?” Harry questions you, looking bewildered. Harry was surprised at your question, as he thought his pitiful pining over you was already painfully obvious.

“Is-is it not a thing?” You stammer out, a bit surprised.

“Not in the slightest.” Confirms Harry.

“Well, I only ask,” You pause, trying to recollect your thoughts and choose your words carefully, “because you too seem very close.”

“Well, she’s a good friend, but no. We aren’t together. She’s still mourning Cedric.”

“Oh, I can only imagine.”

A third awkward silence takes you both once more. You are unaware, but Harry is just as nervous as you are. You and Harry have finally made it to the moving staircases, you two make your way up. Just as you hit the middle of the staircase, it moves, leaving you and Harry stuck until it returns to its original position. Harry wanted to throw himself off of the magical staircase right about now.

Harry thinks this is as good a time as ever to sneakily confirm–hopefully deny–his suspicions and continues the conversation, “What about you, and, uh, Anthony Goldstein?”

Your face reflexively cringes and Harry smiles at the scene, “Have I said something?”

“Yes, you said Anthony Goldstein.”

“Well, I thought you and he were in cahoots.” He jokes at you, trying to fake confidence.

You bury your face in your hands, “Merlin, he was a git. He was quite rude to me after he told me how he felt about me because I confessed I had a little crush on you.” You immediately regret the oversharing of information as Harry eyes widen. But deep down, he’s more relieved than not, as you had accidentally made the proverbial first move.

You try and play it off with a laugh, “Well, I mean, they say you are the Chosen One, and, uh I think you are quite nice-looking,” Nice-looking? you think to yourself. You continue to save yourself the embarrassment, “you’re great at spells too, and, uh, very brave, I’d say.”

Harry goes red in the face at your flurry of compliments, but he only repeats, “Nice-looking?”

“Quite.”

Harry doesn’t know what force propels him to start acting all cheekily with you but he says, “I think you’re, er, quite nice-looking as well. Talented at spells, too.”

“So I guess it’s agreed upon then?” you ask him.

“Sorry?”

“That we both think we are nice-looking...and good at spellwork.” You joshed.

“If anything, I think you’re more than quite nice-looking–you’re very beautiful.” Harry says so quickly, it’s almost a miracle he didn’t trip over his tongue.

It’s as though your’s and Harry’s faces were having a contest on who could make who redder–you were sure you were winning.

“That’s you, I think.” You say to return the compliment, then subsequently groaning realizing how it came out.

“You think I’m beautiful too?” Harry bantered..

“Much more beautiful than me, I suppose.”

The staircase finally shifts to the correct landing and the both of you ascend to the Gryffindor tower entrance, Harry says the password, gesturing for you to step in first. You turn to him to thank him but your lips meet his cheek instead. You inadvertently tell him you have a crush on him and then you inadvertently make a move on him, not even 2 minutes apart? What a mess.

“Merlin, sorry, Harry! I didn’t realize you were so close.” You apologize.

“No worries, [Y/N]” He says without looking at you as his stomach suddenly turned into a trapeze artist and started doing flips upon flips.

Thank Merlin there was no one in the common room to watch you and Harry make bumbling fools of yourselves. You both pause at the entryway of the common room, until you begin to speak.

“I want to say thank you, by the way,” You say. You begin to unravel his tie from your hand, seeing as your hand was no longer hurting. “Here’s your, uh, tie, by the way. Thank you for tending to it, even if you didn’t have to.”

“Anytime,” Harry replies.

You turn to head to the stairs to make way to your dormitory but Harry calls out.

“I just want to repeat that me and Cho aren’t, er, dating or, as you call it, in cahoots. ” He says to you.

“You’ve said that,” You tell him while smiling.

“Perhaps, you and I could be in cahoots–I mean it could be something you and I could work toward, if it’s alright with you, but if it’s not, it’s completely fine, I’d still think you’re very beautiful regardless.” Harry is rapping at this point, heart beating in his ears.

You’re surprised and extremely elated at Harry’s burst of confidence, “It is alright by me, Harry. I think I’d like that–I know I would, actually.”

“Brilliant. Absolutely excellent.” He beams.

“Absolutely.”

masterlist here

#harry potter fic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #harry potter x y/n #harry potter imagines #harry james potter x y/n #harry james potter x reader #harry potter oneshot #harry potter fluff #harry potter #request #ask

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plant-flwrs · 4 years ago

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christmas parties // draco malfoy

masterlist!

a/n: my christmas draco fic! i hope you guys like it! next up is george and then i have some wintery fic ideas for harry, ron, and hermione, among others ;) that should be out fairly soon if this motivation stays with me!! i’m honestly just happy to have some ideas back in me and to be able to post for you guys again <3

(also, female implied reader in this one)

summary: You help Draco through his nerves about one of his parents’ Christmas parties.

(2.3k)

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There were some benefits of being a wealthy pureblood. For obvious reasons, but the only one you cared about was Draco Malfoy.

Growing up with secret societies and odd loyalties sent you into a world of mistrust and anxiety. You never knew what was right and what was wrong, and you certainly knew you couldn’t always trust adults.

The children you grew up with in this world were never one to share their secrets or trust, you included, but you lucked out. You met Draco Malfoy.

Once Draco realized he couldn’t treat you the way he treated others, he was at a loss with what to do with all the love he felt for you. He had never had someone so loving in his life, and he wanted to do anything he could to show you he loved you just as much. So, he opened himself up to you.

You saw it happening slowly over time. The moments he would confidently take your hand in the hall, the small amounts of public affection he found himself doing, the kindness he afforded others. You had changed him.

