#idk why i drew this something overtook me

[gayestcowboy]

babygirl

[ginnyweasleymybeloved]

summer breezes / george weasley

hi crew :) idk why i wrote this but i was in a george mood so here we go ;)

summary: george acts like he hates you, he doesn’t really hate you. you act like you hate him, but you don’t really hate him. chaos ensues.

slight neville x reader for a second

word count: 6.9k

warnings: swearing, george being mean, lil angsty, fluffy at the end, reader’s house is not specified <3, mentions of food, kissing

let me know what you think ;)

“And what do you expect me to do? By the time I’d even realised I was falling I’d already landed face first on the proverbial concrete,” you groaned out in exasperation, while your best friend looked at you with so much distaste that anyone would’ve thought you’d murdered his family pet.

He shook his head, a scowl as clear as day splashed across his lips as he reprimanded you for your heart’s foolishness, “Of all people…” he scoffed in disgust, “Honestly, Y/n.”

“You know, you shouting at me isn’t going to fix anything,” he rolled his eyes at your statement and racked his eyes over your disheveled state. You’d obviously been battling with yourself over your—unfortunate—crush for some time. As your best friend, Ron Weasley knew he’d have to soften up on you eventually, but honestly, it was your own fault for falling for one of his disastrous siblings.

You were currently sprawled out on Harry’s bed, across from the red-headed boy you’d known since you were in nappies, your arms hanging off the edges of Harry’s four-poster. Neither you or Ron had a clue where Harry, or Hermione, had disappeared off to today. Harry was probably on the quidditch pitch practicing while Hermione haunted the library, you supposed as you listened to Ron’s rantings, wishing they’d been there to mediate.

“—of all of my siblings too! You couldn’t have picked, oh I don’t know, Charlie? Or Fred even? Merlin, even Ginny! But no! You just had to go and bloody fall for the only Weasley who actively cannot stand you.” You only caught that portion of his rave, having gotten lost in the idea of being coddled sympathetically by Harry or Hermione. You adore Ron, really, he’s your loyalist and longest friend, but Merlin was he a total drama queen.

“Charlie is five years older than me, Fred is my wingman and honestly, I snogged him on a dare last summer and I wasn’t that impressed and in case you’ve forgotten, Ronald, Ginny is dating Harry,” you lectured, ignoring how he rolled his eyes as you continued, “Also I’m well aware that he hates me. You don’t need to keep reminding me.”

His composure cracked after hearing your depressed mumble, and with a sigh he moved from his spot on his own bed and made the short trip over to Harry’s. Ron gently pulled you into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress and sat himself down next to you. He let out a heavy sigh, still slightly shaking his head—he couldn’t seem to stop—, then he dropped a heavy arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, finally offering you the comfort you’d been seeking out in the first place.

“S’alright, Y/n. Maybe he’ll get hit in the head with a bludger and forget he’s hated you since he was four.” Ron encouraged, very weakly.

You released a sigh of your own at that, “I feel like I’m betraying myself here. Like I’m letting that stupid git win.” Ron couldn’t stop the laugh he let out at your grumble.

“I’ll be honest, I thought he’d be the first to crack. You can be quite scary when you get going.” Ron divulged, shuddering at the memories of when he’d been on the receiving end of your rath.

Your family and the Weasley family had been extremely close since before you or Ron were even born, which meant you’d grown up alongside all of the Weasley children. Of course, because of your ages you and Ron had been attached at the hip as infants and remained that way even now, late into your fifth year of Hogwarts. Most of the Weasley children simply adored you, as you did them. However, there was one boy who, for whatever reason, hated you to your very core and as far as you could remember; he always had.

He is none other than the younger of the two twins; George Weasley. Despite the fact that Fred was actually quite fond of you, his twin refused to warm up to you in any way, shape or form. No, the tall and annoyingly attractive boy had made it his life’s mission not to get along with you, but instead, wage a war on you that spanned for the entirety of your childhood and adolescence.

“When did things change? When did it stop being a challenge? When did it start affecting me like this? I used to take his insults like a champ! I used to get him back worse!” You wondered out loud, letting your head flop onto Ron’s broad shoulder as he let out a puff of air through his nose.

“You still take it like a champ, numpty,” he chastised you gently, recoiling ever so slightly when you lurched forward in complete defeat. Your hands shot up to cover your face as you rested your forehead against your knees.

“No! I don’t,” you murmured dejectly, lifting your face from your hands to make eye contact with Ron. “Do you remember the other night in the Great Hall? When Neville told me he thought my hair looked pretty? And George, out of bloody nowhere, comes over and says and I quote, ‘I wouldn’t waste your time on this one, Longbottom. You’d have a better time kissing that toad of yours.’ Do you remember that?” Ron raised an eyebrow and nodded in confusion, your voice seemed to be steadily rising in octaves as you recalled the events of the other night. He had to admit, it had been an unusually unnecessary comment on George’s part, but the youngest Weasley boy wasn’t really sure where you were going with it.

“Well do you remember how I had said, ‘how’s that girlfriend of yours, Georgie? Figured out a way to make her stop being invisible yet?’ and then remember I rushed off? Do you wanna know where I rushed off to?” You pressed, watching intently as Ron nodded his head, unsure if he even wanted to know. “I went to the bathroom and I cried! I cried, Ron! Over something George bloody Weasley said to me!”

His eyes widened at that. Never once had George ever managed to properly upset you.

“And over something as small as that? I’ve heard him say a lot worse to your face.” Ron said in disbelief and you nodded, expression mimicking his as if you couldn’t believe it yourself.

“Right? And it’s like everytime he says something mean to me now my stomach drops and it actually hurts,” Ron regarded you softly, his eyes sad while he rubbed your back as you buried your face in your hands yet again, “Do you know what’s worse though?”

Ron opened his mouth to hazard a guess but no sound escaped as he drew nothing but blanks.

“I actually care what he thinks of me now. As if I actually value his idiotic opinions of me.”

It was at that moment that Harry entered the room sporting muddy quidditch gear and a confused expression, “May I ask why we’re having a heart to heart on my bed?”

Ron shrugged, continuing to rub soothing circles into your back as he told Harry mournfully, “Y/n likes George.”

“Merlin.” Harry whispered, as horrified to learn of your crush as Ron had been. “But, Y/n, he hates you! I mean he really hates you-“ the chosen one was cut off by a pillow making contact with his face. Ron had chucked it at him the second he felt your form begin to shake beneath his touch.

“Bloody hell, Harry! You’ve gone and upset her even more!” He whispered harshly. Harry quickly set his broom down and plopped himself down beside you, leaving you trapped between himself and Ron. The green-eyed boy rested his cheek against your lightly shaking back and managed to snake his arms around your torso.

“Sorry. Shouldn’t have said that.” He told you genuinely. “Should we go and find Hermione?”

You only shook your head. Embarrassment quickly overtook you as you realised your were crying in front of your two best friends over George fucking Weasley.

“No. No, I’m okay. It’s fine,” you sat up and hastily wiped your tears away.

“It’s okay to be upset, Y/n,” Harry spoke softly, squeezing your middle in a short hug, getting mud from his quidditch practice all over you.

With a resolute shake of your head you stood up and faced the boys, who each looked at you with pity filled eyes, then you spoke as steadily as you could, “I’m not upset. He hasn’t upset me,” you weren’t fooling anyone, really. Your eyes were bloodshot, your cheeks and nose were red and your voice was slightly hoarse when you spoke. The boys entertained you anyway, nodding in agreement.

“I’m telling you this as his brother and your best mate; you can do better.” Ron told you honestly, he wasn’t lying either, you were the type of girl who could get any boy she wanted without lifting a finger. Well, not any boy—obviously— but that wasn’t anything to do with you. Ron had his suspicions in regards to why his brother acted like such a knob towards you, however he’d been thrown off his scent recently when the older ginger stopped being mean to you teasingly in favour of being just plain mean.

You gave Ron the best smile you could muster at his words, “You are absolutely right, Ronald.”

Harry snorted before making his way over to Ron’s trunk, he rifled through it for a few seconds before pulling out one of Ron’s jumpers. He casually tossed, what you recognised to be Ron’s Christmas jumper from Molly, over to you with a grin, “Put that on. I got muck all over you.”

You had plenty of your own Christmas jumpers made by Molly Weasley but they were all the way over in your own dorm. Besides, you liked stealing the ones made for the boys as they were usually far too big for you which made them extremely comfortable to wear.

So you happily pulled the maroon jumper over your head, the wool effectively covering your dirtied t-shirt.

“Oh yes, by all means, you two just work away.” Ron grunted sarcastically. In all honesty, he didn’t care if you stole every piece of fabric he owned, if it made you feel better, he couldn’t care less.

“Right,” you said, making your way to the door of the dorm room, “I think I’ll go for a walk before the sunsets, calm myself down a bit.”

The boys nodded, “See you at dinner?” Ron asked and you gave him a smile and a small nod of confirmation before you set off out of the Gryffindor common room.

Thankfully, you didn’t run into George on your way out. You walked peacefully through the gardens and behind the greenhouses, it was around five in the evening and the sun was beginning to stoop low behind the tree line. The days were beginning to take on a chill as October approached quickly, you’d gone out without grabbing a jacket and you couldn’t deny that you were beginning to feel the cold nipping at your skin despite Ron’s jumper. Pulling the sleeves further down your wrists you carried on, trudging forward through the fallen leaves of the garden, you weren’t ready to go back inside yet. Going back to the castle meant you’d have to look your problem in the face, literally. You settled on the fact that you’d rather endure the physical cold rather than the emotional coldness you were sure to receive from George at dinner.

When you’d reached the back of the third greenhouse you could faintly hear someone humming to themselves and a soft smile found your lips when you saw who it was. Neville sat on a chair in the greenhouse, right by a plant that you hadn’t a clue what it was called, seemingly humming the little tune for the plant in question. Despite his undeniable clumsiness, there was something about Neville Longbottom that soothed you greatly. He has a good soul and his heart is usually in the right place, even if his head is sometimes screwed on slightly loose.

