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livingdeadgirlflorette · 1 month ago

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SO HIGH ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ carl grimes x reader

summary : getting caught smoking at your age isn't a good thing, but maybe getting caught smoking by the new guy's son isn't so bad at all, especially since he looked so cute.

tags / rundown : slight angst at the start, almost kissing, underage smoking, shotgunning, set in alexandria, carl is easily flustered, reader's parent's are pronounced dead (womp womp)

word count : 2.8k

a/n : this fic was inspired by me listening to so high by doja lols. since my midterms ended, i've decided to write this with my free time. hope it was worth it (∩_∩;) also i'll be writing a part 2 to "late night kisses", just dk where to start ( ´△｀) lmk if you want to be tagged in it!

dividers by @cafekitsune ꩜ .ᐟ

Alexandria seemed like such a pleasant escape from the shithole of the world we're living in today. Living almost two years by yourself from. . . unfortunate circumstances between your parents and an unexpected herd of walkers that had invaded your base camp. With a heavy heart and an even emptier stomach, that had left you scrounging for anything to survive. Food, water, a place to sleep in— it felt like you were just barely living day by day.

With all hope lost and no destination ahead, you just kept walking— no goal or end in mind, just walk until you found a place that could help you regain the empty feeling in you. To your surprise, a place like that still existed— a sanctuary called Alexandria. The first time you ever entered the gates, you felt like a deer in headlights. It all looked different from the outside world, giving you a sense of hope, a small beacon of hope that it would get better.

But even with all the good things that come with it, it still felt like you were so out of place. The pristine, large houses and the children laughing, acting as if nothing had ever even happened. Unrightfully, it irked you. They didn't know what it was like living day by day, not knowing if the last place you'd stay and shut your eyes for shelter in would be your last. They didn't know what it was like to starve, famished to the point you'd eat raw animal just so you could have something in your stomach. They didn't know what it was like to lose people by shooting them using their own gun. They didn't know.

All the feelings of jealousy, envy, and sadness spiraling in you, was overwhelming you to the point of just crying until you had no tears left. But you would never let them know that. It would be a stupid move to show weakness, especially in the state of the world. So you sneak out.

Sneaking out of Alexandria was a therapeutic event. Every time you do this it relaxes you, knowing what would come after would be the cherry on top to help you wind down and let your feelings fizzle out.

With you far enough from Alexandria where you knew no supply runners or recruiters would catch you, you walked through the forest, trying to find a place that's quiet. Seemingly in a matter of minutes, you find a small clearing. Peaceful and from your scoping of the forest, no walkers.

You sit down next to a tree and put your bags down, then finally sitting down, leaning on the large vegetation. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes, you fiddle around your jacket pockets and suddenly stop when you hear a voice call out to you, seemingly unimpressed.

"You know that kills you, right?" You turn around to put a body to the disembodied voice, and you see it's the boy from that one group that Aaron had recruited. You weren't that tuned in to the whole story, but you saw enough to know that they were like you, different, in the sense that you'd been out there, living through the apocalypse.

From overhearing Ron and Mikey talk about if they should him to play videogames, you knew the boy's name was Carl. He was cute, interesting, boyish in a way that he still had that youthful face, yet he was mature to have so much control over his emotions and body language and the way he carried himself.

If it were someone different, you'd just ignore the person and tell them to leave you alone. But you had the idea Carl wouldn't be such an annoyance to you, so you decide to entertain yourself by speaking with him.

"That's kind of the point." Finally, you find you lighter in your back pocket and proceed to tap on the cigarette box, pulling one out and putting it between your lips.

You didn't what to continue talking right now, wanting to just focus on matter at hand. You were thinking how to tell him but you were pleasantly surprised to see that he'd gotten the message, and just walked next to the spot on your tree, and sat down next to you.

Raising an eyebrow at him, you question his motive. Why would he even talk to you? more so why would he try to sit next to you? he has nothing to gain from this. . .

Continuing your actions, you flick open the lighter and the fire sparks burst out, creating a small flame. It fills you with relaxation. You lean in, just close enough to light your cigarette and when you finally inhale the comforting tobacco— you sigh out the smoke, lazily blinking. Your eyes dart up to the sky, watching the smoke from your mouth go up and away.

You look back to Carl, realizing you barely noticed he'd comfortably situated himself— with his signature sheriff's hat that he donned on the grass next to him and a comic book open in his hands.

You guess he wouldn't really be a nuisance, he would just be next to you while you let out your puffs of tobacco. So you scoot a little closer to him. What you didn't notice was how he saw you moving closer, unable to hide a ghost of a smile before it disappeared completely.

The sky was turning into an entrancing shade of cool colors. It seemed like time passes faster when you're smoking, only focused on changing the cigarette when it's on its last puff, and breathing in and slowly out to watch the result of your sighs for it to go up into presumably the clouds. You wish you could stay here forever. Carl was quietly reading the second comic book he'd brought, not having any plan to talk to you and your relaxed state. The boy's company was actually, comforting in the sense that you had someone with you.

But you had noticed he kept glancing at you and more so, your lips. You know the reason. He's obviously curious. From your knowledge, teenage boys are typically rebellious, so you figured he'd want to try a small puff.

The silence that had been enveloping the majority of your time together was broken by you.

"You want to try it?" His eyes jolt up from the scene in the comic he's reading, sincerely surprised you'd ask.

"I- uh- yeah i'd like to uhm— I wanna try it." He tries to find the right words, but seemingly they all just turn into mush when he sees you.

Your eyes are lidded, your body languid— presumably from all the tobacco you'd been smoking, and your lips are plump, slightly open. With that look, it's enough to send blood rushing to his cheeks, his eyes darting blinking rapidly and looking slightly down to hide his blossoming blush.

Even in your smoke-induced haze, you still notice this. Seeing him act all bashful and shy in front of you, it makes you feel giddy inside. You let out an airy chuckle and you hand him the cigarette.

"Knock yourself out." You tell him. With a nervous gaze, he musters up his courage and looks at you. Hesitantly taking the cigarette in your hands. But you undoubtedly notice his hands brush against yours as he took the lit stick of tobacco.

Carl then calculatively puts the cigarette in his mouth, inhaling before letting out a dry heaving cough. You giggle at him, you know it's a common mistake but he just looks so cute trying to do it properly.

"How do you even do it without coughing—" His words were cut off by another cough he let out, he seemed like he was having a hard time so you gently put your hand on his back, lightly patting it to help him cough.

"It's okay, I kept coughing a fit the first time I did it." You assured him, wondering how you could help him get through it, until you finally clicked, realizing what you should do to have him experience it properly.

"Do you want me to help you?" Your voice is gentle and calm so you don't startle him. He looks at you, his coughing had seemed to cease. His posture went straight, eyebrows furrowed. What could you possibly to do help him smoke without him wheezing?

Carl silently gives you an okay, slightly nodding as he does. "Don't freak out, okay?" He's curious, what would you do to help him? But then he sees your actions, you take the cigarette in between his calloused fingers and put it back into your mouth, taking in a small intake.

He's uncertain on what you're about to do, questions going in and out of his head. But you silence those answers by taking the cigarette out of your mouth, then grabbing his chin with your free hand to have his face an inch apart from yours.

His mouth is open in awe and disbelief. He can feel his heart beating out of his chest when you take you open your mouth, slowly blowing the smoke into his mouth. He quickly understands what you're doing, slowly breathing in the puff of smoke with his mouth.

With the last blow of your lips sending the smoke, You make eye contact with him. Your eyes were all this time trained on his lips, focusing so he wouldn't move. His breath hitches when he finally has all of the smoke you had in your mouth.

It's overwhelming for Carl, really— knowing all the puffs of tobacco he had in his mouth were in yours, and how close you still are to his face, it makes him want to shoot his heart out into the darkening sky. Realizing he's been looking too long at your face and not releasing the smoke, he lets it out slowly, watching your every move.

You look at him, letting a small smirk grace your face as you lean back. He doesn't know why he has such a dissatisfied feeling when you pull back though, It's so perplexing to him.

"We should get back to the gates, I think your father would be worried that his son's been missing." You put the cigarette out, standing up and patting your jeans off, shooing the dirt off your clothing. You look back to Carl, the emotion on his face evidently stupefied.

"Yeah— my dad's probably looking for me by now so," He scrambles also to fix himself up, turning slightly away from you. He tries to find more words, but it leaves him with only a few.

"We should go." He finally says. He wanted to save himself from the embarrassment he'd feel from you seeing his blush.

Carl thought what he was doing was ridiculous though; it was getting dark, you wouldn't be able to see color on his face unless you were close and squinted hard enough. But he does so anyway.

The rest of the walk back to Alexandria you're standing side by side, walking with him. You fail to ignore that tingly and rushed feeling whenever his hands accidentally brush yours, making your cheeks flush. You look at him, curious if he also felt the way feeling you were experiencing.

Carl felt quite befuddled, he was so perplexed at the thought of you. There was a swirling feeling in his heart. He wondered if what he was feeling was just from the nicotine in those cigarettes or if it was because of you, but then his question gets answered when he looks at you.

With the eye contact you guys had, you smile bashfully and look straight back at the path. He made you smile, and that was enough for him to know he was interested. He wanted to know more about you, and what it would feel like to have your face close to him again. Hopefully next time it would be to feel your lips on his, and not just the smoke.

I'm not sure if I like this, but it fueled my imagination of smoking with Carl so I don't really mind (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

#carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #carl grimes fanfiction #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead #twd #twd x reader #twd x you #carl grimes x you #𓂃🖊 — florette's fics

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weasleyreidstyles · 9 months ago

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Serendipity

chapter thirteen

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): 18+ content, brief mention of drugs, fingering, oral (male and female receiving), piv, purely a smutty chapter with some fluff sprinkled throughout, soft!matty!!!!!

series masterlist; previous part; next part

It was the end of another grueling day of classes and avoiding the glares that Harry and Ron sent your way. Surprisingly, Hermione would send you a hesitant smile, turning away when one of the boys admonished her incredulously. You wondered how much she agreed with Harry's isolation of you.

You and Pansy had wondered into the Slytherin common room, smothering your laughter as you entired the quiet sanctuary that lay beneath the lake. You had been welcomed into the den of snakes with little resistance, for no one would dare go against the word of Mattheo Riddle – they all feared his father, and feared him as an extension of that.

You enjoyed the atmosphere of the common room, which was constantly filled with soft chatter and was lit only by fire light, candles and balls of magic that reflected off the glass that separated the common room from the Black Lake. It was peaceful here. A place you found solace, as your common room was now filled with hostility rather than the serenity that it used to bring you.

The boys were sat in the corner of the common room, Enzo and Theo had blunts in their hands, but all five of them were high as kites.

"What are you two ladies giggling at?" Enzo slurs as he invites you both to sit. Pansy slots herself between Blaise and Theo, who wraps an arm around her shoulder whereas you go to sit beside Mattheo, who loops an arm around your waist and guides you to sit in his lap instead, ignoring the teasing words of your friends as you do so.

He seems to be the most sober out of all of them, besides maybe Draco, who instead looks to be on the verge of falling asleep.

"Hey you." you turn your head to look behind you and smile softly at him as Mattheo presses a lingering kiss to your lips.

"Hi love." he says, his voice deliciously raspy. "How were your last few classes?"

"You would know if you deigned to turn up." you say teasingly and he hugs you into his chest with a low laugh.

"Funny." he says. "But this was so much more fun." he motions to the scene in front of the two of you: Enzo was trying to create origami birds with his wand, and was failing miserably.

"He's been trying to do that for the past hour." Mattheo mumbles in your ear, mirth coating his tone. You can hear the smirk in his voice as you both laugh at Enzo's expense.

"Oi!" Enzo whisper shouts from the other sofa, pointing a steady finger to Mattheo accusingly. "You better not be gossiping about me with your girlfriend Matt. Only I can gossip with her."

"'S that so, Enz?" Mattheo replies, smirk evident as he speaks. You flush when he fails to correct Enzo – you were not his girlfriend, no matter how much you ached for the exclusivity.

"Yep. Ain't that right, Meadow?" Enzo's blazed eyes move toward you and you let out a soft laugh as you nod noncommittally at him.

"Of course Enzo." you say and he lets out a cheer that disrupts the quiet of the common room and it makes you laugh harder when Blaise shoves him away as Enzo's flailing arms get too close to his head.

Mattheo grunts from behind you and his grip tightens. Your laughter makes you jostle against him and his restraint can only last so long.

Keep moving against me like that and I'll give you and Enzo something to gossip about. His voice is a growl in your head and your breath hitches as you feel his blatant arousal pressing against the small of your back.

You want me to talk about my sex life with your best mate? Really? He can hear the knowing smile in your voice as you raise a singular brow at him questioningly.

His low growl is answer enough. On second thought. I don't want him to know all our dirty little secrets.

In that case, can we go up to your room? You ask, and you curse how desperate you sound.

He smirks arrogantly.

Lead the way, Princess.

You ignore the quiet jeers from your friends as you stand up with reddening cheeks and drag Mattheo towards the boys' stairs by his hand.

~∞~

As soon as you twist the doorknob and enter the room, Mattheo has you pinned to the wood of the now closed door, hands suspended above your head, held there by one big hand, while the other trails featherlight touches across your face, over your lips and down the expanse of your neck, which is free of blemishes just waiting for him to mark it possessively, like he's been wanting to do all day.

"Gods I want you so badly." he says lowly, brown eyes blown and full of lust. He brings his face close to your's, nose brushing your cheek as he whispers dirty thoughts into your ears that would have you melting into a puddle on the floor, if not for the hold he had on your arms.

I want to ravish you.

Take you against every surface of this room.

And then do it again in the bathroom.

Until all you feel is me.

You whimper softly as you chase his teasing lips with your's and he smirks as he pulls away from you and you glare up at him in the way he adores.

"'S that what you want, sweetheart?" he asks you, his voice velvet and smooth.

"I want you." you say, desperately. "I want you everywhere Mattheo. Now."

"So demanding." he teases. But he takes your breath away with a searing kiss. He smiles into it as you mewl against him and his hand continues its exploration with thorough accuracy, fingers evading the fabric of your skirt and brushing against your panties with ease.

"I love when you wear your ridiculously short skirts." he groans against you. "Gets me all hot and bothered. But you love that, don't you?"

"Yes." you pant as you tilt your head forward and catch his lips in another kiss. You want to reach out and touch him, but his grip is so strong against you, bruises no doubt forming under his hands.

He pushes your underwear to the side and groans at the way his fingers glide against your slick pussy.

"Gods you're soaked, darling. Always so wet for me."

"Please Théo," you whine as he strokes you leisurely, avoiding your clit, much to your dismay. "Touch me."

"I am touching you." he smirks and he outright laughs when you growl your discontent at him.

His thumb brushes against your clit softly, but the motion still has you keening against the wood of the door. He speeds up in ministrations, revelling in the way your pussy practically sings at the attention.

"Gods, you're perfect. So perfect." he says as he circles two fingers against your leaking slit. You moan as he thrusts two fingers into you repeatedly, scissoring you open until your dripping into his palm.

Your orgasm is approaching you embarrassingly fast but you need to feel that release. As his long fingers brush against that spot inside you once again, you practically explode, body sagging into his, head resting against his chest. And he continues to finger you through it, with no intentions of stopping.

"Matty– Please." you whine. "I'm too sensitive."

"Awh." he tuts. "But you need this, darling. You're still so tense." He punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust that has you keening.

He'll stop if you say the word. But you both need this. And you both have no intention of stopping.

His thrusting fingers are relentless and you're not sure how he hasn't gotten cramp from the position. But your thoughts eddy out of your head with each harsh stroke. Your second orgasm sneaks up on you almost immediately. And he releases your arms in favour of cradling you into his chest as you pant against him.

"That's it." he smoothes a hand through your hair, tucking you into his chest. "Do you feel better now?"

You nod against his chest, but you're still aching for more. It doesn't help at all that his cock is pressing heavily into your abdomen. You can feel the heat of it like its seering into your skin. You look up to find that he's already staring at you so you press your lips to his once again, wrapping your arms around his neck, toying with the hairs on his nape.

When you pull away, his eyes are blown out and hungry as he stares down at you. Wordlessly you begin to kneel before him and he instinctively has your hair wrapped around a fist before your knees have even hit the ground.

Nimble fingers undo his leather belt with practiced grace and his trousers and boxers are pulled down in quick succession. Mattheo's cock stands at attention, jutting out proudly as you lick away the precum that's beading at the tip. He grunts and his fist tightens.

"Now, now," he tuts. "Don't be a tease darling."

"Not fun to be on the receiving end, is it?" you say with a feline grin as you bring a hand to your mouth and spit on it for lubrication before wrapping it around him. Mattheo's cock is thick as well as long and you marvel at his size before licking at the underside with your tongue until he's groaning in abandon.

He uses the grip he has on your hair to maintain control and pushes your head down to the hilt, so that your nose brushes the skin of his pelvis. You gag against him and he groans at the vibrations.

He's practically fucking your face now, moaning your name in earnest as he uses you like a toy. You love every second of it. You're certain that there will be a bruise forming at the back of your throat and you welcome the pain. His orgasm crashes into him and he fists your hair so tight that you whimper.

He pulls out and runs a finger across your reddened cheeks, damp with fallen tears. Mattheo admires the lust still evident in your blown out eyes.

"You truely are insatiable." he smirks as he offers you a hand to help you stand. You take it willingly and allow him to guide you to his bed. "Lie on your back for me love. I'd like to return the favour."

"I thought that's what I just did?" you question with furrowed brows, but you do as he says either way.

"You didn't think I was done with you, did you?" he asks mischievously as he undoes the knot of his emerald-silver tie. You watch, ravenously as he unbuttons his white shirt, but makes no move to remove it, instead he reaches for your blue and bronze tie, skillfully undoing the knot and practically ripping your shirt from your body; skirt, stockings and panties following quickly after. Once you lay naked before him, he removes the constricting fabric of his shirt before tossing it onto the pile of clothes he had just created.

Then he's onto you. Kissing you everywhere and marking any inch of skin his lips find. Slender fingers pinch and twist at hardened nipples and you mewl as he presses kisses along your collarbone. Mattheo takes one of your nipples into his mouth: sucking, biting a nipping at the sensitive bud, before doing the same to the other one.