You had changed him into the person who could look at you with glassy eyes, clutching a tie in his hands with white knuckles, pleading you to attend his parents’ Christmas Ball with him.

You had been invited, your family had been invited. But what Draco wanted from you was something else. He wanted you on his arm. He wanted you to not leave his side. He wanted you to protect him. You swelled.

At some point, he had stumbled over to his bed, much too large for five people, let alone one teenage boy, and hung his head. His white hair fell over his forehead, blocking most of his face from you. The tie he held tightly just a moment ago was now falling from his limp hands.

You moved over to him, crouching so you could see his face beneath his overgrown hair-no doubt his mother would want it cut soon- and placed your hands on his knees gently.

“I know it’s a lot to ask-”

“No, no it’s not- of course I’ll go with you.”

Draco’s eyes finally met yours, and the moisture in them had trailed down his cheeks. Draco didn’t cry when he was angry or sad, he only cried when he was debilitatingly anxious. You lifted your warm palms to his cold and wet cheeks, letting your hands soothe away his tears.

He leaned down slowly as if he was afraid you were going to move away and fell into your shoulder. His head turned so his face was pressed against your neck and you could feel his breathing slow and his heart calm.

“It’s in a few hours,” he said, meeting your eye with a guilty expression, “I could ask mother to send for a dress back home, or if you’d like I’m sure she would have something you could wear.”

“Whatever you think is best,” you said soothingly, hoping he wouldn’t get worked up again about a detail as small as your dress.

Draco had decided to ask his mother for something for you to wear, which you were silently grateful for. Narcissa always liked you, and you always thought she had the most beautiful dresses.

“Do you like blue, dear?” she asked you as you followed her into one of the many rooms in their house, one that seemed to be her closet.

“Yes,” you answered politely, finding yourself wanting to please her like any other child in your situation would. She was your boyfriend’s mother, but she was also a very prominent member of a very notorious family. She had standing in society with a husband who provoked fear in many, but her signature Black family eyes lingered on you as if she didn’t care about any of that. She looked happy.

“Ah,” she plucked a silky and fluid dress from a rack full of expensive dresses, handing it to you as if it were something as simple as a t-shirt, “this is the one.”

“Thank you,” you said, looking between her and the dress with wide eyes.

“Don’t tell Draco this,” she mock-whispered to you, leaning in with a smirk threatening her tight lips, “I had hoped he would ask you to this Ball. I bought that dress for him to give to you.”

Your eyes somehow widened and you closed your mouth when you realized your jaw had dropped. You swallowed heavily, trying to remember the years of wealth and poise that had been trained into your blood since you were born.

“That is-” you faltered, wanting to give in and throw your arms around her neck and wish her a merry Christmas, “-that’s incredibly kind. Thank you.”

You hoped your loosened smile showed her your true feelings, and she looked as though it had. She ducked her head for a moment, as if she was being watched and needed to compose herself, and gave you a wide smile. Her teeth were showing, and your eyes widened at the foreign look of happiness on her face. She was back to a tightlipped smile though, leaving you alone in the room and closing the door so you could get dressed.

You folded your clothes, replacing them with the dress that must have been the most expensive thing you had ever worn. You were no stranger to wealth, but this was an entirely new sensation; you felt royal.

A house elf collected you, and once it opened the door, you heard the party in full swing. Draco waited at the top of the stairs, his back stiff and his jaw set. He had his finest robes on, making the already lavish robes he had worn when he took you to the Yule Ball look like nothing. Granted, you were also wearing something that couldn’t even compare to your Yule Ball dress.

The elf left you once you met Draco, his eyes finding yours with a familiar urgency. He was still nervous. You smiled kindly as the elf continued down the hallway, knowing Draco wouldn’t say a word until you were both alone. The elf turned the corner, and Draco put his hands on your hips as if he was steadying himself. You put your hands over his, reminding him he was steady.

“You look-” Draco seemed to relax for a moment, taking a step towards you and making careful notion to not step on the dress, “-you look amazing. Truly, you look beautiful.”

You knew Draco had more he wanted to say, but couldn’t. You smiled softly at him, lifting one of your hands to fall on the collar of his robes. You straightened it gently, biting your bottom lip.

“You look very handsome,” Draco flushed at your soft voice, his head falling foreword in a relieved laugh that sounded like a puff of air forcing itself from his lungs.

“Yeah?” he looked up at you, bringing his hands from your waist to the back of your neck.

His cold hands splayed across your neck, tucking under your hair and pressing into the back of your scalp. You gasped at the feeling, leaning closer to Draco. Your lips were closer, less than inches apart.

“Yeah,” you sighed, realizing Draco was closing the distance.

It was brief, like Draco only needed to remember you were real and not something he had made up, but it still made your head spin. You broke apart, the air between you warmer than the rest of the house.

Descending down the stairs, you straightened your back and stiffened all the right parts of yourself, knowing exactly how to survive one of these parties. The more Draco softened to you, it seemed he softened to the rest of the world. You were able to put up your mask around these people, but easily slid it off when needed. Draco didn’t have the same flexibility yet. So, you helped him. You adorned your tight-lipped smile and unnerving eyes, giving cold looks to strangers and intimidating looks to people you knew. It was how these people worked. You hated it, but you had to admit you were one of them.

You were on Draco’s arm the whole night, though sometimes it felt he was on yours. You took the hard questions about school, the sneers at the mention of Dumbledore and any other house besides Slytherin. You talked politics in a way that would be approved of and didn’t cast a second glance at the house elves serving food and drinks. You could tell Draco was itching to whisper them a ‘thank you’; it warmed your heart dangerously.