Gently, trying not to startle him you knocked on the closed door of the greenhouse before you opened it and walked in, “Hi, Neville. Mind if I join you?”

Neville blushed slightly but nodded his head, “Course! There’s a spare chair just there,” he pointed nervously to the chair. Once you settled yourself beside him, he let himself relax slightly.

“What sort of plant is this?” You asked him curiously. You really liked plants but you weren’t the best at keeping them alive, Neville though, seemed to be something of a green thumb.

He beamed at your question and quickly began to explain everything about the plant before you. You didn’t absorb a lot of it but listening to Neville speak so freely, something he rarely got to do amidst the other Gryffindor boys, filled you with a sense of serenity. Between his voice and the light wind that blew against the glass building, you’d completely forgotten about your red-headed problem.

“—sorry, I’m probably boring you. My nan says I have a tendency to ramble.” He cut himself off, cheeks heating up as he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully.

With a small giggle you only shook your head at the brown haired boy, “You’re not boring me at all! I quite like listening to you speak,” you admitted although you felt a bit silly after saying it out loud. Neville seemed to grow even more flustered after the words left your lips.

His eyes searched your face for any sign that you were teasing him, but all he saw was your kind eyes and comforting smile. Not exactly sure about what to say to you, Neville made an observation, “You’re cold.”

You gave him a nonchalant shrug, “I’m okay.”

Completely unsatisfied with your answer, Neville shook his head in protest and shrugged off his jacket. He was used to spending a lot of time in the garden so he was usually sporting far more layers than necessary, just in case. “Here, wear this. You’ll catch a cold otherwise,” he fretted and you didn’t have the heart to turn his offer down, you didn’t want to turn it down either, you were absolutely freezing. Gratefully you accepted the jacket and wasted no time in pulling it on.

“Thank you, Neville,” he looked you over for a moment, you could tell he was debating with himself on whether or not to speak, after a long few seconds of his eyes running over you he spoke.

“You look nice- I, uh, the jacket. You look nice in the jacket- I mean, the jacket looks nice on you-“ another giggle left your lips and effectively put the boy’s fumbled ramble to an end.

“Again, thank you, Neville. You are unbelievably kind.” You told him sincerely, quite enjoying the blush that adorned his cheeks.

“We should probably head back to the castle for dinner now. It’s gotten dark,” Neville said, standing up after giving his plant a loving pat.

The walk back to the castle with Neville was nice. The pair of you chatted idly about school subjects and house drama, but you had to admit, you weren’t paying a huge amount of attention to the conversation.

“Thanks again for lending me your jacket,” you said sweetly, shrugging the jacket off as you reached the main hall of the castle.

Neville, who seemed to be in a perpetual state of bashfulness, took the jacket back gently, a rosy blush painting his features, “It was no problem, really.”

Neville had always been incredibly kindhearted, sometimes to his own detriment. He treated people with respect and never turned anyone away if they needed help with anything at all. He is sweet, honest, loyal and, whether you liked him or not, he is indisputably adorable. And you found yourself thinking about how entirely better your life would be if your heart had chosen Neville to have a romantic fondness towards.

After separating from Neville, you made your way towards the Great Hall. On your way you bumped into Fred Weasley, who surprisingly, wasn’t accompanied by his twin. He greeted you with a wide smile and, as he always did, he ruffled your hair.

“So! I have a proposition for you,” the look on his face as he spoke was nothing short of wicked, a pit of nerves began to form in your stomach with the way his eyes were lit up excitedly.

“What are you proposing?” You encouraged exhaustedly. Whatever it was would probably end with you running from Filch.

Fred lopped his long arm around your shoulder, effectively pulling you along with him as he walked in the opposite direction of the Great Hall. Any chance of you getting fed this evening had gone out the window the second Fred clapped eyes on you, you’d made your peace with it. “I’m glad you asked, princess- “ at the sound of the pet name you let out a guttural groan.

“Freddie, please, I’m not in the mood to help you make some poor girl jealous just so you can get a snog,” you whined weakly only for the boy to ruffle your hair and tug you closer to his side.

“Let me finish! As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” he paused to glare at you jokingly and you smiled apologetically, “I have a plan to make George stop acting like a prat.”

A disbelieving scoff left your lips, “Yeah that’s likely,” Fred laughed and pinched your cheek lightly before carrying on.

“Angelina told me that she heard you crying in the girls toilets the other night,” he informed you. Your eyes widened in shock and confusion, you didn’t think anyone was in there with you and you also couldn’t piece together what your moment of weakness had to do with Fred’s master plan. “And before you start, I know it’s because of George.”

“That’s ridiculous, Fred.” You lied, unconvincingly.

Fred laughed again, it was a gentle laugh that let you know he hadn’t come here to tease you but to help you, “I know it’s ridiculous and that’s exactly why I know you’ve been so down in the dumps the last few days.”

“Besides,” he started again when you remained silent, “Why else would Ron be giving his brother the silent treatment?”

“What does any of this have to do with your plan?” You asked, eyes sad and heart heavy for the second time that day. You’d only just managed to get the whole thing out of your mind, and yet, here it was again.

“Well I happen to know why George acts the way he does,” you met him with a raised eyebrow and a bored expression.

“Because he hates me, I know.” Fred’s lips grew into a wicked grin and he shook his head, coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway.

“That’s where you’re wrong. He doesn’t hate you,” he lowered his lips to hover right by your ear before he whispered quietly, “He loves you.”

With a roll of your eyes, you pushed the boy away, fixing him with a hard stare, “Come on, Fred. That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking!” He exclaimed desperately, “We were in potions making amortentia, yeah? And Slughorn called George up to tell the class what he smelled and do you know what he said?” Fred retold madly, knowing full well that this was possibly the only opening he’d get to make the two of you realise your own feelings. Fred was well aware that you developed a crush on George, he picked up on it the second you began looking crestfallen when hit with a snide remark from his twin. He knew long before now that George had loving feelings towards you too, but their recent potions class was the only hard evidence he had to support his theory.

You shrugged helplessly in response, and Fred grabbed your shoulders and looked down at you urgently, “He said it smelled of cloudberries, daisies and-this is a direct quote-‘summer breezes’,” you stared at him numbly, not exactly sure what to say as the description did match the perfume you’d been wearing regularly since you were thirteen.

“That’s you, Y/n!” Fred confirmed and you pulled your lips between your teeth before shaking your head in complete denial.

“Lots of girls wear that perfume-“ Fred cut you off, ruthlessly.

“Name one.” You racked your brain but you genuinely couldn’t name another person who wore the same perfume as you. “You can’t, can you? Because it’s your smell!”

“Ok fine! So it’s my smell, what exactly do you expect me to do with this information?” Fred rolled his eyes in exhaustion at you.

“Blimey, you’re as daft as he is sometimes, do you know that?” Fred ran his hands down his face in exasperation before looking at you softly, “I except you to come with me so we can drive him mental for a bit and if he gets nasty I’ll embarrass him because I’m an incredible brother.”

You let him lead you towards Gryffindor Tower all while complaining about how you were starving only for Fred to hush you each time you let out a hungered whine, “We can raid the kitchen later on, love,” he promised and you sighed in defeat, “That’s the spirit.”

When the pair of you entered the Gryffindor common room, George was already there, probably waiting for Fred to return it. He sat one one of the sofas that faced the fire, completely relaxed and you hated the fact that you thought he looked amazingly ethereal with the way the flames from the fire lit his skin in an orange glow.

He hadn’t noticed you yet and Fred took notice of this. The older twin subtly slid his hand into yours and intertwined your fingers with his before turning his head and shooting you a mischievous wink. Fred Weasley was a nightmare, but when he was on your side, he never failed to make you smile.

Accepting that whatever Fred was about to drag you into would result in nothing but chaos you took a deep breath and followed Fred over to the sofa.

“What is she doing here?” George practically seethed, despite the intensity of his glare, you didn’t miss the nervous look he shot in Fred’s direction. What you had missed, though, was how harshly he’d clenched his jaw upon noticing your intertwined hands.

You decided that tonight you’d play the game slightly differently, if what Fred was saying was true, it would make things all the more entertaining. So, instead of your usual menacing glare and ego-shattering insult you met George with an innocent smile, “Was just hanging out with Freddie, thought I’d come say hello,” you said, sitting in the middle of the two twins.

George stared at you suspiciously, “Hello. That all?”

“Hi. No, actually, I think I’ll sit with you for a while. If that’s okay?” Fred was smirking from his spot beside you as he watched George’s face contort.

“You’ve never wanted to sit with me before.” He told you, squinting his eyes and trying to decipher what you were up to. He couldn’t lie to himself, he definitely wouldn’t mind you staying so close to him for a while, however he’d also sooner die then let you think you had the upper hand.

His and your composure cracked simultaneously at your next sentence, your truthful and somewhat vulnerable mumble of, “Well, you’ve never given me a chance to.” He knew you were right so he didn’t say anymore, opting to shift his gaze to the roaring fire, trying his best not to let his mind linger on the fact that you were wearing his brother’s jumper. His nose perked up at the scent that drifted from your spot, unusually close to him. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d fancied you for a long time, but, there was also no denying that he’d done a perfect job of making you hate him. Yet, as much as he wanted to just cut the crap, tell you that he thinks you’re the most insufferably beautiful girl he’d ever seen and kiss you and never ever stop, his pride would never allow him to cave. Especially not when you challenged him so effortlessly.

“So how come you were headed to dinner so late anyway?” Fred piqued up, growing tired of the lack of hostility between yourself and his twin.

“Oh. I was sort of worked up earlier so I decided to go for a walk ‘round the greenhouses. I bumped into Neville and I suppose I just lost track of time,” you explained halfheartedly.