His grin is devilish as he moves his ministrations further south, to your soaked centre. Pressing kisses to your naval, he uses a finger to trace your slit, which clenches around nothing as he teases you.

"Don't tease." you demand, but it goes ignored as he presses kisses everywhere but to where you want him the most.

You try to enclose his head between your thighs but strong arms push them apart, holding them steady as he finally, finally flicks his tongue against your slit, licking a long streak to your throbbing clit. He moans at the taste of you and the vibrations send pleasure up your spine. You moan his name.

He feasts on you like a man starved. Licking, kissing and sucking at your slick cunt. He will never tire of your taste; he swears its doused in an addictive drug because he cannot get enough. Teeth nip against your clit and you whine, hands fisting his curly hair, fighting to pull him closer or push him away from the overstimulation.

Don't push me away, sweet girl. You let out a wail of a moan as his fingers finally enter you, making you feel full with the size of three of them scissoring you open. His other hand pushes against your stomach, preventing you from jutting your hips in the air; you can only take what he's giving to you.

In no time at all, your release hurtles towards you, and you sob from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure, dragging him closer to your cunt by his hair until you physically cannot bare the oversensitivity any longer. White spots dance across your vision and you don't register as he hovers above you, fingers lightly stroking your face.

"Are you with me, darling?" he asks softly, smiling when he sees the haze lift from your eyes. "There you are."

You turn your gaze to the side to hide the flush in your cheeks, but he already caught it, fingertips tracing the heated skin.

"Can you go for one more, or are you done for the night?" he asks, eyes attentive and focused as he scanned you from head to toe. Your body was washed with hickeys, but somehow it still wasn't enough. He needed to claim you.

"I can go for one more." you say breathlessly. "But, can you start slow, please?"

Your voice is gentle as you look up at him and he doesn't hesitate to agree.

"Of course, love." he mumbles against your lips as he presses his to your mouth. He uses a hand to adjust you so that one of your thighs wraps around his hip, giving him access to press his hardened cock into your still-sensitive slit.

He kisses away your whines as he presses into you slowly, not stopping until his pelvis presses against your's. His kisses are full of reassurance and he doesn't begin to move until you give him the okay.

You mewl at the softness of his thrusts, easing you into a state of pleasant bliss that has you whining for more, for him to go harder. So he does.

His thrusts are slow and deep, hitting every possible spot that brings you pleasure and you're clawing at his back in response. The pain of it causes him to grunt, thrusting even harder into you.

"So good to me." he breathes into your ear, hot breath fanning over your cheek. "My girl."

Your breath stutters as you whimper, wrapping your legs around his hips, pussy tightening with his words as another orgasm is ripped from you. It's the most intense one you've ever felt; you feel euphoric.

"Salazar." he breathes as his thrusts speed up with an uneven pace that lets you know he's close, too. "Gods you're so perfect for me."

He finishes with a deep groan before settling on top of you, softening cock still inside you. Your mind is still hazed with lust but you know that you wouldn't be able to handle another round.

"That was so good." you groan as you wrap yourself around him. He chuckles deeply, voice low and raspy as it always is.

"You're welcome." he snickers as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. "Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

You agree and let him guide you to the bathroom, cursing at him when he laughs harder at your inability to walk on steady legs.

The water from the shower is hot and soothing against your skin and you can't help the lust that overtakes you once again when Mattheo steps in behind you.

So what if you were insatiable for him? You just could not get enough.

~∞~

The two of you are lying in his bed, covers draped over you both. You're clad in nothing but one of his tshirts and a pair of boxers and he's wearing a pair of light grey tracksuit bottoms. One of your legs is draped over his as you lay your head against his chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart.

"Did you mean it?" you ask softly, stroking your finger against his firm pectorals.

"Hmm?" he hums, distracted by the way your hair fans out around your head.

"When you said– nevermind." your hesitance makes him frown.

"When I said what?" he questions cautiously, running a hand down your spine, resting on the small of your back.

"It doesn't matter. It's stupid." you say, burying your face into his neck. He smiles down at you.

Everything you say, everything you think matters. Especially to me.

His voice is soothing against your inner turmoil and you let out a long exhale.

"What are we?" you ask, lifting your head up to face him. His eyes are a deep, honeyed brown, softened from the harshness they present to everyone outside of the room.

"We're whatever you want us to be, sweet girl." he mumbles, looking at you through long lashes. "From the moment I called you mine before Christmas, I meant it. You're mine, sweetheart. And I'm your's, in whatever capacity you'll have me."

You smile at him, wide and wild and teeth gleaming and he grins back with equal fervour.

"You're mine?" you ask quietly, lips hovering over his.

"Your's baby." he responds, sealing the promise with a soft kiss.

~∞~

i wrote this at like 2am last night lol and i had so much fun writing this, i just can't get enough of soft matty!!!!

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj @nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette @prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl @rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost @weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @sunasbbie @rainy-darling @faeriepigeons @lovely-blackinnon @hiireadstuff @gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome @nopedefe @spencerreidsthings @navs-bhat @agent-tempest @magimtz23 @y0urm0m12 @sbrn0905 @leona-hawthorne @whatsupb18 @moni-cah @taylorann2013 @unstablereader @gisellesprettylies @nat1221

#mattheo riddle x reader #serendipity series #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #pansy parkinson #theodore nott x reader #blaise zabini #enzo berkshire #draco malfoy

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darkenedreaper · 1 year ago

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Pairing: Professor Severus Snape x Fem!Professor Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: Headcannons of a funny reader with the seemingly grumpy boring Snape

Give Him A Laugh

When you joined Hogwarts as a Professor, every Professor and student immediately took to you

Your humour could sometimes be childish but it made everyone laugh with you

Except for one Professor

Snape found you annoying when you first joined, making all the Professors laugh at the table in the great hall disturbed his peace he tried to have after a long day

Of course you saw that Snape disliked your jokes, perhaps he disliked you aswell but that wouldn't stop you

When you walked into the great hall, all the students eyes lit up; the Weasley twins were constantly giving you compliments and asking you to join in on bets or pranks to which you obviously expected

It was very easy for you to join the students at their tables; Harry would rant to you about Quidditch, Hermione would talk you through her work and Ron would joke to you about the other students fails

You're close relationship with the students didn't go unnoticed by Snape, and he saw that you were a kind person with a good heart, he just didn't want to let his guard down to anyone

Over the months he grows to you, although he still won't laugh at you jokes, he just makes sarcastic comments in retaliation which makes you laugh harder

He likes your laugh

It wasn't until this one time that Snape actually let a smile slip

You had a joint class with Snapes and he had gathered them to give them a pep talk for the listen ahead and when students were whispering he took the opportunity to scold them

When he was scolding them you started copying Snape by mouthing his same words but with a funny face and rolling your eyes

He eventually catches on to it when he turns his head to see what his students are laughing at

You quickly turned the other direction and was looking up at the ceiling and Snape let a smile slip when he saw you smirking knowing you'd been caught

Now when you make Snape smile with your jokes and messing around he has little hesitation to show you his smile... the students eventually pick up on this

It was snowing and you and Severus took your joint class outside and when you made the students laugh as usual Snape let out a chuckle

"Oh my... Professor Snape just laughed! At Professor L/n!"

Snape knew it was too late but you joined in with the little girl and the whole classes giggling now, "Did I, just make the one and only Professor Snape laugh?!"

He tutted, doing his best to hide back a smirk and tried to calm you and the giggling students, "Now, now, there isn't any need for-"

He couldn't finish because you repeated that you made him smile and told all the kids to run away before he gave them all detention

Severus just watched and smiled as you started a snowball fight with them all

He joined in when you shouted him to help you defeat the class

He finds your jokes annoyingly funny now

And just because he joined a snowball fight and shows off his smile doesn't mean he doesn't hesitate to give them all detention when they make funny noises at you and Snape

#snape #severus #severus snape #severus x reader #snape x reader #severus snape x reader #professor snape #professor snape x reader #professor severus snape x reader #harry potter

1K notes · View notes

theonotti · 1 year ago

Text

MIO | OS | t.n.

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!Hufflepuff!reader

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: Voldemort won. Harry Potter is dead. But the Order of the Phoenix is still fighting, with two surprising allies who have very different reasons for aiding their cause.

Warnings: Pretty angsty. AU where Voldemort did not die at the end of DH.

Notes: This is heavily inspired by Secrets & Masks and Manacled. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

That Final Night One Shot

Late.

They’re fucking late.

Taking a long drag of his cigarette, Theo looks down at his watch.

Twenty minutes late, to be exact.

“How long are we expected to wait here?” Mattheo growls, pacing across the wood of the decrepit bar. The floorboards creak with every step. Theo is sitting at one of the tables, a sigh forcing its way out of his lungs as he watches his friend. In one hand is a cigarette, the other hand mindlessly tracing the vandalism that had been scratched into the top of the table.

“Another ten minutes and then we’re fucking off.”

The bar has been long abandoned, making it their top choice for discreet meetings. They had cycled through a few different locations before they finally found the bar. The walls are a sloppy black color, which is mostly covered in 80’s posters, both movies and musical talents alike. Theo’s eyes drift from poster to poster. He’s seen them what feels like a thousand times, and yet he still finds it hard to tear his eyes away when he stares at them.

An hour has already passed since their arrival, but that was due to the ungodly amount of wards and disillusionment charms that they needed to cast before the meeting, a ritual that has become quite routine. Once everything is set, they’ll briefly discuss what they’ll say, and then they wait. Theo finds the extra waiting time peaceful, usually. It gives him a chance to mentally prepare for the carnage that comes to his psyche afterwards. The guilt. The fear. But this time, the stakes are higher, increasing the tension in his muscles much too soon. He can feel the pain already in his lower back, and he doesn’t want to imagine the aches he’ll be feeling once he returns home.

“Can’t we just kill them?”

Theo considers this question as he lets his eyes jump back to Mattheo.

“That would probably defeat the purpose of why we’re here.”

“Sure, but I still hate Weasley and his stupid face. Just one Cruciatus curse at his ugly face would be okay, surely. I won’t even make it a long one. Four minutes tops.”

Theo boredly watches the smoke from his cigarette float up towards the ceiling as he ignores Mattheo. Every moment that passes increases his irritation. He finds himself wondering if it’s a power move on their part. They hold all the cards, so they can keep him waiting.

Something in the air triggers, both men looking towards the door. Theo’s fingers tense around the cigarette as he brings it to his mouth to take another drag, his other hand dropping down from the table to clench around his wand as it rests on his lap. The dimly lit room has a smoky haze, all thanks to Mattheo and Theo disregarding the “No Smoking Allowed” sign that is appropriately starting to fall off the wall.

The door opens, Ron Weasley followed by Hermione Granger walking in. Theo has long lost count of how many times they’ve met with Granger and Weasley, yet it still feels jarring every time he sees them. Maybe it’s because their appearance catches him off guard each time.

Despite them all being in their mid twenties, they all look tired and worn. The rosey cheeks that Granger sported while they were in school are now gaunt and hollow. Dark circles are painted under her eyes, along with Weasley’s, and she keeps her bushy hair contained in two french braids going down her back. Weasley keeps his hair short now, and his body is more built than it had ever been when they were at Hogwarts. His boy-like features are long gone, with gray already peppering his ginger hair, and if Theo didn’t know any better, he would’ve guessed that Weasley was in his late thirties at the least. The life in their eyes had long drained out, replaced with a coldness that chilled anyone who happened to be stuck in their gaze.

War hadn’t been kind to Theo or Mattheo either.

Mattheo has more scars on his face than he did back in school, and he grew his hair long in a feeble attempt to hide them. There was a time that he wore them like a badge of honor, but since the start of the war and his PTSD becoming worse than ever, they no longer were something he pretended to be proud of. He’s since developed an anxiety twitch, his whole face seeming to spasm whenever there’s a loud noise not caused by him, or tense moment. Though they don’t live together anymore, now that Theo has full ownership of Nott Manor, when they had, Theo could remember all the nights of hearing his best friend scream and cry in his sleep from across the mansion. It was more often than not, and it was unbearably hard to get Mattheo to calm down from the vivacious nightmares.

The opposite could be said for Theo. Instead of nights filled with intense dreams of death and melancholy, Theo simply doesn’t sleep. He couldn’t, for the life of him, shut his brain off. And while that had always been an issue for him to some degree, it had become exacerbated since his transition from student to soldier. Theo doesn’t know what being tired feels like anymore. It’s so ingrained in his psyche that it would be more abnormal for him to not be tired. All he can do is adjust, living off coffee and the occasional upper to keep him moving.

Weasley leans on the wall beside the door. His demeanor is much more unpleasant than normal as his eyes flit between Theo and Mattheo. Theo pretends not to notice as he looks at Granger, who’s standing in the middle of the room. She always did all the talking. Theo assumes it’s because of the way she carries herself, and they certainly take her more seriously than they could any Weasley. Besides being a fighter for the Order of the Phoenix, Granger is a war negotiator. She deals with prisoner exchanges and, eventually, peace talks. Although, considering it’s been seven years since the Battle of Hogwarts, Theo is less confident of the possibility of any sort of peace treaty happening any time soon. For the entire duration of the war, it was her that Theo dealt with when it came to these sorts of things, before and after their betrayal.

She clears her throat.

“What information do you have for us?”

The strain in her voice is lost on no one. The tension in the air is so thick, Theo is convinced he could grab it if he tried.

Mattheo stops his pacing, turning to face her full on. His anger is palpable.

“Stop with the bullshit,” He snaps. “Let’s talk about why we’re really here today.”

Weasley’s hand tightens around his wand, but he doesn’t move. Theo keeps his eyes on him to ensure it stays that way before turning back to Granger.

“You have Malfoy.” Theo’s voice is quiet, tone neutral.

The corners of her mouth twitch upward.

“We have Malfoy.”

Mattheo lets out a frustrated sigh.

“We can’t continue to cooperate with you until you hand him back.”

Granger’s expression doesn’t change, making it clear that this reaction was expected.

“He’s quite the bargaining tool. What are you willing to give for him?” A beat passes. “Or I guess I should say, who?”

Mattheo turns to look at Theo, who can tell just by that exchange of a glance that his friend’s patience is wearing horrifically thin.

“We can ensure the release of Luna Lovegood and Seamus Finnegan. And we’re prepared to give you the maps of the hidden prisons in Sussex.” Theo conveniently forgets to mention that they were already planning to give them the maps, regardless of the way things went at this meeting.

Granger turns to look at Weasley, who merely raises his eyebrows, before turning back to Theo.

“He’s Draco Malfoy.”

Theo’s hand curls tighter around his wand.

Mattheo huffs loudly, throwing his hand down and smacking it on the bar top. The sound is so loud that Granger flinches, and Weasley pushes off the wall suddenly, but doesn’t move forward.

“You know bloody well that our heads will be on a fucking spike if we don’t get him back,” He hisses at them. “Then who will aid your bloody Order? You think there’s anyone else who will risk their necks like we have? Honestly?”

“Regardless of your help to the Order, do you really think we can just hand Voldemort back one of his best fighters?” Granger's voice raises just a touch. Mattheo takes a step towards her.

“You’ll be singing a different fucking tune when we’re dead and you realize the next on the list is you. You’re losing the goddamn war. Biblically. You need us. Alive.”

Theo waits for Mattheo to finish his outburst before he turns his attention back to Granger. He knows where this is going.

Fuck, he knows where this is going.

“What else do you want, then?”

Theo’s hands tremble slightly. He clenches his right fist around his wand even more, the left bringing the cigarette back to his mouth quickly.

Mattheo shakes his head, turning away as he pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it with his want.

Granger tilts her head as she looks at Theo, her expression shifting to a tired one, as if the answer is obvious. When she speaks again, her voice is just above a whisper.

“You know who we want, Nott. It’s been almost a year.”

Theo’s nostrils flare.

“Not on the table.”

Suffice to say, the raid couldn’t have possibly gone worse.

How the Order could’ve been so prepared for them was beyond Theo.

One minute, everything seemed to be going to plan as Theo, Mattheo, Malfoy, Blaise and a few others sauntered into the safe house. Quick in and out. Nothing too complicated. The next, it was like the floor fell out from under their feet.

How did things get so royally fucked up?

Theo woke with a start, sitting up abruptly, covered in a layer of sweat as his eyes darted around the room. It took him a minute to get reoriented, and only then did he realize that he was in his own living room, laid on the couch with a blanket draped over him. Ripping the blanket off, his hands flew towards his abdomen. When he looked down, he found he was shirtless, but his skin was unharmed, save for some minor scarring. New editions to the collection. He then reached up and touched the top of his head. Nothing. Not even a scrape.

What?

Slowly, he kicked his feet over the side of the couch and stood up. The room spun for a moment, and his joints ached, but otherwise, he was completely normal.

The manor was silent. So silent that it made the hairs on the back of Theo’s neck stand up. Almost automatically, he walked across the floor, his bare feet cold against the hardwood. He tried to keep his footfall soft as he continued listening for any sort of sound. There, in the faint distance, he could hear… something. Grabbing a hoodie off the back of a chair, he slipped it over his bare torso and zipped it up halfway before making his way towards the sound.

Theo stepped into the kitchen. A flash of movement came from the other slide of the sliding door that leads to the courtyard. His hand instinctively went to grab his wand from his pocket, only for him to realize it wasn’t there. At the same moment, he also realized the person outside was Mattheo, having a smoke. His tense fingers relaxed, his arm falling back to his side.

Mattheo looked over as Theo slid the door open and walked out.

“Look who’s awake. How’re you feeling, Sleeping Beauty?”

“Who healed me?”

Mattheo placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense.

“You wound me, Nott. You don’t think I’m capable?”

Theo shook his head almost immediately.

“It’s not as… clean when you do it. And I have the scars to prove it.” He pointed to his back, which was covered in scars thanks to a nasty run in with a car, a Bombarda cast, and Mattheo’s lack of concern to learn basic field emergency spell casting.

Mattheo sighed in resignation before saying, “You’re right. It wasn’t me.”