Eventually, Narcissa and Lucius found you both, as if they were checking that you and Draco were staying in your place.

“Draco,” Lucius sneered, though his lip relaxed when his eyes glanced over at you. “Y/n,” he said coldly.

Lucius had yet to fully approve of you, and you could tell you confused him. He saw you at social functions and knew you were just like any other pureblood, just as cruel, but he also saw your effect on his son. Draco avoided his gaze, his eyes cast downwards at your linked arms. You jostled him subtly, unnoticed by his parents, like a reminder you were still there.

“Hello, Mr. Malfoy,” you said sweetly with the same cold eyes, no sign of warmth or happiness that would usually be there.

“Are you two having fun?” Narcissa asked, leaning forward to the both of you.

The question was unexpected, making Lucius and Draco look at her in surprise. Her eyes stayed on you though, the corners of her lips turned up in the slightest.

“I think we are, yes,” you said, looking at Draco with a small smile.

“We are,” Draco agreed, his tone dull but his eyes bright as he looked back at you.

“I hope you’re mingling. It’s rude to stay to oneself at a party,” Lucius said calmly with a threatening tone, an eyebrow quirked as if he awaited his son’s smile to drop.

It didn’t, and he looked his father in the eyes, “We are, mingling, I mean.” Draco said confidently.

You noticed Narcissa’s smile grow the smallest bit. You wondered then how similar you were to her. Perhaps she had the same warmth you did, underneath the pureblood exterior. Maybe Draco was more willing to your warmth than Lucius seemed to be to hers.

“Good,” Lucius mumbled, walking away with his staff by his side.

“You two can sneak away early if you’d like. I know how boring these parties can get,” Narcissa whispered to you, ignoring her son’s rapidly softening face.

You only smiled knowingly at her, hoping once again it communicated all that you couldn’t say at a party like this. She nodded and walked away, following her husband.

“That was-” you turned to Draco, smiling wider at his incredibly relaxed face, “-that wasn’t bad.”

Draco gave you a curt nod as if he hadn’t wanted to say much about it. You squeezed his arm comfortingly, pulling him along to another group of people to mingle with.

Eventually, Draco’s mother’s words seemed to sink into him. He was pulling you away from the crowd, and you could see him trying to hide a wide grin.

He lead you to the large French doors that gave way to the garden, not hesitating as he pushed them open. The cold winter was harsh against your exposed skin, and Draco looked worried when he heard you wince. He smiled again though, upon seeing your clutching at your arms, and slid his coat from his shoulders. He wrapped you in it, which you accepted gratefully, and looked admiringly at him in the white billowy shirt he wore underneath.

His pale skin was bright under the moonlight, making his hair seem even more silver than blonde. His shirt complimented his skin too, bringing out the olive undertones. He wrapped an arm around your waist, bringing you closer to him. For once, he oozed warmth and you latched onto it, curling into his side as he walked you out into the garden.

You stopped at the center of it all, where a large Christmas tree had been planted. It was decorated with tinsel and ribbons and large glass ornaments. The colors varied from silver to green and black, a true Slytherin tree. You smiled at it, admiring the colors and swelling with house pride.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” Draco whispered from beside you, his arm wrapping somehow tighter around you.

“I had a nice time,” you whispered back, tilting your head up and settling it on his shoulder.

“You’re good at these things,” Draco said thoughtfully, his hand tucking itself underneath the jacket on you and resting his hand on the bare skin of your arm, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d probably be miserable,” you joked, smiling.

Draco looked down at you with a funny expression you couldn’t read, but it looked sincere, “Yeah, I would be.”

You breathed deeply, realizing you could hear the music from inside. It was a slow classical song, similar to the ones that had been playing all night. Draco moved you so you were chest to chest, pulling one of your hands to rest on his shoulder while the other stayed in his. His free hand went to your waist, still under the jacket, and he began to move you both.

You danced, basked in the subtle light coming from inside with reflections from the glass ornaments and the tinsel reflecting onto you both. Draco had a flash of green across his face, and you saw a sliver of silver across your arm.

He moved you slowly, holding you close to him. Your cheek rested against his chest, breathing him in and relishing his warmth.

“Happy Christmas, Draco,” you whispered, looking up at him.

“Happy Christmas, my love,” he whispered, his mouth moving against your forehead as he placed a sweet kiss there.

#draco #draco malfoy #malfoy #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy christmas #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x slytherin #draco malfoy x slytherin!reader #draco malfoy x you #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfiction #harry potter #draco imagine #draco x reader #draco fanfiction

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sinkix · 5 years ago

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Haikyuu!!│Boys going grocery shopping w/ you! HC’s│Ft. Bokuto, Nishinoya, Terushima, Kuroo & Kunimi

I had this late night idea and just HAD to follow through, the chaos would be O F F T H E C H A R T S. Thank you to @deathcab4daddy for helping me brainstorm some good characters for this post lmao I love you bby and can’t wait to do a collab. <3

E N J O Y ~

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

BOKUTO:

WHEN I TELL YOU THIS BOI PICKS UP EVERYTHING IN SIGHT LIKE A 6 YEAR OLD

I FUCKING MEAN IT.

“(Y/N) we need this”

“Bokuto we do not need a 7th jar of peanut butter.”

“But (Y/N) it has a squirrel on the front-”

“BOKUTO I SWEAR TO GOD”

Tries to drift on the edge of the cart like something straight outta CSGO and the cart nearly obliterates under his weight.

V e r y l o u d u n e c c e s s a r i l y.