Fred let yet another smirk overtake his face, “Longbottom, eh?” He wiggled his eyebrows and you let out a short giggle while shaking your head, sure, it would’ve been a good topic to tease George with, however, Neville was simply too sweet to be used as a pawn.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s very sweet. But he’s just a friend,” George looked almost satisfied with that answer, his usual scowl making an appearance once again.

“He could do better.” It was a barefaced lie. Neville couldn’t do better than you. In fact, George was of the firm belief that nobody could do better than you.

“Of course he could, he’s quite the charmer,” you spoke wistfully, finally giving Fred the show he’d been hoping for, as you egged George on.

George pretended to think for a moment, “I’m sure he is. Personally I think you’d be more suited to Filch, although, I’ve heard his standards are quite high.”

You took the boy by surprise when you laughed, the airy giggle left your mouth had such a profound effect on George that he almost wished he’d kept his mouth shut. His heart was leaping and there were butterflies beginning to form in his stomach, he physically had to will himself not to stare at you in awe when your eyes turned to meet his. The glow of the fire only aided in showing him how gorgeous those stupid eyes of yours are. “Mmm, yeah I suppose I should lower my expectations,” you paused briefly and mimicked George’s earlier motion of pretending to mull over your options. Your next action had Fred practically howling with laughter.

“You’re available, aren’t you Georgie?” You’d asked in a mock sultry tone, leaning towards him and lightly brushing your hand down his arm. Loving the way he choked on air you got up from the sofa, not before shooting him a wink, and sauntered towards the portrait hole, “I’ll be in the kitchens. See ya later, sexy.” You directed the last part at George, who looked as though he’d been frozen in time as Fred’s laughter grew in volume.

Upon entering the kitchen, the house elves had fussed around you, handing you food at any given opportunity. You had finished eating a while ago, you were currently nursing a hot cup of tea while chatting away to one of the house elves, only to be interrupted by someone else entering the kitchen.

He set his sights on you and quickly moved to the seat across from you, a look of urgency on his face that reminded you of Fred, “Whatever he told you. It’s not true,” you raised an eyebrow, sipping your tea uncaringly.

“Mind elaborating?” You asked tiredly.

“Fred.”

“Thank you, George, very clear and helpful,” you grumbled sarcastically and the boy let out a huff.

“You were acting different. You know something. What did he tell you?” George demanded through gritted teeth and you only deflated against your chair. It always boggled your mind how everyone described George as the nicer of the twins.

Not answering, you decided to start asking your own questions, “Can I ask you something?”

“Seems like you’re going to no matter what I say,” he sighed out as an elf pottered up to him and handed him a cup full of hot tea. He took it gently and thanked the elf with such sincerity that you wished you hadn’t seen the exchange, simply because it stung to know he’d never treat you with that level of sincerity.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He sat frozen for a second. Your tone of voice took him by surprise. It was needy bordering on desperate, nothing like he’d ever heard you speak before, not to him anyway.

George took a sip of his tea and shrugged as if the question was a stupid one, “I don’t.” A cold, humourless laugh came from you in response, the kind of laugh that made his stomach drop.

“Bollox. I’m being serious, George. Tell me what it is about me that makes me so insufferable to you!” You exclaimed, heart rate increasing and tone raising in octaves as you felt yourself growing more upset by his reserved expression.

George let out a heavy sigh, the jig was about to be up. You were upset and merlin was he tired of pretending that he didn’t want you in every way, shape and form.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.” There was no trace of hesitance or uncertainty in your voice, at this point you didn’t care what the answer was you just had to know.

“Fine,” he said all too casually and you knew by his tone that he, as per usual, wasn’t taking you seriously. “I don’t hate you. The only insufferable thing about you is how annoyingly gorgeous-“ you cut him off right then, with a scoff of pure disbelief.

Shaking your head rapidly, you stood from your chair and all but stormed out of the kitchen. His footsteps began to echoed behind you a few corridors later, he would’ve caught up to you sooner had your response to his would be confession not left him completely immobile. He called your name but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. Tears stung your eyes and you absolutely refused to let him know that he’d managed to bring you to the point of tears. Not that it was the first time.

“Bloody hell, Y/n! Hold on would you?” He called, finally getting close enough to reach out and grab your wrist. He spun you around to face him and quickly placed his hands on your upper arms to stop you from doing another runner. When he took you in he swore he’d never hate himself more than he did the moment he looked at you to see your eyes filled with tears, small drops escaping and carving a trail down your cheeks while you sniffed miserably.

“What?” You snapped, hostility the only thing you felt like offering the ginger in the moment. His brown eyes bored into yours with so much intensity but they held something you didn’t recognise. They looked sad, almost.

“I wasn’t making fun of you.” He stated honestly but you furrowed your eyebrows, your eyes set in a glare.

“Then what were you doing?” You croaked, letting your tears fall freely as the damage was already done. The sinking of your stomach and the tightening of your chest didn’t do a thing to ease your mind as George’s hands squeezed your arms.

He licked his lips quickly, he felt they’d become unbearably dry, and then slowly, he let his hands trail down your arms and took your smaller hands into his own. He hoped you were feeling the same electricity he was when he touched you.

“I’ve been a prick to you. You didn’t deserve it and I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere, but you second guessed him. For all you knew it was just some elaborate prank, Fred was probably in on it too.

When your gaze didn’t soften, he continued to speak, “So I understand why you wouldn’t believe me when I tell you that I don’t hate you. But I just-“ he cut himself off with a heavy sigh.

“You just what?” You squeaked when his eyes spent a moment too long observing your lips. You hardly had time to register the feeling of his hands leaving yours before they were cupping your cheeks instead. “What’re you doing?” You wondered, completely dazed by the way he stared at you. His warm hands holding your face causing your stomach to jolt in an entirely different sensation than before. As much as you wanted to push him away and tell him to shove his apology, you couldn’t help but take him in. His lips were parted ever so slightly and his cheeks were flushed, probably from chasing you through the castle, his hair was disheveled and merlin he looked like he wanted to kiss you.

Your question floated in the air, completely unanswered. Next thing you knew his lips were on yours. He kissed you as if you were oxygen and he’d just been drowning and you couldn’t help but move your lips harmonically against his too. Your hands clutched his wrists as he continued to cradle your cheeks. In all honesty you weren’t sure at what point he’d backed you against the wall, or at what point his tongue had entered your mouth or when exactly his hands had migrated to your hips, yours now tangled in his hair. His body was pressed flush against yours and the small groans he’d let out when you tugged at his hair or ran your tongue against his made you realise that you couldn’t care less if this was one big prank or joke. It was happening and that’s all you cared about.

Even as he reluctantly pulled away, he chased your lips with several shorter kisses before separating entirely. He rested his forehead against yours, his guard completely down now as he admired your swollen lips and heaving chest. The feeling of your fingers in his hair made it nearly impossible for him to keep his lips detached from yours, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing that.”

Your eyes searched his face for any sign that he was lying, when you found none you finally let yourself smile. A similar smile formed on George’s face, “I meant what I said earlier. I really do think you’re annoyingly gorgeous,” the boy silently praised himself when you let out a cute giggle.

“You’re quite cute too. When you’re not running that massive mouth of yours,” you teased although you weren’t really joking, to your surprise George let out a bellowing laugh before placing a fluttering kiss against your lips.

When he pulled away again he looked around the hallway, as if he only now realised where he was. Luckily nobody was wandering the halls since curfew was fast approaching and the unwelcoming cold that occupied the hallways left little reason for students or staff to be out and about. George slid his hand into yours again, this time intertwining your fingers with his. He gave you a hopeful glance and asked, “Do you wanna go somewhere?”

You nodded your head and let him tug you into one of the abandoned astronomy classrooms on the upper floor of the castle, Filch rarely ever patrolled up there which is why George decided on it. As well as that, since the classroom, which had been out of use for a good few years, had been used for astronomy the ceiling was bewitched to reflect the night sky.

George hadn’t come to this particular class in a while but thinking on his feet he remembered the cupboard at the back of the classroom used to hold blankets, he remembered when the classroom had been in use during his first year, students would be all but freezing during the winter, so they’d stocked the classroom with blankets to be brought out during the colder months.

He made his way over to the cupboard and grinned happily when his hand landed on a rather large woollen blanket. The material was scratchy but it would do for what he needed it for. He grabbed one more blanket from the dusty press before he made his way back over to you.

George suppressed a chuckle as he watched you, your face completely turned up, watching the stars on the ceiling with awe in your eyes. He busied himself with laying the wool blanket out on the bare floor, the room was devoid of tables and chairs so he didn’t have to worry about finding a space. Once he was finished, he plopped down on the blanket and expectantly patted the empty space beside him, “Come on then, sit down,” he urged and you finally tore your eyes away from the charmed ceiling.

A small laugh left your lips when you settled yourself down beside him, he wasted no time in covering the pair of you in the second blanket. With an exaggerated sigh he laid back and waited for you to do the same, he turned on his side to face you when you did. In contrast to earlier, George had an air of nervousness about him as he deftly took your hand and began playing with your fingers, not meeting your eyes. “Just out of curiosity,” he began quietly, making eye contact with you now, “What exactly did Fred tell you?”

His question forced a somewhat smug smirk to crawl onto your lips and you couldn’t help but take the opportunity to tease him. You leaned up on your elbows and twisted slightly so you could look down at him, trying not to waste too much time admiring the view, you answered him, “Oh, nothing really. Your lovely twin just happened to mention that you had a very eventful potions class the other day…” you trailed off, biting back a smile as he groaned.

“Mhm and what was it that he said you smelled from the amortentia?” You poked his cheek and he closed his eyes, a tiny smile growing on his face despite his blushing cheeks. “Cloudberries…oh! And daisies, now, what was the other thing? Let me think-“ you pretended to ponder before George cut you off by pulling you down on him and pressing his lips to yours in a kiss much softer than any of the others.