Theo waited for Mattheo to give elaboration, and when one wasn't given, he could feel his fingers curl into fists. Though Mattheo’s face was neutral, the tension radiating off his body could be felt a kilometer away.

“What did you do?”

Mattheo took a long drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out through his nostrils before turning back to Theo.

“Theo…”

“What did you do, Riddle?”

Swallowing hard, Mattheo looked away from Theo.

“We got their best healer.”

Theo blinked. A hostage?

“You took someone?” He asked, voice low. “That… that wasn’t part of the plan.”

Not that things ever went to plan. And not that they hadn’t ever deviated so far left and forced them to take hostages before. But there was something about the way Mattheo couldn’t look at him that made Theo’s fingers run cold.

Mattheo shook his head as he took a seat on one of the lounge chairs. He let his head fall to his chest, as if it were too heavy to hold up anymore. “That wall fell on you. You were going to die, Theo. We needed…” He inhaled sharply before looking up again. “It was beyond us. We needed the help. We needed her.”

Theo wracked his brain. The Order’s best healer? The Order’s best healer. Why does this mean something to him?

“Who is it?”

Mattheo leaned backwards in the seat so his back laid against the chair before he pointed at Theo, as if he was preemptively defending himself.

“You’re going to thank me. You’ll be pissed. But you’re going to thank me, ultimately.”

Theo’s nose twitched.

“Mattheo… who is it?”

Mattheo nodded back towards the house before vaguely replying, “She’s upstairs, in the North wing.”

Theo’s feet didn’t move, stuck to the floor like ice. His mind was running, a plethora of questions all begging to be answered. But his mouth forgot how to work as well. For a moment, all he was able to do was stare at Mattheo, who stared back briefly before nodding towards the house again.

“Go on.” His voice was soft.

Theo’s feet kicked on again, taking him back into the house as if they were on autopilot.

Why the hell are you so nervous? You don’t even know who it is.

His wand was laying on the end table next to the staircase, which he grabbed and shoved in his pocket. His knees buckled as he walked up the stairs. Distantly, he could hear the sound of yelling and objects being thrown around. It didn’t take him long to figure out which closed door the sounds were coming from the other side of. He stood outside the black wooden door, listening. Trying to maybe discern who it was before he went in.

He could just make out the wards that had been placed on the door. Laying a hand on the knob, he was relieved to find that he was able to touch the brass of the handle. Mattheo had been known to incorrectly cast the spell so no one could get through, which had more than once sent Theo or Malfoy through a wall.

A shaky sigh pushing its way from Theo’s lungs and out of his mouth, he turned the knob and let himself inside the room.

The color drained from Theo’s face.

Standing in the middle of the room, chest heaving and anger radiating off of like a stove top, was you.

Suddenly, Theo was back at Hogwarts, standing in the Astronomy Tower. You were no longer in your casual shirt and jeans, but instead, in your Hufflepuff robes as you looked at him and told him you were leaving to join the Order.

“This war is above us, Theo. Dumbledore is dead. Harry Potter is dead. I can’t stand idly by and watch people die. I need to do something.”

“Yeah? And what about me?”

“You could come with me.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“And you know I can’t stay.”

The memory hit Theo like a train. His breath hitched in his throat.

You turned to face him, freezing in the headlights of his gaze. The way your fury faltered at the sight of him made it clear that you were having the same out of body experience that he was.

You certainly had been busy. All of the furniture in the room was broken. The night stand had been thrown against the pewter colored wall, leaving a dent in the dry wall and the wooden pieces scattered across the floor. A picture frame that Theo hung and forgot about was in ruins, the brunette girl in the picture cowering in the corner of the shredded pieces of photo paper. Feathers from the pillows littered the carpet. The mattress had been thrown off the bed frame, which was also now broken.

Though he couldn’t focus on the damage that had been done to his guest room. He was too busy staring at you with the same confounded look he’d had when he first entered the room.

Your hair was longer than he remembered it, pulled back so it was out of your face. Your features had grown with you, your cheekbones more prominent, your eyes with more bags, your cheeks with less color. There wasn’t a corner of Theo’s world that wasn’t burdened by war, and, unfortunately, that included you. His heart raced in his chest as he looked at you. He had locked the memory of you deep into the catacombs of his brain, not allowing himself to bring them out for any occasion. There wasn’t the time or need for it. This is war. When is there a moment for reminiscing on the worst day of his life?

But now there you were, standing in front of him, with a dumbfoundedly angry look on your face, casual clothes and longer hair. The flood gates were now opened, and he was overwhelmed with memories of you, running through his mind so quickly that he felt like he was spinning.

Your eyes still twinkled in the light that streamed in through the curtains.

“You tell Mattheo Riddle that he can give me back my wand and we’ll see then if he’s able to force me into this room again.”

Theo flinched.

The sound of your voice alone made him feel the need to have a complete mental breakdown. You could’ve been cursing him out or singing in German and he would still feel the overwhelming urge to curl into a ball on the floor. Even with your anger, it still felt like a sweet symphony to Theo’s ears.

He never thought he’d hear the sound again.

Hell, he never thought he’d see you again.

Realizing you had spoken and he was just staring at you like an imbecile, he cleared his throat.

“You healed me.”

Your expression shifted, an emotion crossing your face that Theo couldn’t read. Standing a little straighter, you nodded.

“I’m a healer,” You said slowly, distantly. “It’s what I do.”

He snorted. That bleeding Hufflepuff heart.

“You could’ve let me die,” He pointed out, cocking his head to the side.

You seemed to consider this briefly before saying, “In theory, yes.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Silence hung in the air between the two of you, coupled with the unmitigated tension. Theo’s hands were curled at his sides, not from anger, but to stop himself from giving into the inordinate compulsion to reach out and touch you. To prove to himself that he wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating. That you were actually in front of him. You shifted your weight to your other foot.

“I don’t think I really could’ve, even if I wanted to.”

The words unsaid in this moment would keep Theo up at night for weeks.

Your eyes trailed down his body, studying him, taking in his bare chest underneath the hoodie. He swallowed hard, his body seeming to freeze under your gaze. Maybe he should’ve changed before coming into the room. At least maybe thrown on a proper shirt. He’d never had a hostage in his home before. There was no protocol book on the proper etiquette.

Especially not when the hostage was his ex-girlfriend who’s now working on the opposite side of the war.

You let out a strangled sigh.

“You have to let me go back, Theo. They need me. No one is trained on some of the things I am.”

The shake of his head was immediate.

“You can’t even begin to comprehend what he would do if he found out Mattheo and I had you and then just let you go back,” He said in a strained yet soft voice. “I can’t. We can’t.”

Your nose twitched as you closed your eyes.

“I won’t fucking heal for him,” You declared in a low tone. “I’d rather be strung up in Godric’s Hollow to rot like all the other people he’s executed than heal for him.”

Theo tried to be rational as he considered what to do. There was a tug of war in his mind, his loyalties competing to decide the best course of action. The obvious answer was to turn you over to The Dark Lord, where you would be put on trial for the crimes he deemed you guilty of, and then punished accordingly. With the skills you hold, Theo knew that you would more than likely be put under the Imperius curse and forced to act as a healer for the Death Eaters.

Though the answer was obvious, that didn’t make it correct. Not to him or to anyone else.

Theo knew. He knew you’d rather die than breathe the same air as the Death Eaters, let alone fix their wounds and send them back out to kill your people. His head throbbed as he tried to think of the best direction to go in.

Because, in his head, letting you go was simply out of the question.

“This is a negotiation, is it not?” Granger asks. “We have something you want, you have something we want. We exchange.”

Theo shakes his head as he smashes the end of his half smoked cigarette on the top of the table.

“She’s not for trade.”

“Well, she’s what we want.”

A bead of sweat trails down the side of his face. He ignores it.

“She’s nowhere close to being worth the same as Draco Malfoy. This isn’t a fair trade.” He means it, but not in the way that he presented it to them. Nothing they could offer would make it a fair trade in Theo’s eyes. They could offer the end of the war. They could offer his freedom from the Death Eaters. They could offer endless riches, or immortality, or anything else he could possibly dream up. None of it would equate.

“Then we’ll gladly take Luna and Seamus back as well,” Granger says through clenched teeth, expression reading that her patience is wearing thin. “To make up the difference.”

Theo opens his mouth to respond, but Mattheo cuts in before he gets the chance.

“You’ll take what we fucking give you.”

Granger shoots him a dagger filled glare.

“We can no longer afford to play these games with you. You have our best healer. And we need her back.” She rolls her head before her eyes fall back on Theo. “We have been patient. We have accepted that we had nothing worth trading for her. Now we do. Malfoy’s importance to the Death Eaters is well known. Don’t patronize us by pretending we don’t have the upper hand here.”

A chill runs through Theo’s spine.

She’s right.

God dammit, she’s right.

Theo runs a hand through his messy hair, the most he’s moved since he sat down. His brain scrambles to come up with something, anything, that he can offer to remedy this. There has to be something of equal value. There has to be something he can give that would make them decide to let you stay.

“Before you try to come up with some feeble offer, know that we won’t be backing down from this,” Granger says as if she’s reading Theo’s mind. “You won’t be getting Draco Malfoy back unless we get her, regardless of what else you give. She’s the only card you have that could get him back.”

Theo’s eyes snap back to Granger, the anger boiling in his chest.

“This is a negotiation, is it not?” He repeats her words back to her. She smiles at him, but the gesture does not reach her eyes.

“Maybe negotiation is the wrong word for it.” She hums thoughtfully. “It’s more like a plea deal. Take it or leave it.”

“You’re up late.”

Theo jumped at the sound of your voice as he quickly flicked the light on.

He didn’t expect to find you in his kitchen, sitting cross legged on the island counter with the lights off. A bowl of what he could only assume was cereal was in your hands.

He glanced at the clock on the wall.

“It’s four in the morning.”

You glanced up at the clock as well, before shrugging.

“Fine, you’re up early.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Theo’s mouth.

He could feel you studying him as you brought the spoon to your mouth. A flush of warmth filled his cheeks as he made his way to the fridge, making it a point to turn away from you. Still, he knew your eyes never left him.

“You still don’t sleep much, huh?” You asked, mouth full of cereal.

He sighed as he pulled the carton of orange juice off the shelf.

“I’d say I don’t sleep at all these days.”

He popped the top of the carton before bringing it to his mouth and throwing his head back. You watched him carefully, seeming to pause your eating.

“You’re a feral one now, aren’t you?” You asked in a playful tone. “Drinking right from the carton? Who have you become, Theodore Nott?”

He laughed, the sound being so foreign to him these days, before saying, “I generally live alone, and I never host other people. No need to waste a glass, as far as I’m concerned.”

Him ignoring the last comment of yours was intentional. Despite the playfulness behind it, Theo doesn’t know how you would feel about the man he’s become, and he doesn’t want to dwell on that fact.

You continue to laugh as you shake your head.

“Mad behaviour.”

Theo eyed you.

“Says the girl sitting on the counter, in the dark, eating cereal.”

You smiled as you take another bite.

“Got me there.”

It had been almost two months since Mattheo had taken you hostage and made you Theo’s problem. In an attempt to keep peace, Theo gave you free reign of the entire manor and all of the land around it. After repairing the furniture in the guest room (multiple times, as you had to get your frustration out somehow), Theo allowed you to stay there. Before his death, Nott Sr. had created a dungeon-esque holding below the house, with cage like cells and torture weapons, but Theo had the area of the house completely closed off upon his arrival as head of estate, and he wasn’t planning to reopen it anytime soon. Besides, the thought of locking you in an actual cell made Theo physically ill.

“How’s the escape plot going?” Theo asked as he leaned against the counter adjacent from you, juice carton still in hand.

“Considering I can’t apparate because you already had anti apparation wards in place, the wards Mattheo placed that are linked to my DNA so I can’t leave the estate at all, and that bed being the most comfortable thing I’ve ever slept on…” You listed, raising a finger with every reason. “ … I’d say it’s going quite terribly.”

Theo’s eyebrows hit his hairline as he let out a surprised huff.

“Mattheo has always been quite meticulous.”

“Well, he said he was afraid you’d let me go.”

Theo’s smile faded quite quickly.

The first couple of weeks following your capture, you had made yourself scarce around the manor, mostly spending time in the North wing. Theo made it a point to stay out of your way. Not only for the sake of your anger, but because he needed to work out his own emotions about you being there. Even in this moment, looking at you in the kitchen, he still hadn’t quite worked out how the whole thing made him him.

After the first couple of weeks, you had slowly started making your way through the manor, exploring every crevice. Every nook and cranny. Theo knew it was to look for a weakness to exploit that could lead to your escape, but he didn’t comment that to you. Just let it sit in the back of his head.

With your emergence from your room also came your increased interactions with the dark haired lad. It was painful at first, just a curt nod here and there, but it slowly built up to exchanging jokes and sarcastic comments, and even as far as the two of you reading books in silence together in the library.

It was almost as if there was never a moment between the days you and him spent together at Hogwarts and now. Just cut the time apart out and sew the rest together like the war never happened.

Theo often found himself wondering if he was one of the weaknesses you were attempting to exploit.

Your comment about Mattheo believing Theo would let you go did nothing to snuff out that thought.

He tried not to think about it too much.

You watched him carefully as he took another long sip of juice from the carton.

“Have you decided what you’re going to do with me yet?”

Theo rolled his eyes, setting the juice on the black countertop next to him.

“Nope.”

He didn’t bother to ask how you knew it was even up for debate. You’d always had a knack for just knowing things. And he couldn’t imagine that his debates with Malfoy and Mattheo were as quiet as he would’ve liked them to be.

“What are you leaning towards?” You asked innocently, your eyes studying him. He bit the inside of his cheek as he considered how to answer.

“Let’s see,” He mumbled. “Malfoy thinks I should turn you in. He doesn’t see why you’re useful here, and says you’d be better suited as a healer for… them.” He decided not to say Death Eaters, but you flinched at the idea anyway. “Mattheo thinks I should keep you here.”

Your eyes didn’t leave him as you took another bite of your cereal. Theo mirrored you with the orange juice.

“But what are you leaning towards?”

“Not turning you in, that’s for damn sure.”

Your gaze pinned him, as your eyes narrow only slightly.

“So I’m stuck here then.” It was more of a statement than a question, and something about it made an ache burst through Theo’s chest. He had no idea how to respond, so he opted to say nothing, instead bringing the juice carton back to his lips. Your eyes followed him. “Theo, you’re a rational person. You know that I don’t want to be here. Why can’t you just let me go back to the Order?”

His eyes fluttered shut.

“It’s complicated.”

You set the bowl down on the counter before looking back up at him.

“Then simplify it for me.”

All he could say in a breathy whisper was your name.

He didn’t know how. He couldn’t even simplify it for himself.

It all happens at once.

Theo quickly stands, pushing the chair out from under him so quickly that it glides across the floor and into the wall.

Weasley rushes forward, his wand pointed at Theo.

Mattheo grabs Weasley by the scruff of his shirt, roughly shoving him into the wall with the tip of his wand jabbing into the ginger’s jugular. The impact of his back against the hard surface causes Weasley to drop his wand, which Mattheo swiftly kicks across the floor.

Granger puts her wand only inches from Mattheo’s head, though he doesn’t appear to notice.

Theo directs his wand to Granger.

“The difference between you and I, Weasley,” Mattheo hisses in his face. “Is that I don’t have any pathetic qualms about making a person suffer. So please. Point your wand at one of us again. We’ll see who comes out the bigger man.”

“That’s enough, Riddle!” Granger shouts, pressing her wand into Mattheo’s temple. Theo steps forward and jams his wand through her hair and into her occipital scalp.

“Drop it.”

A beat passes.

Mattheo’s face twitches.

Granger slowly lowers her hand, her jaw clenched so tight that Theo is convinced her teeth will crack.

“We all want the same outcome,” She says in a quiet voice, still glaring daggers at Mattheo.

“It’s how we get there that we can’t seem to see eye to eye on,” Theo growls.

Letting his hand drop back to his side, Theo takes a step back towards the table he had previously been occupying.

“Let him go, Mattheo.”

The curly haired man glares into Weasley’s face for a moment longer, letting his deep breath smack against the ginger’s face before he shoves him away. Theo’s eyes follow Mattheo as he walks back to his pacing area, and then they flick back to Granger. She looks incensed over what just occurred, as Weasley adjusts his shirt, embarrassment painting his cheeks pink.

Theo opts to stay standing this time.

“She’s not a part of the equation,” He says in a low tone. “We can give you the maps, Finnegan and Lovegood for Malfoy. Or we can give nothing at all.”

A draft fills the room as the wind can be heard whipping outside over the silence.

“And again, we are well aware of Draco’s importance to the Death Eater army,” Granger says in a tone that matches Theo’s. “There is no option. It’s her or nothing.”

Theo fights the urge to curse her.

“Then it’s nothing.”

The door hit the wall so hard, Theo could almost feel the drywall dent. In the moment, however, he couldn’t give less of a shit.

You whipped around to face him. The anger on your face couldn’t be missed, but neither could his. For a while, the two of you just stared at each other, speaking through daggered glares and heaving chests, as if words weren’t necessary.

It was a moment of deja vu, calling back to the first time the two of you met in what became your assigned bedroom of the house. Both times equally as tense, but for radically different reasons. And this time, all of the pieces of furniture were entirely intact.

Finally, Theo broke the silence.

“What business do you have, entering the field?”

Your nostrils flared.

“What business do you have, almost getting yourself killed?”

A breeze came in through the window, chilling the room further. As if it needed the help.

“I was handling myself fine,” He said in a low voice. “Injuries are bound to happen-“

“A pelvic fracture and an open head wound are both severe injuries,” You countered in a raised voice. “You may have felt fine in the moment but you wouldn’t have after you lost two liters of blood just from the fractured pelvis alone. You needed care.”

Theo felt like throwing things as the anger flared heavily in his chest.

“I could’ve apparated back to the manor after-“

“You would’ve splinched yourself with that severe of injuries, Theo,” You snarled, looking exasperated. “Mattheo came and got me.”

Theo made a mental note to kick the absolute shit out of Mattheo the next time he saw him.