Everyone always stares at y’all when you’re going through the isles bc ur literally escorting a man-child sprawled in a shopping cart who’s going “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” at everything he sees like he’s a toddler at the zoo who’s never encountered a chimpanzee before.

Unless you have a bottomless bank account do NOT take him shopping of any kind he is LETHAL.

When you’re at the check-out he turns it into a basketball competition and tries to launch everything perfectly on to the conveyor belt.

Volleyball player? Nah this sis with the NBA now.

Do not ask him to go get something, he will return with at least 9 items you didn’t need and everything BUT the item you requested

He turned up with a whole ass pineapple, a jar of jam, a stick of butter and a bottle of olive oil.

Like,,,where is the correlation in those items???

Once made the mistake of asking him to grab some pads from the hygiene section and specified it HAD to be with wings

Boy showed up ten minutes later and looking very confuzzled.

You questioned why he has a pack of wingless pads in one hand and a can of red bull in the other.

He said it’s because they didn’t have any with wings so he figured the Redbull would suffice and do the job for you.

NISHINOYA:

Can literally fit him in the little cart seat made for kids and he LOVES it lmaoooo IT’S SO CUTE MY HEART.

HE JUST SWINGS HIS LEGS EXCITABLY WHILE YOUR GETTING STUFF AAAAAAA

Ppl give you such weird looks though bc you have a guy who’s at least 14 years older than the intended demographic sitting there and raising his hands in elation over you copping a cookie dough pie and chucking it in.

Again, another who is VERY LOUD FOR NO REASON AT ALL.

Get’s out of the cart after a while bc his legs be growing numb and begins roaming around.

Someone came back with a feral Noya in hand stating “Is this your child” WNDKJWEFNWJEF.

M’AM HE’S LIKE 18 EXCUSE YOU.

Was salty about it for the rest of the day.

Just ruffle his hair and call him Senpai

Problem solved.

Picks up tons of exotic fruit that look more like plastic or fuzzy poisonous plants and begs you to get them.

“Noya what the fuck is that.”

“...a Pitaya.”

“...”

“Can we get it-”

“no.”

“(Y/N)-”

“I SAID NO DAMMIT”

Last time you bought some strange fruit he took it to practise and got Tanaka to spike it LMAOOO

IT SPLATTERED E V E R Y W H E R E

AND OVER DAICHI’S SHIRT.

He begged you to no longer allow Noya to purchase weird fruits from then on since he is like a child with a nerf gun.

He once picked up a phat wrinkly purple fruit and turned to you asking if it was an overgrown raisin.

“Noya sweetie that’s a Date.”

HE FULLY TSK’ED AND THREW IT BACK SINCE IT REMINDED HIM OF DATE TECH I CAN’T.

My boy out here defending Asahi even in the Grocery Isles.

We stan a loyal king.

TERUSHIMA:

Another one who tries to stand on the ledge and the cart wheels almost collapse because it wasn’t designed to hold the weight of a young adult.

Oh young adult??? Sorry I mean’t MAN CHILD.

He treats a shopping experience as a time to practise his aim apparently because he ALWAYS THROWS SHIT AT YOU TO THE POINT YOU’RE THREATENED TO BE KICKED OUT.

Definitely picks up phallic looking objects and places them against his crotch, snorting and saying “Like what you see (Y/N)?”

Homeboy is stood there in front of a wife and child presenting his cucumber appendage for the world to see.

He once grabbed a pair of fat ass melons and pressed them against his chest, shaking them and belting the lyrics to ‘My Milkshake’ while begging you to SQUEEZE HIS MELONS.

“Look (Y/N) they’re bigger than yours!”

I just-

I give up.

Constantly tries to sneak mutli-packs of energy drinks into the cart to the point you’re convinced he is going to keel over from heart failure and kidney stones by the age of 20.

Has his airpods in 90% of the time and treats the isles as his personal dance floor.

He busting them MOVES and performing the MJ moonwalk while in the dairy section.

ONCE HE SLID TOO FAST AND SLIPPED ON HIS REAR IN FRONT OF LIKE 12 PEOPLE LMAOO

He was DEAD silent the rest of the trip.

Probably the most serene shopping experience you’ve had to date.

The checkout clerks occasionally hit on Mr. Sore-Ass over here.

Until he opens his mouth and they realise he’s a total dolt and question how you have the patience for him.

You don’t know either honestly.

The whole bagging experience is spent with them shooting you sympathetic glances as if to say ‘sis you shoulda’ left him at home’.

Yes, yes you should have.

Never a dull moment with Teru as your shopping partner.

KUROO:

LITERALLY LIKE A MIDDLE-AGED MAN OR A TODDLER WHEN Y’ALL GO SHOPPING THERE IS NEVER AN EVEN MIDDLE-GROUND.

Frequently cracks lame-ass food puns or dad jokes that make you want to crawl into a hole and die.

You have competitions on who can come up with the most and the loser always faces a penalty.

Kuroo and creating penalties do NOT mix safely so you better hope you win.

“I love you a waffle lot.”

Proceeds to hold up a wrapped waffle.

Ok that one was kinda cute you’ll let it slide.

“I ap-peach-iate you Kuroo.”

Cue HyenaLaugh.mp3

“Want a pizza me baby? Bitch peas, doughnut take me lightly.”

You changed your mind.

You didn’t talk to him the duration of that shopping experience, no penalty could be as horrifying as what just came out of his mouth.

“(Y/N)... sometimes I feel like you don’t carrot all.”

You slapped him with said carrot and obviously had to pay for it after.

You forced him to eat it raw.