“Summer breezes,” he whispered against your lips before connecting them again, “It smelled like you,” and with that his hand snaked to the nape of your neck as he pressed his lips against yours, pouring all of his feelings into it, hoping it was enough. In all honesty, now that he’d felt what it was like to love you, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to go back to pretending to hate you.

Once he pulled away you were completely breathless, however, George seemed to have more to say. “I don’t want us to go back to the way we were,” absentmindedly you brushed his hair out of his eyes, stroking the red strands soothingly as he continued to confide in you, his voice, face and body completely vulnerable to you. Something about him trusting you with his feelings reassured you that his intentions were pure and banished any notion you possessed of the whole thing being a joke, “I didn’t like it, acting like that but you were always so unbothered that I felt like I had keep one upping you,” he confessed.

“You always gave me this feeling in my stomach whenever you’d come over to the Burrow with your parents when we were little and I didn’t understand it. I just thought that it must’ve meant I didn’t like you…” George seemed to get lost in his own mind as he gazed at you regretfully, his fingers trailed the length of your spine sofly, “By the time I realised, we were both older and I suppose I just thought you couldn’t feel the same ‘cause I made you hate me,” you hummed in acknowledgment, your fingers still working his hair, keeping it out of his eyes that looked at you so intently that you could’ve drowned in them and died happy.

“But then the other night after dinner Angie slapped me upside the head and talked my ear off about how out of order I’d been—obviously I agree with her! You weren’t even talking to me but Neville was complimenting you and I don’t know… just got possessive,” he muttered the last part, losing some confidence but regained it upon seeing the little smile on your lips. “Then Ron looked about ready to push me off the astronomy tower when I saw him this evening. Blimey, I knew it had to have something to do with you since Harry was snippy too.” You had to laugh at the exhausted look on his face when he recalled your two best friends.

Mockingly, you gave him a stern look and clicked your tongue, “Well, perhaps if you weren’t so mean to me all of this could’ve been avoided,” George groaned once again, feeling guilty he pulled you even closer and buried his face in your neck.

“M’sorry,” you carded your fingers through his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his head. Your lips against his head caused him to lift his face from the crook of your neck, “Forgive me?” He asked, a cute pout on his lips.

“I’ll think about it,” you teased, giggling at the offended look on his face. George let out a dissatisfied sigh, he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear before giving you a toothy smile.

“Don’t worry, love. I plan on making it up to you.”

[pergaias]

aron & aaron?

here you go, anon! idk if this is considered fluff, but it’s definitely not angst lmfao

“I miss you,” Aron said into the phone, wrapping a blanket more firmly around her shoulders. “It’s cold here—really cold. Ummm what else—my socks have holes in them and there’s no one else I can complain to.”

Aaron’s voice was warm and teasing, his accent more prominent now that he was back home for the holidays. “Ru, you can complain to anyone about anything. And I miss you too, you know that.”

Aron sighed dramatically into the receiver, making a face at Luna when she popped her head out of her bedroom door to gag. “It’s a gift.” she said sadly, wiggling her toes. There was a huge hole in the heel of one that Aron had clumsily patched with a piece of another shredded sock. 

Aaron was humming a song—some nameless generic Christmas carol—and Aron could hear him clattering around in a kitchen, perhaps. It was around dinnertime in his timezone. 

Snow was lazily falling and banking against the house’s eaves. Ty and Tate were snuggled next to Aron on the couch, and Aron’s chapped fingers were gently stroking Ty’s silky ears. She was—for the first time in a while—content.

“Did you get the postcard I sent you?” half of a smile played across Aron’s face as she petted Ty’s head and tucked her feet under the blanket and scrunched her nose at Tate, who was chewing on a loose piece of yarn that had unraveled from the sleeve of Aron’s sweater. 

“Ahh yes,” Aron could hear Aaron’s smile, “Wish you were here but not really but wait actually I do, xx Your-Name-But-One-Less-A.”

Aron laughed. “Hearing you say X-X is very strange, to say the least.”

“X-O baby,” Aaron teased. Yes, he was definitely clattering around a kitchen—Aron could hear pots clanking against each other and the faint sound of something simmering. 

Aron groaned. Aaron laughed. They both sat in comfortable silence, and Aron imagined what Aaron might be doing. Maybe he was wearing sweatpants, and was barefoot in his kitchen cooking something for a family dinner. She could picture his brown hair, messy like it was when he didn’t bother to style it. She could picture his wry, crooked smile, and if she focused hard, she could pretend that he was sitting there next to him.

You didn’t realize the space someone took up until there was a hole in their place—the holiday season was a time to be spent with people that you loved. Aron had her parents and her siblings, and of course the three Milans—Mara with their ferocious sense of right and wrong, Maia and the gravity she had about her, Maven and his outstretched arms, kinder than his sisters but just as stalwart.

And then there was Aaron and the place he had started to fill—the person he had become. Her friend, her secret, and now her . . . what could she even call him that summed it up? Boyfriend, lover, soulmate?

No, her soulmate was Maia. You didn’t have to love someone romantically to be the other half of them in that way—Aaron was the other half of her that she didn’t know was missing. He smoothed out her jagged edges, brought calm to her chaos, peace to her storm. 

The line crackled. “You still there, Ru?”

“I’m here, Swift.”

“I miss you,” Aaron’s voice was low, wistful. “I wish you were here, meeting my sister and my parents and my cousins.” 

Aron smiled, heat creeping into her cheeks. It was such a strange feeling, to be wanted. It was the kind of wanting that wound Aron’s heart into a spring, waiting, waiting, waiting to burst.

“I wish you were sitting next to me and I could put my head on your shoulder and complain about my busted socks.” Aron managed a wry smile, combing her fingers through her newly-cropped hair. She lifted a finger to her lips and tore at the callused skin of her fingertips, letting the silence of the call wash over her. It was a good kind of quiet, the quiet that came when two people understood each other.

“When I come back we’ll drive to the coast,” Aaron said suddenly, and there was a clattering of cookware. “We’ll take your car.”

Aron rolled her eyes and drew her finger across her throat at Luna, who had put a pillowcase secured by a headband on her head and was dramatically walking down the hall, a bunch of fake flowers in her hand like a bridal bouquet. 

“There’s an unfortunately high chance of the Beetle breaking down halfway to the coast,” Aron smirked good-naturedly. “And why the coast? It’s the middle of December, and it’ll be bitter January when you get back.”

The words were a punch to the gut. Two more weeks of phone calls and sporadic FaceTimes, with Aaron usually cutting short because his mom needed him or Aron’s siblings barging in and demanding her attention. 

“True,” Aaron mused. “Hmmm . . . we can drive up to Tahoe and go skiing.”

“Neither of us know how to ski, and you don’t know how to snowboard,” Aron said amusedly, her fingers tracing the waves in Ty’s soft fur. Tate had stopped chewing on her sweater and had started dozing against Aron’s thigh.

Aaron laughed. “You could teach me with your wonderful, patient teaching skills.”

“That’s just mean,” Aron whined, her mouth curling into a smile against her will. “I’m not patient by nature and you know that.”

“Am I pushing it saying ‘I’m the only person who can tease you like this and not get brutally murdered in my sleep’?”

Aron smiled again, wider. “Possibly.”

More clattering of pots and pans from Aaron’s side of the line. Tate yawned contentedly, her little pink tongue stretching out. Outside, Hadley was almost completely dusted in snow, softening the little town’s hard edges and severe lines.

In Aron’s hand, her phone started shrilling out her ringtone for Maia Milan. “Crap, Swift, hate to cut this short but—Maisey’s calling.”

She heard the mild surprise in his voice, startling a particularly Southern-accented sentence out of him. “Of course, Ru, I’ll call you back later?”

That thought brought a smile to her face. “FaceTime me tonight?” she asked, almost shyly. She combed her fingers through her hair in the heartbeats between her question and Aaron’s reply. “Sounds good. I’ll be up later.” she could hear his smile, and her chest felt strangely warm.

“Merry Christmas, Aron,” Aaron said, bashfully, and hearing her name—not just Aaron’s pet name Ru—felt strangely intimate. 

Aron mustered a smile, ducking her head. “Merry Christmas, Aaron. I miss you.”

She swore she heard his light chuckle before the line clicked silent, and Aron flopped back onto the couch and let her heart pound for a second. She felt—she felt—

Her phone rang again, and this time Aron picked up. “Hey, Maisey!” she couldn’t help it. A grin slowly overtook her face, one that not even the sourest of Aron’s moods could have dampened. 

“You’re sounding chipper,” Maia’s British-accented voice, melodic and silvery, floated from her speaker. “What’s up?”

“Why did you call? You first,” Aron insisted, crossing her legs and patting her lap, looking pointedly at the two black-and-white dogs. Ty wagged his tail and stumbled onto Aron’s lap, promptly falling asleep. 

Maia laughed into the receiver. “I just wanted to say hello, Ronnie. Also, Leora and I just came back from an impromptu date and—” Maia dissolved into giddy laughter. “I’m gay panicking so badly, I should do this with my sister. Anyways—enough about me, what have you been—”

“Aaron and I were calling,” Aron said softly, propping her elbow on her leg and resting her chin on her hand. “I—I really like him, Maisey. I really do.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” Maia groaned. “Don’t tell me that I cut your talk on the telly short—”

Aron waved it off. “It’s fine, it’s fine, we were talking for ages before and he was already cooking dinner.”

Maia laughed into the receiver again, but it wasn’t the giddy lovestruck laughter of earlier. It was full-blown cackling, and Aron knew enough about her friend to know that she was probably swaying back and forth. “You really like him? Darling, good job, you’re officially the last person to know.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Aron rolled her eyes, but then glanced around to make sure Elliott wouldn’t pop up out of nowhere and scream QUACK in her face. 