“You could’ve said no!” He shouted. “You’re not my bloody on-call healer who gets to risk her life whenever I almost die.” The image of you in the middle of the fight, dodging multiple green casts in your wake, was burned into his retinas. Despite being safe in the Manor now, his chest was still reeling from the panic that flooded his heart and lungs when he fought to get to you.

You took a rushed step forward.

“Don’t fucking do that,” You said in a strained voice. “You don’t get to drag my arse back into your life-“

“You think I wanted this for you?” He shouted, cutting you off. “I didn’t drag you anywhere. I didn’t bring you here. I didn’t ask for this.”

You took another step towards him, more controlled this time. Theo almost took a step backwards to keep the distance.

Almost.

“But you kept me here. Why am I still fucking here, Theo?”

The words left his mouth before his brain had a chance to even consider them.

“Because you fucking left me before I was fucking done with you!”

Theo’s chest heaved, as he stared down at you. The room became painfully silent, the only sound being Theo’s breathing. You were holding your breath.

“What does that mean?”

Theo didn’t hesitate for a moment.

“You left me to join the Order. You left me behind and I went bloody maniacal. I didn’t know a person could be touch starved for a specific set of hands, but your fingers burned their prints into my skin and I can’t get them to goddamn heal. And then Mattheo dropped you on my fucking door step and it was like I was an imprisoned man who just felt the warmth of the sun for the first time in years.”

You were frozen, staring at him like a deer in headlights.

“Theo…” A breathy whisper.

Theo shook his head, feeling a mix of anger and desperation in his head and heart. When he spoke, his voice was more calm this time, taking a low tone.

“If love were a language then the only one I know how to speak is the one we wrote together. I couldn’t lose you again. I can’t lose you again.”

It was unclear who moved first. Maybe Theo. Maybe you. Maybe both. But somehow, the distance between the two of you closed, and Theo’s mouth was crashing against yours.

His left hand was on the small of your back, the other on the back of your head. His fingers weaved through your hair with a firm grip, as if to keep you from pulling away. Your hands were on his cheeks, lightly cradling his head between your palms as your fingertips teased the beginnings of his hairline.

“I love you,” He said in a silent voice, his lips still pressed against yours in the desperate kiss. “I never stopped.”

“I love you too.” Your words came without a sliver of hesitation.

His tongue parted your lips, as your fingers moved to the back of his head. A groan forced its way up his throat. Your nails against his scalp drove him insane. It always had. Theo knew you knew that well.

And with that, he pushed you onto the bed.

“So…”

Theo closes his eyes at the sound of Mattheo’s voice. His steps are slow as they walk up the pathway of Nott Manor. In an effort to prolong the inevitable, Theo pulls a cigarette from his pocket, setting it between his lips before lighting it with his wand.

“We don’t have a choice, do we?”

Theo looks up at the sky as he blows a plume of smoke upwards to join the clouds. He can’t look at Mattheo.

“No,” He finally says. “We don’t.”

Mattheo pulls a smoke of his own out, lighting it before taking a deep inhale. The only sounds in the air are the wind and his exhale.

“What if we just stopped aiding them?” He suggested after a beat too long of silence. “They’re losing. They need the information we’re feeding them. A few weeks without it would have them feeding out of our palms.”

Theo considers this as he plops down on the top step leading onto the porch. The cold from the wood seeps through his trousers.

Not that his body held any warmth to begin with. Not since he walked out of that bar.

“We don’t have a few weeks.”

Another cloud fills the air.

“The Dark Lord wants Malfoy back now.”

Theo’s heart already feels hollow as he thinks about what he is getting ready to do.

Mattheo paces the cobblestone pathway, running his fingers through his curls as he takes another long drag of his cigarette.

“There has to be a way.”

Theo studies his friend. There’s very few people Mattheo holds loyalty to. The Order wasn’t on the list, despite the way they were risking everything to help them. The other Death Eaters didn’t have it. Hell, even his own father only held enough of Mattheo’s loyalty to keep him alive. Not enough for it to matter.

But Mattheo, from the moment they met until this moment in front of Nott Manor, was always fiercely loyal to Theo. And the way he desperately tries to come up with a solution to fix this for Theo pulls at his heart.

Because his loyalty to Theo also extends to you. When Theo told Mattheo that he was planning to betray Voldemort’s army in an effort to end the war and keep you with him, Mattheo wasted no time in joining him. No questions asked.

Mattheo was willing to risk his head to keep you safe if that was what Theo needed. And in this moment, Theo knew he didn’t thank his friend enough.

His hands shake slightly as he brings the cigarette back to his mouth.

“I don’t think there is.”

He doesn’t want to sound as defeated as he does. But as his mind runs a million kilometers a second, it still comes up short on a way of getting out of this.

Mattheo shakes his head angrily.

“This is bullshit.”

And Theo says nothing, his gaze fixed on the ground as he finishes his cigarette, and plans what he’s going to say once he goes inside.

Oh Merlin, do I really have to leave?

Theo sat on the edge of his bed, staring down at your sleeping form. Your back was facing him, the blanket low enough to show the bare skin of your upper torso.

He swallowed hard.

Five minutes. Just another five minutes.

But he knew he wouldn’t stop at five.

He was in his Death Eater robes, dressed to leave. This meeting wasn’t one he could afford to miss, and yet, watching you sleep in his bed was enough to make him at least consider it.

Reaching over, he traced the lines of your right scapula, moving down to the left, feeling your smooth skin and shoulder blades beneath his fingertips. Your body rose and fell with every breath you took, but you did not stir at his touch. He brushed your hair down to the side so it all fell concurrently onto the sheets.

Every time he tried to stand, his legs would defy him.

Bloody hell, this is impossible, he thought to himself.

The temptation to kiss you was strong, but he resisted. He didn’t want to wake you, because then you would know he was leaving, and then you’d ask questions. One’s he didn’t yet want to offer up the answers to.

You didn’t know what he was about to do.

The door creaked open, making Theo jump. Mattheo stood at the threshold, also in his robes. His eyes flitted between his friend and you, before they settled on Theo again. All he did was nod, a gesture that Theo returned, before turning and leaving once again.

A sigh forcing its way out of his lungs, Theo stood up from the bed. Before walking out the door, he threw one last fleeting glance your way.

This better fucking work.

Once the door to his bedroom was shut, Theo walked through the manor in a flash, before finding Mattheo standing in the front garden. His friend gave him a look, and it was not lost on Theo the anxiety in his expression.

“Are you sure about this?”

Mattheo’s words hung in the air, swirling around above them with the wind. Theo slowly let his head fall backwards as he stared at the sky. For once in his life, his thoughts weren’t racing. He was confident in this decision. He had never been more confident about anything.

“I’m sure.”

No more words were said.

Grabbing Mattheo’s forearm, the two men apparated. When they reappeared, it was in an empty warehouse in Sussex. Windows lined the walls just a meter or so below the ceiling. The walls themselves were painted an off white colour that left them looking dirty, with hand prints and muck dusting the paint. It felt too big, in Theo’s opinion. If this were to become a regular thing, they’d need something smaller. With seats, preferably.

The two got to work, placing wards and disillusionment charms everywhere they could. Before they knew it, a whole hour had passed, and they were just finishing up.

“You know I hate this right?” Mattheo asked as they regrouped in the center of the giant room. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Not what we’re doing necessarily but this meeting?”

Theo had to fight the urge to laugh.

“You think I like this any more than you do?”

Mattheo shook his head as he looked around the warehouse, taking in the metal beams that lined the ceiling.

Theo took the moment of quiet to get his thoughts in order. Ever since he sent that damn letter, he had dreaded this moment. And now it was here, and though he had spent countless hours stewing and preparing, right now, he felt completely naked and defenseless.

A sensation filled the air. Theo looked over at the same time that Mattheo did. The door creaked open, the sound echoing off the walls and around the air, before Hermione Granger, followed by Ron Weasley, the Weasley twins, Dean Thomas, Ginny Weasley, another Weasley they couldn’t place, and the blonde Triwizard Tournament champion from fourth year who Theo, for the life of him, could not remember the name of.

“All Gryffindors, mostly Weasels,” Mattheo mumbled under his breath. “Too much bloody red around here.”

Theo fought the impulse to laugh.

The crowd of Order members approached them, all looking apprehensive. Granger stepped forward, her eyes jumping between the two of them.

“Nott.” When her eyes bounced back to Mattheo, the disdain became more apparent. When she spoke again, she spat the word out. “Riddle.”

Mattheo gritted his teeth as Theo took a step forward, saving them the risk of what would happen if Mattheo were the next to speak.

“Granger.”

He debated on greeting the others, but decided against it. There simply wasn’t time for pleasantries. Besides, Theo didn’t particularly want to be polite to them. And he knew that Mattheo wanted nothing more than to raze the whole warehouse just because he saw that familiar flash of ginger hair one time, let alone several. So it was probably best to get right to the point.

“What’s this about?” The unfamiliar Weasley called out.

It was hard for Theo not to grow annoyed. The amount of people in the building had him feeling overwhelmed, though he couldn’t exactly blame him. How else should they have responded? It could’ve been a trap, for all they knew.

The moment Theo reached into his back pocket, a swarm of wands were pointing in his direction. In his periphery, he could see Mattheo’s fists clench. though he was grateful that his friend didn’t immediately start spitting off hexes and Unforgivables. Theo froze more out of politeness than fear, then slowed his movements down. With the same speed as a snail, he pulled out a couple of scrolls, tossing it on the floor halfway between where he stood and where she stood. The wands all moved to point at the scroll in the same way they would point at a bomb.

“Those are plans for upcoming raids on your safe houses,” Theo explained. “Now you can be better prepared.”

The reaction was comical. At least, to Theo, it was.

Granger stared at the scrolls, her mouth agape. Ron and Ginny kept their wands pointed at it in a way that suggested they were convinced it was anything but a scroll. The twins backed away from it entirely. Dean Thomas stared not at the scroll, but at Mattheo specifically, confusion painting his expression. The unfamiliar Weasley with the scars on his face jumped away when Theo threw the scroll, and had not moved since. And the blonde looked like she wanted to approach it, but was too afraid to let her feet move.

Granger was the first to speak.

“Why should we trust you?”

A draft filled the room.

“Trust us or don’t,” Mattheo quipped. “You’re losing. You’ve been losing. Pathetically. We’re guaranteeing you a win right now. Whether you decide to take that chance is up to you.”

The silence was deafening as the members of the Order all exchanged looks, looking absolutely flabbergasted by this turn of events. It was clear they were trying to have a conversation through their facial expressions. Every muscle in Theo’s body tensed as he waited for their reaction.

This has to work, He thought to himself.

This will work.

“What do you get out of this?”

Granger’s words hung in the hair, and though the question was for the both of them, her eyes were pointedly trained on Mattheo. When the two Death Eaters remained silent, she continued.

“You’re betraying your families. Your fathers. What could you possibly have to gain, besides maybe a pardon from execution if we win?” She sneers. “And even that isn’t guaranteed.”

Visions of you lying in his bed, only covered by the duvet cover, overtook Theo’s head. He found himself wondering if you’d woken up yet. If you’d eaten. If you’d slept well. If you’d realised he’d left. The lump in his throat felt like a bolder when he swallowed it down. His fingertips burned with the feeling of your bare skin underneath them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Theo sees Mattheo glance over at him.

This is, after all, Theo’s doing. So it’s his question to answer.

“Family isn’t everything,” Theo said in a low tone. “And some people are worth yielding for.”

Rise.

Fall.

Rise.

Fall.

It takes Theo a full half hour before he finally finds you in the manor. Here you are, curled up on the couch in the library with one of his robes covering you like a blanket. Your back faces him as your face is nuzzled against the fabric of the back of the couch.

Deja vu hits him hard.

Instead of waking you, Theo sits on the ottoman beside you and counts the amount of breaths you take. At the moment, he’s up to about sixty since he started. It’s easier on his heart to sit in the silence, only filled with your quiet snores.

It’s easier for his heart to handle than what it knows he has to do.

But he knows that he’s only prolonging the inevitable.

Letting out a deep sigh, Theo reaches over and places his hand on your shoulder, gently shaking you awake.

“Hey,” He says in a low voice in an attempt to not startle you. “It’s me. Wake up.”

Your head springs upward, looking around at the back of the couch before you roll over to face Theo. The way your eyes light up at the sight of him makes his heart ache in a way he’ll never be able to describe. It’s like he misses you before you’ve even left.

A soft yawn takes over your face for just a brief moment, and is quickly replaced with a tired smile.

“How’d it go?”

Theo bites down on the inside of his cheek so hard that he can taste blood.

I can’t do this.

You have to do this.

“Not great.”

The smile fades from your face. As quickly as your still waking up body allows, you sit up, rolling over to face him entirely. Theo sits up straight as you pause, watching as the wheels turn in your head to process what he had said.

“What happened?” Your voice is so small, and something about it gives Theo the impression that you already know where this conversation is about to go. He sighs heavily. The pain in his upper back makes it feel like he has the entire world on his shoulders.

“They wouldn’t return Malfoy to us,” He explains. In an effort to hide the shake in his voice, he speaks slowly. “They… they had specific conditions for his release.”

The hush blanketing the room is only pacified by the pounding in Theo’s ears.

If there is one thing about you that Theo knows deeply, it’s that you can’t keep your emotions off your face. So it’s to his great dismay that he watches your expression shift from confusion, to thoughtful, to realisation.

“They want me, don’t they?”

The words feel like a bullet each, piercing through Theo’s chest and implanting straight into his heart.

I can’t bloody do this.

“Yes.”

Suddenly, the quiet that overtakes the room is less welcome as that one single word hangs over the two of you like a storm cloud threatening a downpour. The way Theo’s mind runs a million kilometers a second makes it so deafening. He can see the conflict on your face as you consider what needs to be done. The downward cast of your sleep stained eyes and the way you curl your lip in thought makes him want to burn the entire Order to the ground so he doesn’t have to even consider losing you.

He sucks in through his nose as the hand on his knee clenches tightly into a fist.

When your eyes drift back up to meet his, matching resolve in your expression, Theo has to swallow down the urge to cry.

“When?”

His nails dig into his palm.

“Mattheo’s going to take you once you’re ready.”

A frown crosses over your face.

“You're not going?”

Theo can’t recall another time in his life where he’s felt as broken as he does now, looking into your sad stricken and confused eyes.

He’s losing you again.

“I can’t.” He swallows the lump in his throat that makes his words come out choked. “I… I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

He lets the rest of his thoughts remain left unsaid. That he would kill them before they could even leave the area with you. That he’d kill every last one of them for taking the only good thing he’d had during this god forsaken war. The entire reason he had broken his loyalties to the Dark Lord in an attempt to put it to an end.

And now, he has to watch you leave him.

Again.

Anguish and surprise conflict your face, making him take your hand in his and hold it tightly.

“I’ll figure it out, okay?” The desperation in his voice is so palpable that you can feel it bleeding onto the skin of your fingertips. Theo’s eyes never leave yours. “I’ll finish this. For you. For us.”

You fill the spaces between his fingers with your own.

You haven’t even left yet, but Theo begins to dread the ghost of your touch that will be left behind once you are. It’s a feeling he knows too intimately.

“What if we lose?” You ask him in a soft whisper. “Or what if one of us doesn’t make it?”

The air leaves Theo’s lungs, evaporating from the heat of your words.

He wants to dig a bunker and hide you in it, keeping you far away from the sins of the war and the pain of ever leaving his side. He wants to blow up the world and watch from space with you on his arm. He wants to do anything, literally anything that would take away the hurt in your eyes.

Images of the many ways he wishes to kill the Dark Lord and end this devastation flash through his mind.

“I need you to hear me when I say this,” Theo says in a slow tone. “I will do whatever it takes to ensure my return to you. Even if that means I have to blow through the gates of hell myself and crawl out of my grave. Make no bloody mistake. I will come back for you.”

#theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fanfiction #theo nott fanfiction #golden trio era #golden trio era fanfiction #.txt

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witchofthesouls · 7 months ago

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Bayverse squandered their "Earth is Unicron" subplot and so many characters.

It would have been so perfect to delve into the really freaky and disturbing lore that humans created across the world...

And found out it was real.

Not just King Arthur and Merlin, but the faint remains of Atlantis, the echoes of mad laughter from a revelry in ancient forests, the fox messengers of Inari traveling everywhere, strange and terrible shapes twisting beneath the ocean waves or off the coast of the Diego Garcia base, ghost towns filled with decrepit homes and buildings with the odd sense between hope and despair as they wait, national statues or ancient sculptures that are actually once living people and beings but transformed into marble and rock and sleeping until they feel the brush of the Matrix or the Allspark, wide and empty stretches of road with no one else and GPS glitches along with time (minutes that go on forever, every so slowly, painfully) as they pass the same canyon formation or homemade sign over and over and over-

I live and love the Other aus too much to give them up, so-

Give me a Mikaela Banes who has become a Dragon herself with the blessings by a Primordial (the Great Shadow, Carnage Incarnate, Unmaker's Mirror) that devoured worlds and remade them as she's the one that offered herself as tribute upon their altar.

Give me a Sam Witwicky who has seen the universe in all of its terrible and wicked glory, beastly and divine in the transcendent music that the Allspark weaves in its own song in the grand orchestra -he has seen, he has heard, and he cannot help but remember snippets beneath the breeze that rustles the trees and the soft patter of rain upon his bedroom window and haunts all his dreams and every waking moment because, despite his vocal adamance, he can never return to normalcy.

Give me Judy Taylor that tries to outrun the monsters in her family's shadows and the ghosts that howl for vengeance and protection in her childhood home by eloping with a Ron Witwicky with a similar madness in his own bloodline.

Give me a William Lennox whose luck is too uncanny, too fortuitous, especially in hindsight, as he feels the very signs his own grandmother would foretell as she hangs trinkets in the branches and leaves sweets on the porch.

("Long ago, Man made peace with Magic.")

#transformers #bayverse #transformers bayverse #mikaela banes #sam witwicky #judy witwicky #ron witwicky #william lennox #unicron #magic #fantasy #maccadam #horror #fic ideas #my writing #look the writers are going “Earth is a reflection of a god of chaos #then FEED ME #nature is already illogical and chaotic #i want the Cybertronians and modern humans to freak the fuck out that magic is real

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iamgonnagetyouback · 12 days ago

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Heyyy are you requests open?? I have 2 requests for 2 different characters! Recently I just discovered the Ron Weasley Lore and I’m just like why was I sleeping on Ron!!! But could you write something about Ron. Maybe like sorta like glimpse of their relationship throughout the HP years and an aftermath. Ik it’s super long but I love your writing!!!