He is the definition of Neutral disaster when you go shopping.

Shitty food puns aside, he is actually very responsible when making sure you both get what you need.

Not without tons of poking, prodding, and blowing into your ear while you’re trying to decide what ingredients to buy for dinner.

You contemplated serving him a plate of bubbling snot and moulded broccoli seasoned with rosemary.

Bone apple teeth, bitch.

Ofc you didn’t because he always pulls out the puppy eyes and cuddles card after since he knows he’s well and truly rattled your patience lmao.

Actually picks really healthy food options?? Being the captain of a team he has the responsibility of keeping his health in top condition and leading by example so at least he knows the right ingredients to make a bomb-ass and nutritious meal ig.

Y’all always bicker and tease each other at the checkout which is usually great amusement for the clerk serving you as they often smirk and perceive you as an old married couple.

Which tbh you kinda are, it feels like it at least.

Still such a big asshole though lmao you never leave the store without your sanity being scathed.

KUNIMI:

Honestly just wanted an excuse to make jokes at the expense of the Aoba Johsai teammates.

and what better candidate for cracking these than Kunimi.

He’s a very chill partner to have tag along with you on your endeavours.

Not without some grumbling and groaning on his part though, lazy bitch.

You always finish shopping trips with a busted lung at how much you have been laughing though with some of the SHADY ASS REMARKS HE MAKES ABOUT THE OTHER TEAM MATES.

You were outside the store when you both spotted an angry looking Doberman tied to a nearby post.

“Smh who let Kyotani outside again.”

You hadn’t even set foot in the store yet and he was already spitting flaming insults.

[Walking up to the automatic double doors]

“Damn Oikawa move out of my way.”

Oikawa just tryna live and he keeps getting roasted for his flat cheeks

#StopOikawaAssShaming

Ten minutes of scouring the store later he picks up a spikey Kiwano and compares it to Iwaizumi’s hair.

Proceeds to beg you not to tell my boy Iwa because he KNOWS he will get decked to the gym floor.

Passers by often wonder why you’re wheezing and producing noises like a boiling kettle.

When I tell you no one is safe, I mean N O O N E.

“These Yule logs really out here looking like Matsukawa’s brows.”

The finisher was when Kunimi picked up a turnip and said

“Huh, kinda looks like Kindaichi.”

I just-

He could roast a whole chicken in minutes from the burn of these comments I stg.

You can now never look at the Seijou team without various foods or inanimate objects plaguing your thoughts.

Thanks, Kunimi.

#hq #haikyuu #kuroo tetsurō #nishinoya yuu #bokuto kotaro #terushima yūji #karasuno #johzenji #nekoma #fukurodani #haikyuu headcanons #hq headcanons #haikyuu x reader #aoba johsai #kunimi akira #seijou #seijoh

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fallingfor-fics · 4 years ago

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Teachers Pet- chapter 10: around the corner

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chapter 9

It was the next day and I was heading to Snape’s for my private lessons during lunch. And I had so much on my mind. I still haven't given Dumbledore an answer about the Yule ball, I had private lessons with Snape, and I had another detention. Crap. I have to tell Snape I can't go to his lessons after dinner because I had to go to Lockhart’s for detention at the same time. How was I gonna tell him that he would probably be so angry and think I'm wasting his time. I stopped by the Great Hall and snagged an apple to tie me over til dinner, taking my time to think of how I was gonna tell Snape.

I don't know why I cared so much, I'm sure he's not really gonna care that much. I stopped outside Snape's room and knocked on the door and waited for a response. Instead it just opened and I saw him working at his desk. I walked in and sat at my seat. "Good afternoon Sir, how's your day been?" I asked, smiling at him and taking a bite of my apple.. He ignored me and continued what he was working on. We sat in silence for about five minutes till I spoke up again. "Professor?" I said looking at him. "L/n will you give me one moment?" he said annoyed and more of a fact then a question. "Yeah of course sorry." I said looking down and taking another bite. "And must you crunch so obnoxiously?" he added. "Wow someones in a mood" I muttered to which he glared in response. "Some annoying first years I presume? They really are awfully annoying" I said as I played with the fabric of my robes. "Yes, very much so, much like a sixth year I know." He retorted looking back up at me. I just smiled in response.

He spent the time going over the half written essay I turned in and helping me understand the material better until I could successfully finish writing it. He was still knocking off 10 points for it being late now but I'd take what I can get. Before I knew it the bell rang startling me a bit. I gathered my things and prepared to head to DADA. "Oh Professor I wanted to tell you something" I said walking back up to his desk holding my books across my chest. "Well spit it out" he said, not looking up. "I can't make the lessons after dinner" this caused him to look up and I could tell he was not happy. "You mean to tell me I take time from my day just for y-" "Wait wait let me explain first please!" he gave me a look for interrupting him but waited for me to continue. "So you know Professor Lockhart?" I asked looking into his eyes, I could see the shift in them when I mentioned that awful man's name. "I'm afraid I do, I also know he's a fool, but what about him?" "Well in class yesterday he made me be partners with him and be an example for the class for the spell Petrificus Totalus and he just left me on the floor for almost the whole class," I could see Snape's eyes turn from annoyance to some other emotion I hadn't figured out just yet, and his face dropped a little, almost as if he was concerned? He was probably just tired though, I told myself. "And when he finally stepped away from me, Harry was able to undo it, and so towards the end of class..." I paused for a moment scared he might agree with Lockharts punishment. "Yes?" he drawed out looking at me with a look that was definitely concern this time. "I cast the same spell on him and then eventually once everyone left I undid it and then he gave me detention and so that's why I can't make it to our lessons!" I spat out in one breath. His expression seemed to lighten a bit, relief washing over him and call me crazy, but it looked as if the corners of his mouth raised a little. Was he..about to smile? Just then he slowly pinched the bridge of his nose. "Merlin Y/n" he said and it almost sounded like he wanted to laugh. Wait did he just call me Y/n. I think that's the first time he's done that. "Anyways I wanted to say sorry." I said trying to hide my own smile after reliving the events from yesterday. "Dont worry about it, and inform Lockhart that you will not be serving your detention with him, instead you will serve detention with me. And we will use the time to work" he said getting up and preparing his class for the students that would soon flood in. "You're not angry with me?" I asked turning to look at him writing stuff on the board. "No Ms. L/n I am not, I actually completely understand, that idiot did that to himself, you just needed the practice, that's all, now get out and go to class." he said back in his normal stern voice. I nodded "Thank you Sir." and left his room.