“But—do you—” Maia’s voice lowered conspiratorially, and Aron had the vague sense that the two of them were at a sleepover and Maia was trying to coax Aron’s deepest secrets out of her at 3am. “Do you feel forever about him?”

“Maia Milan, I’m seventeen.”

Maia clicked her tongue. “Ahh yes, you don’t know anything.”

Aron snorted. “But I know I miss him.”

“You two are so in love it hurts,” Maia sighed. “I’m glad you’re happy, Ronnie, I really am.”

There was a tiny bitter note in her voice, but it was quickly covered. “I love that you love him. I—you two have something that a lot of people would be lucky to find.”

“We’re seventeen,” Aron said again, laughing. But something was in her chest, almost like a string tied around her heart. It was easy to imagine an invisible string connecting her and Aaron. “And what about you and Leora? Every time I see you two together I want to gag.”

“The feeling’s mutual, love,” Maia deadpanned. But she sighed wistfully, and there was an oomph from the phone, like Maia had fallen backwards onto a pile of pillows. She did that a lot. 

“Anyways,” Aron’s throat was tired, from talking for so long. “I should probably make tea or something, it’s getting really cold.”

“Get your pyromaniac sister to start a fire or something,” Maia advised. “She started one here this morning when Mavey called her over—it’s still burning, bright as new love—”

Aron squinted suspiciously at her phone. “Am I picking up what you’re putting down?”

“I put down nothing at all, Aron Rucyznski.” Maia lied unconvincingly, Aron’s last name newer and prettier in her accent. Rucyznski. All the hard sounds smoothed by her voice, like stones in a river.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Love you,” Maia air kissed the receiver and it clicked dead. 

Aron stared out the window, at the snow slowly falling into soft white heaps against dead grass and concrete and asphalt and roofing tiles. She felt content. It was such a strange feeling, to not be wound up as a kid’s toy or so stressed that she felt like breaking down on her bathroom floor every few minutes.

She smiled. 

[pl-dubois]

hey love. i'm gonna say angst: #8, fluff: #4, and misc: #12 & 16 i get that's a lot so if you don't wanna do em you are under no obligation to ❤️

hey, it’s the anon again :) idk if you already knew what boys you wanted to write about [if you did then don’t listen to me, do what you want, seriously!!!] but if you were looking for requests for boys too then hartsy or patty would be 👌

Angst #8: “Is that blood?” “…..No?”

You knew something was off the moment you opened the door to find TK on the other side.

“Oh, hey Y/N!” he said cheerfully, standing to the side so you could step inside.  “I was just heading out, had to make sure Patty got home alright. I’ll see you guys later.”

With his words, Travis took his leave and you closed the door behind him, a little confused by what he had said.  Why had he needed to make sure Nolan got home safe?  It was still early in the night, the game hadn’t been over long enough for them to get really wasted.  Almost immediately, concern overtook your mind.

Making your way to your bedroom, you pushed the half-closed door open to find your boyfriend sitting on the bed, checking his phone.

“Hey, babe,” he said with a smile when he looked up. “I was just about to call you.  How was dinner? I missed you tonight.”

Instead of acknowledging his words, you phrased your own question.  “Are you okay?”

His smile faltered as he responded, sighing, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Why was Travis here then?”

“We both agreed it would be better if he drove me home instead of me driving myself.  He was just making sure I got up here okay.”  His mumbling made it clear that he was reluctant to tell you, but his tone was the obvious indicator that he didn’t want you to worry.

“What do you mean, got up here okay?”

By not receiving a response from your boyfriend, your apprehension got the better of you.  You stepped towards him to examine his face, reaching out to touch him gently, but he quickly turned his head away from you when he realized what you were doing.

“Babe-” he started in protest, but you had already caught a glimpse of what you hated most about the sport he played.

“Is that blood?” you asked, taking a step back and crossing your arms.

“…..No?”

“Nolan James!” you exclaimed, moving back in towards him.  You took his face in your hands, carefully yet firmly, and assessed the damage that had been done.  He had a few small lacerations on the side of his head and near his temple, although to your dismay, when you took a closer look, you noticed he also had a set of nasty stitches criss-crossing across his ear.  “Baby, what happened…?”

“Took a puck to the head,” he mumbled, looking a little guilty.  “I’m sorry-“

You shook your head, successfully cutting his unnecessary apology off while you ran your fingers through his soft hair, scratching his scalp with your nails gently. “Are sure you’re okay, Nol? I’m just worried.”

“I know,” he sighed, reaching to pull you closer by the back of your thighs to stand between his.  “And yeah, I think so. My head hurts a little, but other than that I’m okay.”

You just nodded, pulling Nolan’s head to your chest as you hugged him tightly.  His hands were warm on your legs and the feeling brought your head back down to reality; you took a shaky breath as you were suddenly overcome with a feeling of love and gratefulness.  His injury could’ve been so much worse, you were lucky all he got were a couple of stitches and placed on concussion protocol.  

Pulling away from your embrace, Nolan brought a hand up to brush against your cheek, wiping away the few tears that had gathered there unknown to you.  You leaned into his touch, sighing softly.

“I’m okay, really,” he offered you a small smile of reassurance.  “Head injuries always look worse than they actually are.”

“That’s very true,” you nodded, a small smile forming on your face; relieved wasn’t even close to describing the emotions you were feeling.  “I’m just glad you’re okay, Nol.”

“Believe me, I am too,” he laughed softly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.  Catching his hand as he pulled it away, you pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist.  Using the grasp you already had on him, Nolan pulled you in close and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. 

“I love you so much,” you sighed happily, letting your hands rest on his shoulders. 

“I love you more,” he returned with a grin, stroking your sides lovingly. 

“Debatable, but I’ll let it slide this time.”

Nolan’s soft laughter at your response made your heart soar.  Kissing his head softly, you pulled away from his embrace. 

“I know you’re probably exhausted,” you said, making your way slowly to the bedroom door, “so you go to bed.  I’ll grab you some ice and set alarms for every three hours.”

Settling back against the pillows, Nolan’s eyes were filled with absolute adoration.  “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you, babe.” Blowing him a quick kiss, you disappeared from the room. 

______

Fluff #4: “Have you always been this beautiful?” 

Falling in to bed with Carter had always been easy, but it was getting back out of it that was harder.  The two of you had agreed on the whole friends with benefits thing ages ago, and you had even been adamant about no strings attached. However, that definitely didn’t stop you from developing feelings for him along the way. 

Your latest rendezvous had brought you to Carter’s apartment and you found yourself staring at the ceiling after Carter had fallen asleep, unable to calm your wandering thoughts.  The sex had been amazing as always, you’d for sure feel the after effects of it in the morning, but you wondered for how much longer you could continue hooking up with Carter while also keeping your emotions at bay.  You could’ve stayed lost in your thoughts for hours, but a feeling of being watched stirred you from the depths of your mind.  Rolling onto your side toward Carter, you were met with his green eyes gazing at you.  A warm hand came to rest on your bare thigh as you struggled to find words.

“I thought you were- you’re awake?” you managed to get out, brain still slightly foggy from the post-sex haze you were in.

Carter nodded, beginning to trace shapes with gentle fingers across your skin.  “And so are you.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you mumbled truthfully.  He didn’t need to know the exact details on why couldn’t rest.  

“Me neither,” he replied softly, his hand moving up your body to continue his soft touches on your arm.  As he spoke, you noticed something in his eyes; it wasn’t lustful like it usually was when the two of you were together, it was something that you had never seen before from Carter.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you questioned, laughing softly.

“Like what?” His hand stilled as he moved to brush the hair out of your face; it took everything in you to not completely melt into his touch.  “God… Have you always been this beautiful?”

“Carter-” you started only to be cut off by your friend’s soft lips against your own.  Too shocked for a moment to recognize what was happening, you quickly reciprocated and drew closer to his body.  The kiss was different than the rough, rushed ones you had shared before in the heat of passion; it was gentle and full of unspoken words you couldn’t quite decipher.

When the two of you finally broke apart, he looked almost a little guilty.  

“Look, I know we said we wouldn’t do feelings with the whole friends with benefits thing, but,” he paused to let out a soft laugh to himself, “I really like you.”

Taken aback at his words, it took you a moment to find yours.  “Well that’s a relief… I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Dissolving into laughter, the next kiss the two of you shared was enough to prompt Carter into rolling himself back on top of you.  You easily fell back into your old habits; though this time, instead of just another drunk hookup with hidden emotions, there was love and care in every caress of your bodies. 

______

Misc. #12: “Can we please stop running? I think I’m dying.” 

Why you agreed to go on an early morning run with your boyfriend, you’d never know. 

You knew going into it that keeping up with Carter was going to be a challenge; he was a professional athlete and you were lucky if you found the motivation to go to the gym.  However, even though you knew what you were getting yourself into, it was still somehow a surprise to you when your body started screaming for oxygen and water about half a mile in. 

“Can we please stop running?” you managed to gasp out.  “I think I’m dying.”

Chuckling softly, Carter slowed his pace until you were stopped on the side of the road where you had been running.

“You okay?” he asked, a small teasing smile threatening to show on his face. Not having enough air to respond, you gave him a glare that spoke for you.

Resting your hands on top of your head to help open up your chest more, you finally managed to stop gasping for air. 

“I cannot BELIEVE you talked me into running with you,” you sighed, shaking your head.  “God, I’m so mad at you right now. It’s almost like you plan-“ You stopped as Carter laughed again, finally realizing that he had played you like a fool. 

“What can I say?” he shrugged with a grin. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

“Carter!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands down exasperatedly. “Are you serious right now?!”

“See, now you’re just proving my point.”  The grin on your boyfriend’s face grew as he pulled you closer.

Smacking lightly at his chest, you whined, “Stop I’m all gross and sweaty. And I’m still mad at you.”