I’ll send the send one separately cause this one is too long now 😂

ron weasley x reader with your relationship throughout the years

First Year

You and Hermione hit it off immediately – you’re both brilliant, maybe a bit too good at charms and way too nosey. The two of you become an inseparable duo, and Ron? Well, he’s not impressed. He rolls his eyes every time you and Hermione get into a lively debate or excitedly huddle up to compare notes.

“Do you ever stop talking?” he huffs after one particularly long conversation about broomstick history. You give him your best glare, and he just smirks, calling you a “walking library.”

Yeah, he’s not on your favorite people list either.

Second Year

Somehow, Ron’s teasing just gets worse. He sits next to you in Potions and constantly pokes at your side, whispering, “Did you know you snore when you sleep?”

“I do not!” you protest, swatting his hand away.

“Sure, sure,” he grins, leaning back smugly. “Better ask Hermione if you’re not convinced. Or maybe everyone in Gryffindor – they probably heard you all the way up in the boys’ dormitory.”

He even pulls your pigtail one day during Herbology, making you squeal in indignation. He laughs, but you notice Hermione is side-eyeing the whole scene, trying (and failing) to hide a smirk.

Third Year

It's the start of term, and you notice something. Ron’s grown taller, his hair’s more auburn than red in the sunlight, and when he laughs – it’s oddly... nice?

You shake the thought out of your head and give him a harsh glare for no reason as you slam your bag down beside him at breakfast. He jumps and gives you a wide-eyed look.

“What did I do?” he mutters, genuinely looking confused as you stomp off in a huff.

Hermione raises her eyebrows at you later. “Are you sure you don’t have a thing for him?” she teases, barely able to keep her laughter down.

“Absolutely not!” you protest, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Fourth Year

The Yule Ball is coming, and Ron’s been annoying you even more than usual – something about him asking Padma sends you into an unexpected spiral of jealousy. And then, to top it all off, you overhear him fuming about someone dancing with Viktor Krum, and it all clicks in the worst way.

“Oh, of course he likes Hermione,” you mutter to yourself, feeling your chest ache as you walk away before he can say anything else.

The next day, Ron finds you red-eyed, sitting by the lake. He and Harry ask if you’re okay, and in a burst of frustration, you shout, “You two are absolutely clueless!” before storming off.

Ron scratches his head, looking at Harry in complete bafflement. “What did I do?”

Fifth Year

By now, you’ve decided the best way to deal with Ron is to just... not deal with him at all. You start spending more time with Luna, who offers you the peace and acceptance you need. Ron, however, notices the shift.

“Since when are you and Loony Lovegood so close?” he mutters one day, his tone more annoyed than curious.

“Since I found out she’s a better friend than you,” you snap back, not even sparing him a glance.

Harry raises his eyebrows at Ron, while Hermione sighs, clearly fed up with the tension between you two.

“Honestly, Ron, are you ever going to sort this out?” Hermione whispers later. But Ron just shrugs, as though he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to sort out.

Sixth Year

This year, you make a brave decision: move on from Ron. And Draco, of all people, catches your eye. The two of you start dating casually – it’s friendly, flirty, and you like his mischievous sense of humor. But when Ron catches wind of it, he’s absolutely fuming.

“You’re dating Malfoy?” he demands, storming up to you one day in the library.

“Oh, now you care who I’m with?” you retort, rolling your eyes.

Draco smirks, stepping beside you with a cool, “Problem, Weasley?”

You and Draco part ways amicably by the end of the year, but Hermione nearly loses her patience with Ron’s grumbling. “For Merlin’s sake, Ron! She’s single now,” she all but yells at him. “Stop sulking and do something about it.”

Seventh Year

Finally, it’s here – the year everything changes. Between the chaos of the war and the danger lurking around every corner, Ron finally realizes his feelings. He catches himself watching you more than usual, every smile and laugh searing into his mind.

One night, he pulls you aside, eyes downcast. “I... I’ve been a git,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper.

“What was that?” you tease, crossing your arms.

Ron’s cheeks turn red, but he continues, “I’m trying to say... I’m sorry. For everything.” His voice softens, vulnerability flickering in his gaze. “And... I’ve missed you. Really.”

You bite your lip, the old pain and confusion melting away. “Well, it took you long enough to realize that,” you whisper, offering him a small smile.

Ron lets out a shaky laugh, then reaches for your hand. “Can I... would you... go to Hogsmeade with me? Maybe?”

“Maybe,” you reply, and with a teasing grin, “If you buy me a Butterbeer.”

He grins back, squeezing your hand tightly. And as you walk back to the castle, Harry shoots you both a knowing, smug look, while Hermione just shakes her head, finally relieved.

Aftermath

“Dad, you were so clueless!” your daughter exclaims, eyes wide as she stares between you and Ron.

Ron lets out a bark of laughter, ruffling her hair affectionately. “Oi! I was not clueless!” He glances at you, chuckling. “Right, love? I mean, you were just as lost!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Because I distinctly remember somebody storming up to me in the library, fuming about Draco Malfoy.”

Ron’s cheeks turn a shade of red as he leans back, giving a sheepish grin. “I was just looking out for you. Malfoy had an… attitude.”

Your daughter’s giggles fill the room. “Dad, I think you just didn’t want Mum dating anyone else!”

“Okay, maybe there was a bit of that,” he admits, winking at you. “But your mum wasn’t exactly clear either. I mean, there were days she’d stomp off before I’d even said ‘hello!’”

“Oh, that’s true,” you say, giving a playful sigh. “All because of a certain Gryffindor boy with no clue how to express his feelings.”

“Hey!” he protests, throwing his hands up in surrender. “I was just busy fighting off trolls, acromantulas, and basilisks, you know? Didn’t exactly leave time for romance.”

Your daughter grins, eyes twinkling. “And then what, Mum? When did you finally realize Dad was totally in love with you?”

You exchange a knowing smile with Ron, your hands automatically finding each other. “Seventh year,” you reply softly. “After everything we'd been through, he finally told me how he felt.”

Ron squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your fingers. “And she finally stopped running off every time I came near her,” he teases, looking down at your daughter. “And then, we just… never let go.”

Your daughter beams, resting her chin on her hands. “You guys are so cute.”

Ron laughs, giving her a light nudge. “Oi, enough with the ‘cute!’ Now, do you want to hear about the time your mum hexed me because she thought I called her a know-it-all?”

“Oh, yes!” she cries, practically bouncing. “Tell me everything!”

And with that, you and Ron launch into another one of your Hogwarts stories, the laughter of your little family echoing warmly through the room.

first time writing for ron and i loved it!!

#ron weasley fluff #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley angst #ronald weasley #ron weasley #ivy's soft scribbles ೀ #whispers from 👀

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albaskies · 8 months ago

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Tears ricochet

Also on AO3

It occurs to her all at once, her nose buried in his chest, his arms tight around her shoulders.

‘You’re alright,’ he whispers. ‘You’re alright.’

When she looks up to him, sees his eyes shut and his tense lips, she immediately knows he is not trying to reassure her. He is reassuring himself.

He’d found her in the Common Room, not long after he’d disappeared with Professor McGonagall behind the doors of the hospital wing. He’d walked straight to her as soon as he’d seen her, ignoring Ron and Hermione’s worried gazes, and he’d held like he had not seen her since before he’d left the school with Dumbledore. He’d clung to her like he’d only just realised that they had been apart during a battle, that he’d been too far away to protect her, that he cannot be in two places at once. And it pains him, she can tell, it takes his breath away.

This must be it, she thinks - she knows. She clenches her fists, pressing her body onto his only for him to feel that she’s alive, she’s safe, she’s real. She won’t leave him, not until he’ll ask her to.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stupid and noble.

No, she understands. Really, she does. It must’ve been somewhere hidden in the fine print on dating the Chosen One. Right under He will set off to top-secret missions with old wizards that end up dying, it’d say: He’ll push you away to keep you safe, and then: He’ll leave you behind, whatever that means. And finally: You must let him.

After all, her feelings are irrelevant in the bigger picture. There’s a war raging out there, for Merlin’s sake. Why would she even waste time fantasising about a boy she fancies when Dumbledore has died and her brother has been maimed? It’s only selfish to even fathom those silly feelings in a time like this, right? Right?

She forces her head back under the hot stream of the shower, lets the water flood her face and blur her vision, trying harder than herself to shut down that one intrusive thought she knows has now started creeping in the back of her mind. But she can’t. She can’t because she already knows, not so deep down, that he’s not just some boy she fancies, that her feelings aren’t silly, that what they share is there and it’s real, whatever it is.

Her mouth tastes bitter now. Ironic how Tom has ruined this for them, too.

She tells Hermione the following morning, when the boys have run off to find some lunch for them to eat under a tree. She’s not sure what she expects to get out of her, but she takes a shot at it anyway.

‘He’s going to leave me.’

Hermione opens her mouth but nothing comes out, her eyes sombre. Ginny realises she has been holding her breath.

‘You all are.’

Still, the warm July sun bathes the castle grounds as if summer does not care, as if it is all some cruel joke.

When it finally happens, at least she is not caught off guard. She manages to hold back her tears, just as she promised herself on countless occasions, because he does not deserve any more pain. He does not deserve any of it.

Funny how she is the one who is getting her heart broken, but she is still more concerned about his well being than anything else. Maybe this is what love is, she finally realises. It must be.

She reckons this is not the best time to tell him. Wonders if she’ll ever get the chance to.

On the train ride back home, she’s finally alone and free to let out all those tears she’s so stubbornly managed to hold back until now. She’s only human, after all.

She feels it all so distinctly now, the pain, the grief, the hurt, the hopelessness. But there is something almost peaceful about the deep-rooted, ever-present, plain old sense of acceptance that sits right on top of her stomach.

She knows it too well that the time has come for the Chosen One to prevail over Harry. The Chosen One has things to do, riddles to solve (Really, Ginny?, she thinks, half-smiling despite herself), and Harry has to oblige, head down, feelings buried, a wasted adolescence. It must be hard to love the Chosen One, that self-sacrificing, reckless, stubborn, noble git. But loving Harry, the real Harry, is the easiest thing in the world.

As for her - well, she knows she deeply cares for them both. Hell with that, she knows she loves them both. And, yes, she understands them both. She knows all too well what her role is, in all this mess. She really does know that the Chosen One had no choice but to break up with her before doing whatever he is set to do. She also knows that Harry never would have.

This is the only thought that will keep her going even months from now, when she will be fighting her own resistance battle.

As soon as she sets foot into her home, the all-too-familiar smells flooding her senses, she just knows she won’t be able to sit through an entire dinner without giving away too much. She’s too tired to lie and pretend.

‘I’m going to bed,’ she mutters to nobody in particular. ‘I’m not hungry,’ and: ‘Yes, I’m fine, I’m just knackered.’

Her mother stiffens, ready to let out a protest, but she turns on her heels towards the stairs before anyone manages to say anything. She can feel Ron’s eyes on the back of her neck, just as she’s felt his silent and constant gaze since they got off the train not so long ago. And when she hears his heavy steps behind her, following hers, she’s not even surprised.

They stop on the first floor landing, just in front of her bedroom door.

‘I’m fine, Ron,’ she quickly tells him, suddenly worrying that he’ll jump right into one of those how dare my best friend hurt my sister kind of rants. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

But instead, when she looks at him she realises that he’s not going to do any of that. His expression is miserable, sure, but it doesn’t take long for her to learn that he understands, too.

‘I’m so sorry, Ginny,’ he blurts out, no need to add more.

And that’s when it hits her, again, but much stronger this time. Maybe it’s because it’s someone else who is putting it in front of her, making it more real, or maybe it’s because she’s back home and the void left by Harry's absence is slowly starting to burn a hole in her heart. Maybe both, or maybe neither. It doesn’t even matter, that's for sure.

‘I’m sorry, too.’

He must have felt that something has changed, her voice has shifted and her eyes have filled with tears. She can read it all over his face - the distress, the panic, the what do I do now. She reckons she hasn’t cried in front of him since that train ride on her way to school in her second year. Must be new for him, must feel weird.

But even if his expression doesn’t seem to have a clue, his body certainly does - he stretches out his arm towards her and she grabs it right away, as if they have never really got rid of the long forgone habit of holding each other. He engulfs her in a warm hug, the Big Brother Hug, crumbling the last piece of guard she has managed to hold up until now. And then she just cries - she cries ugly, sobs and snot and all that. She feels like she’s twelve all over again.

Later, in her childhood bedroom, she sinks deep into her bed, ready to doze off into what she hopes will be dreamless oblivion. In that dark, quiet stillness, she can’t stop her mind from wandering to a time (or a fantasy, she isn’t quite sure) when this will all be over. He will slip into the very same tiny bed, squeezed right next to her, his hands gripped on her waist, lips pressed onto hers, then on her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. Or maybe - no, maybe she will rest her head on his chest, listening to the sound of him breathing, and he will gently stroke her hair as if he’s never really stopped. Or maybe (and here she can’t help but feel a soft blush tickling her cheeks), maybe their bodies and souls will find each other, bare, warm, breathless.

‘I can’t believe I got this lucky,’ he’ll tell her, you know, after. ‘I can’t believe I get to live this life.’

‘Been dreaming of getting in my bed for long, now, have you,’ she’ll tease, her sardonic tone merely hiding her immense relief.

He’ll let out a small smile - small, yes, but finally light, free, and easy, so, so easy.

‘All those Veelas didn’t quite hit’, he’ll draw some imaginary quotation marks in the air and throw her a knowing look. ‘The spot, you know.’

She’ll snort a laughter in disbelief, and she’ll be so fucking glad, because as though everything will have changed, so much will have just stayed the same.

#first thing I've written in 10 years #not sure where I found the courage to post it #I needed to let it out #hinny #harry x ginny #angst #ginny weasley #harry potter #half-blood prince #deathly hallows #missing moment #I guess?#how does this work #help a girl out

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forthetwins · 8 months ago

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george weasley — twirling by the stairs.

the yule ball was in full swing, the great hall adorned with enchanted snowflakes and twinkling lights.

you found yourself swept up in the magic of the evening, dancing the night away with george weasley. his laughter was infectious, his steps graceful as you twirled around the dance floor together.

as the night wore on, the ache in your feet grew more pronounced. with a sigh of relief, you slipped off your heels and sat down on the steps leading out of the great hall, rubbing your sore feet.

george, ever attentive, noticed your discomfort and joined you on the stairs, "hey," he says.

"hey," you parrot.

george plopped down beside you, one eyebrow raised in amusement as he glanced at your bare feet, "feet giving you trouble, are they?"

you smiled softly, nodding, "just a bit sore,"

george glanced down at your feet, his expression thoughtful. "the dance doesn't have to end here, you know. would you like to dance some more?"

he grinned mischievously. with that, george removed his shoes and handed them to you, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "here, wear these. and i'll take yours,"

you couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but you slipped on george's shoes nonetheless, finding them surprisingly comfortable.

meanwhile, george slipped into your heels with surprising ease, though he staggered slightly as he stood up.

"you can walk in those?" you ask.

"me and fred. we practices with ginny's and mum's heels. it was long time ago tho,"

you laughed, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest looking at the him — who was uneasy — as he walked.

"y'know what? i'm better off bare foot," he says, gently removing your heels.

extending his arm, bowing like a prince for you to take his hand — together, you made your way to a secluded corner by the staircase, where the two of you could dance in peace.

however, the peaceful moment was interrupted by the arrival of a few girls who sat on the stairs nearby. one of them was crying, while the others two tried to comfort her, their voices hushed but filled with concern.

then, to your surprise, ron appeared, followed closely by hermione, who was clearly not pleased with him. "off to bed, both of you," she says to ron and harry, her voice carried across the hallway, her tone being firm.

you and george exchanged a glance, both of you feeling a pang of disappointment at the sudden intrusion.

but george was quick to speak up, his voice filled with determination, "hey," he said softly, catching your attention.

"hmn?" you replied, turning to look at him.

"let's go somewhere else," george suggested, "somewhere we can be alone."

#forthetwins — writings #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george x reader #george weasley #george weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred x reader #harry potter

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thegirlwhowrites642 · 1 year ago

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An unpopular hinny opinion?

You know what's funny? I have like fifty different takes I could give you, but I'm going to go with something that's been living rent free in my head since I wrote Harry and Ginny's reunion.

I believe in the first months after the war, Harry wouldn't be particularly fond of Ginny's friendship with Neville, I believe he would be jealous (not because he would actually have anything to worry about of course). I don't think it's something that would ever become a problem, but if during those months someone had asked Harry if he wanted to hex Neville, he would've waited a second before saying "no".

But this opinion of mine is based on what?

Neville, like Luna, has always been closer to Ginny than Harry, this is not a mystery. I've always found very telling for example how in OotP, Neville and Luna get involved in the Ministry business because of Ginny, in contrast, Ron and Hermione get involved because of Harry. Harry goes because of Sirius, and Ginny underlines how she wants to go because of Sirius. It's a very significant moment that defines the dynamics we'll see again in DH.

Neville's closeness to Ginny is also remarked by Ginny being the one reminding James to say "hi" to Neville in the epilogue.

The thing is though: while Neville and Ginny are friends, they aren't close enough in the first six books to justify Neville being Albus' godfather. So, of course, the experience that would explain Neville being appointed that role is Neville and Ginny's year leading the rebellion at Hogwarts (also in the perspective that an epilogue should be justified by the previously told story). This means that Harry left Ginny and Neville's relationship before the hunt as a good friendship and came back to a much closer bond. From Harry's perspective, it's a bit like it happened in a second. In a way, to him, it's unjustified, and therefore on some level menacing.

Now, this is the premise, but there are other elements.