I exited his room and a small smile appeared on my face, he was so..nice for doing this for me, he didn't have to, but he did. Maybe Dumbledore was right after all, he can be reasonable, and sweet almost. He saved me from an awful afternoon with Lockhart and this kind gesture would not go unrewarded. I felt heat rise to my cheeks and I just shook it off as I entered the DADA classroom. I walked up to Lockharts desk and he looked up at me smiling as if yesterday never happened. "Ah Y/n i'm excited to see you in detention later, I hope you have not forgotten" he let out with a smug look on his face. "Actually, Professor Snape ordered me to serve detention with him instead." I said smiling. His smile dropped quickly, "What?! No You are to serve it with me!" he said, raising his voice a bit causing a few students to look his way. "Sorry, you'll have to take it up with Professor Snape" I said, now I had the smug look as I shrugged my shoulders and walked to my seat. The rest of class Lockhart gave me disappointed looks any chance he could get.

Potions had ended and I was in the library studying with Draco during our free period for a test Snape had assigned for tomorrow, and I was determined to pass this one. Well I was studying. He was just being distracting, but we agreed to do this everyday and then just walk to Dinner together after. "Y/n I wanted to ask you a question" he said looking at me. "Shoot" I said as I continued studying. "Well I was wonderi-" he was cut off by Hermione coming up and tapping me on the shoulder "Y/n can you come with me?" she said. "Beat it Granger y/n and I were talking!" Draco spat at her. "Dont worry Draco you can ask whatever it was at dinner ok? I'll see you later." I said excusing myself and following Hermione out of the library. "Whats up?" I asked as we walked to the great hall since dinner was gonna start soon anyway. "Well two things actually, one is it true that you cast a spell on Lockhart and then got detention?" she asked shocked. "Wow news travels fast, um yeah its true, and then snape took over the detention so I actually have to go to his room, which worked out cause of our lessons" "You are crazy its like youre trying to be thrown out of Hogwarts!" she said, shoving my arm gently. "Well i'm not and he deserved it! He did it to me first and wouldn't undo it so I didnt back, for practice" I said smiling "anyways what's the second thing?" she grew quiet and began blushing a bit. "Hermioneeee tell me!" I said poking her. "Ok well, um, Ron asked me to the dance!" she said with a grin. "OH MY GOSH that's so EXCITING!" I practically yelled "I know and I said yes!" "Well I would hope so!" I said, hugging her. "Wait isn't the dance not for like another two months." I asked. "Um y/n where's your head gone! It's already November 30th! The dance is in 25 days" she exclaimed. "Oh crap. I still haven't given Dumbledore an answer. I don't know where the time went!" I said stressing out a bit. "Wait, give him an answer about what?" she asked, confused. "Oh yeah there's something you should know, I never mention it because it's not really relevant, but he asked me to sing at the yule ball..." I said almost in a whisper. "You can sing?" "Yeah I used to take lessons and everything, but I haven't done it in front of people in 2 years, but I know he'll be upset if I decline.." "Well you don't want to disappoint the Headmaster not to mention your godfather." she responded. "Yeah I guess you're right, I guess I'm gonna be singing at the yule ball.

#snape x reader #snape imagine #severusnape #professor snape #snape #severusimagine #severus x reader #severus snape x reader #Snape slowburn #slytherin #hogwarts

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rigmarolling · 5 years ago

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Historical Holiday Traditions We Really Need To Bring Back

Here comes Santa Claus, and also a bunch of annual holiday Things we do to ensure he commits a truly boggling act of breaking and entering and leaves goods underneath the large plant in the living room.

Because I’ve always got a hankerin’ for the days of yore, here are some historical holiday traditions we really need to bring back:

1. Everything that happened on Saturnalia

Saturnalia was the ancient Roman winter festival held on December 25th--which is why we celebrate Christmas on that day and not on the day historians speculate Jesus was actually born, which was probably in the spring.

Saturnalia was bonkers. As the name suggests, it celebrated the god Saturn, who represented wealth and liberty and generally having a great time.

Above: Their party is way cooler than yours could ever hope to be.

During Saturnalia, masters would serve their slaves, because it was the one day during the year when everybody agreed that freedom for all is great, actually, let’s just do that. Everyone wore a coned hat called the pilleus to denote that they were all bros and equal, and also to disguise the fact that they hadn’t brushed their hair after partying hard all week, probably.

Gambling was allowed on Saturnalia, so all of Rome basically turned into ancient Vegas, complete with Caesar’s Palace, except with the actual Caesar and his palace because he was, you know. Alive.