“Don’t care.”  And with his words, he picked you up, easily throwing you over his shoulder as he started walking again. 

“Oh my God- Babe! Put me down!” you shrieked, not able to help the laughter that escaped your mouth. 

“Not until you’re done being mad at me.” Carter’s laughter joined your own after pressing a kiss to your thigh. 

“Guess I’m gonna be here awhile then.”

______

Misc. #16: “YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!”

Going dress shopping wasn’t at the top of either of your lists, but it had to be done—at least that’s what Nolan kept telling himself while waiting for you to show him your latest discovery. 

Looking at yourself in the dressing room mirror, you weren’t really sure what to think. Sure the dress was gorgeous, but it was also much more revealing than you were used to, not to mention more scandalous than what Nolan was used to seeing you in. Taking a deep breath, you emerged from the dressing room to show the garment to your awaiting boyfriend.  When he looked up from his phone to take in the sight of you, you couldn’t quite place the reaction on his face. 

“Be honest,” you said slowly, “how do I look in this dress?”

Setting his phone down completely, the next words out of your boyfriend’s mouth were anything but PG. 

“That dress looks amazing on you.” Sitting on the edge of his chair and lowering his voice, he continued, “I can’t wait to peel it off your gorgeous body and take you apart with my-“

“Shush!” you hissed, leaping over to where he was, your eyes wide in surprise.

“Tongue.” He finished his sentence proudly with a cocky smirk.  As red as your face was from his comments, the color left by your hard smacks to his arm would rival it. 

“YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!” Nolan laughed, trying to avoid your blows. 

“We. Are. In public, Nolan.” You spoke through gritted teeth, not wanting to draw anyone’s attention to you, stilling your hands. Taking a second to glance around, luckily for you, you found that no one was near you to hear his smart remark. 

“I thought you were into that.” A wolfish grin played on his features while his hands made their way to your ass.

“Nolan Patrick!” you exclaimed before quickly dropping the volume of your voice again.  “Not here! Let me buy this dress and then you can do all the things you said you would when we get home.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky swear, baby.”

[imnotcameraready]

chivalry is dead (3)

A/N: MEET THE ROMANS !!!!  i actually drew All the romans, but you only meet the first one in this chapter! gonna upload his pic in a Hot Sec but, anyway, i love him and i love you! <3 this entire story turned real big

WARNINGS: Sympathetic Deceit, arguing, yelling, panic (no panic attacks but Virgil is incredibly on edge, as is everyone), heights/possibly falling two floors off a tall ladder — if i missed anything, please please let me know!!  also, OCs? ?  gonna talk more about that in the Tags but let me know!

Words: 2916

Pairings: why do i keep adding this? idk. nothing yet! I guess you can read patton being Platonically Flirtatious™ to Logan but?  DLAMP endgame, but i guess you can call this a slow burn because i forgot how much i write on the regular

Part 1 (chivalry is dead) — Part 2 (i’m wishing) — Part 3 (the bells of notre dame) — Part 4 (honor to us all)

AO3 link!

@starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda @askthesnake @k9cat

enjoy!!

The room had changed, yes, but it hadn’t gone back to being Roman’s bedroom.

In fact, the room appeared more like a long walk-in closet. Deceit closed the door a little and looked at the front again — yep, the sign was still there, this was still Roman’s room. He let the door swing all the way open in a silent invitation to the other Sides to peek in. Logan was the first to join him in the doorway, standing right besides Deceit, only a few inches away from the threshold.

From the doorway, they couldn’t see the end of the narrow hall. Both walls were packed with clothes pressed against each other, like some sort of unreasonably long walk-in closet. There was a second shelf of clothes above that, just as packed. In the hallway’s center were some benches, of varying aesthetics. The one closest to the door was plush, with seating on both sides and red cushions, but the one next to it and farther in looked like a football stadium bleacher. Strewn about, too, were many, many shoes. Not all in pairs.

Deceit leaned his head into the room and, with one hand on his hat, looked up. The ceiling continued forever as well, with even more shelves of clothing stretching up as far as the eye could see.

“This is certainly a change,” Logan commented, a slight tremor in his voice, “Though it’s a far cry from the black abyss you’d claimed to see.”

“What’s it look like?” Virgil shuffled behind them both, the tensions of earlier now replaced with a stifling dread.

Deceit glanced back at him, just to check. Old habits die hard. He was holding Patton’s arm tight, breathing nearly nonexistent, off-hand twitching every so often. Virgil’s hair was matted down, too, as he and Patton examined the room. The concern was leaking into Patton, as his hand seemed just as tight on Virgil’s. He pushed up his glasses without taking his eyes off of the room, and Deceit could see some tears sparkling behind the lenses. Virgil’s mounting panic plus Patton’s deep concern was creating an intoxicating brew of ‘we should get on with this.’

Deceit turned to Logan and nodded to the room. They’d have to go in to find Roman.

There was nothing else to be done. Logan lifted a foot.

“Don’t go in there,” Virgil said, nearly shouted.

“Well, we must, if we’re—”

“Hang on, hang on, first,” Patton leaned forward, nudging his face between Logan and Deceit while keeping his feet firmly planted behind them as Virgil tugged him closer. He cupped his other hand around his mouth. “ROMAN? HELLO?”

Silence was his answer. Not even an echo. Patton’s nose scrunched up. He pulled back, wrapping an arm subconsciously around Virgil. “That usually works,” his words laced together quietly.

Logan shot him a quick confused glance. Internally, he was considering the possibilities at a breakneck pace. Roman’s room was the most volatile, susceptible to constant change depending on how the creative side felt and what his most recent project was. It made sense that the room wouldn’t look exactly how it did the last time they’d seen it, especially given how long it’d been since the door had last been opened.

Something was still unusual, however. Even though its theming was impermanent, there were certain constants: a bed, a wardrobe or closet, a desk, often a window or two, Roman’s fairy lights, some posters. Even when period themed, Roman kept a laptop on his desk and a speaker besides his bed. Now there wasn’t even a bed. There were just rows and rows of clothes, some unwearable for daily use. Logan could definitely see a hoop skirt over there on the left. And….was that a full military uniform? Why would Roman need outfits such as those?

“A costume room!” Patton exclaimed, causing everyone else to jump.

Virgil calmed himself down first. “Can’t you give a guy a warning before your lightbulb moments, Pat?” he stuffed his hands into his hoodie pockets, glowering at Patton.

“Sorry, kiddo,” Patton rubbed the back of his neck and smiled thinly back, “I just thought, this whole set up….it looks a lot like a big ole’ dressing room, doesn’t it? With the costumes and the benches?”

The other three glanced back around the room. “I suppose you’re right,” Logan said, drawing out his words.

Before another silence overtook, though, he cleared his throat and straightened his tie. “I don’t think we’ll learn any more about Roman’s sudden room change without going in,” his voice was stiff, trying to hide whatever nervousness he felt.

“I don’t know. I don’t like this,” Virgil grumbled, eyes locked on the darkness at the end of the hallway.

It was dimly lit but not difficult to see in. They could definitely search around in here, but there wasn’t a boundary between the Imagination and Roman’s room. For all they knew, they could be walking straight through the Imagination, which would be chaotic. They couldn’t control it like Roman could. Sure, Virgil’d made a fair nightmare or dark daydream, but it always got out of hand or was overseen by Roman himself, usually inspirational fodder for some bigger project he was cooking.

Actually, now that he thought about it, Virgil didn’t think he’d ever been in the Imagination without Roman. He hadn’t heard of any of the others entering Roman’s “kingdom” without him and, honestly, he wasn’t keen on finding out what’d happen if they didn’t have a guide.

Oof.

“Are you going to stop glaring at the hallway any time soon?” Deceit’s voice pulled Virgil from his thoughts and another spiral.

Before he could retort, Logan stepped back from the room to face him. “I hate to admit it, but he’s right. We should enter and find Roman ourselves,” he crossed his arms as he explained. “This room doesn’t bear resemblance to any sort of bedroom and, if Patton’s assumption that this is a costume room is correct, then we must ask why Roman’s chosen to, er. Switch things up. There are different interpretations we could derive but it’s better to hear it from him, as well as pull him out of his room for a meal and check-in.”

“And if he gets mad that we barged in on his personal space and doesn’t want to see us again?” Virgil asked, crossing his arms to mirror Logan’s stance.

“Then we acknowledge that Deceit lied, and we ask why he hasn’t left his room in a week. I find the second part of your statement highly improbable as well. Considering our concern and confusion over Roman’s absence, I think we are well-warranted in entering without permission.”

“Wow, check out Logan, finally coming to his senses about the constructive nature of personal space,” Deceit followed Logan away from the doorway, a sneer on his lips.

Logan and Virgil now both glared at Deceit. “Me agreeing that I’m confused by Roman’s sudden departure doesn’t mean I agree with your explanation that he fell into a hole — a hole that is no longer there, mind you.”

“And we can probably find Roman without you stinking up the place,” Virgil waved his hands at Deceit, gesturing for him back up, “How about you drag yourself back to whatever hole you crawled out of, and—”

“Guys! I found my old cardigan in here!”

All three of them looked up, noticing that Patton was a fair way into the room, and all of them tensed. As much as Deceit and Logan were talking a big game about entering the room, it seemed they were just as nervous as Virgil was.

Patton didn’t react to their concern, perusing the costumes lining the left side of the wall. In his defense, Patton already knew they were gonna have to search for Roman in here. He didn’t distrust Deceit more than he was worried about Roman isolating himself, and the collection of costumes was a lot more interesting to him than debating the morality — he snorted to himself — of the situation. Besides, Virgil’d get the hint that the morals of going in were fine if Patton and Deceit were agreeing.

Now, the cardigan was the same as his. Patton would have thought Roman’d just taken it if he hadn’t felt assured that his cardigan was in his closet, in his room. Plus, THIS cardigan didn’t have a dollar in the pocket! Or, wait, he’d given that dollar back to Roman, since he owed him. Okay, well, he was still pretty certain that HIS cardigan was back in HIS room!