Neville had already been once a potential love interest for Ginny: when they went to the Yule Ball together. A date for Ginny that was carefully chosen by the author to not trigger any reviling feelings for Ginny in Harry. Neville at the time was someone Harry considered a loser, in no way a potential threat. And yet even back then, Harry's first worry, after he started dancing, was making sure Ginny was having a terrible time with Neville (lol). [I'm not saying Harry was in love with Ginny, but the first two books already establish a subconscious attraction towards Ginny]

After the war though, Neville is a war hero, and someone Harry has already recognised as valuable.

Plus, the idea that Neville was smart enough to ask Ginny to be his date goes to touch one of Harry's great regrets: not having noticed Ginny earlier.

With this am I saying that Harry doubts Ginny's love for him? No.

But the immediate post-war period is a very emotionally fragile one.

The simple fact that Neville and Ginny were involved in a dangerous situation together at Hogwarts is already potentially quite annoying to Harry. Not only is Harry used to being involved in anything dangerous that happens at Hogwarts, and not being part of this one thing would increase a sense of exclusion, but once Harry makes his peace with how in danger Ginny was during the war, the fact that Neville was there to protect her and he wasn't would annoy the hell out of him (he would also be grateful to Neville but that comes later). Harry's one priority in life is Ginny's safety and it's also a way in which he channels his love for her. I know it's a bit of a toxic male take, but I do think realistically Harry would live Neville's ability to be there for Ginny as a sort of "invasion of territory", protecting Ginny is his thing, during the war, it was the only way he had left to love her. The breakup is after all Harry's way of brainwashing himself into thinking that will keep Ginny safe.

Again, Harry would be aware that Ginny doesn't have romantic feelings for Neville, but sometimes a bit of jealousy can't be helped. Harry is possessive of Ginny, not in a toxic way, but let's put it this way: he's definitely on the spectrum's opposite side of a person who would want an open relationship.

I'm also quite sure that Ginny being someone any breathing creature drools after doesn't help to convince Harry Neville does not have feelings for her.

To summarise, the factors that would feed into Harry's jealousy would be a sense of inadequacy and a sense of exclusion from Ginny's life that he already displays in the sixth book. What originally started to trigger Harry's feelings for Ginny was the annoyance of not being a constant part of her life and the worry she was choosing someone else over him after years of subconsciously taking for granted she would never do that (any possible love interest of Ginny is never shown in a good romantic dynamic with Ginny until Dean, until Harry can be jealous because the story is ready for him to be).

#Imagine if #Harry chose to name his son after Snape because Ginny wanted Neville to be the godfather and Snape hated Neville #lol #ginny weasley #harry potter #harry x ginny #hinny

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awkward-halfhug · 4 months ago

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saving grace | warren peace x reader

summary: you have some bullying problems. Warren helps out

contents: Ron Wilson Bus Driver's daughter!reader x warren peace (because my sister said she wanted to see Ron Wilson mentioned and I said I can do u one better), cw bullying, chocolates, birdsong

2.4k

Bang. Bang bang. Your fists are softer than they should be against the thin metal. The knocking half hearted at this point.

This is the second month into the school year, and you've found yourelf in this exact scenario nearly every day. It's always right as you're heading to lunch. No matter where you happen to be, you're grabbed in broad daylight, hauled to your locker, and trapped there by one means or another, until you can figure your way out.

It's not the same people every time. They seem to rotate out. You think maybe they're on a schedule. Wonder if they coordinate with eachother and see what day is good for each of them. The idea makes you smile a bit, though it really shouldn't. Organized crime.

You don't always see who it is, but even if you do, it doesn't matter. Sky high doesn't have the best track record with this kind of thing. So, you mainly keep your predicament to yourself. Your teachers have enough to worry about, molding young superminds and all that. And your dad...you just really don't want your dad to worry.

It's not all bad though! Sometimes the cafeteria gets a bit too loud for you anyways. It can get pretty rowdy, especially when the students use their powers to show off to eachother (even though they're not supposed to outside of gym). So, really, a nice enclosed space isn't the worst place you could be, all things considered.

You sigh. It would be better if you had tater tots, though.

You hear footsteps down the hallway and perk up. Start banging your fist against your locker door in earnest.

"Excuse me? Hello?" You wait a moment and frown when there's no response. Try again.

"Would you mind opening my locker please? I'm inside of it!" Because that wasn't clear, surely.

"Whats the combination?" You hear, muffled. You grin in relief.

"It's 123"

Silence.

"Your locker combination is 123?" The voice is incredulous, maybe a little bit judgy.

"They find a way in anyway, it's easier for the janitor if I keep it simple so he can remember." You defend to the stranger through the metal.

You hear a sigh, and then the clicking of your lock, and then finally, the door opens.

The sight that greets you is not the last thing you expect to see, as it's not one of your bullies. But it's pretty close. Warren Peace is standing in front of you. The perpetually glaring, incredibly intimidating Warren Peace is your savior. Who would've thought?

You almost forget to climb out of your locker except he starts to look at you like you're stupid, and that's usually your cue to jump into action.

"Hi!" You say and he flinches. Too loud, woops.

Warren puts his hands in his pockets and turns to leave, this interaction apparently over for him.

You close your locker and hurry to catch up to him. "Thank you so much. I was getting hungry."

Warren nods. "Yeah, well..." He scratches the back of his neck.

It takes you a minute to realize you're headed outside.

"Did you already eat?" You ask.

"Lunch is almost over, so yeah."

You frown. There's probably not enough time for you to go get something and eat before fifth period. You brighten when you remember the chocolate your dad keeps in his mini lunch cooler. And you happen to be heading out that way.

"Do you like chocolate?"

"Why are you following me?" Warren looks put-out, but not for much longer, you decide.

"I'm thanking you."

"You already thanked me." He sighs.

"You didn't answer me. Do you like chocolate?" You persist. It's an important question, after all.

Warren pinches his lips together, looks like he's internally debating answering, and then reluctantly says "Yes." Before picking his pace up a bit so he's walking ahead of you out the school doors into the courtyard.

You speed up to match him, almost. "Good! Awesome. Follow me." You smile into his confused face and lock your arm around his before pulling him toward the school bus. He could get out of your hold easily, you're sure, but he doesn't, so he must be at least a little curious where you're going.

Your dad is on the other side of the bus when you arrive. You can see him practicing what might be karate moves under the shade of a big tree.

Warren looks less curious and more wary now as you tug his arm forward.

"What are you–?"

"Hey dad!"

You feel Warren startle beside you at the same time as you watch your dad startle in front of you. You watch him fall onto his butt after a particularly enthusiastic kick.

"Oww" your dad moans, and you grimace.

"Sorry."

He waves you off as he stands, giving you a smile through the pain. "It's okay, kiddo." You watch his eyes widen when he notices Warren beside you and he straightens his posture.

"Oh! Hi there, I'm Ron Wilson, bus driver", your dad whips out a business card and hands it to a bemused Warren. "And this little ray of sunshine's dad."

Your dad smiles at you proudly and you smile back. His eyes then flicker down to where your arm is locked around Warren's and a a weird expression crosses his face.

You flush and drops Warren's arm. Warren rolls his shoulders back like he'd been held captive against his will, which is just silly, and could finally stretch his muscles.

Warren glares at you a little as he makes eye contact with you before nodding at your dad. "Warren."

"You guys new friends?" Your dad asks, less excited than he usually is to meet new people. His eyes were still staring at where your arm was around Warren's.

Are you friends now? You're not sure. You don't remember the last time you made a friend, but a friendly gesture seems like the start of a friendship, right? That's how it was in kindergarten, you think.

"Warren helped me out with something at school today" you feel Warren give you a look and ignore it, "and I wanted to give him some chocolate to thank him. Do you have more in your lunch? I'll pay you back."

Your dad's features seem to clear up a little. He looks at Warren's eyes instead of his arm. "Oh, well that was nice of you! Sure, sure. What do you like, Hershey? Nestlé?" He goes to his cooler in the bus and starts rummaging around to find the goods.

You look up at Warren with an excited smile, and you watch as his glare loses heat almost reluctantly.

He rolls his eyes and leans toward you slightly. Murmurs as your dad is still in the bus. "I had stuff to do, y'know. Why am I out here meeting your dad?"

You frown. "It's not a proper thank you without sugar." You tell him. You want to add duh but think that'd probably be rude.

He snorts. "Ah. Well then, of course. Proceed." He says it sarcastically, but he's still standing there so you know he wants the chocolate just as much as any sane person would.

Your dad backs out of the bus with his arms full of mini chocolates. Smiling, he gestures Warren closer with his head.

"Well, don't be shy!" Your dad jostles his armfull until Warren slowly walks over and takes some chocolate, looking pained. The effect is lost though, when he takes his time sorting through the chocolates until he finds one he wants.

Warren starts to back away but when your dad says "take two!" Warren doesn't hesitate.

"Uh, thanks. Sir." The words are clumsy in Warren's mouth and it makes you smile.

"Thank you dad!" You say as you take two for yourself. "See you later." You give him a kiss on the cheek and lead Warren back to the school where fifth period is probably starting.

You walk in silence through the doors and hide your chocolates in sync when you see Mr. Boy in the hallway.

The bell rings and when you turn to say goodbye to Warren, he's already gone.

———

It's a week later before you really see eachother again. You have gym together but nothing else, what with your ability to perfectly imitate birdcalls deeming you hero support, and him being a hero and all. Your hero, you giggle to yourself.

Distracted, you don't see the boys until it's too late. Two sets of arms are around you from the sides before you know it, hauling you up and, predictably, to your locker.

You think maybe by this point you should just resign yourself to the routine completely, but you can't help yourself from struggling against the hold. No one helps you as you look from face to face of your peers. Some look on with pity, some pretend not to see, and others don't care. A couple even laugh.

You feel stupid tears prickle at the backs of your eyes in frustration and struggle a little harder. Your attackers gasp and you think you've done something right, but when you twist around, you see the source of the change isn't you, it's Warren. He's got a hand on each of the boys' shoulders, and as you watch, smoke rises from his hands. He squeezes, and the boys' faces screw up and their bodies try to cringe away from him.

They drop you. You're too amazed to worry about your stinging tailbone. Although, no, actually that does sting really bad.

Warren's expression is barely any different than his usual one. Which is to say, it's intimidating. But now his brows are furrowed in disgust as he glares at them.

The kids manage to wrestle out of his hold and run off before he can grab either of them again. Warren turns back to you. He sighs heavily.

"So. That keep happening?" He asks, with an almost uninterested tone. Almost.

You nod. He nods back, thinking, as he looks around them. Glares at the people who make eye contact.

He takes a deep breath. "Well, are you hungry or are you just going to sit there all day?"

"Oh!" You must look silly sitting on the floor like that. Probably an improvement to how you look being shoved into your locker, though. You wipe the tears from your cheeks discreetly and start to get up, when Warren grabs your arm and gently pulls you up.

He still looks bored when you're up and closer to eye level with him. But he can't fake nonchalance when he just stepped in to help you.

Your earlier thoughts come to mind. Your hero indeed. You're staring at him in awe when he clears his throat.

You're still both standing in the hall as bystanders walk past, uncaring, into the cafeteria.

"Sorry, yeah. Thank you. Again. Thank you so much." You smile your most grateful smile at him and he actually starts to look uncomfortable.

"I meant, are you going to lunch? They're gone." Warren stays standing in the hallway, waiting for your answer.

You can, now, you realize. You can actually go to lunch, and eat food, and not have your stomach complain at you the rest of the schoolday. You almost can't believe it.

"That would be nice." You say, in awe once again.

"'Kay. Go in then." Warren lifts his eyebrows and gestures for you to enter the cafeteria. You walk to the line and Warren follows behind.

After loading up your tray, you stand a few feet out of the line and stare out at the tables of kids eating and talking and laughing together. You don't know where to go now. There's only one empty table, and you watch Warren walk past you and sit down at it.

You look around for another few seconds before making a decision.

Warren looks up mid-bite as you put your tray down at his table. Place the pudding cup from your tray onto his. You look at him in silent question. He just stares at you for a moment, before returning to his food. He pulls the pudding a little closer to him. You take that as permission and settle down to eat.

Lunch is a quiet affair, but peaceful, and you find yourself smiling into your broccoli.

———

At first you think it might be a coincidence, when you start running into Warren right after the lunch bell rings. It could be a coincidence still, you think. But it's a coincidence that's happened every single day since he chased off those kids harassing you.

It could be a coincidence, but he sure does look like he's waiting for you, as he stands leaned against the hallway directly outside your classroom, and straightens up when you exit.

It could be a coincidence, you admit. Maybe. But you hope it isn't.

Each day you walk side by side to the cafeteria, as if you'd agreed to it. As if this was something you'd always done. You didn't, and you hadn't. You love it.

He's quiet, and brooding, and intimidating and lovely. These days you can't tamp down the fluttering in your stomach in fourth period as you anticipate the bell. A different sort of anticipation than you're used to. A good kind.

You try to dial down the smile as he looks over at you.

"What?" Warren frowns suspiciously.

"Nothing! Nothing. Just happy." You fold your hands together in front of you and hum as you head toward the food.

Warren lets you step in front of him in line and you each load up your trays before heading to a table.

Your table. Both or yours. You sigh happily.

It's technically, perhaps, just Warren's table. But since you sat with him that first time, you've continued every day since, and he hasn't shoo'd you off yet! It feels like a definite win.

"Hey Warren..."

Warren grunts in acknowledgement, shoving a fry in his mouth.

"Would you call us friends?"

He pauses in his fry-eating. Looks at you. Looks back down. Steals your jello.

"I mean. If that's what you wanna be."

You frown. Not as enthusiastic of a reply as would be optimal, but this is Warren you're talking to.

"Do you not want to be friends?" You can't help but ask. The evidence makes it seem ridiculous but you have to know.

He steals your plastic spoon and opens his pilferred jello. Speaks quietly. "If you want to be friends, we're friends, okay?"

It sounds like an admission to you.

"Are you sure you don't just like me for my food?"

Warren cracks a tiny smile, obviously relieved. "Who says I like you?"

"Little birdie" you grin coyly.

"Oh, and which bird would that be?"

You imitate a Blue Jay and Warren laughs.

thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging/commenting, it means a lot ♡

#warren peace x reader #warren peace fanfiction #sky high #sky high fanfiction #warren peace x you #warren peace x y/n #sky high imagine #warren peace imagine

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nadinebrooks · 3 months ago

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Here is the link to my masterlist. - Here is the link to Part 1.

Fred Weasley x Reader: The Yule Ball Bet Part 2

Warnings: This one has some language (I just feel like the Weasleys don't have the cleanest language) also I know the Yule Ball took place in December, but please don't question the timeline and just enjoy. Thanks!

Ginny Weasley, who had witnessed the confrontation, quickly followed (y/n) out of the Slytherin common room. She found her friend in an empty corridor, sobbing uncontrollably.

“(y/n),” Ginny said softly, pulling her into a comforting embrace. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. You know I would’ve forced him to tell you if I had known.”

(y/n) clung to Ginny, her heart breaking. “How could he do this to me, Ginny? I thought he cared about me.”

Ginny’s eyes flashed with anger. “Fred is an idiot, but he does care about you. I’m going to give those boys a piece of my mind.”

(y/n) nodded, her tears slowing. “Thank you, Ginny.”

Ginny hugged her tightly. “You’re not alone, (y/n). We’ll get through this together.”

The next day, Ginny stormed into the Gryffindor common room, fury radiating from her. Fred, George, and Ron were sitting by the fire, their expressions grim.

“How could you?” Ginny yelled, her eyes blazing. She hadn’t even changed out of her pajamas before coming down to confront the boys. “You made a bet out of her, Fred? How could you think that was okay?”

George and Ron looked equally guilty, but it was Fred who bore the brunt of Ginny’s anger. “She trusted you. She thought you cared about her. You need to fix this, Fred. And you two,” she said, pointing at George and Ron, “are just as much to blame. You encouraged this.”

Fred felt a deep sense of shame and regret. “I know, Ginny, I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

Ginny’s brown eyes softened slightly. “You better Fred. Because if you don’t, you’ll lose her for good.”

Meanwhile, (y/n) was struggling to come to terms with the betrayal. She confided in Neville, who was furious on her behalf and offered unwavering support.

“You’re too good for him, (y/n),” Neville said, his voice filled with determination. “Don’t let this break you.”

(y/n) nodded, drawing strength from her cousin’s words. “I’ll be okay, Neville. I just need some time.”

As the days passed, Fred tried everything to reach out to (y/n). He wrote letters, left flowers, and attempted to speak with her, but (y/n) wasn’t ready to forgive. The pain was still too fresh, the wound too deep.

One evening as (y/n) was sitting by the lake, lost in thought, she found another note from Fred tucked into the book that she had recently been reading. It read:

(y/n), I am so sorry for everything, I never meant to hurt you. The bet was a mistake, but my feelings for you are real. Please give me a chance to make things right. I love you. Your Freddie

(y/n)’s heart ached as she read the note. She still cared for Fred, but the betrayal was hard to gorget. She needed more time to heal and to figure out if she could ever trust him again.

Ginny continued to stand by (y/n)’s side, offering support and encouragement. Over the past couple of weeks, the two girls had become extremely close. So close that Ginny invited (y/n) to spend Christmas with her family at the Burrow.

Fred wanted to show (y/n) that his feelings were genuine, that he truly cared for her. He knew he had a long way to go, but he was willing to wait as long as it took.

Despite the turmoil, (y/n) cherished her friendship with Ginny and she couldn’t avoid the Weasley forever, so she decided to agree to spend her Christmas holiday with them. She hoped that the holiday would bring some clarity and peace.

Upon arriving at the Burrow, (y/n) was warmly welcomed by Molly and Arthur Weasley. The cozy home, filled with love and laughter, provided a sense of comfort. However, the tension between (y/n) and Fred was palpable.

Arthur, who had heard about the situation from Ginny, took (y/n) aside one evening. “(y/n), I want you to know that we all care about you. Fred made a mistake, a big one, I’m not going to defend him, but I do know that he is genuinely sorry. He’s been miserable without you.”

(y/n) nodded, her heart heavy. “I know, Mr. Weasley. I’ve been miserable without him as well. I just need time to figure things out.”

Arthur smiled kindly. “Take all the time you need, dear. We’re here for you.”

As the days passed, Fred finally managed to get (y/n) alone, away from the prying eyes of his family. They stood in the garden, the crisp winter air swirling around them.