The most famous part (besides getting drunk off your rocker) was gift-giving--usually gag gifts. Historians have records of people giving each other some truly impressive white elephant gifts for Saturnalia, including: a parrot, balls, toothpicks, a pig, one single sausage, spoons, and deliberately awful books of poetry.

Above: Me, except all the time.

Partygoers also crowned a King of Saturnalia, which was a predecessor to the King of Fools popular in medieval festivals. The king was basically the head idiot who delivered absurd commands to everyone there, like, “Sing naked!” or “run around screaming for an hour,” or “slap your butt cheeks real hard in front of your crush; DO IT, Brutus.”

Oh, wait. Everyone was already doing all that. Hell yes.

(Quick clarification: early celebrations of Saturnalia did feature human sacrifice, so let’s just leave that bit out and instead wear the pointy hats and sing naked, okay? Io Saturnalia, everybody.)

2. Leaving out treats for Sleipnir in the hopes of avoiding Odin’s complete disregard for your property

The whole “leave out cookies and milk for Santa” thing comes from a much older tradition of trying to appease old guys with white beards. In Norse mythology, Odin, who was sort of the head god but preferred to be on a perpetual road trip instead, took an annual nighttime ride through the winter sky called the Wild Hunt.

Above: The holidays, now with 300% more heavy metal.

Variations of the Wild Hunt story exist in a bunch of European folklore--in Odin’s case, he usually brought along a bunch of supernatural buddies, like spirits and other gods and Valkyries and ghost dogs, who, the Vikings said, you could hear howling and barking as the group approached (GOOD DOGGOS).

That was the thing, though; you never actually saw Odin’s hunt--you only heard it. And hearing it did not spark the same sense of childish glee you felt when you thought you heard Santa’s sleigh bells approaching as a kid--instead, the Vikings said, you should be afraid. Be VERY afraid.

Because Odin could be kind of a dick.

Odin was also known as the Allfather, and like any father, he hated asking for directions. GPS who? I’m the Allfather, I’m riding the same way I always ride.

And that was pretty much it: “I took this road last year and I’m taking it again this year.”

“But,” someone would pipe up from the back, “there are houses on the road now--we’re gonna run right into them. We could just take a different path; there’s actually a detour off the--”

“Nope,” Odin would say. “They know the rules. My road, my hunt, my rules. We’re going this way.”

So if you were unlucky enough to have built your house along one of Odin’s favorite road trip sky-ways, he wouldn’t just plow right past you.

He would burn your entire house down--and your family along with it.

Kids playing in the yard? Torch ‘em; they should have known better. Grandma knitting while she waits for her gingerbread Einherjar to finish baking? Sucks to be her; my road, my rules, my beard, I’m the Allfather, bitch.

Above: Santa, but so much worse.

To be fair to Odin, he could be a cool guy sometimes. He just turned into any dad when he was on a road trip and wanted to MAKE GOOD TIME, DAMN IT, I AM NOT STOPPING; YOU SHOULD HAVE PEED BEFORE WE LEFT.

To ensure they didn’t incur Odin’s road trip wrath, the Vikings had a few ways of smoothing things over with Dad.

They would leave Odin offerings on the road, like pieces of steel (??? okay ???) or bread for his dogs, or food for his giant, eight-legged horse, Sleipnir, because the only true way to a man’s heart is through his pet.

People would generally leave veggies and oats and other horse-y things out for Sleipnir, whose eight legs made him the fastest flying horse in the world and also made him the only horse to ever win Asgard’s coveted tap dancing championship.

(Side note: EIGHT legs...EIGHT tiny reindeer...eh? Eh? See how we got here? Thanks, nightmare horse!)

Above: An excellent prancer AND dancer.

And if Odin was feeling particularly charitable and not in the mood for horrific acts of arson, children would also leave their shoes out for him--it was said that he’d put gifts in your boots to ring in a happy new year.

If all that didn’t work and the Vikings heard the hunt approaching, they would resort to throwing themselves on the ground and covering their heads while the massive party sped above them like a giant Halloween rager.

So this holiday season, leave your boots out for Odin and some carrots out for his giant spider horse or you and your entire family will die in a fiery inferno, the end.

3. Yule Logs

Speaking of Scandinavia, another Northern European winter solstice tradition was the yule log. Today, if you google “yule log,” something like this will pop up:

...which isn’t an actual log, but is instead log-shaped food that you shove into your mouth along with 500 other cakes at the same time because it’s CHRISTMAS, and I’m having ME TIME; so WHAT if I ate the whole jar of Nutella by myself, alone, in the dark at 3 am?

But that log cake is actually inspired by actual logs of yore that Celtic, Germanic, and Scandinavian peoples decorated with fragrant plants like holly, ivy, pinecones, and other Stuff That Smells Nice before tossing the log into the fire.

This served a few purposes:

It smelled nice, and Bath and Body Works scented candles hadn’t been invented yet.

It had religious and/or spiritual significance as a way to mark the winter solstice.

It was a symbolic way of ringing in the new year and kicking out the old.

Common belief held that the ashes of a yule log could ward off lightning strikes and bad energy.

Winter cold. Fire warm.

Everybody loves to watch things burn. (See: Odin.)

The yule log cakes we eat today got their start in 19th century Paris, when bakers thought it was a cute idea to resurrect an ancient pagan tradition in the form of a delicious dessert, and boy, howdy, were they right.

In any case, I’m 100% down with eating a chocolate yule log while burning an actual yule log in my backyard because everybody loves to watch things burn; winter cold, fire warm; and hnnnngggg pine tree smell hnnnnggg.