“You shouldn’t be touching Roman’s clothes, Patton,” Logan had entered the room.

Patton didn’t look up, though he could tell by Logan’s voice that he was standing just behind him. “Awh, but there’re so many outfits! Who knew Roman had so many!”

Something blue caught his eye. Patton reached for a hanger just a few spaces down from the cardigan and pulled out Logan’s old outfit, with the black polo shirt and periwinkle tie. “Hey, look! It’s you!” He grinned at Logan, laughing at Logan’s cute little surprised expression, “Talk about a blast from the past!”

Logan took the hanger, lifting it up to inspect. It was just the shirt and tie, but….well. He felt a twinge of nostalgia. “I do prefer my current tie,” he said.

“An’ I think you look great in anything,” Patton nudged him with his elbow, “Just thought you’d wanna see! Looks like Roman’s stocked up on all our old outfits.”

“C’mon, guys, we shouldn’t be in here,” Patton and Logan turned and saw Virgil slowly follow Deceit past the threshold, steps slow and careful, as if the ground were going to fall into the pit Deceit’d described.

Once Virgil was two steps in, though, the door slammed shut behind him. He whipped around, screaming in surprise and launching himself backwards into Deceit, who then shouted and fell forward onto the red couch.

Patton screamed, too, and flung himself into Logan, who actually caught him. His arms wrapped around Patton’s shoulders as he hoisted him up.

They all watched as the door sank beneath the deep red carpet, standing still as statues as it slid down and left a blank white-wallpapered wall.

Trapped.

Logan let go of Patton slowly, arms dropping to his sides. He could feel a headache coming on. Patton unraveled himself from Logan, too, stepping more towards Deceit and Virgil as the shock wore off. Deceit nearly flung Virgil off of himself, probably would have succeeded if Virgil hadn’t jumped off of him first.

The shock of what had happened was definitely wearing down on Virgil, hands shaking at his sides. Patton placed a hand on his shoulder — an offer — and Virgil took it, hugging Patton tight, burying his face into his chest. Patton wrapped his arms around Virgil too, just as tight. “Sorry,” Patton looked up, mouthing to Deceit.

Deceit seemed nonplussed, though, as he stared down the hallway. Logan’s body was turned towards them, seemingly halfway through approaching, though he too faced down the hall.

“Do you hear….” Logan’s voice, a hushed whisper, “Singing.”

Patton frowned, but carded his hand through Virgil’s hair and listened harder.

“You can lie to yourself and your minions,” that voice was unmistakable, verse echoing faintly from down the impossibly long hall.

Virgil gripped the back of Patton’s shirt and perked his head up as the voice grew slightly louder.

“Roman,” Deceit’s shoulders relaxed, “That must be Roman.”

In a non-spoken group decision, the four began to slowly walk down the hall. Deceit led the way past the hanging costumes, each closet packed with outfits, and didn’t stop. Virgil was at the back, still holding onto Patton’s shirt, checking behind them every so often.

Things were even more disorganized as they continued down the hall. Costumes were on the ground, as though fallen from their hangers. Patton’d stopped to fix the first few, but as they saw more and more dishevelment, he gave up. The shoes were strewn about still, some on benches now, some with full costumes sitting on the bench besides them.

“You can claim that you haven’t a qualm!”

There were some outfits that they recognized. Thomas’ Dr. Emile Picani costume was sitting on a bench, laid out neatly, as though they’d be shooting Cartoon Therapy the next day. His trenchcoat from playing JD was crumpled in a lump with a single thick boot next to it, from the same outfit. Deceit pointed out a balled up copy of Virgil’s current hoodie, sat in the middle of their walkway.

“He must be in a block. Making all these costumes must’a been a real good creative exercise,” Patton tried to keep his voice light and airy.

Virgil shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a block. It reeks of manic panic in here,” he scowled around, “We gotta figure out what’s wrong with him.”

“But you never can run from,” Roman’s singing continued, growing louder, closer.

“Of course. Before he disappeared, would you consider that Roman was acting odd? I thought his demeanor was fairly typical for a creative block, hence it wasn’t incredibly worrying,” Logan hummed in thought, then added, “He had been a little more subdued. But, that too could be attributed to the lull in productive creative content plus the incoming tax season.”

“I mean, locking himself in his room was pretty in character,” Virgil said, “But….”

“Was leaving him in his room in character for you all?” Deceit looked back just long enough to catch the glare Virgil shot him, “It’s a fair question, after all this.”

“....How do we know you’re not just leading us into a trap here?” Virgil hissed, without the bite he’d had earlier.

“For the last time, I’m not tricking you. Even you can feel how scared Roman is, you said it yourself,” Deceit stopped, letting Logan walk past him as he argued with Virgil.

“Yeah, but—”

“Nor hide what you’ve done from the eyes~!”

Logan held up a hand, stopping all of them. “I can see the end of the hall,” he said.

“And there’s Roman!” Patton let go of Virgil, letting the anxious side finally unravel himself from Patton’s chest while he moved besides Logan.

Instead of a bench, there was a large table in the center of the hallway, papers strewn over it in piles and disorganized stacks. On the opposite walkway side from the other four sides was a ladder and, up two levels of closet, was Roman. He had a stack of costumes in his arms, hanging them up one by one, voice echoing downwards.

“The very eyes of Notre Dame!” he leaned backwards on the ladder, spurring Virgil to swear loudly, jump towards it, and hold it steadier.

Roman didn’t notice them, though, continuing to sing and hang clothes. Patton, Logan, and Deceit all shared a look while Virgil just looked up at Roman and held the ladder. At least they’d get some answers now.

Logan cleared his throat first. “Roman!”

No response. Roman just continued to sing. “And for one time in his life of power and control,” he waved one of the costumes — a black cloak with blue trims — and spun on the top of the ladder.

“Stop spinning,” Virgil barked, holding the ladder with white knuckles.

The others crowded around the bottom, Patton now holding the other two legs. “Let’s try a little kindness — Roman, kiddo, can you come down here?” his voice was soft, inviting and loving, gazing up the ladder.

“Frollo felt a twinge of fear!”

“Well,” Patton looked back down at the other Sides, “I’m shattered.”

Deceit rolled his eyes as Logan sighed, “He’s ignoring us.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.”

“For his immortal sou~l!”

“Roman—Roman, stop,” Deceit shook the ladder, trying to not throw Roman’s balance off, “What’s happening?”

“Yeah,” Virgil shouted, shooting Deceit a deadly glare quickly, “Get down here and stop singing! You’ve got a lotta explaining to do!”

Roman didn’t turn around, but he stopped dancing, singing, and shifting the ladder. “You’re all interrupting the audition,” he snapped as he hung the last costume and began to descend.

As he came closer, the other four could see the differences in his outfit. Gone was the white uniform and red sash, replaced with a white shirt and a tight red vest. Though they could only see his back, the others could see a scroll decal across his shoulders, similar to the one on Roman’s crest. This was certainly a change.

“Roman,” Virgil started, voice quiet, leading to more, but Roman cut him off.

“Stop calling me that. Haven’t won the callback yet,” and he laughed to himself, landing and pivoting at the bottom of the ladder.

The vest buttoned double-breasted in the front, and a bright red tie was tucked into the vest, which had golden lapels. The others watched him push his own pair of black-rimmed Warby Parker glasses up his nose, hair pinned back from its normal waves with one glittering gold pin. A golden pen was tucked behind the ear his hair was, too. On the bottom, he wore black pants and a black dress shoes with whitened Oxfords.

He took notice of their confused looks and bowed with a flourish and a large, proud smile. “As you can all see, I’m definitely not the Prince, and am not Roman YET. For the time being, you may call me the Playwright.”

[galaxystony]

little green monster: peter parker

peter parker x reader

A/N: i feel like there’s a very obvious difference between my writing for high school peter and college peter that almost seems less mature and idk if i’m into that or not but??? c’est la vie oh well i’m sorry if this is crap lol (also this is dedicated to @tomhollandxreader, thank you for motivating me my angel, i love you!!)

masterlist

requested:  Anonymous-

Peter Parker getting jealous when the reader gushes about Cap when watching one of those videos at school

Words: 2100+

Warnings: none

summary: He’s never even spoken to her before, so how is he supposed to explain why his eyes never seem to leave her captivating figure or why he can’t seem to will away the tight ball of jealousy in his chest whenever he sees her talking to someone else?

let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list!

requests are open!

“Ugh, he looks so good in that suit,” Peter heard someone say from across the crowded bleachers. His head shot up, easily recognizing the sound of her voice.

She was sitting three rows down, squished in between two of her friends as she stared dreamily at the small screen that was still displaying the fitness test introduction video, a small image of Captain America waving his arms around animatedly in an attempt to motivate his audience to “get up and get active!” flickering in and out of focus.

Peter’s eyebrows drew together as he watched her interact with her friends. Was she talking about… Captain America? He eyed her critically as she turned again to say something else, his heightened senses allowing him to hear her next statement.

“Although I bet he’d look better with it off,” she giggled behind her hand. Peter choked on the breath he’d been holding, startling Ned who had been flitting in and out of sleep for the past five minutes.

“Huh? What happened?” Ned asked, looking around dazedly until he focused on Peter’s dropped jaw. “What, Peter?”

“Uh… nothing! It’s… um.. It’s nothing!” Peter turned red and forced himself to look away from her laughing huddle of friends.

“Then why’d you just make a sound like a dying cat?” Ned questioned, watching as Peter turned his attention once again to her hunched and laughing figure. When Ned followed his gaze and caught sight of her small frame, he sighed in understanding. “Really, dude? One of these days,Y/N’s actually gonna catch you looking and report you for harassment or something.”