“(y/n),” Fred began, his voice filled with emotion. “I’m so sorry. I was a fool, and I hurt you. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I need you to know that I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment we started spending time together.”

(y/n) looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of pain and longing. “Fred, I still care about you. But this hurts so much. I don’t know if I can trust you again.”

Fred’s eyes were filled with tears. “I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back. I’ll wait as long as you need. Just please, I’m begging you, please don’t shut me out completely.”

(y/n) took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but part of her still believed in the love that they had shared. “I need time, Fred. But I’m willing to try.”

Fred’s face lit up with hope. “Thank you, (y/n). I promise I’ll make this right.”

The day after Fred’s heartfelt apology, (y/n) woke up to the sound of laughter and the sight of snow gently falling outside her window. She had a feeling that today would be absolutely magical.

She dressed quickly, her heart lightened by the festive atmosphere, and joined the others for breakfast in the bustling kitchen.

“Good morning (y/n),” Ginny greeted her with a warm smile. “Ready for some snowman-building?”

(y/n) smiled back, grateful for Ginny’s unwavering support. “Definitely. It’s the perfect day for it.”

After breakfast, The Weasleys bundled up and headed outsdie. The garden was covered in a pristine blanket of snow, perfect for their winter activities. Fred was already out there, rolling a large snowball to form the base of the snowman. He glanced up as (y/n) approached, a hopeful smile on his face.

“Morning, (y/n),” Fred said softly, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and nervousness. “Want to hemp me with this?”

(y/n) nodded, feeling a flutter in her chest. “Sure, Fred.”

Together, they worked on the snowman, their hands brushing occasionally as they shaped the snow. Despite the cold, (y/n) felt a warmth spreading through her, fueled by the simple joy of being with Fred. Their silence was comfortable, each lost in their own thoughts but content in each other’s presence.

“Hold it steady,” (y/n) giggled, trying to pat the snow into place.

“I’m trying,” Fred laughed, his cheeks rosy from the cold and exertion. “There, I think we’ve got it.”

They both stepped back to admire their handiwork. The snowman stood tall and slightly lopsided, with a carrot for a nose and stones for eyes. Fred wrapped his scarf around its neck, adding a final touch.

“Perfect,” (y/n) said, smiling up at Fred.

“Just like you,” Fred replied softly, his eyes twinkling as he looked at her.

Ginny watched them from a distance, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction seeing her brother and (y/n) slowly mending their bond. As the snowman took shape, she decided to add a little holiday magic of her own.

Before (y/n) could respond, Ginny appeared beside them, holding a sprig of mistletoe above their heads. “Look what I found,” she said with a grin.

Fred and (y/n) both looked up, small smiles playing on their lips as they saw the mistletoe. Ginny’s playful smile was infectious, and despite the initial embarrassment, (y/n) felt a surge of courage.

“Guess we have to follow traditions,” (y/n) said softly, stepping closer to Fred.

Fred’s breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked into (y/n)’s eyes, the world around them fading away. “I suppose we do.”

(y/n) leaned in, her lips brushing Fred’s cheek in a gentle, tender kiss. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes. It was a sign of forgiveness, of hope, and of the possibility of a new beginning.

Ginny cheered, clapping her hands. “There you go! Now that’s the holiday spirit.”

As the day wore on, the Weasleys continued their holiday festivities. They built more snowmen, had a snowball fight, and warmed up with hot cocoa by the fire. The house was filled with laughter and love, the perfect backdrop for healing hearts.

That evening, as the family gathered around the Christmas tree, (y/n) found herself sitting next to Fred. The tree was decorated with twinkling lights and colorful ornaments, and the room was filled with the comforting scent of pine and cinnamon.

Fred turned to (y/n), his voice soft. “Can we talk for a minute?”

(y/n) nodded, her heart beating a little faster. “Sure, Fred.”

They slipped away from the others, finding a quiet corner in the cozy living room. Fred took a deep breath, his expression serious but filled with emotion.

“(y/n), I know I’ve hurt you deeply, and I’ll never forgive myself for that,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. “But I want you to know that my feelings for you are real. They’ve always been real. I’ve fallen for you, (y/n), and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that to you.”

(y/n) looked at Fred, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. She felt the walls around her heart begin to crumble, replaced by cautious hope. “Fred, it’s going to take time for me to fully trust you again. But I am willing to try.”

“I’ll wait as long as it takes. I promise I won’t let you down again.” His face lit up with relief and happiness.

“Let’s take it one day at a time, then.”

Fred happily nodded. “One day at a time.”

The evening continued with the exchange of gifts and stories. Laughter echoed through the Burrow, filling every corner with joy. As the night wore on, (y/n) found herself sitting by the fire with Ginny, their earlier conversation coming to mind.

“Thank you, Ginny,” (y/n) said softly, taking Ginny’s hand. “For everything.”

Ginny smiled, her eyes twinkling. “That’s what friends are far. And besides, I couldn’t let my brother mess things up completely.”

“I’m glad I have you in my corner.” (y/n) laughed, feeling a warmth in her heart.

“And I’m glad you’re in ours,” Ginny replied, giving (y/n) a hug.

Fred watched two of the most important women in his life getting along. He knew that it was going to be a long haul, but he was willing to do whatever it took for (y/n).

She glanced around the room before her eyes met his. She smiled and him and his heart started rapidly beating.

“Merry Christmas Freddie,” she mouthed before turning her attention back to Ginny. Yes, it was a very Merry Christmas indeed.

#harry potter masterlist #harry potter imagine #harry potter preferences #harry potter x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader

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briarpotter · 3 months ago

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Happy Birthday Harry!

It's Harry's birthday! My sweet, sweet, perfect guy (who is already married and has kids)

Reflections of Courage

Harry Potter stood in front of the mirror in his cozy, dare he say big, manor in London. The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on his reflection. It had been two years since the Battle of Hogwarts, and life had settled into a new kind of normal. Yet, some mornings, he still found it hard to believe that the war was truly over.

As he adjusted his Auror robes, Harry's thoughts drifted to the past. He saw the faces of friends and mentors, both living and lost, flash before his eyes. Sirius, Dumbledore, Lupin, Tonks, Fred—each one a reminder of the sacrifices made and the price of peace.

A soft knock on the door pulled him from his reverie. He turned to see Ginny standing there, her eyes warm with understanding. “Ready for your first day back?” she asked, stepping into the room. Harry smiled, the sight of her comforting him. “As ready as I'll ever be. It feels strange, going back to work after everything.”

Ginny walked over and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. “You'll be brilliant, Harry. You've faced worse than this, and come out stronger every time.” He held her close, drawing strength from her presence. “Thanks, Gin. I just… I want to make sure I'm doing the right thing.”

Ginny pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. “You are. You're helping to build a better world, the one you fought so hard for. Don't doubt yourself.” Her words resonated with him, and he nodded, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. “You're right. It's just… sometimes it feels like there's so much left to do.”

“There always will be,” she said softly. “But you're not alone in this. We're all in it together.” With a final kiss for luck, Harry left the house and made his way to the Ministry of Magic. The familiar bustle of the atrium greeted him, and he was struck by how different it felt now that he was part of the Auror Department. No longer the hunted, he was now the protector. His first day back was filled with meetings and briefings.

Yet, as he moved through the corridors, he noticed the respect in the eyes of his colleagues. It wasn't the awe or fear he had once encountered, but genuine respect for his courage and determination. During a break, Harry found himself in front of a window, looking out at the bustling city below. He thought about the journey that had brought him here, the trials and triumphs that had shaped him.

He realized that each step, no matter how difficult, no matter how hard, had led him to this moment. A voice interrupted his thoughts. “Harry, mate, ready for the next briefing?” He turned to see Ron, his best friend and partner, standing there with a grin. Harry grinned back, feeling a surge of confidence. “Yeah, let's go.”

As they walked down the hallway, Harry felt a sense of peace settle over him. He was where he was meant to be, doing the work he believed in, surrounded by those who mattered most. And with Ginny by his side, he knew he could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

That evening, back in their house, Harry and Ginny cuddled together, the warmth of the crackling fire filling the room. Harry took her hand, feeling the steady beat of her heart. “Today was good,” he said softly. “I think we're going to make a real difference.” Ginny squeezed his hand, her eyes shining. “I never doubted it for a second.” In that moment, Harry felt the weight of his past lift, replaced by the hope of the future. He had faced the darkness and emerged into the light, ready to build a world worth fighting for, with the people he loved beside him.

#harry potter #ginny weasley #hinny #harry potter fandom #harry and ginny #harry james potter #hp #hp fandom #harry x ginny #hinny microfic #happy birthday harry!#hbd harry!

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weasleyreidstyles · 6 months ago

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Serendipity; snippets of navigating fifth year with Fred Weasley

series masterlist

based on a request from ages ago. its a little choppy, but bare with me, ive just suffered the worst bout of writer's block ever😓 (i'm actually so sad that i've neglected serendipity so much but im back and i have so many wips to share with you all!!!!)

pairing(s): fred weasley x fem!reader, brief theodore nott x fem!reader (platonic)

Hogwarts doesn't feel the same anymore. The usual air of magic had been snuffed out with each imposing rule that was nailed to the Entrance Hall walls. There is no more laughter in the corridors, no more soft chatter from the figures inside the magical portraits; instead the repetitive notes of Professor Umbridge's sugary sweet tone rattle over deafening speakers.

All boys and girls must remain eight inches apart from eachother.

There will be no house fraternising during meal times.

Talk of any unauthorised groups will be met with adequate punishment.

Curfew must be met by every member of the student body.

That last one still haunts you in your peaceful moments.

It's the reason you sit on one of the uncomfortable plush seats in Professor Umbridge's office, a cursed black quill clenched in your harsh grip as you write out those very words, the familiar cursive of your own handwriting etching painfully into the skin of your non-dominant hand. She was smirking at you under the guise of sipping lengthily from her pink teacup, watching as the tears steadily building in your eyes finally spilled down over your cheeks, which were flushed red from the pain.

How had you found yourself in this predicament exactly?

You were made a prefect at the start of the year, alongside Hermione and Ron, which you'd found out when you got your letter detailing which books you would need for your fifth year. You remember the pride written across your parents' faces and how elated you had been to be given such a prestigious role, one that many Ravenclaw students in your year wanted just as badly as you. It was a revered spot after all. Everyone was elated for you, but none more so than the oldest Weasley twin.

"Are you going to give us unlimited leeway with pranks now that you hold such a position of authority, gorgeous?" Fred's husky voice joked in a whisper as the two of you sat at the dining table during the small party that Molly and your mother had set up in celebration for the three of you.

"Are you asking me to take advantage of my new position, Weasley?" You ask, a small smirk making its way on your face as you fight the blush threatening to paint your cheeks at his sudden closeness.

All summer, he had been flirting with you. At first you put it down to his lack of contact to the outside world and you laughed at his well-timed jokes and played into his flirtations with rebutting jokes of your own.

But then one night, when you flirted back daringly, he kissed you. He actually kissed you. It wasn't your first kiss. No, that went to Harry in a random game of truth or dare back in second year (something you both agreed was wrong on so many levels; it was never discussed by any of you again). But this kiss with Fred felt incredible and it cemented a closer bond with the older twin, whose brilliantly blue eyes sparkled with something more whenever he stared at you after that moment.

He'd rewarded your achievement later that same evening, after the party, behind the closed door of your temporary bedroom, leaving you smiling and giddy for the rest of summer. It's what prompted Ginny and Hermione's loose bet as to how long it would take for the pair of you to get together officially.

Your elation lasted until the very moment you stepped into the Prefects' Carriage and found out who you'd be partnered up with for the year.

Theodore Nott. Notorious for his aloof attitude as well as his surprising intellect that rivalled Hermione's. He was part of Riddle's group, one of the most popular groups in school, possibly trumping even the Golden Trio. But because he was part of Riddle's crew you had learned to hate him just a little – his teasing remarks towards your friends, especially Ron, always sent you into a spiral of brewing animosity.

So when Alicia Spinnet, who had been given the prestigious role of Head Girl, announced that she was pairing you with him, you cast her a look of utter betrayal, which she vehemently ignored.

You did not speak to Nott for the entire time you were meant to familiarise yourselves with eachother, and he made no effort either; grey eyes misted over as if he wasn't even part of the present conversation altogether. Gods how you despised him.

~∞~

Upon returning to your original compartment, following slowly behind Ron and Hermione, Fred had immediately seen your crestfallen look.

"What's up, gorgeous?" he asked from his seat by the window, ignoring Ron's faux gagging at the nickname. He'd also moved further into the corner to allow you the space to sit down.

You thanked him with a quiet smile before sitting down with a sigh.

"Alicia paired me with Nott for prefect rounds. How unfortunate is that?" You mumble, resting your head dejectedly against his burly shoulder.

"You're joking?!" He says with wide eyes. "What the hell was she thinking?"

"I assume it was because Davies paired Parkinson with your counterpart, so you got paired with Nott as a consequence." Hermione said from the opposite seat. "The Ravenclaws and Slytherins in sixth and seventh year were paired together as well."

Yes that was an overarching trend that had seemed to stick over the years.

"Maybe it won't be too bad." Ginny says and you all turn to her in synchronised disbelief. "What? I've never seen Nott speak. Maybe that'll be a good thing. A mute partner is better than a snarky one."

"Just the thought of being in his presence makes me uncomfortable. Mute or not." You say quietly, so only Fred can hear.

"If he does or says anything to you, let me know yeah?" He replied with equal secrecy and you nod your head imperceptibly in response.

He lets you use his shoulder as a makeshift pillow when you find your eyes closing drowsily, brushing the loose hair that falls into your face and ignoring George's knowing glances.

~∞~

The very first round of Prefect duties was utterly boring and painfully long. You and Nott had patrolled the Astronomy corridor with lacklustre precision, both eager to get away from eachother's presence.

It was like this for a while, a few months to be exact, until you both became accustomed to the silence, to the point where it was actually bareable. No longer were rounds a labourous activity; you and Nott began to partake in small talk, to the most minute extent – in no way did this make you aquainted and in the daylight, you returned to steely looks and barely contained snarls of discontent, which was mirrored by your friends, and his. You barely noticed the extra attention that Voldemort's son seemed to be giving you as your friendship with Theo progressed at a steadily growing pace.

At your budding friendship with the Slytherin Prefect, Fred began showing up at the end of your rounds to whisk you away, never sparing Theo a glance. The two of you would wander the desolate corridors, hands interlocked as you spoke quietly and unhurriedly. You noticed that Fred, always grinning and never unnecessarily angry, would grow agitated in Theo's presence and you never understood why.

Until one night, when Fred was loitering at the end of your last corridor to patrol, Theo had said something that made you burst into pearls of laughter; his face had lit up with a delighted smirk at the sound.

Fred's face was stoic and so unnaturally like his usual cadence that it took you completely by surprise.

"Of course you're waiting here, Weasley." Theo had mumbled, mostly to himself, but Fred had bristled from where he was leaning against the wall.

"You have a problem with that, Nott?" He had snarled and you'd looked at him with widened eyes at the edge in his voice.

Eager to defuse the tension, you took Fred's hand and gave Theo a look that read 'stop being an arsehole', before leading the ginger boy away.

Theo had gone back to his best friend to report that Mattheo's suspicions were indeed correct: you had been learning Legillimancy and had unknowingly spoken to Theo without so much as moving your lips.

And Fred had no idea.

~∞~

This routine continued for you and Fred, leaving you at the butt end of George and Lee's teasing. You came to expect him to be waiting at the end of your rounds, where you would part ways with Theo before spending at least an hour in Fred's presence.

On some occasions when it was far too cold to continue wandering the hallways at night, he would tell you to go straight to the Gryffindor common room, where there would be a fire in the hearth and plenty of blankets to snuggle into.

On such occasions, Theo offered to walk you there, despite him not wanting to be anywhere near the lions' den. It was during these times where your friendship with him became cemented as pure and real. Your friends were surprised when you actively sought eachother out during lessons.

Fred hated your budding friendship, but he said nothing about it; it wasn't his place to undermine your friendships.

But it became hard to hold his tongue when Professor Umbridge unveiled her new Inquisitorial Squad, which Theo and his friends had joined in quick succession.

The Inquisitorial Squad was a massive hindrance for Dumbledore's Army. The lot of you had to be more vigilant with your timings for the meet ups in the Room of Requirement, lest you get caught out by these glorified prefects. The Inquisitorial Squad is how you ended up in her office in the first place.

You had been patrolling with Theo, who was complaining about how frustrating having magicless lessons was becoming in the lead up to ypur OWL exams (you'd felt guilty about the DA not including any Slytherins all year, and this further cemented that feeling), when Adrian Pucey and Professor Umbridge came waltzing around the corner.

"Good evening Master Nott." the Professor says warmly, before her gaze sweeps over to you and her beady eyes catch onto the flashy Prefect badge pinned proudly tp your chest.

"Miss Meadow, why are you out past curfew?" She asks with faux concern, mouth twisting with a sadistic smirk.

"Uh-" You look at Theo, who looks just as startled as you. "We're just about to finish our rounds, Professor."

Umbridge lets out a heinous giggle that grates on your nerve.

"Oh my dear, didn't you see the newest decree?" She asks, her face alight with victory when you shake your head. "I have no need for Prefects anymore. I disproved them as a group."

"Wha- Why?" you ask, disbelief painted across your face. Pucey smirks as he looks from you to Theo.

"The Inquisitorial Squad has overtaken that job, Meadow." He spits your name like its dirt on the bottom of his shoe. You share a look of alarm with Theo.

I knew nothing of this Meadow, I promise you.

He looks sincere and you believe him, word for word.

"This sheer display of disobedience cannot go unpunished." Her harsh giggle is the only sound that fills the corridor.

She hands you a detention on a silver platter and you go into it blind. You didn't know that Harry had been trying to protect you, Ron and Hermione from the same fate as him.

~∞~

She dismissed you with a delighted giggle after an hour of writing the same line over and over again.

Curfew must be met by every member of the student body.

Your hand is throbbing from the pain, but all you feel is numb. You wander the hallways like a ghost, not bothering to pay mind to where you're walking, until you find yourself at the portrait of the Fat Lady leading to the Gryffindor common room.