(Quick note: The word “yule” is the name of a traditional pagan winter festival, still celebrated culturally or religiously in modern pagan practice. It’s also another name for Odin. He had a bunch of other names, one of the most well-known being jólfaðr, which is Old Norse for “Yule father.” If you would like to royally piss him off, or if you are Loki, feel free to call him “Yule Daddy.”)

4. Upside down Christmas trees

I just found out that apparently, upside down Christmas trees are a hot new trend with HGTV types this year, so I guess this is one historical trend we did bring back, meaning it doesn’t really belong on this list, but I’m gonna talk about it, anyway.

Side note: Oh, my god, that BANNISTER. I NEED.

Historians aren’t actually sure where the inverted Christmas tree thing came from, but we know people were bringing home trees and then hanging them upside down in the living room as early as the 7th century. We have a couple theories as to why people turned trees on their heads:

Logistically, it’s way easier to hang a giant pine tree from your rafters upside down by its trunk and roots. You just hoist that baby up there, wind some rope around the rafter and the trunk, and boom. Start decorating.

A Christian tradition says that one day in the 7th century, a Benedictine monk named Saint Boniface stumbled across a group of pagans worshipping an oak tree. So, instead of minding his own damn business, he cut the tree down and replaced it with a fir tree. While the pagans were like, “Dude, what the hell?” Boniface used the triangular shape of the fir tree to explain the concept of the holy trinity to the pagans. Some versions have him planting it right-side up, others having him displaying a fir tree upside down. Either way, it’s still a triangle that’s a solid but ultimately very rude way of explaining God. Word’s still out on whether anyone was converted or just rightly pissed off that this random guy strolled into their place of worship, chopped down their sacred tree, and plopped HIS tree down instead. Please do not do that this holiday season.

Eastern Europeans lay claim to the upside-down tree phenomenon with a tradition called podłazniczek in Poland--people hung the tree from the ceiling and decorated it with fruits and nuts and seeds and ribbons and other festive doodads.

(God, who lives in these houses? Look at that. That’s like a swanky version of Gaston’s hunting lodge. Where do I get one? Which enchanted castle do I have to stumble into to chill out in a Christmas living room like that?)

Today, at least in the West, upside-down trees are making a comeback because...I don’t know. Chip and Joanna Gaines said so.

Some folks say it’s a surefire way to keep your cats from clawing their way through the tree and then puking up fir needles for weeks afterward, which checks out for me.

5. Incredibly weird Victorian Christmas cards

So back in the 19th century, the Christmas card industry was really getting fired up. Victorians loved their mail, let me tell you. They loved sending it. They loved getting it. They loved writing it. They loved opening it. They loved those sexy wax seals you use to keep all that sweet, sweet mail inside that sizzling envelope. (Those things are incredibly sexy. Have you ever made a wax seal? Oh, man, it’s hot.)

The problem, though, was that while the Victorians arguably helped standardize many of the holiday traditions we know and love today (Christmas trees, caroling, Dickens everything, spending too much money, etc.) back in 1800-whenever, a lot of that Christmas symbolism was, um...still under construction. No one had really agreed on which visual holiday cues worked and which...didn’t.

Meaning everyone just kind of made up their own holiday symbols. Which resulted in monstrous aberrations like this card:

What the hell is that? A beet? Is that a beet? Or a turnip? Why is it...oh, God, why does it have a man’s head? Why does the man beet have insect claws?

What is it that he’s holding? A cookie? Cardboard? A terra cotta planter?

And then there’s this one:

“A Merry Christmas to you,” it says, while depicting a brutal frog murder/mugging.

What are you trying to tell me? Are you threatening me with this card? Is that it? Is this a threat? How the hell am I supposed to interpret this? “Merry Christmas, hide your money or you’re dead, you stupid bitch.”

Also, why is the dead frog naked? Did the other frog steal his clothes after the murder? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS?

Victorian holiday cards also doubled as early absurdist Internet memes, apparently, because how else do I explain this?

Is this some sort of tiny animal Santa? A mouse riding a lobster? Like, the mouse, I get. Mice are fine. Disney built an empire on a mouse. And look, he’s got a little list of things he’s presumably going to bring you: Peace, joy, health, happiness. (In French. Oh, wait, is that that Patton Oswalt rat?)

But a LOBSTER? What’s with the lobster? It’s basically a sea scorpion. Why in the name of all that is good and holy would you saddle up a LOBSTER? I hate it. I hate it so, so much. Just scurrying around the floor with more legs than are strictly necessary, smelling like the seafood section of Smith’s, snapping its giant claws.

This whole card is a health inspector’s worst nightmare. It really is.

I gotta say, though, I am a fan of this one:

Presumably, that polar bear is going in for a hug because nothing stamps out a polar bear’s innate desire to rip your face from your skull than candy canes and Coke and Christmas spirit.

This next one is actually fantastic, but for all the wrong reasons:

I know everyone overuses “same” these days but geez, LOOK at that kid. I can HEAR it. SAME.

If you’ve ever been in a shopping mall stuffed with kids, nothing sums it up better than this card. This is like the perverse version of those Anne Geddes portraits that were everywhere in the late 90s. “Make wee Jacob sit in the tea pot; everyone will--Jacob, STOP, look at Mommy; I said LOOK. AT. MOMMY--everyone will love it.”

Actually, you know what? Every other Christmas card is cancelled. This is the only card we will be using from now on. This is it.

Wait, no. We can also use this one:

Merry Christmas. Here’s a fuckin’...just a dead fuckin’ bird.

#victorian #listory #christmas #holidays #mythtory #norse mythology #odin

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