“Wha- no, Ned! I wasn’t watching Y/N!” Peter said defensively, turning to glare at his friend.

“Yeah right, Pete. What completely enthralling thing is she talking about this time?” he inquired sarcastically.

“Nothing!” Peter said, and then he heard her laugh, a tinkling, mellifluous thing that had him struck with such limerence that he thought he might stop breathing altogether. “Do you think I’m as attractive as Captain America?” he blurted, eyes still glued to her captivating profile.

“What? Dude, why would you ask me that?” Ned laughed, watching the screen down below quite intently for someone who’d been asleep for the entire first half. “Of course you’re not as attractive as Captain America. He’s a scientifically enhanced super-soldier and you’re a fifteen year old boy who’s still going through puberty.”

Peter sighed, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes and rubbing until he could see the phosphenes lighting up the dark, stars and colors dancing across his vision while Ned gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

“It’s alright, Peter. I’m sure Y/N would think you’re attractive. I mean, if you ever end up saying more than two words to her, that is,” Ned shrugged.

“Ned, you know I can’t talk to her. She’s popular. Can you imagine what she’d say if I ever approached her? Can you even imagine what I’d say? I’d probably screw everything up! Then she and Liz and Betty would make fun of me in front of everybody,” Peter whined quietly, burying his face in his hands. 

“Peter, just-” The shrill sound of a whistle interrupted Ned’s sentence as Coach Wilson began shouting instructions at the startled class. “Shoot, what are we even doing? I haven’t been paying attention.”

Peter groaned, getting up and moving with the crowd towards the blue mats that formed a grid across the gym. “Sit ups, I think. Come on, let’s go grab a mat before all of the good ones are taken. If I have to use one of the old sweaty wrestling mats again, I might throw up,” he said, maneuvering his way around the lingering bodies. 

Ned followed closely, offering to hold Peter’s feet first as they started the first round of sit ups. If he noticed that Peter managed to choose a spot only three mats away from Y/N’s, he didn’t say anything. 

“You should just tell her about the ‘internship’,” Ned suggested quietly, halfheartedly holding Peter’s feet in place as he mused out loud. “That’d definitely impress her.”

“Ned, I can’t tell her about you-know-what just to get her to like me. I’ve told you before, Spider-Man’s not a party trick. If I ever talk to her, I want to do it as me, not him,” Peter explained, grunting softly as he pulled himself up repeatedly, stopping only when Coach Wilson was turned around on the other side of the gym. 

“You wouldn’t have to tell her that part! Just casually mention that you know Captain America and you’re in! No one would suspect it now that everybody know that you’ve got the internship, anyway!” Ned exclaimed.

“Parker, Leeds, get back to work,” Coach Wilson reprimanded from his spot by the bleachers, hardly looking up from his phone. 

“Sorry, coach,” Peter muttered, glaring slightly at Ned’s innocent smile.

“Look, Peter, it’s easy,” Ned reasoned, turning to face her mat. “Hey Y/N!”

Peter sat up in a panic, eyes widening in alarm. He turned in her direction, watching her wave back to Ned with the hand that wasn’t holding Liz’s ankles.

“Hey, Ned!” she responded with a bright smile.

“Ned!” Peter whispered loudly, trying to hide behind his friend so he wouldn’t be seen. 

“Did you do the algebra homework yet? The last two questions killed me, I think,” Ned continued to speak over their neighbors’ heads, receiving glares and strange glances. Peter silently willed him to stop talking. He didn’t. “By the way, did you know Peter knows Captain America? They’re super tight!”

“Ned!” Peter repeated more firmly and out loud this time. 

“No way!” she beamed, attention now fully on the two boys. “Do you really?”

Liz’s head also shot up as she pulled herself into a seated position, tuned intently into the conversation.

“Uh… n-no? I mean, yes? T-technically? I guess so? It’s complicated. I’ve seen him like… twice during my internship, but I wouldn’t say I know him know him,” he rambled, flushing when her lip quirked up in an amused smile. 

“That’s so awesome! I bet he’s super cool! Does he look the same as he does in the videos? What’s he like? Is he nice? What am I saying? Of course he’s nice, he’s Captain America! Does he know who you are? Would he ever come here? Would-” she trailed off, noticing Peter’s dropped jaw and Ned’s giggling face. 

“Oh, sorry. I’m rambling. Sorry. Wait, I already said that. Okay, I’m sorry. I mean! You know what I mean…” she blushed, biting her bottom lip to stop herself from saying any more. 

“Um, no that’s okay! I guess he looks the same in real life. A little bigger, I suppose, and more lifelike, but overall the same. The last time I saw him he was sort of… in a bad mood? But I think he’s a nice guy,” Peter spoke cautiously.

“Oh! C-cool! Yeah, cool, that’s cool! Sorry, I said the word ‘cool’ like, three times in the past five seconds,” her blush deepened.

“You apologize a lot,” Peter stated without thinking. “I mean! Not that that’s a bad thing! I was just… observing! Yeah! Sorry!” he rushed, his own face beginning to turn red. 

“It’s okay,” she smiled. “And sorry… for apologizing so much, you know.” She laughed awkwardly. A moment of awkward silence passed between them.

“Wow. That was painful,” Liz remarked, sharing a look with Ned. “I think I’m gonna go… grab a drink of water. Wanna come, Ned?”

“Yup! Water! Gotta go guys, sorry!” Ned stood abruptly, following Liz to the bleachers.

Y/N stood and made her way to Peter’s mat, sitting hesitantly across from him. 

“Do you actually know Cap?” she asked, staring into his eyes so intensely that he had to look away. 

“Y-yeah. I was telling the truth. Um, do you really think he looks good in that uniform?” he asked as he toyed with the aglet on the end of his shoelace.

She cocked her head to the side as a confused look overtook her features. “How did you know about that?”

“Huh? Know what? I didn’t say anything,” he sputtered, tugging the shoelace with a fervor. 

“I mean, I was talking about Cap’s uniform with Betty and Liz while we were watching the video earlier, but you weren’t sitting anywhere near me. How’d you know what I said?” her eyebrows furrowed as she stared Peter down.

“Um… I’m really good at reading lips?” He coughed in an attempt to divert her attention from his little slip-up. “Anyway, how’d you know where I was sitting?”

Now was her turn to become flustered. “Um. What? I mean. I just saw you across the room. Not like I was looking for you or anything! I just happened to spot you and Ned,” she rushed, pushing down a dent in the surface of the mat. 

“Right…” Peter squinted, trying to decipher the meaning of her statement.

“And don’t pretend like you’re not staring at Liz all the time! We see you, you know. You’re like, always looking at her with this completely smitten look on your face,” she smiled wistfully, still focused intently on the spot on the mat that kept puffing back up after she poked it down. 

Peter scrunched his nose in confusion. Why did she think he was always staring at Liz? “Um, what?” he asked, tilting his head slowly.

“Duh, Peter. You stare at her all day like you’re in love with her. It’d be creepy if it weren’t kind of cute,” she admitted with a shrug, sounding a bit disappointed.

“Um… I don’t recall ever looking at Liz like that?” his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Then why are you always watching us? Liz and Betty have both noticed it, too,” she mentioned.

“Wha-” Peter began, but then a niggling thought poked at the back of his brain. She thinks you’ve been staring at Liz this entire time! The voice said. “Wait, you think I’ve been looking at Liz?” he laughed.

“Uh, duh?” she stated. “Everyone thinks that.”

“W-why would you think I was staring at Liz this whole time?” he asked, his heart pounding so fast he thought it might burst out of his chest. 

“Because she’s perfect? Because she’s beautiful and smart and you’d be crazy not to?” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “But I guess you’ve been staring at Betty this whole time, then, if it wasn’t Liz.”

“What? Betty?” his frown grew, wondering if she was putting herself down on purpose or she really was just that oblivious. 

“Yeah, Betty’s super gorgeous, too. And she’s on the morning announcements, so I get why you’d like her,” she mused.

“Wha- no, Y/N, I wasn’t looking at either of them!” he explained with wide eyes.

“You weren’t? So who- oh.” she cut herself off once she realized what he’d been insinuating. “Me?”

“Yes, you. How could I even focus on girls like Liz and Betty when you were there the whole time?”

“I’m sorry, let me get this straight. This entire time, I’ve been agonizing over the fact that I’ve been totally crushing on a guy who I thought was totally in love with Liz when he’d been looking at me with those heart eyes?” she asked incredulously.

“Wait, you’re crushing on me? What is happening! I didn’t even know you knew I existed!” Peter exclaimed.

“How could I not? You’re completely swoon-worthy, Peter!” she smiled a dazzling smile, grabbing one of his clammy hands and squeezing it. 

“I mean, I’m no Captain America or anything-” she cut his self-deprecating statement off with a shy kiss to his cheek.

“Captain who? As far as I know, he doesn’t have totally gorgeous curly hair and twinkly brown eyes. And he’s not the smartest kid in our grade who also just happens to have a heart of gold”

Peter blushed a deep red, the skin on his cheek tingling where her lips met it seconds earlier. “Come on, Y/N, you can admit that you think he’s… ‘hotter’ than me. We both know it’s true.”

“I don’t think that at all, Peter!” she defended, giving his hand another squeeze. “If you don’t believe me, ask anybody who’s seen me staring at you at any possible moment.”

Peter’s lips turned up as he smiled shyly at her statement. How had he never noticed? It seemed she was just as enthralled by him as he was with her. Somehow, the girl who seemed just out of his orbit had been watching him with those star-filled eyes the entire time. 

Tagged: @multi-parker @cutie1365 @cersei-lannister @oswald-1998 @kawaiianime03 @lionfart @mrsdoradominguez-barnes @nonewmessage @co0kies08 @dec-snowy @sunshine-little-miss @cubedtriangle @triggerfingerfunction @dailygubler @dianadawson @frickflop @sparkle-dinosaur @theholyholland