"Password?!" Elizabeth says impatiently, as if she'd been repeating herself over and over.

"Gillyweed." You mumble and she finally takes in your appearance, completely forgetting to open the portrait hole.

"Oh my dear, are you alright?" She says, voice full of concern, and if she were able to, you're sure she'd reach a hand out and place it delicately onto your shoulder.

"'M fine, Elizabeth. Just need to sit down." You didn't realise how tired you were, but from the slurring of your words and the speed with which the portrait swings open, with no hesitation towards the blue and bronze tie donning your neck, you must be on the verge of collapsing.

Fred sees you first.

"Meadow? What are you doing here, gorgeous?" he asks, voice filled with concern.

"Don't know. But 'M really sleepy." You say and you grip at his arms with barely any strength, which he notes with wide, panicking eyes.

"Shit- okay, come on let's go upstairs."

He guides you slowly towards his dorm, ignoring his brothers and Hermione and Harry's looks of worry. He sees the blood dripping from your hand in the dim light of the room, which prompts him to usher you much faster.

He sits you on the marble of the ensuit bathroom, the cold of the tiles barely registers to you.

He's mumbling a series of healing charms against your hand, jaw clenching when the blood flow slows enough for him to see the culprit of your bloodlust.

"Did she do this to you?" He asks, his voice as low as a growl that has your thigh clenching at the tone.

"Technically," You start with a weak laugh, "I did this to myself. She told me what to write."

"It's not funny, gorgeous." He says with a frown that you manage to wipe away with a peck of your lips.

"It's fine, Freddie."

"No. It's not."

You can practically see the plans forming in his brain and the next day, a series of crazed birds are let loose in the Great Hall, all headed straight for the newly appointed Head Mistress, Fred's smirking face meeting her's with no hesitation.

His hand sports similar wounds to you by the end of the day and you patch him up in the same fashion that he did for you.

~∞~

You don't show up to your scheduled Prefect meetings for the rest of the year, and you avoid Theo in the corridors, much to your friends' delight.

His voice in your mind is the only point of contact that you have with your Italian friend, something you keep hidden from your friends, especially Fred.

You look sad, tesoro. He says from across the Great Hall, days after your first detention with Umbridge. You sit facing the Slytherin table beside Luna Lovegood, who looks between you, Fred and Theo imperceptibly.

I'm not sad. I'm bored.

Yes because I'm sure the Gryffindor table is just a delight to be seated at.

You scoff outwardly at his sarcasm.

"What're you scoffing about, gorgeous?" Fred's voice says from behind you. You sneak a look towards Theo, who seems to have engaged himself in a conversation with Riddle and Berkshire, not showing that he was just immersed in conversation with you mere seconds ago.

"Just thinking about all the ways I want to make Umbridge suffer." You say with an offhanded shrug. Luna giggles into the palm of her hand.

"I have plenty of ideas." He says with a smirk as he drags you from your seat and into the corridors beyond the Great Hall.

Professor Umbridge may have cast a cloud of sorrow over the magic of Hogwarts, but nothing could take away the fun you'd been having in the stolen moments with your best friend's brother.

Not even the fact that he was leaving prematurely. Certainly not after you convince yourself to share your growing feelings for him, to have that snuffed out by his secret declaration.

Your chance with him is taken from you as he and George sail away from Hogwarts with guffawing laughter at the sight of Umbridge's sour face. They're off to live their lifelong dream, taking your dreams with them.

The next time you see Fred is after you watch Sirius' body fall through the veil, mind and body too numb to process any and all of your feelings. You only reach out for Teddy in your mind, a comforting voice of reason for all you'd seen. Even the strangely beautiful sight of the thestrals, that were invisible only hours before, did not phase you.

You fell into Theo's comforting embrace the moment you were able to leave the Hospital Wing, Fred Weasley long forgotten at Ron's bedside.

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footprintsinthesxnd · 10 months ago

Text

Anything For You

So here is the much awaited part 2 of ‘Good Girl’ for @ronsparky I’m sorry it took so long. Warnings: smut, sexual themes, bondage, swearing, Nixon being his usual self, 18+ fic only. Word count: 2.9k

It had been a few months since Y/n's last interaction with Speirs. It’s not like she was avoiding him, the company had been moved back to Mourmelon for a breather and between trying to relax and drills and training they just hadn’t managed to talk about what happened in Hagenau. They still shared longing looks across rooms and when they were occasionally close enough to touch Ron would reach out and brush his hand against hers.

After two months in Mourmelon, the company moved on to Struzelburg, Germany. The air seemed cleaner, the weather warmer and the general living conditions nicer. Y/n often thought that these comforts were almost like being back at Toccoa or Aldbourne.

She had just come back from collecting some eggs with Frank and George when she bumped into Speirs carrying a large tray of silver utensils through the street.

“You want some help with that Lieutenant?” She laughed, watching his shocked face meet hers and he gulped.

“No, that’s quite alright. I can manage,” he replied gruffly, already turning away from her and in the direction of the battalion post office.

Y/n trailed after him, despite Ron’s continued protests. Inside the post office, Ron placed the silverware on the counter, pulling out two packs of smokes for Private Vest.

“Same address as last time, Sir?” Vest asked, pocketing the packets of cigarettes with a smile.

“Yes,” Speirs replied abruptly, his eyes flicking back to Y/n for a second before turning away.

“Sure thing. I’ll say, Sir, the Y/l/n family will sure have a lot of nice silverware.” Speirs harsh glare cut the private off from saying anything else. Y/n stood in silence watching as Speirs tried to break his icey resolve and turn to her. He mumbled something about being needed at battalion before heading out the door, his head down as he passed Y/n but she couldn’t bring herself to follow him.

“Hey, Sergeant, ain’t Y/l/n your last name?”

“Shut it, Private,” Y/n snapped, spinning around on the spot and hurrying after Ron who had disappeared into the crowd of paratroopers.

Y/n had tried to find him that night but Lipton told her that he was in his room and didn’t want to be disturbed. This act went on for the rest of the month with Ron hiding away and avoiding her. That was until the company was moved on to Berchtesgaden.

Y/n finally found herself with her own room, a hot shower and a warm bed. It was these simple luxuries that Y/n had learned not to take advantage of. The alcohol flowed freely and the boys celebrated. The war in Europe had finally come to an end and despite the continuing war in Japan looming over them, for a moment, just for one night they could celebrate in peace.

Y/n had left the party an hour ago, wandering the halls in a dress she had found in one of the rooms. It was long, flowing out behind her and despite the neckline being a little lower than she would have liked, she wore it in a desperate attempt to reclaim something she had lost. She’d danced with nearly all the men that night, arm in arm with Malarkey, spinning frantically around the floor with George, Bull had taken her for a very sweet slow dance. She felt like a woman again, and the men treated her as though she was something to be admired.

Y/n found her way to the balcony that the officers often frequented, the sun loungers lay along one of the walls with discarded whiskey bottles that almost certainly belonged to Captain Nixon. At this time of night; despite the ruckus downstairs, the air was still and quiet. No wind blew, no birds sang. A dark silence hung over the mountains. Y/n didn’t know whether to find it ominous or peaceful but the silence was soon broken by the heavy footfalls of Ronald Speirs who rounded the corner so quickly that they both jumped in surprise.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was out here,” Ron confessed, avoiding her gaze and turning to head back the way he’d come.

“Ron, wait! Please. You’ve been avoiding me and we need to talk,” Y/n protested, watching as Ron fought with himself until he finally turned around to face her.

“There’s nothing to talk about. What happened between us never should have happened. We both know that. You’re going to go back home soon enough and I’m planning on staying in the army, and that’s it, either of us make it out of the Pacific anyway.” Ron huffed, slouching against the hard brick wall, glaring at the ground, “we were never gonna make it you and I.”

Y/n felt her heart clench and her lungs felt tight as she tried to find the words to convey how she felt. “You don’t know that Ron. You can’t know that unless you give us a chance.”

“We have no chance Y/n. One day you’ll wake up and realise that I was no good for you so I’m letting you go now before it’s too late. I’ve sent all the silver home to your family. I want to support you even if I can’t be with you.”

“Who says you can’t be with me?” Y/n cried, “Do I not get a say in this.” She moved closer to Ron, her dress trailing along behind her. They were inches apart when she spoke again. “I want this to be my choice Ron, and I choose you.”

Ron surged forward, pressing his lips roughly to hers. His hand gripped desperately at her hips, pulling her flush to him. In that kiss was the sweetest passion she had ever felt. Ron’s lips were soft, the stubble of his chin grazing her face but she didn’t mind the burn. Y/n found herself weaving her fingers into his hair, wrapping one of her legs around his to pull him closer. The kiss spoke volumes, travelling all the unsaid words, the unspoken feelings and desires. Y/n pulled back, brushing her thumb over Ron’s cheek and feeling the damp tears that had fallen. “I want you too,” Ron whispered, his voice cracking and Y/n realised she had never seen him cry before, his stony resolve breaking down and revealing the man beneath who just wanted to be loved.

“Oh Ron,” she whispered, their lips brushing again as she spoke. Ron looked up at her, his eyes misty and his lip quivering as he spoke.

“I’m sorry I’m so weak. I should have told you before,” he mumbled into her neck, burying his face from her view.

“You’re not weak Ron. You are the bravest man in this company. Only the brave become vulnerable emotionally and for you to show me that is braver than any act of the battlefield,” Y/n soothed him, rubbing his back in comforting circles.

Ron pulled away, his eyes becoming dark and stormy once more and a sly smirk spread across his handsome face. “If I remember correctly, you and I have some unfinished business.”

Y/n chuckled, reaching out and placing her hand in his, “I believe we do.”

Ron chuckled and it felt like the most genuine laugh they had ever shared. He scooped her up into his arms, carrying her bridal style along the corridor. She grinned up at him and Ron smiled happily down at her. Y/n now knew what she was missing in life. All those years of thinking she had a missing part and Ron’s smile filled that hole.

The walk to Ron’s room was short, too short really because all too soon Ron was carrying her over the threshold of his room and slamming the door closed with his foot, never once putting her down until he gently laid her on the bed. Ron moved to close the curtains but Y/n called out to him, “No, leave them open. You look beautiful in the moonlight.”

Ron huffed, the smile growing on his lips once more. Y/n felt herself growing warmer, just led on Ron’s bed watching him unbutton his shirt in the moonlight had her heart racing. The curves of the muscles rippling under his toned flesh caused her to whimper and Ron’s head snapped up, dark eyes watching him intensely as he whispered, “Are you going to be a good girl?”

Ron’s lips brushed against her ear lobe, sending shivers down her spine, as he whispered sweet nothings to her. Y/n had lost all coherent language as soon as Ron’s lips met hers. His hands roamed down her sides, ruffling the fabric of the dress and bunching it around her middle.

“Ron,” she pleaded with him but he ignored her, continuing to kiss down her neck while his hand grazed its way up her bare thighs. Her hands fisted in his hair and Ron groaned at the comforting sting of pain and pleasure it gave him. Ron would be lying if he said he hadn’t been dreaming of this moment since Hagenuea, well maybe even before then. The pathetic whimpers falling from Y/n’s mouth had him driven to the brink of insanity.

“Ronny, please,” Y/n begged again and Ron chuckled at this new nickname he’d been given.

“Oh Darling, you’re so needy. Tell me what you want. I’ve barely touched you and you're so desperate already.”

Y/n gasped as Ron’s fingers ran over the edge of her pant line, “Ron, God, please. Please.”

“So impatient, Darling.” Ron tutted, sitting back on his heels and smiling down at her. The distinct bulge in his trousers caused Y/n to groan further. She reached out, massaging the bulge through his trousers and watching as Ron fought back the urge to moan.

“Please Ronny,” Y/n mumbled, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Please, Ron.”

Ron couldn’t take it anymore, he sprung forward, pinning her beneath his large frame, his hands gripping her wrists and pulling them above her head. Y/n tried to wriggle out from his grip but his grip only tightened.

“Now now Darling, don’t get upset,” Ron reassured her, pressing his lips to hers to silence the whimpers.

Ron worked quickly, stripping her of her dress and underwear, tossing them across the room to be collected later. Next came his trousers, he pulled off his belt and began wrapping it around her wrists, pulling them flush against the headboard and restraining her there.

“Please Ron, let me help you. Let me touch you,” she cried but Ron silenced her again with another kiss.

“Oh pretty lady, you don’t need to touch me. Tonight is all about you.”

Y/n could feel his fingers slipping down beneath her dress once more, rubbing against the soft flesh before trailing to where she wanted him. Where she needed him.

“Ron!” She gasped, as his thumb began to slowly circle her clit, while his other hand moved up her body, stroking the smooth skin of her lower abdomen before trailing up to her breasts. Y/n had never felt so safe and secure while simultaneously being so exposed as he pressed another kiss to her lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” Ron cooed, brushing the stray strands of hair that had fallen into her face while continuing his movements on her clit. She couldn’t speak, she could barely breathe as her stomach began to knot and the pressure between her legs grew. She wanted to snap her legs shut as she wriggled beneath him, and as if Ron sensed this he situated himself further between her legs. “Now you promised you’d be a good girl and good girls don’t close their legs now, do they?”

Y/n shook her head frantically, she’d never felt so pathetic. Ever since she joined the paratroopers she had spent every day proving she was tough, she could handle herself and yet by just his touch alone Ronald Speirs had rendered her incapacitated.

A small moan escaped her as Ron’s tongue swirled around her nipple.

“Do you like that, Darling? Tell me you like it.”

“I like it,” Y/n nearly screamed. “Please, I like it. Don’t stop.”

Ron hummed in amusement, repeating the action and earning the same response.

“Please Ron, please I need more,” she whined, fighting against the restraints that held her there. The desperate look in her eyes was all Ron needed. He reached forward, removing the belt and freeing her hands. They immediately landed on the hem of his underwear, pulling at the elastic impatiently but Ron pushed her hands away.

“Not yet my Darling. Remember I told you, tonight is all about you,” Ron pressed a final kiss to her lips, squeezing her hips before he sank beneath the covers out of view.

Y/n had been with men before but none had done anything like this. She gasped, grabbing a fistful of the bedsheets and throwing her head back in an exaggerated groan. Ron linked his arms under her legs, placing them over his shoulders and he continued to trail kisses over her clit. The small licks and nibbles drove her wild. Y/n cried and whimpered, tugging frantically at Ron’s brown locks as the pressure in her stomach continued to build.

“God, Ron I’m so close. I’m so close. Please…” she cried out as the knot came undone and her whole body spasmed. Her legs clamped tightly around Ron’s head but he didn’t seem to notice, choosing to continue to kiss and lick her until the tremors finally subsided and Y/n could breathe again.

He reappeared from beneath the covers, his lips and chin dripping with saliva and a wicked grin on his face. His brown locks fell onto his sweaty forehead as he spoke, “Did you enjoy that my Darling.”

“Yes,” Y/n mumbled, her chest still heaving from the effort of her orgasm.

“Good because I’m only just getting started.”

Y/n let out a guttural moan, pushing herself off the pillows, “Ron, I want you to fuck me.”

She wasn’t sure where the foul language had come from, despite being surrounded by soldiers all the time she rarely swore but now seemed like an appropriate time.

Ron took this as a sign, pushing his boxers down and allowing his desperately hard cock to spring free from its restraint. He reached over to the bedside cabinet, retrieving a condom and rolling it down his cock. Y/n watched in awe of him. Not only was he an attractive man but his body was sculpted like a Greek God and Y/n thanked all those runs up Currehea for that.

Ron pushed her back against the bed, pressing his hips into hers and teasing her once more but the teasing didn’t continue for long and soon he was lining himself up to her entrance.

“Are you ready? If at any point you want me to stop…”

“Ron, please just shut up and fuck me,” Y/n snapped, already too wound up and desperate to keep talking. Ron nodded, pressing his lips securely to hers as he entered. With every inch that pushed inside of her Y/n felt fuller than she ever had before and the ecstasy building within her was stronger than ever.

Once he was inside all the way, Ron allowed her a moment to adjust before pulling out and slamming back into her. His thrusts were relentless and precise. Hitting the exact spot with every thrust and sending Y/n into a frenzy of incoherent phrases as she clawed at his back like a mad woman. Despite the pace he was going, Ron made her feel loved with every thrust, pressing delicate kisses to her ear lobe, whispering to her, a number of ‘I love you’s’ were exchanged too.

“Ron, please… I’m so close,” she cried out, causing Ron to draw in a deep breath. He reached his hand down between their bodies, circling her clit with his thumb once more until she came undone with a loud cry of his name. He grabbed her face, kissing her passionately and silencing the moans as he came undone inside of her.

The pair lay like this for a few moments, sweat trickling down Ron’s spine and his damp hair smeared against his forehead.

“Y/n, Sweetheart, are you alright?” He looked down at her, his eyes full of love and concern.

“I’m perfect,” she replied, reaching up to brush away the stray hairs from his eyes, “Everything is perfect.”

The moment was disturbed by a harsh crashing noise followed by the bedroom door flying open and a very drunk Nixon stumbling into the room.

“SPEIRS?” He shouted, seemingly shocked that Ron was in the room he thought belonged to him.

“SERGEANT Y/L/N?” Nixon started blankly for a few moments before sticking his head out the door.

“HARRY YOU OWE ME 20 BUCKS. I TOLD YOU THEY WERE FUCKING!”

“NIXON!” Ron snapped, glaring harshly at him as he rolled out of Y/n who let out a small moan. “GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Nixon looked at them again before waving his hand and mumbling as he retreated out of the room. The couple fell back onto the bed laughing. Ron pulled off the condom, disposing of it into the bedside bin and moving to get out of bed when Y/n stopped him.

“Wait. Let’s cuddle for a while.” Ron nodded, sighing as he pulled Y/n flush to his chest. Y/n glanced up at him, her face shining pale in the moonlight.

“Ron, next time we have sex, can you please make sure you lock the door.” Ron nodded, sighing as he pulled Y/n flush to his chest.

“Of course my Darling. Anything for you.”

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#band of brothers #ronald speirs fic #ronald spiers x reader #ronald speirs #band of brothers fic

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